Sweetwater Wetlands, Tucson

What is this aquatic scene,

Doing here in the middle of the Sonoran Desert?

It's a short story. This beautiful oasis of plentiful water is the Sweetwater Wetlands reclamation project, located withing the city limits of Tucson. Truth be told, the water comes from waste water and if the wind is blowing just right, you'd know that without an explanation. However, this is a brilliant use of the scarcest of all elements in the desert and we should be imagining many more such novel approaches to deal with environmental issues. If we could only be as resourceful and decisive as this in our dealings with energy problems, we'd be far better off. But that's an entirely different flight of thought.

Speaking of flight (apologies about this segway, couldn't think of anything else) Monica suggested we do some birding on New Years Day and she directed us here because it was so close to home and we'd never been before. I know the term "delightful" is used capriciously, but this time the word fits perfect.

It's all about the birds!

Monica and I aren't even novice birders, but we live in such an avarian rich environment, we're constantly  enthralled by the beauty of these creatures. When we arrived at the wetlands, the first bird we saw was this one. To you and me, a lovely little thing. But nooooooo. Not just any lovely little thing. It was an Albino Flycatcher. Now don't ask me how we knew that, ask the gent who was standing near us who was in a state of excited agitation. He was the one who told us that this was a very rare sighting. Honestly, I've googled and searched for an albino flycatcher in our books, but I've not seen one. Could he have been wrong? Sure. Did it diminish our delight (that word again?) Nope, not one bit.

Next up, a colorful bird perched in a tree almost directly above us on our walk. I've no idea what it is. Where the heck was that expert guy when we needed him?

By the way, this wetlands isn't a small area. It covers 18 acres of reclaimed desert on the shores of the Santa Cruz River. The Santa Cruz is about the only river that I know of in this area that flows south to north and it was also about the last river to have a constantly flowing stream of water. Not so anymore, other than around this site. Now it relies on the summer monsoon storms to make it flow.

Now, this is another very rare sighting! She's called the Monicus Surfaris Spigelmanitis. According to old archives, she is native to Brooklyn New York and some years ago migrated 2400 miles to Tucson. By all accounts, she is thriving in the Sonoran Desert.

Duck

No, not Duck!

I mean, this is a duck.

I obviously don't know what kind, but it was really enjoying that leisurely paddle through the water.

Really beautiful reflections on a delightful day.

The question that constantly came to my mind was, where were these aquatic birds coming from? The surrounding area is desert for countless miles. You wouldn't think of these birds as being native, yet they certainly weren't imported here. At one time during times of plentiful water (and that wasn't as long ago as you might think, maybe several hundred years?) these birds must have been native. It only goes to show how forgiving nature can be, if given the chance. Here's four ducks, er, two ducks and two reflections, chatting away on a boggy log. Looks like the one on the left has a lot to say.

Undoubtedly,  the most striking bird of the day was this Vermilion Fly Catcher. He (yep, I'm certain it was a male because the males are the more showy of the type, the better to attract the female) was constantly flying back and forth between two trees. At first I didn't understand why he was imitating the Times Square Shuttle, just flying back and forth. Finally, Monica put things (very gently) into perspective for me. She mentioned the name of the bird again, pausing and enunciating the part that sounds like "fly catcher." OK, I've got it now, by golly. He was flying back and forth to catch flies!

  

Finally, the Vermilion Fly Catcher IN FLIGHT!

Now, you've no idea how many shots I took before I actually got this one. But hey, it's digital, so nothing wasted except some virtual pixels.
And don't forget, for a closer look at any of these pictures, simply place your cursor over the photo and left click!

To all, we hope your New Year will be as delightful a year as the start of our New Year was to us.

Thanksgiving in New York City

Another trip to NYC. And we were really looking forward to it. No disappointments at all!

