I told you I was sick!

Cemeteries can be interesting places. Along with churches, museums, architecture, landscapes, critters, the sky, old signs, and good old Detroit steel, they're one of my favorite things to photograph.

While in Key West, way the heck back in January, I took one of those hop-on, hop-off tour buses. Part of the loop included the Key West Cemetery, whose location is at 701 Passover Lane, and whose motto, if you want to call it that, is Herein Lies Our History. It is a Florida Heritage Site, founded in 1847. Just think what a wild, primitive place is was then, and give a shout out to the person who either named the street after the cemetery was founded, or placed the cemetery on that road.

Under the heading of Crazy Coincidences is this marker for Sophronia Bradley Hall. Between mosquito-killing sessions at Everglades National Park, I found a tablet in memory of Guy Bradley. He was an Audubon warden who was killed in the line of duty in 1903 (according to his plaque) by feather hunters. He was 33. His widow, Sophronia, died 40-something years later and was buried in Key West. I'd never heard of either of them before January, and within the space of a week I'd heard of them both.

Under the heading of Why Him? is this grave marker for Edward Kurhn. He is buried in the military section of the cemetery where there is a statue dedicated to the men who died when the Battleship Maine blew up in Havana Harbor on February 15, 1898, just one of the incidents which precipitated the Spanish American War. 

As you can see in the second photo below and as you may have seen in the Andersonville photos I've posted, national cemetery headstones are usually plain affairs; everyone's is more or less the same. But here, Edward Kurhn has been given a nice memorial, dedicated by his shipmates of the USS Buffalo, where he died in 1902. Why him?

This gorgeous creature was enjoying the sun. Does anyone know what kind it is? I'm too lazy to look it up.

I always make a beeline for mausoleums because, as I discovered in Rock Creek Cemetery in Washington DC, some of them have stunning stained glass windows at the back. The window here was so-so fair, but look at this Flickr page to see some real artwork.

Here is a tribute to A Gallant Confederate Soldier Awaiting the Bugle Call. He was just 18 at the end of the Civil War. What took him from Mississippi to the farthest reaches of Florida? Was he a prisoner at Fort Jefferson in Dry Tortugas and just never left the Keys when the war was over?

These are always sad. This is a particularly lovely stone, still in crisp relief.

If this doesn't creep you out I don't know what would.  The flyer distributed by the cemetery said no one knows the significance of the bound woman on Archibald John Sheldon Yates' grave. I don't want to know.

I somehow missed the announcement that chickens/roosters are a Key West mascot of sorts. They run wild everywhere. This rooster had three or four hens in attendance.

This guy must have been some character. Norm Taylor, AKA Captain Outrageous.

This tiny mausoleum, even though it didn't boast any stained glass windows, made my day.

You've heard of the grave that's marked with the famous words, "I told you I was sick"?

Et voilá!

Not to be outdone, though, was this one over the door:

It says, "I'm just resting my eyes."

And this one, mounted on the post at the exit of the cemetery:

I love a sense of humor.

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Thought of the day:

A little slice o' heaven

Sunday was a picture-perfect day around here, as opposed to Saturday when the wind howled and gusted and rocked the house, and today, when the wind howled and gusted and rocked the house. It was so bad on Saturday that the sky above the horizon disappeared into a dusty wall. But yesterday - sublime - which called for another mini roadtrip, this time to Sedona, a little slice o' heaven.

Just about two years ago to the week the ex-husband and I drove through Sedona but for one reason or another we didn't stop. I always wanted to go back and in fact, my three good friends from high school and I were supposed to meet there last April to celebrate (?) our 60th birthdays, but we all know what was going on with me last April. It wasn't fun, games, and bottles of wine, but this almost-April is very different from a year ago.

Before I experienced this part of the country, I long maintained that the Oregon coast was the most beautiful place I'd ever seen, but Sedona surely gives it a run for its money. I could keep both of them as favorites if I say it's comparing apples and oranges - the coast and the high desert are both very beautiful and very different places.

So off we went to Sedona on Sunday morning, my partner and I. It's just a short distance south of Flagstaff, which is a couple of hours west of the park on I-40. I've seen many pictures of Slide Rock State Park and we happened on it before hitting the town of Sedona, so we pulled in.

