Portraits from A Year Gone By

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December 31, 2016, Chula Vista- I am taking the readership on a brief journey back, with one photo from each month, that sums up the month, for me.  So, let’s begin.

January-

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Pharaoh’s Face, with a barrel cactus keeping watch, south of the Agua Fria River, Black Canyon City

 

February-

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Sunset, over Goldwater Lake

March-

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Small pond, Banning Creek, northwest of Goldwater Lake

April-

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Quartz Mountain, north of Copper Basin

May-

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Granite Mountain, Prescott

June-

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Cathedral Gorge, Pioche, NV

July-

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Lake Redwine, Newnan, GA

August-

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Kayla Mueller, who was killed in Syria.  This is not my photo, but symbolizes the month of August, as I took no photos of my own, and the sacrifices of some Americans, in the fight against terrorism became front and center.

September-

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View of Santa Maria Mountains, from Juniper Mesa

October-

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Monarch butterflies, in Agua Fria watershed

November-

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Agua Fria Fort, off Little Pan Trail, Table Mesa region

December-

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White Christmas 2016, Prescott

So went the Year That The Common Man roared and I continued to explore.

 

 

Table Mesa, Part III: Little Pan Let Me In

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November 6, 2016, Black Canyon City-  As I rounded a bend, in the access trail to Little Pan Loop, this afternoon, I became a surprise visitor, to a local resident.

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The juvenile Gila monster was a bit bemused, but after a few minutes, it moved off the trail and watched me from some brush. It was a good reminder that reptiles find the early November weather perfectly satisfying, and I watched for rattlesnakes, as well.  None appeared, though.

After a quick crossing of the South Fork, Agua Fria, I found the southern turnoff to Little Pan Trail, and moved along, passing the Royal Throne, which overlooks the river,

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then across the Agua Fria itself, taking time to wander a bit around the mesquite and saguaro forests that line an island, in the middle of the riverbed.

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Little Pan Wash is not on the main trail, but it makes for an interesting side trip.

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It is one of the areas that was heavily mined, in the early 20th Century.  Little Pan Mine, upstream on the Agua Fria, is still accessible to an intrepid visitor.  I did not seek it out, this time.

About twenty minutes after leaving Little Pan Wash, I came upon the overarching attraction of this trail:  Agua Fria Fort, near the northern end of Little Pan Trail.  A side road takes the visitor to this remarkable fort, built by the Huhugam people, as one of their northernmost places of settlement.

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After examining this durable fort, from three angles, I walked quickly to the point where Little Pan meets Williams Mesa Trail, and the main Black Canyon Trail towards Black Canyon City.  It was there that I headed back, along Little Pan, towards the trailhead.

Thus ended my first visit to this lush, exquisite and challenging area, past which I have driven, so many times.  There remain three sections of the Black Canyon National Recreation Trail for me to explore for the first time.  Next up is a foray from Table Mesa trailhead to Boy Scout Loop.  After that, Boy Scout Loop to New River Road, and New River Road to Lake Pleasant Road, will take me through lower-lying Sonoran Desert terrain, to the edge of Phoenix.  It will represent some 88 miles of hiking, over a two-year period, and will be my longest completed route.

Table Mesa, Part II:The Williams Mesa Trail

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October 30, 2016, New River-  SAM_7410.JPG

I set out a bit earlier today, than last weekend, and the the traffic between Prescott and Table Mesa Road was decidedly sparser, this time.  The above photograph, taken at the South Fork of Agua Fria River, reflects the calmness I found today.

There was plenty of activity, especially in the river beds.  As I came down off the second ridge, to the nearly dry South Fork, a man was teaching his daughter how to negotiate boulders and sand, in the course of off-road exploration.  She thought better of trying to go over a two-foot ledge, and he certainly didn’t push the matter.  It was a successful lesson, and I encountered them again, at the Agua Fria itself, some twenty minutes later. There, the challenge was deep sand, but they again prevailed.

