The Road to 65, Mile 321: The Garden

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October 14, 2015, Chino Valley-

The little girl registered a mild objection to my changing the morning schedule, from “Science”, which she loves, to “Writing”, in which she has little self-confidence.  I had something up my sleeve, which required the presence of the three students who were off being tested.

Outside our south window, there is a fallow garden plot.  The school’s director has hinted at “how nice” it will be for the plot to be reseeded, and tended.  The day has fallen into my lap.  After, lunch, with all the children back in the room, I told them of my lesson plan. We would go out to the garden, and whilst there, brainstorm as to what could be planted.  Each child was to make a wish list, with no immediate restrictions, other than that it must be something that will either grow or will help things grow.

After twenty-five minutes, in the garden, some of the eight-year-olds got restless, so we went back inside the classroom. The rest of our class time was spent with each student stating what was on her/his wish list and me recording and tallying the items on the white board.  This is a huge deal for several of the kids, not the least of whom is the girl who bemoaned the lack of a science lesson, this morning.

There is much ahead.  The students will now need to look up their plants, see what type of soil, planting specifics, watering level and frequency, climate and nourishment they will need, how to guard against pests, which animals best pollinate the plants, and how much work it will take to raise the intended crop.

This will be a major class project, and will be integrative learning, involving reading, math, science, social studies, writing and social collaboration.  Add to this, all the rest that is on tap for the year, and we should see measurable growth in this class.

The Road to 65, Mile 320: Colliding Forces

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October 13, 2015, Chino Valley-

Thoughts on my new job, thus far:

Needs overlooked,

lead to outrage.

They who overlooked,

hold fast to the stage.

Pleading eyes of the young,

hope my time will bring meaning.

Flinty eyes of the old,

hope my time will be fleeting.

A child speaks truth to power.

Does my contemporary feign power,

yet inside, cower?

The waning forces subside,

Yet with a rising tide,

they collide.

The Road to 65, Mile 319: Conquistador

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October 12, 2015, Chino Valley-

A few thoughts about the day, as we might look at it.

The deer trails, drawing the interest of the hunters,

became the Kinship Trails, drawing the interest of the merchants,

the soldiers and the monks.

The Conquistador Trails, drawing the interest of the pioneers,

the entrepreneurs and the downtrodden,

became the railroads and macadam highways, drawing the

interest of the Lords of Commerce and the satisfied multitudes.

The Interstate Highways, drawing the interest of the masses,

fleeing oppression, become

closed, behind walls and fences.

The Road to 65, Mile 318: Prescott Circle, Segment 9.

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October 11, 2015, Prescott- The air was a bit warmer and drier today- 82, in mid-afternoon.  I had two gallons of water with me, so after tending to chores and visiting with friends, I headed out for the second installment of Prescott Circle.  This jaunt took me from Pioneer Park Ballfield, through a stretch of Gambel’s oak and juniper pine forest, on the campus of Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University, to Willow Lake, a man-made reservoir that is lined by cottonwood trees.  The lake area used to be the site of a Sinagua settlement, when Willow Creek was freely-flowing and there was plentiful game in the nearby Willow Dells, a western extension of the granite boulders that abound in northeast Prescott.

Now, one must go underneath the busy thoroughfare of Willow Creek Road, and cross two dirt fill yards, to get from the Embry-Riddle Preserve to the marshland that is drying up, south of Willow Lake.  I have hiked out to the lake shore, and had to walk logs, in order to hike the 1 1/2 mile round trip on Cottonwood Peninsula Spur Trail.  Today, the lake was a shadow of itself.  Hopefully, late Fall and Winter will bring a wet change.

Here are some views of the scenes I encountered, going all the way to the Willow Dells parking area., a distance of 8.8 miles, round trip.

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There are frequent maps, by which to chart one’s progress.  This one was at the turnaround point of my hike.

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Here is the entrance to Cottonwood Peninsula Spur Trail.

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Here is a shallower Willow Lake, at the Dells.

The Road to 65, Mile 317: Prescott Circle, Segment 10.