The park was in private hands for some time. Frank L. Pendley arrived in the canyon in 1907, formally acquiring the land under the Homestead Act in 1910. Due to his pioneering innovation, he succeeded where others failed by establishing a unique irrigation system still in use by the park today. He established an apple orchard in 1912 and over the years expanded the varieties. In the 1930s he built tourist cabins; this is one of the remaining buildings.

His own homestead was built in 1927. The apple tree in the background is trying hard to burst into bloom, but the one at the back of the house is ablaze with flowers.

The packing facility is still standing. It appears the state is still maintaining the property as an orchard as well as a public park; there was a crew behind this building planting saplings and fencing them off.

The scenery is spectacular.

Sedona is known to some for its areas of spiritual energy, an area believed by some to have vortexes that are conducive to healing, meditation, and prayer. I don't know about this but I keep an open mind. It would seem to me that you'd have to feel something when you come to an area of such power and presence.

Below are the younger trees in the orchard. On the other side of the walk to the creek and the water slide is the one remaining tree from the original orchard.

Here's the real draw of the park. People don't come here to look at old buildings and apple trees. They come for the creek

 There's an 80-foot natural slide in here somewhere but I never found it.

I suspect that in the summer it's standing room only, but yesterday it was just cool enough to keep the crowds down some.

I kept this photo because of the size of the boulder beside the creek. It would keep me looking up over my shoulder at the cliffs above.

Above the creek was a lone apple tree soaking up the sun, such a welcome sign of spring.

At creek level.

The creek has thankfully not been "improved." There are deep passages and shallow basins, rocks, and polished channels, all creating their own textures, encouraging a longer look.

Highway 89A crosses over the creek and creates this shady oasis. I could spend a long time just looking at the color in this one spot alone.

We spent a really nice couple of hours here and then went into Sedona for a quick look around. It's a tourist town. That's about all that can be said for it. The $10 spent to gain entrance to this park gave us more pleasure than if we'd spent 100 times that on anything the shops had to offer. My motto, after years of collecting stuff and finally seeing its true worth: Collect moments, not things. The ex-husband never got it. My partner does.

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Thought of the day:
May those that love us, love us.
And those that don't love us, may God turn their hearts.
If he can't turn their hearts, 
May he turn their ankles
So we'll know them by their limping.  (In honor of St. Patrick's day)

Pi Day in Pie Town

Yesterday was Pi Day, and if I knew about it, living in a cave as I do, there's no excuse for any of you not to know, too - you know, pi, the math term for 3.14 and so on. I learned by chance that there's a... town is stretching the term, in New Mexico that is coincidentally called Pie Town. They close for the winter and open again every year on March 14 so yesterday was the big day.

Legend has it that a man by the name of Ed Jones was one of the Dust Bowl émigrés who landed in the area of the 8000 foot Continental Divide that is now Pie Town. He walked seven miles from his homestead to a crossroads every day to sell pies. Why pies and not axles, or beans? Why did he not make his homestead closer than seven miles? If he walked, how did he transport his pies? Maybe that's why it's a legend. 

So my friend and I drove over yesterday to partake of some fresh pie, plus we were looking for a mini roadtrip. It was about 180 miles, not bad when you think of 75 mph speed limits on the interstate, but lots longer, waaaay longer,  on secondary roads. We got there in time for lunch and to see three whole pies walking out the door and not much else on the sideboard where they're showcased. Lucky for us, we were told two more were coming out of the oven shortly, an apple-cranberry crumble, and a chocolate chess with chili and pine nuts. Chocolate for me, apple for my friend.

When we owned our spectacular failure of a bakery, one of my goals was to move from what I called "bucket pies," those whose fillings came premade in a bucket, to all-scratch pies. If I remember correctly, we charged $17 for a bucket pie and $23 for a scratch pie, but that was only for fruit pies. Our pumpkin, coconut cream (killer recipe), chocolate cream, French silk, etc. pies, all scratch, too, were not that much. Pecan pies, yes, because I loaded those crusts with pecans, about three times what the recipe called for. We were not a failure because of quality and quantity, that's for sure. But back to the pies. We used Pyrex deep dish pie plates and they held a lot of pie - fruit pies had four pounds!! of filling. I made the crusts from scratch and the crusts of all all sweet pies were brushed with egg and sprinkled with coarse sugar before going into the oven. I wove lattice tops - no cheater stencil-cut tops that pretend to be lattice. We made beautiful, wonderful pies, but to even think we could have gotten away with $27.25 for a pie would have been sadly laughable. That's what the Pie-O-Neer Restaurant charges and they were walking out the door in droves. They could not keep up with the demand. Our samples were good, but not what I'd say was worth their price. I wish I knew their secret for getting top dollar for their product.