We saw, in no particular order, family, friends (one of whom we hadn't seen in 30+ years!,) places, John Lennon (sort of,) new stores and lots of restaurants.
But first, the journey. Monica (please visit her web site at http://www.tucsoncowgirl.com/) and I traveled to Laguardia Airport and despite enduring a ground hold in Dallas, due to wet weather in New York, arrived just about on time. I love taking pics out of airliner windows and this time we were treated to a beautiful light and color show off the port wing.

The next deal was the taxi ride to the hotel.What with the rain and arriving during rush hour, we figured we were in for a long and expensive trip. In fact, as you can see, the adventure started with plenty of affirmation that our sojourn would be all of the above. But, it turns out the taxi driver (yep, the same one with an expired taxi and limousine license) picked a route that I never would have (Queens Mid Town Tunnel) and BAM, quicker than you can say "Lagasse," we were at the hotel. That driver got an OK tip.

Monica had said before the trip that she really wanted to see the John Lennon exhibit at the Rock & Roll Hall of  Fame annex, so off we went to So Ho.
Turns out that John must have heard Monica from the beyond, as he presented himself to us exclusively, as you can see here from the irrifutable photographic evidence.
Just kidding, as though you didn't know.
However, the exhibit was excellent and the music outstanding. the most poignant part (I know I might lose a few of you here) was at the end where there was a large pad of white paper hanging from the wall with an appeal to  write a message advocating stricter gun control and include your signature. When the paper filled, it would be sent to Congress. The paper was placed to the immediate right of a paper bag containing Lennon's clothes and contents of his pockets when he was shot. These effects were presented to Yoko the following day by the NYPD. I had no trouble signing the paper.

We love to walk around the city and fortunately so does our son Brett. After the Lennon tour, we stayed in and around SoNO and SoHo. The shops and street activity were amazing (as it is all over the city.)
This shot was taken on the main floor of the Pearl River Department store, a place that features Asian goods of every description. The shot proves that you need eyes on top of your head, as well as in front, side and behind. These paper parasols were hanging from the ceiling.
The store, located on Broadway, has three floors and is a block deep. You could get lost in this place!
Finally, after a long day of pounding the pavement, Monica and I decided a good Italian meal would be great. So, while Monica was perusing the goods in a wonderful fabric store located in the Garment District, I found a seat and pounded on my iphone to discover a restaurant. And find I did.

La Zie, located in Chelsea, specializes in dishes found around Venice, was terrific! The appetizer was the best part, as you could order a sampler. Out came about ten small dishes with everything from fresh sardines to grilled squid. Sort of like Italian tapas. Also reminded me of Chinese Dim Sim because of all the little white dishes we were accumulating on the table top. The picture here of course isn't the restaurant. It was taken (from E. 23 St with Madison Square Park just behind the subway stairs) on our walk to pick up the number 6 subway. You can always tell you're in NYC during a holiday period by finding the Empire State Building. Just look for the colors. This time, yellow and orange for Thanksgiving.
Now, what would a trip to NYC be if it didn't include a visit to the center of the known universe (aka, Grand Central Station?)

 The funny part of this picture is the sign which emphatically states that sitting on the stairs is STRICTLY forbidden! But, everyone sits there. Maybe mesmerized by the beautiful main rotunda, or people watching or just waiting to meet a friend or relative at the precise center of it all, the clock. That's why we were there, to meet Leslie (and Harry.) We hadn't seen Leslie in over thirty years and we had a wonderful time catching up and meeting up with Ben (and Betsy,) our other college chum.

One day, Brett suggested we take a stroll on the Highline. Sure I said, quickly followed by, "where?"

Little did I know, that the abandoned elevated railroad tracks on the far west side, the ones that I had walked under countless times (wondering where the heck they really went to) was converted into a long thin park two stories above the streets of Manhattan. As did the long disused railroad tracks, the park now winds its way over the streets and under buildings near the Hudson River.