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October 10, 2015, Prescott- I took three hours, this afternoon, to begin my series of hikes around Prescott Circle.  It is a 51-mile loop, that connects several of our area’s natural wonders.  As is my wont, I am doing the circuit in clockwise fashion.  So, I started with Segment 10, which takes in a very familiar stretch:  Pioneer Park.  This is a huge greenbelt in northeast Prescott, with a rim trail that looks down on a series of groves, comprised of juniper pine and scrub oak.  The park has 9 miles of hiking trails, in addition to Prescott Circle, which goes along the park’s northern edge, then dips down and passes through Pioneer’s ball field, before continuing on.

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The surrounding mountain ranges, such as the Bradshaws, background left, are all visible from the rim trail.

I have hiked in this area several times, but looking at it as part of a whole gives Pioneer Park a fresher meaning.  The strength that comes from walking 9.6 miles round trip is an added benefit. Tomorrow, if my chores and acts of service are done, I will pursue the next segment, also in familiar areas:  The Embry-Riddle Forest Preserve and Willow Lake.

The Road to 65, Mile 316: Shots Fired

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October 9, 2015, Chino Valley- I woke today, to the horrible news that a student at my alma mater, Northern Arizona University, had killed a schoolmate and wounded three others.  This, at one of the most congenial and intimate of universities in the country.

I studied at NAU from 1979-81 (Master’s Program) and again, intermittently, from 1983-87, obtaining my school administrative certificate and credentials for teaching learners of English as a Second Language.  Any disagreements I had with other students, usually about them being noisy after 10 P.M., on a weeknight, were easily resolved, with compromises by both parties. (i.e. my wearing earplugs and their turning down the base and treble).

When I was eleven, I went through a firearms safety and marksmanship course, courtesy of the Boy Scouts and National Rifle Association.  NRA, at that time, was known and respected for making weapons safety its main concern.  I have not generally had firearms in my home, though there was one on hand in our house in Phoenix.  It never had to be used, and was sold when son and I moved out.

The one thing that was drilled into me, over and over, and which I imparted to Aram, is that a weapon- be it firearm, blade or what have you, is to be treated with full respect for what damage it can do.  A firearm is the easiest weapon to use, IF, and only if, proper protocol is being followed.  The Boy Scouts teach their members to NEVER POINT a weapon, toy or otherwise, at another human being.  Shooting in self-defense is seen by them as something to be done, sparingly, by adults.

We are too casual, as a nation, with regard to allowing the mentally ill to obtain weapons, period.  I once had to intervene and remove several steak knives from a place where they were accessible to emotionally-handicapped elementary students, and place those knives in a locked cabinet.  I lost an adult friend because of this, but I don’t care.

How much worse is it to let those under siege, in their own mind, have ready access to firearms?  The debate will go on, as long as we regard the Federal Government as an enemy.  In fact, it reflects who we are as a people- our strivings, our conflicts (both internal and interpersonal) and our priorities.

The bottom line, impacting both mental health and the very “need” to own weapons, is our twin tendency, as a society, for anonymity and insularity.  I see it in everything from being unwilling to share a table, in a public place, with strangers, to road rage to viewing those who simply have differing opinions, in an adversarial light.  I have been guilty of all three of these, though my anger on the road never compelled me to assault the other people.  I have also been on the receiving end of all three, though thankfully, never physically assaulted on the road.

Requiring background checks on prospective firearms owners, or would-be purchasers of long knives and swords, or explosives, or copious amounts of poisonous substances, is not going to be a cure-all for violent assault and murder.  It IS, however, a DETERRENT.  That which gives a person pause, which makes her/him think twice, is worth the inconvenience of delay in purchase.  It also makes it a lot easier to live under the Second Amendment to the U.S. Constitution.

The Road to 65, Mile 315: Crowded Out, In An Empty Room

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October 8, 2015, Prescott- I opted to attend a monthly meeting of the American Legion, this evening, rather than go to another gathering.  As it happened, that was not the best use of my time.  Although I will remain a member of the Legion, and the local post, so as to maintain ties with trusted friends, circumstances have changed.  I am not a member of the inner circle, and so when trying to humbly offer a correction at tonight’s meeting, I was upbraided.  Though my concern was addressed a short time later, it was made clear that “he”, meaning me, was regarded as a nuisance by the leadership.