The river and its tributaries are the main features of Williams Mesa Trail, which is the western half of the Little Pan Loop.  I stuck with Williams Mesa Trail, going to and from, as it was  clearly marked, as opposed to the actual north link to the eastern Little Pan Trail, which I will explore from the south link, on my next trip to Table Mesa Road.

Here are several photos of the afternoon’s offerings.

Below is a view of the Agua Fria, from a southern ridge.  Notice how dry it’s been, this past month.

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SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURESThe limestone and granite ledges offer a convenient set of steps, up the ridge towards Williams Mesa.

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Before that, though, I thoroughly enjoyed the blissful peace of the pools along the river bed.

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Above, is a view of the unnamed mesa that I viewed from Cottonwood Gulch, on a hike from Black Canyon City, last spring.  It drew me, with a sense that there is a goodly amount of spiritual energy there.  I certainly felt energized, after sitting among some rocks that had broken off from the mesa, and offer themselves as a resting place.

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I spent about twenty minutes here, writing in my BCT journal.  From there, it was back towards the Agua Fria.  The junction with the east Little Pan Trail was not in evidence.

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This marker appears to be turn-around point of some kind, though, and it was fairly easy to get back on the Williams Mesa route, and the Agua Fria.

SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURESLooking closely at the river pool,  one can see the thick algae that results from the water standing too long.

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Cacti are certainly resourceful, as is this one, which look like a tongue sticking out of the rock.

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Look closely above, and note two Monarch butterflies, feeding.

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Here is another take on the late afternoon appearance of South Fork, Agua Fria.

A small family of cattle were enjoying the leavings from a pumpkin smashing party, that had apparently taken place, last night.

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No good morsel is left behind, in the Sonoran Desert.

So ended my 7.6 mile hike along Williams Mesa Trail, on a pleasantly overcast afternoon.

 

Gnosis and Gnus

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September 28, 2016, Prescott-

I work with whimsical people,

including a child who thinks

playing tag in a church would be a trip.

Another, believes the Universe

is seeking his destruction.

I am trying to impart self-knowledge

as a goal, to my students,

so that, when they reach their teen years,

they will be less likely to self-medicate-

or otherwise engage in self-harm.

Animals in the wild

engage in self-preservation.

Why should we humans

be any less  vigilant?

Isn’t it odd,

that someone capable of gnosis,

should be less self-preserving,

than a praying mantis, electric eel

or gnu?

Tales of the 2016 Road: Prairies Forever

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July 19-20, 2016, Hays, KS-   Early alley-oop, on Wednesday morning, got me over to Country Cupboard, in Carterville, about five miles west of Marion.  I wanted a simple breakfast, in a place favoured by locals- so there it was.

The conversation in the establishment was all about autistic children, and how they fare in the schools of southern Illinois.  It seems a mixed bag.  One mother found her child’s school to be minimally supportive. A grandmother expressed annoyance at how her grandchild was being received, day to day.  This is an area which hosts a sizable public university.  That, of course, in and of itself, does not guarantee  equity in the treatment of special needs children.  I read, just a few minutes ago, of a threat made against the parent of a special needs child, by a university professor in another state.  Education does not guarantee either wisdom, or human decency.  So, these ladies, and thousands like them, soldier on, fighting for their children- as only decent mothers can.  We won’t concern ourselves with the indecent ones.

I headed northwest, then due west, passing through metro St. Louis, noting that the Mississippi and Missouri appear to be in good shape.  I stopped , momentarily, at a Steak and Shake, in suburban St.Peter, and turned myself into a balloon with a delectable mint Oreo shake.  The burger, sadly, was forgettable, but life goes on.

In Columbia, I surprised a couple of old friends, who had moved there from Prescott, a couple of years ago, to be near family.

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The Fourcks, of Columbia, MO

We spent about two hours catching up on life events, and mutual friends, in the comfort of their living room and at a nearby Cracker Barrel.  I bid farewell to Emil and Pam, as evening approached, and drove on through Missouri, stopping only to savour the preserved prairie, at a rest stop outside Boonville.

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Tall grass prairie, Boonville, MO

It seems to me that the more prairie we keep around, the more the soil will remain rich and productive.  Monoculture, under whatever guise it is implemented, will only add to our food security problems, in the long term.