This was the clue we needed to stop.

 The one operational building in Pie Town that I could see.

However, if you're in the market for a fixer, they got 'em.

1.

2. This one comes with cross ventilation.

3.

Even though the pies were something of a disappointment, when I can spot some old Detroit steel, it's a good day. According to some website I looked at, this is a 1961 model of the Chevy Impala. Kind of a dull-looking style here, but

 modified fins on the rear end

 

and that deep V on the trunk make this worthy of being a project car. Not for me, but for someone.

On the other side of the restaurant was this maybe 1949 Chevy.

 Could be sweet with some money and elbow grease invested.

The only part of this car was the bullet-ridden door. The first thought in my head was Bonnie and Clyde.

Pie Town also has a windmill museum, courtesy of the local well-driller.

I've seen several small-town museums and it's interesting that what we might think is silly or even ridiculous has real meaning to the person who curated the exhibits. Just because this is windmills and other places have tractors or items of local history doesn't mean their value is intrinsically less than, say, the collection of the Met. It's hard for me to fathom, but there are plenty of people who are bored to tears by what I call art. Define "value." I think it's like beauty - in the eye of the beholder.

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Thought of the day:

Cars are like rolling diaries, metal and paint and plastic tableaux of the last ten years of their drivers' lives... every dent, every drooping slice of chrome has a story behind it. (Jim Atkinson - Texas Monthly, "Heaven on Wheels," September 1984)

Cars are like rolling diaries, metal and plastic and paint tableaux of the last ten years of their drivers' lives ... every dent, every drooping slice of chrome, has a story behind it.

JIM ATKINSON, Texas Monthly, "Heaven on Wheels," Sep. 1984

Read more at http://www.notable-quotes.com/c/cars_quotes.html#rTFc8klP7C3Dc0WP.99

Cars are like rolling diaries, metal and plastic and paint tableaux of the last ten years of their drivers' lives ... every dent, every drooping slice of chrome, has a story behind it.

JIM ATKINSON, Texas Monthly, "Heaven on Wheels," Sep. 1984

Read more at http://www.notable-quotes.com/c/cars_quotes.html#rTFc8klP7C3Dc0WP.99

Going to Marathon

I hung my hat in Marathon, Texas for a couple of nights when I went to Big Bend National Park. It's a cute little town with lots of friendly people, and the campground was only about $20 a night. That's a bargain. I'll show you the town another time, but just look how nice this little independent motel is.

I love old signs and have found the best ones in the southwest, where it's dry and they don't rust to shreds. Think back to the time when having television was a big deal, and that gives you an idea how old this sign is.

This building houses the reception desk. The young woman who works there also works evenings at the Gage Hotel just down the road. I went to dinner there one night and my server said he drives 30 miles each way to work to put himself through school in Alpine, the home of Sul Ross University.

A closer view of the character of the little door in the side of the building. Note the detail: not just the pots on the roof, but the detail on the pots on the roof.

There's a lot of public space on the grounds. If the weather had been warmer I would have taken advantage of the plentiful seating everywhere.

The grounds were beautifully maintained, which was a factor, along with the more than reasonable rate, in my deciding to stay an extra night or two.

Beautiful, isn't it? It's one side of the courtyard through the entrance above.

There wasn't a fire this day, but can't you smell something - anything - good coming from that oven?

 Pedro's wholesale and retail ice. It's another nice old sign.

There's a website that I often check for decent campgrounds to stop at, rvparkreviews.com. I've contributed several reviews of my own and rely on it for real users' honest opinions. Processing these photos tonight reminded me that I haven't reviewed the Marathon RV park yet, and I need to get to it. I'd stop here again for sure.


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Thought of the day:

The reason a lot of people do not recognize opportunity is because it usually goes around wearing overalls looking like hard work.
Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/keywords/hard_work.html#GU6t712AcVOXgSOU.99

The reason a lot of people don't recognize opportunity is because it goes around wearing overalls, looking like hard work. (Thomas Edison)