Thus, tonight’s was my last meeting.  Disorganization is something through which any of us ought to be able to work, but when the disorganized are arrogant and full of themselves, to protest is folly. I find it is far more advantageous for me to use my time towards the building of a solid community foundation.  The alternatives on Thursday night are Baha’i activities and encouraging one or both of the secular friends to whom I alluded in the last post.

There were few people at tonight’s meeting.  From here on, there will be one less.

The Road to 65, Mile 314: Synergy

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October 7, 2015, Prescott- 

Here’s a bit of verse, to bring life to a slow day.  This is inspired by two friends, each leery of being hurt, yet again.

Conversation lags,

When tethered to the phone.

I’d be far more animated,

Seeing your face,

Even across a room.

No one has to face the dark alone,

despite the myth to which we cling, in an air of gloom.

I am a friend who would take a bullet,

Not a passer-by, who regards your plight as my gauntlet.

What seems insurmountable,

with synergy, becomes infinitesimal.

The Road to 65, Mile 313: Of Horses, Llamas and Bells

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October 6, 2015, Sedona- After dealing with more computer work, regarding a legal matter, I headed out for a day’s respite, stopping first at Mortimer Family Farm, in Dewey.  The Fall is in full swing at this exhilarating place.  As you can see, the pumpkins,alone, will delight dozens of school children this season.

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My other purpose was to pick up one of their delectable sandwiches, along with a piece of Pumpkin Pie Fudge and a mocha espresso, for a roadside picnic.  This ended up taking place at Crucifixion Point, a Forest Service Day-Use area, which was closed and locked.  Nothing prevented me from parking outside the gate and enjoying a pleasant meal, though.

Then, it was off to Sedona.  I stopped at the community college branch and inquired as to the road to Honanki, a Pueblo ruin on the West Side of town.  I was told that I was not to go in there unless riding in a commercial jeep.  I know this is a bunch of hooey, and figure the staff member must have some interest in the jeep outfit.  Rather than waste time, I headed to a tried and true hiking path: Little Horse Trail and Llama Trail.  Little Horse, which I last hiked three years ago, heads to Chicken Point (seen below) and Submarine Rock.

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It also connects with a trail to the Chapel in the Red Rocks.

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About 2/3 of the way to Chicken Point, I veered off Little Horse, and took Llama Trail.  This brings the hiker back around to the south, towards Courthhouse Butte and Bell Rock.  At one point, Llama Trail has one in a place that is equidistant from Cathedral Rock (west), Madonna and the Nuns (north), Courthouse Butte (east) and Bell Rock (south).  I chose that area to pray, take a drink from my water bottle and write reminiscences of my July trip to California.  Sedona has several vortices, and this felt like one of them.

While I was praying, I was greeted by some local residents.

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Here are two shots of  Madonna and The Nuns.

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Courthouse Butte is not to be outdone.

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Nor are Bell Rock,

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or Cathedral Rock.

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Llama Trail ends at Courthouse Vista, about 1 1/2 miles south of where my car was.  So, in the interests of not being caught up in an approaching thunderstorm or out after dark, I took Bail Trail, a 1/4 mile connector, to Bell Rock Path, then back to Little Horse and my way home.

As it happened, I drove through the rain easily, and got home in time for another fine Arizona scene.

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The Road to 65, Mile 312: Diligence

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October 5, 2015, Prescott- Instead of going to a different part of the state for a few days, I am staying in our county and tending to matters both expected and unexpected.  One of the latter is a legal issue, not involving me too directly, at this point.  By doing some editing of this blog site and a few other adjustments, I will keep from being dragged too deeply into it.

I have also made flight arrangements for my visit back East, in December. This, I was able to do rather economically.  That was not always the case, but I have learned much, in the past six years.

Then, there are the preparations for my two-month- and- maybe- longer, stint at the small school where I worked several days, the past two weeks. I will need to spend Friday there, if I can get access, during this vacation week.  As it is, I have a plan for the first few days back, so that’s something.

Life requires diligence, whether at work or at leisure.  There is always some aspect that is beyond fun and games.  Having said this, tomorrow will be a day for hiking in Sedona.