I skirted around Kansas City, took the toll road to Topeka, then got back on the freeway, as far as Salina, before stopping for the night.  Super 8 offered a decent breakfast, the next morning- and I got a relatively early start, reaching this western Kansas university town, just before noon.

Hays is another quintessential prairie town, in some ways a blast from the past, though people here seem as informed and contemporary in style, as anywhere else.  There is a mixed view of Donald Trump, much as I found in the conservative communities in which I found myself, in southern Missouri, Indiana, Pennsylvania, Massachusetts, Virginia and the Southeast.

Construction-wise, people here rely on stone.

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Ellis County Courthouse, Hays, KS

I was taken by the smoothed brick streets of downtown Hays.  The mood was fairly quiet, but there were plenty of people out and about- just going on with life, despite the heat.  It was 104 here, as I spent about twenty minutes poking about the north end of the city center.

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This stone gem looks like a church, but is now a law office.

The law office that looks like a church has this as a cross street neighbour.

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The Ten Commandments, St. Joseph’s Parish, Hays, KS

It occurred to me that there are a few, at the famous church back in Topeka, who could stand to learn a thing or two from the folks at St. Joseph’s Parish.  Then again, there are many, liberal, conservative, and in-between, who could do the same.

Here are a few more scenes of St. Joseph’s Parish.

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Social Service Center, St.Joseph’s Parish, Hays, KS

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Church of St. Joseph, Hays, KS

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Chapel grotto, St. Joseph’s Parish, Hays, KS

The above is surely a place of restoration, on a busy day.

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This store is still active, in the days of WalMart.  I find that reassuring.  

Downtown Hays has a popular lunch counter, inside the stationery store.  Northwestern Office Supply’s soda shoppe is the place to go for a full salad bar, freshly made (from scratch) soups and all the soda fountain treats one can imagine.  I behaved, somewhat, opting for a Reuben with cole slaw, and iced tea.  Had it not been so hot outside, soup would have been a magnificent thing.

There are other interesting towns in northwestern Kansas, such as Colby and Oakley, but I had this little agenda, of getting to the Denver area in time enough to skirt rush hour, so I say, “Another time.”  Yes, those of my friends who travel in rarefied circles, there is value to visiting the Prairie.  It has our roots.

 

Various Shelters

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June 23, 2016, Eagar, AZ-  I have been helping to staff a Red Cross shelter, in this small eastern Arizona town, for the past two days.  Those who are here, have come because of respiratory issues.  The smoke from the Cedar Fire, a human-caused forest conflagration, has been more of a problem than the actual blaze.  Few, if any, structures have been affected by the fire.  The school where we are housed is well away from the blaze, of course, as is the school in the Painted Desert town of Holbrook, where a second shelter has been opened.  The concerns now are smoke and flooding, once the monsoon rains come, in earnest.  We got a foretaste of the latter, last night, when the parking lot outside our staff motel got about twenty minutes’ worth of shower activity.

The other day, in between beach visits in southern California, I spent about forty minutes walking in the western lagoon area of San Elijo Lagoon Natural Reserve, in Cardiff-by-the-Sea, north of San Diego.  A brackish water lagoon is also a shelter.  Both marine animals and desert mountain creatures find a safe haven.  The lagoon is, however, a tenuous place of refuge.  Given its location near various industrial areas, there is always a balance to be struck between the natural filtering that water plants offer and Man’s perceived need to generate waste, in the name of “prosperity”.  Brackishness has a long way to go, in being appreciated for what it offers the balance of nature.

Thus, San Elijo’s lagoon is a vital educational tool.  Here are some views of the western portion of this extraordinary refuge.

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Thick vegetation is needed, to help filter out toxins.

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Several channels converge in the lagoon, en route to the sea.

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A lone egret was partaking of the solace, this morning.

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The channel on the right has cut through to the ocean.

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The Kumeyaay people, now also called Diegueno or Luiseno, had simple, temporary dwellings, when they came to the lagoon to gather fish, crustaceans and kelp.