Originally built to bring food directly into the city, the park is now a pedestrian only mall. Complete with an outdoor coffee shop, free Wi-Fi, beautiful plantings and unexpected views from a unique vantage points, the park was enjoyed by people strolling in the really fine late November weather.






I love the colors of the reeds surrounding the small trees.

Brett and Monica, looking uptown from the Highline. Uh, wait a moment. They're actually looking downtown. I'm looking uptown.
I know, who cares which way. Just wanted to get it right.






New York is full of unusual concepts. Here's one of them. This is a "Pop Up Store." A place that literally pops up and then is gone withing a couple of months (intentionally, not out of business for you wise guys out there.) This is the store, in the old meat packing district, for the magazine called Wired. A really interesting place featuring cutting edge concepts in computers, bikes, games and all things new. But you'd better hurry. It closes on December 27.

 Next up, a picture, that taken out of context, might lead you to believe you've landed in the unknown. Just a poster, for something that I can't remember. But I loved the poster!

As I said before, you really need eyes in front, on the side, behind and above your head in NYC. Now let's add one more place. Under your feet. While crossing a street downtown, I noticed two photographers taking pictures straight down. One look and I knew they were onto something interesting. Having to admit that I was about to copy them, I complimented them on their powers of observation (figuring that entitled me to horn in on their discovery) and promptly found myself engaged in conversation about their new lenses.They had just come from B&H Photo and were trying out their new glass (and very impressive it was, Nikon 24-70mm, f2.8.) As I had just come from the very same place (although I had escaped with my life-I purchased nothing,) we conversed for several minutes before they left and then I started shooting the wet pavement. I later learned that during this time, Brett turned to Monica and said, "we've lost Dad." Monica, without hesitation, replied, "Oh don't worry, he'll show up soon." She knows me well, this one!

Finally, I leave you with one more shot and a regret that I didn't get in line with the rest of these folks
This is the West Village and that innocent looking store is the Magnolia Bakery. And New Yorkers don't line up for much, except maybe the cross town bus.
Now, you may think that your fine city has the best cupcake bakery in the world (tucsonans take note- our few cupcake locations are puny and feeble compared to this one,) but you're wrong. I had some really good cupcakes on this trip (thanks Jim and Ann Marie) but Magnolia is, well, Magnolia. You'll have to try it yourself.
And if you do, drop us a line. Monica and I wouldn't mind joining you.

Sedona and Jerome Arizona

Monica and I have just returned from a wonderful drive vacation through Northern Arizona and New Mexico, including Sedona, Canyon De Chelly, Santa Fe and Taos and I wanted to share some of the highlights with all of you. This post will feature Sedona and environs.
I gotta be honest and say that Sedona itself didn't overwhelm me. Waaaaaay too commercial for my tastes, but the beauty of the red rocks and surrounding areas made it worth while. As did the really terrific B&B that we stayed at. This is the view from Grace's Secret Garden B&B, run by Grace (tough to figure that one,) a Polish ex-pat who adopted Sedona and has come to know the ins and outs of the area. The picture shows the view from the front of Grace's property, although in truth, the horses are boarded on an adjacent parcel.
 

Oh, and not to be outdone by the horses, Monica insisted on me taking her picture as well.
OK, that was a joke.
Really.
See, Monica is smiling?
Anyway, this is on Grace's property.
And by the way, Grace will prepare almost any kind of breakfast. Meaning, it doesn't have to be the heavy and sweet stuffed french toasts that we normally find at B&Bs. A nice touch from a nice lady.
Now, on to Sedona and the surrounding area.

As mentioned, the red rocks are really beautiful. We decided to visit the Bell Vortex and I insisted we do it close to dusk (or magic hour as we pretend photographers like to state authoritatively.) Wellllll, this did cause a problem. Dusk falls quickly and we weren't at all familiar with the trail out to the vortex. Or, more importantly in our minds, the way back! This shot gives you some idea of the trail and our objective some distance up ahead. This trail was blocked by a beautiful but ancient tree. Off we had to go in another direction, wondering if this was such a bright idea at all. But we were determined! A photographer and his unwitting assistant will do anything for the one and only shot.


