TUESDAY TRAVELS

SWMBO and I took a drive the other day, after a shopping trip to Costco, into the Prescott National Forest on Walker Road.

Our destination was Lynx Lake, just a few miles south.

It had been quite a while since we'd visited the tiny lake and I'd forgotten how pretty it is with the pine trees surrounding it.

One of its arms is a favorite spot for anglers.

A group of ducks were playing and splashing around not far from shore.  

They're in the center of this photo though they're difficult to make out.

It's an idyllic spot but it was quite busy on this weekend so we only stopped for a moment, then headed out again.

We decided to drive a bit further south to the small vacation-cabin community of Walker.

When I decided to turn around we found ourselves at an intersection with a curiously-named road.

The reason for the name was quickly obvious just a few yards away.

The ancient and motorless auto, according to local lore, was once owned by a doctor who was also known as the town drunk.

When he rolled it once nearly 80 years ago he just walked away and when his insurance paid him for it he just abandoned it.

Someone painted it pink and there it sat when a developer began building cabins in the area.

Supposedly he asked the road grader operator to haul it away but was told that it was a landmark used by the power company, the telephone company, local residents.

So it stayed and when the road was put in the developer told them what to name it.

About five years ago the car disappeared one dark and stormy night.

(Well, I don't know about the stormy bit . . I was just overcome with literary aspirations for a moment.)

Amid much consternation the car was located and was discovered to have been the victim of a high school prank.

It was returned to its former location and there it sits today, somewhat bullet riddled but frequently getting a fresh coat of paint by residents of the area.

Pink, of course.

CHAPEL OF THE VALLEY

While out and about the other day, I paid a visit to Prescott Valley's Chapel of the Valley.

Take note: I am not religious but I've always enjoyed visiting chapels and churches in their "off-duty" hours.

I think it's the quiet which gives one time to meditate.

This chapel is a tiny one.

It was donated to the city by the Fain Family and it overlooks Fain Park.

The Fains were ranchers that once owned most if not all of the land where Prescott Valley is now located.

The chapel houses a handful of beautiful stained glass windows.

On the day I was there it was being readied for a wedding.

I can only assume that given the size of the chapel it would be a small affair.

I departed before the attendees arrived.

FOOD OR DECORATION?

As has oft been noted, this is the autumnal season of the year.

On a visit to Prescott, the now-smaller city to the west, we encountered a spare lot selling pumpkins.

Variety is the spice of life, eh?

The question then becomes "Are they for food or decoration?"

As I said in a different context yesterday . . you pays your money, you makes your choice.

BLOWIN' IN THE WIND

The title of this post could refer to the current presidential election campaign in the United States of America.

Or it could reflect back to the originator of that phrase who has recently won the Nobel Prize for Literature . . . "finally", for some; "inexplicably", for others.

Or it could just refer to my neighbors' Pampas Grass.

You pays your money, you makes your choice.

FRIDAY FUNNIES

The laughter at last night's Al Smith Dinner was somewhat sparse so I'm here to tickle your titter-impulse.

Don't hold back.

Okay, that's probably way more than enough for one week.

Have yourself a merry little weekend, Gentle Readers, and always remember to keep laughing.

Here, kitty-kitty.

Hey, I didn't tell you to bring your cousin with you!

THROWBACK THURSDAY

FALL COLORS

People are sometimes surprised that where I live in Arizona we actually have four seasons.

But our home is at 5,130 feet . . far above the desert floor of Phoenix though only 80 miles away.

So our trees turn colorful at this time of year, changing from the summertime green.

In front of our home, our Red Maple is beginning to change to the color that gives it its name.

Just outside the window of my den the Redbud is rapidly losing it's summer foliage, as the leaves turn golden and then fall.

That keeps me busy several times a day cleaning out the bird bath.

We're waiting until the tree is completely or nearly bare before we take on the onerous job of cleaning up all the fallen leaves.

That's probably why we know this autumn season as "fall."