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Here is a view of the ocean-bound channel, from the Visitor Center’s second-floor observation deck.

The eastern section of San Elijo Lagoon Natural preserve lies east of Interstate 5, in the community of Encinitas.  It’s an area best enjoyed in the coolness of Fall.  I may well stop and investigate the emerging channels and their hillside source, come October.

There are no real external shelters from one’s own struggles.  The only way, as was said in “The Empire Strikes Back”, is through.  I have been my own worst foe, in so many situations, that the aforementioned option has become my default.  There were two instances, in the past day or so, where my efforts at maintaining the shelter clashed with others, who were either not thinking things through, or were just worn out and seeking the path of least resistance.   The only thing I could do, in both cases, was quietly continue what I was doing, for the benefit of the shelter clients, while not pushing the confrontation envelope. Our manager has confidence in my judgement.  This is a continuation of what I experienced this past Spring, at Prescott High School.  It’s refreshing, actually, and indicates I’m doing something right.

I am grateful for many shelters.

Father’s Day Weekend

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June 18-19, 2016, Chula Vista-

Saturday and Sunday were among the best, most bonding days I’ve had with Aram, in a good long while, which is saying something, because we are tight, for two who live such separate lives, in neighbouring states.

It comes down to parenting never being a work of completion.  I bounced things off my Dad, every so often, until he was no longer physically here to approach, for that purpose.  He still makes his views known, though, and I am finally at the point where I sense he is happy with my choices.  I can say the same about my pride in my son.  He has established himself as a valued presence, though his current position is not his life’s work.

Saturday was a day for errands, so we went to the recycling station, which is actually not  from his place, contrary to what their website says. We also found a Michael’s, for some frames he needed.  I was pleased to have found one that fit an off-sized print he had.  Filippi’s, one of my A-List restaurants in San Diego, has a branch in Chula Vista, so we hopped on over there for a sandwich lunch.

Sunday was a scorcher, all over the continent it seems.  I got reports from friends in Ontario, in Florida and in the Midwest, of horrible temps.  We nonetheless enjoyed a forty-five minute revisit to Japanese-American Friendship Garden, in Balboa Park, with a concert featuring the world’s largest carillon pipe organ, in the background.

Given the heat which most people reading this endured yesterday, I present you with various scenes of running water.

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The bonsai exhibit is an exception, but it endures with minimal watering.

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Aram’s birth sign is water.  H2O has always been his friend.

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Here’s a nice view of the Lower Garden pond, which opened in July, 2015.

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The water filters along rocks, carefully placed along the downslope.

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This mallard was more than glad to stand in pose.

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Close your eyes, and imagine Old Japan.

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Rocks and flowing water are staples of the Japanese garden.

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Small cascades invite one to splash about; though that would be bad form.

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Lilies are more common here, than they were a few years ago.

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Just how deep are these rocks?

We were suitably inspired by the water scenes, to head straight for the Jamba Juice, in a Chula Vista shopping mall, near the harbour.  Copious amounts of refreshing liquid are always welcome to both our palates.

Dinner was, of course, a buffet- at Zorba’s Cafe, with all my favourite Greek dishes.  This time, though, we both “made do” with about half the offerings.  Less can definitely be more.

I will go philosophical in my next post, which is the 1,000th of this website.  Scenes of the Cardiff-by-the-Sea beachfront, and of San Elijo Preserve’s western lagoon, will help in this effort.  Stay tuned.

The Weevils Don’t Stand A Chance

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February 21, 2016, Prescott-

 

24. tower, kettle, hawk, charm, cotton

This little verse is about a tower, and the fields below.

A group of slaves found themselves set free,

The tower once home to their masters,

Became theirs to oversee.

The crop they grew was cotton,

Their fields were often sodden.

The moisture also led to evil,

in the form of  dreadful weevils.

Now, the ex-captives were not simple-minded,

nor to solutions were they blinded.

On a cool spring morning,

they met and talked.

Of a sudden,

they heard a squawk.

The tower’s roof

was now home to a hawk.