Here you can see the type of terrain that yours truly and company had to traverse. This steep canyon must have been at least 100' to 200' feet deep, with treacherous loose rocks everywhere just waiting to send us tumbling. However, my Sherpa, I mean Monica and I kept going and the light was fading fast!
.........................
OK, I seem to be getting carried away.
Time for a confession.
This canyon was only about 10' deep.
But, as Monica pointed out to me, we did have to enter it.
And cross it. And it was really slippery in the failing light.
I just couldn't get over how the camera made it look so deep and foreboding.
Hey, this would be a great place to film a Godzilla scene.
Sorry about that. I won't let that happen again.

Well, the light really was failing, but we made it and we did get that one shot of the day that really sings.

And, we actually found our way out, in the company of several equally wussy tourists and got back in time to enjoy a well deserved Italian meal at a very nice restaurant that Grace suggested. A perfect end to a lovely day.

I must say that if you're in Sedona, instead of spending a great deal of time downtown, you should instead head out of town and visit the quirky and wonderful old mining town of Jerome Arizona. For all of you South Westerners, the best way to describe Jerome is to bring to mind Bisbee Arizona. And then, think what Bisbee would be like if it never grew up (as though it ever did.) And for the rest of you, think Quirky! 
This might give you some idea......

Yes, it's a bar. And a skull.
And no it's not. I think.
It's name is 15.Quince. During the day, a lunch and espresso joint (very, very good Cafe Latte)
By evening, a bar. Judging by the bar decorations, perhaps a pretty scary bar.
In all fairness, this was taken very close to Halloween.
But, I'm not so sure that quite covers it.
Jerome has so many back streets and alleys, some of which makes you wonder if you can get your car through them (and I certainly don't

have a large car.) Not to mention that Jerome, like Bisbee, is built sort of straight up and down.
Makes for fun, whether you're getting around on foot or by car.
And some of these old mining towns were the center of civilization (as ornery as that could be) for vast areas of wilderness. This helped create some of the most striking grand hotels.
Bisbee has its' Copper Queen Hotel (hey, Monica and I have stayed there. In the John Wayne room. They told us John stayed in that room. No way to tell, but it did have corner windows so the view was outstanding. We enjoyed it.)
Jerome's hotel is aptly named the Jerome Grand Hotel.
Really handsome on the outside (and really decked out for Halloween,) with a beautiful and ornate grand entrance staircase out front. However, after wandering around the inside, I wouldn't book a room too quickly. We've been told that the restaurant is pretty good.
And I'm still not going to try it.

Lastly, I'm going to leave you all with an interesting shot taken in Jerome. Monica has become most interested in owning a Harley motorcycle ever since we moved to Tucson (must be the wide open spaces and the wind in your hair and Easy Rider and....oh, you get it.)

Well, look real close in the above shot of the Harley, just above the Harley logo.
Darned if it ain't Monica. This could be as close as she's gonna come to one of these hogs.
Or, maybe not?
My next post will be about Canyon De Chelly. The canyon was one of the real highlights of our trip and we think that it's a must see for anyone visiting Northern Arizona.
And don't forget, for a full size view of any picture, just place your cursor over the shot and click on your left mouse button.
See you soon.
Leigh and Monica.

ARIZONA HAWK, HELP

OK, We need a little help. We were sitting outside this morning on the back patio, eating breakfast, when we looked up and saw a beautiful hawk perched on the railing behind the pool. I quickly got binoculars, bird books in hand and the trusty D300 w/70-200mm lens and snapped away. There it is on top.

Here's another shot of this unknown (to me) hawk.
Now, you have to understand that although we had our bird book open to the hawk section, we were stumped. Not hard to stump me. I could have a bird in one hand and a picture of it in the other hand and still fail to recognize it. I've got to get some remedial bird recognition training here.







