Happy Birthday U.S.A.

Green Victorian

Prescott, Arizona is known for its Victorian houses. Most of them are located along both sides of Mount Vernon street. But I found this two-story green beauty a street or two away the other day.

O Canada

On Canada Day, Canadians celebrate the day the British North America Act created the Canadian federal government on July 1, 1867. This date was originally celebrated as Dominion Day up until the year 1982, when an Act of Parliament changed it to Canada Day.

I grew up in North Dakota, only about 50 miles from the border with Saskatchewan, Canada. I remember many happy trips as a boy to Lake Carlyle, where my dad would enjoy pulling big "northerns" (Northern Pike) and Walleyes out. Frequently evening meals would be fresh fried fish with lots of butter and lemon.

I always enjoyed adventures in the woods, sliding down the cliffs to the beaches and above all the candy. Maple sugar candy in the shape of maple leaves that could make your teeth start aching just by looking at it in the stores. And best of all those delicious Cadbury chocolates. It's been over 20 years since I last visited Canada and many decades longer than that since I was last at Lake Carlyle. But I still miss it. Great memories of a great place.

Mag 20

The Toothbrush

The toothbrush lay innocently on the mottled floor. It’s bristles were only slightly worn, as if it had not been used much to clean the teeth of its owner. Yet they were stained a dirty gray color, as if by repeated exposure to water not as clean or pure as it could have been.

The brown handle resembled quartz with the light from the window reflecting from it and penetrating it as well. That light coming through the handle left a golden brown glow on the floor’s surface. It was beautiful, somehow, resembling as it did an item of antiquity, a treasure from a much older civilization.

In a different setting one could even imagine the toothbrush as a wonderful exhibit in a museum case. Perhaps it had once whitened the teeth of a famous scientist or an artist or even a head of state.

But there was no such dignitary.

No such case.

No such museum.

You see, the other end of the toothbrush – the handle – had been drawn over time through the bars that covered the window in this room . . . this cell. Over months of the same repeated action, first one side of the handle, then the other, the material had been worn away until the handle culminated in a point as sharp as any dagger.

This end of the brush was now a different color. It was red with the blood of its victim. He was . . or had been . . a guard in this prison until the owner of the brush, maddened by years of confinement and cruelty, had plunged the sharp edge into the man’s throat, killing him in an instant.

The assailant sat quietly in his cell, waiting.

He had already been sentenced to life in prison without parole.

He had nothing left.

Not even a toothbrush.

=========================

As you might expect, this is but a piece of fiction, part of a weekly writing exercise instituted by Willow, of Willow Manor. You can read other works by other writers at Magpie Tales.

Festival Time

It is festival time in Arizona. SWMBO and I traveled in to Prescott today to spend some time at the 29th annual Prescott Bluegrass Festival. Good music.

The festival was held on the courthouse square in the heart of town and a good crowd was on hand.

As is common at such events, there was a plethora of dogs in attendance.

This big fellow was very calm and sat quietly by his master, looking on with interest but barely twitching when other dogs big and small walked by.

Just across the walk, this much smaller fellow couldn't stop his tag from wagging.

There were even a couple of "hot dogs" in attendance. The girl runs a hot dog shop on the square and was trying to drum up some business.

And to top off a juicy hot dog, what is better than some delicious ice cream.

As is common in Prescott some costumed people were in attendance. This pair was selling raffle tickets.

And a couple of young lads had freshly drawn-on eyeglasses from a nearby shop.

At any festival in summertime Arizona, one can see an amazing collection of tee shirts. But this one was my favorite!

I hope you're attending a festival in your neighborhood this summer!

Roses and roses and roses

(Note: the photos are more stunningly beautiful when one clicks on them to expand the view.)

Alas, my camera and I have been neglecting SWMBO's roses this year. I have waited nearly too long to photograph them. But still . . .

The yellow and white ones are suffering in the hot sun without rain.

But, I am told, while they may die out . . they will bloom again, bringing color and joy to our lives.

He's My Man

This is sort of an apology. You see, SWMBO had ordered "Leonard Cohen: I'm Your Man" from Netflix. It came a couple of weeks ago and has been lying around the house ever since. Tonight she finally got around to watching it and then brought it to me and asked if I wanted to see it.

I said rather vehemently "I don't think so. I can't stand Leonard Cohen. He sings atonally and I don't care for his poetry."

SWMBO said "O.K. Do what you want but just don't say anything more to me about it because I loved it."

Well, I said I might take a look.

May some higher power or another strike me dead. I just watched the whole program and I, too, loved it.

It's a tribute to Cohen and his work and features performances by a group of artists performing his work one evening at the Sydney Opera House. I particularly enjoyed Rufus Wainright (who could be played by Johnny Depp), his sister Martha, Nick Cave, Perla Battala and Jarvis Cocker. Mixed throughout are segments from interviews done with Cohen. The documentary ends with Cohen singing (sort of) his "The Tower of Song" backed by the boys from U2.

It's a great "show" and I recommend it highly. Rent it. Watch it. Enjoy it.

And I take back everything snide I ever said about Leonard Cohen.