“How do we get our bird friend

to like weevils?”, one mused.

“Let us spread some kettle corn!”,

another newly freed man enthused.

“This will draw some swamp rats in,

the hawk will swoop down and feast on the vermin.

Once the rats have been decimated,

the raptor will seek another way to be sated.

He will spot the busy weevils,

make several meals of them,

and the cotton, reap, we will!”

So it went, that the men worked hard,

their own well-being, to safeguard.

They managed to charm some ladies from town,

and families soon sprang up.

The team was no longer trodden down.

 

One Wednesday’s Window

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February 17, 2016, Prescott- I sense a false Spring, which nonetheless has given me good vibrations, and a fair amount of fresh energy.

#23.  tea, tiger, night, train, television, tie

It was on the night train to Amsterdam, that Jean Corneille tucked a napkin into his brocade shirt, and looked out the window of his closed compartment. He enjoyed a light repast, followed by a cup of tea.  Monsieur Corneille, descended from French literary royalty, had no interest in the writer’s craft.  He was a television director, true, but his interest was in the action on the set.  Scripts bored him.

As he watched the passing night scenes of various villages in Picardy and Flandres, Jean began to concoct his own scenarios.  He viewed a series of railroad ties, dimly lit by the overhead lights, outside Lille. His mind wandered back to the ridiculous American melodramas of the 1920’s, in which snickering, one-dimensional villains, with curled mustaches and a banker’s business dress of the time, would tie up similarly one-dimensional young women on railroad tracks.  The ladies would ever be rescued, just ahead of the thundering train, by a one-dimensional, muscle-bound hero.  The villain invariably muttered, “Curses, foiled again!”

Nothing M. Corneille put forth on TeleParis was one dimensional.  He was determined his program’s viewers would have to think about what they were watching. His mind focused on making a three-dimensional, thought-provoking update of the Hero-Damsel-Villain triangle.

As the train left Tournai, and headed into Belgium, he spotted a cage being loaded onto one of the freight cars.  He heard a faint, but distinct, purring.  Jean figured it was another of those contraband pets, rescued from some drug lord or money launderer, headed to a major zoo:  Brussels, perhaps; Amsterdam, or Berlin.  His mind went back to the melodrama.

The train had proceeded uneventfully through Belgium, and had just crossed into the Netherlands, when Jean, who had nodded off, was awakened by a series of shouts, coming from the third class car, behind his.  “Mon Dieu”, he sniffed, “what on Earth are those peasants mewling about, this time?”

His upturned nose was brought a bit lower, when the conductor ran into the first class car, followed by ten frantic, screaming passengers- and the tiger, who had escaped from his cage and managed to leave the freight car, as well.

Jean, seeing a true opportunity for a ratings smash, raised himself up into the top berth of his compartment, edged over to the door, and opened it- drawing the tiger’s attention.  The big cat abandoned his chase and warily entered the compartment.  After initially trying to stand on hind legs and sniff at the well-concealed Jean Corneille, the beast lied down on the floor and rested.

Dutch authorities tranquilized the tiger, at Rotterdam Central Station, and took him off, back into a cage.  Five months later, Jean Corneille won several awards for his televised account of the Wednesday Night Ride.  He has visited his co-star, twice, at the small zoo of Utrecht.

 

The Ochre Iguana

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February 7, 2016, Prescott- I was happy with our Baha’i reflection meeting, this morning and I am happy for Peyton Manning and the Denver Broncos.  Now it’s time for a short verse, based on prompts from the Winter Scavenger Hunt.

19. mild, ochre, bulb, tail, scale

Have you ever been to Khamsomulb?

A mild isle, ’tis, where grows a delightful bulb.

The shallots on Khamsomulb feed an iguana,

whose loving master named her Shannah.

Shannah lives among the reddest of rocks,

and so has developed a hue that might shock.

She’s ochre, you see, from crown to tail,

with nary a hint of green, not even on her scale.

Shannah the Iguana is fed shallots and fish,

which she knocks out, with her ochre tail’s

Swish, swish.