OK, last look for all of you birders out there.
What type of hawk is this?
Is it a Coopers Hawk?
If not, I'm done.
So, PLEEEEAAAAAASE help.

Just drop a comment and we'd be much obliged.

FLASH.....UPDATE.......
We've positively identified this hawk as a juvenile Coopers Hawk.
Thanks to all who helped.
Case closed!

LIBERTY BELL, B-17

Those of you who have seen my emails and read my blog know that I have more than a passing interest in WWII aircraft. Especially, the B-17.
When I learned that the Liberty Bell was going to be visiting Tucson International Airport this past Saturday, I made plans to visit.
And, I was lucky. When I arrived, the plane was parked on the tarmac, all by itself, behind a cyclone fence. I walked over to the mobile information vehicle and asked what was going on. Scott Mayer looked up and said the Liberty Bell wasn't schedule to fly again for another hour and three quarters. Then he looked me over and said, you wanna walk out there and look close up? In my mind I said, "you gotta be kidding!," but what came out was, "sure."
Scott opened the gate to the tarmac and off I went. To my amazement, There wasn't anyone even near the plane, except myself and one crew member on board, who promptly left the scene as soon as I showed up.
So, let me give you a little tour of my plane

The first thing you notice is the beautiful and artistic rendition of the aircraft's ID on its nose, the Liberty Bell. America isn't always associated with fine arts, but the fly boys of WWII certainly had a way with fuselage art! And they had a way of turning a machine meant for maximum destruction into a playful and provocative proclamation of youthful fun and brashness.
At least until Liberty Bell was over its target. Then, not so much.

The next thing on your walk around that you notice is, this thing is like an ocotillo. Pretty to look at in season, but painful to touch. It's loaded with defensive weapons pointed every which way!

This is what I call the "Hatch of Honor." I don't know the exact story behind this. It appears as though any veteran who flies on Liberty Bell has the opportunity to leave a lasting memory in Sharpie ink on the fuselage hatch. I examined the hatch for quite some time and found loads of signatures from former pilot and crew members of other B-17s. If my understanding of who can sign this hatch is correct, I think that this is a fitting tribute to the many brave men who flew these crafts. Over the few years that I've witnessed people boarding these planes, I've seen so many veterans, some barely able to walk to the plane unassisted, board with obvious pride. Some were making the journey with their grown children, some with grand or great grand kids, some by themselves. I even met one who was a German fighter pilot whose daughter bought him his ticket because he always wanted to see what it was like to fly from the perspective of those he was trying to shoot down (and those who were trying their level headed best to kill him.)
I suspect that for many of these men, being transported briefly back in time, brings to the forefront the defining moments of their lives. And I thank every one of them.

OK, we're in the Liberty Bell (which, by the way, isn't quite so easy to get into. You've got to grab hold of the rounded protrusion above the hatch and pull yourself up through a deceptively small portal. Unless of course, you decide to go ass backwards. That probably wouldn't have scored you any points with your crew mates. Please don't ask me how I boarded.) Your looking at one of two waist gunner's positions. The other one is diagonally opposite this one. I had a conversation with a veteran B-17 ball gunner a couple of years ago and expressed my admiration for the way that he voluntarily crammed himself into the belly turret under the fuselage, on every mission. He looked at me for a moment and then exclaimed that he wouldn't have wanted any other position on the B-17. If you've ever seen the belly turret, you'd understand my amazement at his statement. So I asked why? Simple he said. Look at the olive drab skin of the B-17 that surrounds the entire crew. It's a fraction of an inch of aluminum. The cannon shells and flack would rip through that material as though it was tissue paper he said. At least he had a hunk of solid steel (his gun) between him and the fighter planes spitting those lethal projectiles in his direction. I smiled and went on to another subject, not quite buying his explanation. But who am I to question him. Maybe that belief helped him swing his body through the small portal every day.

Moving forward, you lurch your way toward the front of the craft and come to the bomb bay area. The first surprise is, it's wide open. Yep, those are the bombs that drop out of the belly of the beast. And there's nothing to prevent anyone dropping with them if you're in the wrong spot at the wrong time (although I've never hear of that happening.) The next surprise is, see that 6" wide beam on the floor? Well, that's what you've got to negotiate to get to where the pilots and bomandier needed to be. Not so hard on the ground, probably not very easy in the air.

The next to the last position on our journey forward in the Liberty Bell. The cockpit. The seats look crude by today's standards and the instruments look very basic (not counting some of the newer dials that have obviously been installed due to safety regulations.) What got my attention was the all around superb visibility. Looking at the aircraft from the tarmac, you'd think that the squat looking cockpit position would have limited visibility. But not so, at least to my untrained eye. All together, a basic but handsome environment.

You wanna talk visibility? How about maybe a little too much visibility. This is the most forward position on the plane. It can only be accessed by crawling (I'm not kidding) under the cockpit. When you emerge from the opening, you step up slightly and now the bombardier is in position to arrive at his destination ever so shortly before his crew mates. And your instrument awaits. The Norden Bomb Site. This instrument was so hush hush and secret that (I've read) the bombardier had to remove it after every mission and place it under lock and key.

It must surely have felt to the bombardier that he was flying without an aircraft around him when he was leaning out over the bomb site. It must also have felt that he was naked and alone when being attacked from the front by a fighter whose combined closing speed could be 700+mph! Imagine seeing tracer bullets zero in on your B-17. And you're in front with nothing but Plexiglas between you and the cannon shells that you couldn't see but knew were there between the iridescent tracer shells. And it's my understanding that you had to volunteer to be part of the Army Air Force!

Now, I need your help. If you've read this far, please tell me, by leaving a comment, which of the next three pictures you like best. They are of course the same photo. The first one has been converted to black and white.

This one has been sepia toned.

And this one is more or less original.
Don't forget that if you want to get a closer look at any photo, all you have to do is place your cursor over the picture and click on the LEFT button.

Lastly, if you want to learn more about the worthy mission of the Liberty Foundation and learn more about this beautifully restored aircraft (and it really did fly missions during WWII, over 60 of them!,) please follow the web link below.
http://www.libertyfoundation.org/

Get a ruler. I'll wait.

OK, get a ruler. Go on. I'll wait.
LAlalalalalalaLa, etc.......................................

OK, got a ruler?
Good.
Now, measure 6" across. That's a half a foot, right?
About the size of, well........... what you see pictured below.
OK, now, imagine my surprise when I looked up at the rafters of the open roof covering our rear patio.
There, resting on a rafter, was the largest moth that I've ever seen. It looked rather drab and brown, until I photographed it with the flash. The colors exploded.
At first I thought it was a lunar moth, but I looked that up and that wasn't it. In fact, I couldn't find anything that looked even remotely like it in any book that we had or on the internet. Quite honestly, after about 4-5 days, I kind of removed it from my list of important things to ponder. Then, I received an email blurb from Tohono Chul Park (that's where used to Monica worked) and in the blurb was a photo of exactly what I had seen.
It turns out to have been a black witch moth, the largest moth found in North America. This one must have been returning to Mexico and Central America. They are nocturnal and normally will rest during the day and then fly off on their journey at dusk. They're so large that they're often mistaken for bats.
So, how do I know this was 6" across? Why, I took out a ruler and measured it.......during the daytime of course. Almost exactly 6". I understand that they can grow to 7"-8" across, especially the females. This one is a male. You can tell because it lacks a white band across the middle of it's back and wing span.

Well, I was amazed.
And I wanted to share it with you.

Monsooooooon Lightning

A quick post to commemorate the beginning of the Monsoon season in Southern Arizona.
Prior to this year, the Monsoon season began on the third consecutive day that the dew point (a different way to measure humidity, or how much moisture the air is holding) was 54 degrees or higher. The average start has been July 4. But this year, the National Weather Service decided that was too complicated and decided that the Monsoon season would officially start on June 15, no matter what the weather actually was.
I dunno. I kind of liked the season starting when mother nature says so. HOWEVER, a look at these two photos makes it abundantly clear that the Monsoon is here and now.
These shots were taken Saturday night from our back patio. I stayed out until the lightning appeared to be getting a little too close. They say that if you can either hear or see it, head for cover.
It also amazes me that people still insist on driving into road dips and even running washes. It only takes 6" of running water to lift a car off of the road and into a wash. Saturday night's Monsoon storms resulted in two water rescue attempts. Unfortunately, one person still hasn't been found and the search has been suspended. Probably the first Monsoon fatality of the season.
It's an amazing part of America, so very different from the North East. We've still got so much to learn, thank goodness!

An Ordinary Snake Plant, but not to me.

This is the story of an ordinary looking snake plant. But this is no ordinary plant. Not to me.
The story starts back in the mid 1950s. My parents owned a retail store called the Carriage Corner in Brooklyn. Now the Carriage Corner was many things to many people, but it wasn't a store that occupied a corner. It surrounded the corner. The actual corner store was something else. In the mid 50s, my Dad had the opportunity to grab that middle corner portion and he did, thus making the store true to its name. As a good luck gift, someone gave my Dad the plant pictured above, which now sits in our living room in Tucson.
The snake plant lived happily (I hope) with our family in Rye Brook for many years. When we moved to Tucson, we didn't trust the movers to take it, so along with Monica's Dads Christmas Cactus (as near as Monica can ascertain, this one is from the 1930s,) my snake plant and of course Bisbee, I drove cross country. I bonded with all the other three living entities in the car. I had much to say over the 2400 odd miles or so. But I really had to keep the conversation going alot of the time. I'm not complaining. My passengers were excellent company.
So, aside from age, aside from lineage, aside from bonding, what's so special about the
snake plant?
A couple of things.
Now, this is the first and only snake plant I've ever owned. So I'm no Sansevieria expert, but some years ago we noticed an incredibly sweet floral aroma emanating from our Rye Brook kitchen. I wondered what outdoor plant we were aurally admiring when suddenly we realized that it was the ordinary looking snake plant, parked safely under a kitchen window. Now, I don't know about your snake plant, but this one faithfully throws up a sticky, sweet smelling stalk nearly every year now. I mean the aroma can stop you in your tracks! It's wonderful. Maybe they all do this. I don't know.
But, there's something else that I haven't mentioned yet. It's the second thing that makes this snake plant very special to me.
My father and mother were born and raised in England. Now, there are many Brits that came to our shores. I know of two of that share the same birthday (I'm sure there are many others,) and that particular birthday, to me, is full of wonderful irony.
Bob Hope is one or them.
My Dad is the other.
That birth date is July 4.
Today.
This picture to the right was taken July 4.
Today.
This ordinary snake plant has sprouted its sweet smelling stalk nearly every July 4 since it started sprouting flowers so long ago. Year after year after year......


Happy birthday Dad.

Queen of the Night

Yes, it's that time of the year. The air is heavier with moisture as the Monsoon envelopes the Sonoran Desert. The temperature soars into the upper 90s or low 100s. Why do we endure this? Many reasons, and here's one of them.


The beautiful and VERY fleeting Cereus flower. I'm sure we all remember the more popular name, Peniocereus greggii (he's got to be kidding!) But anyway, the fact of the matter is, this plant only blooms one night each year and the one in our front yard chose RIGHT NOW! Oddly enough, Tohono Chul Park's huge collection (the largest in the world maybe) chose tonight as well. Maybe these guys communicate telepathically, but for what ever reason, I'm sure glad we can enjoy this wondrous and unique sight from the Sonoran Desert.