The pastel sunrises this week have been amazing. The last two mornings the colors have been so spectacular that I have a hard time concentrating on the road while driving to work.
We are still in a heatwave, reaching 80F during the day. This is nice, especially what the people in Chicagoland or New Jersey are experiencing. However, we need our winter rains. So far we have been a half-inch BELOW the February average of .623 inches. The dryer it gets now the earlier the wildfires will begin, and that is always a fear of mine. We are too close to the National Forest to be safe even if fires break out in the mountains.
At any rate...school is coming along great, all my classes are inspiring me and somehow the local school district keeps calling ME to sub for all the PE classes. That's because most sub teachers are retired school teachers who refuse to do PE since most of them are too out of shape or too old. That's good news for me, as the added weight training I have been doing this week have worked wonders on my lower back pain.
Yesterday I ran a mile after the students ran theirs and today I did a minute worth of sit-ups after the students did theirs as well. Although I have slowed down profusely since two years ago, I'm still faster than most teen women with a 9:53 mile; my sit-ups today added to 35. (It didn't seem that long ago that I could easily run a mile in under eight minutes...could I still do that after some serious working out?)
The Arizona Daily Star reported today that the University of Arizona is cancelling its BA degree program in secondary education degrees for history, foreign language and English (but not math and science). This does not affect the Graduate degree program, even though I had hoped to take a few undergraduate methodology courses this fall before starting my Master's Degree.
All that aside, this week at the high school has been a blast. Not only have I been motivated to get back into shape (admitting that I HAVE let myself go this past year until about two months ago). I'm trying to learn students' names but the infrequency in meeting them makes that hard without daily contact.
Today four out of five regular P.E. teachers were out of the classroom and four subs filled in. Two of them were much older retired men who basically stood in the corners of the gym and supervised. Another retired Army NCO and I were in the same gym and both of us were pretty frisky when it came to interacting with the students. Chuck was recently hired, about a week after me, and I gave him a few tips on how to hasten his certification. He is a history major and I am the Foreign Language Guru.
Next week I'm back to teaching History...and, finally, my first French class.
http://www.azstarnet.com/allheadlines/282038.php
__
http://www.azstarnet.com/sn/fromcomments/281893.php
http://www.azcentral.com/news/articles/2009/02/26/20090226drug-battle0226-ON.html
http://www.elpasotimes.com/newupdated/ci_11787538
http://www.cnn.com/2009/WORLD/americas/02/27/juarez.mexico.violence/index.html
Friday, February 27, 2009
Monday, February 23, 2009
Tubac, its Presidio and the Juan Bautista de Anza National Historic Trail
I wanted to hike the 3.5 mile Anza Trail from Tumacacori to Tubac but I had spent so much time walking around the presidio that I was already quite tired. On top of that, it was warmer than usual today and I was feeling a bit parched. So instead of picking up the trail behind the post office across the street from the mission, I drove the three miles into town and parked outside the state histoic park, Arizona's first state park. The same state park that is being threatened with closure to save on monies.
The presidio compound was smaller than I thought. I paid my $3 and walked around, again reading everything on the signs and using my park reading guide. Some of the more important buildings, like the presidio itself, were no longer around, but the school house, an underground museum and the Rojas House were still standing. The park was on the edge of town, and everything outside the four-foot adobe wall was Tubac, its shops and the wandering tourists.
The presidio had more Native American displays in its museum.
It was after 2pm when I finished my tour of the presidio. I spent more time driving around Tubac to get familiar with the layout, locating lush green grass from the "Hurford Ranch" that was irrigating its grass from overhead sprinklers. That ranch had the greenest grass in town outside of the golf course.
Toursts were crowding the narrow streets, licking ice cream cones and looking at Mexican pottery, sculptures and other artsy designs. I was more interested in the smaller Mexican homes with the green shutters and ocotillo fences. There wasn't much to Tubac, as it seemed to be more of a town based on tourism and high-priced galleries. Most of the cars in town, however, displayed Arizona plates.
I had to snicker at the misspelled "Tubac Cementery" sign, home of mostly Mexican graves covered in coloful plastic flower arrangements. The cemetery was across the street from the fancy golf course.
I walked around the upscale "Esplanada" shopping mall but didn't buy anything. (What is there for me to buy these days?) I chatted for a few minutes with the Mexican woman at the tourist center, a sweet older woman who kept thanking me for stopping buy. She had seen her share of tourists today and commented on how older German women dress, as an older German woman had just stepped outside the center.
"They don't really get fat like American women do," she explained, "and they are always dressed so elegantly." Unlike me, who was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and wore oversized winter boots. Her description of Germans fit my own mother to a T. She would have been aghast to be seen with my own down-scaled attire.
I told her I was surprised at how small Tubac was. Where did the kids here go to school? I figured living here as a kid must be horribly boring, when the town's entire economy is based on wealthy older people.
"The students here go to Green Valley or Nogales" she went on. "We have a Montesouri school in town that parents pay for."
And then she changed the subject to Sierra Vista. "I heard there are gangs coming in from Los Angeles." That is true...and it's a battle with the Cripts and Bloods that won't be won anytime soon.
It was passed 3pm now, I was thirsty, and still determined to hike a part of the Anza Historical Trail. I parked by the presidio, closer to the trailhead parking, and took off. I only brought my camera as I had no extra water by now to carry.
The trail passed along private property, skirted a new housing development and then paralled a tributary to the Santa Cruz River. Upon closer look I could see ground cover coming up, giving the river banks a lush green hue with the smell of sweet mildewy humidity. This was sewage effluent at its finest.
But then somehow the trail went north instead of south like I had planned, moving toward the Tumacacori mission. I got on a 1.5-mile northbound access trail by accident. I figured I'd hike for an hour out or until the trail ended or when the trail crossed the river. I didn't mind the diversion as I prefer riparian habitats over desert habitats when it gets hot out.
I passed two felled snags that collected upriver flow of discarded plastic bottles, creating a floating debris pile swaying in the water. Downstream a quarter mile I found another such snag. The creek was evidence that a lot of illegals hike along here as well, as locals had left new gallon-sized water containers along the trail. Discarded clothes and other trash were also evident here. I didn't want to be hiking here after dusk.
The trail crossed the Bridge Road and ended at the golf course near a cattle corral. I turned around here and walked back, getting to the truck in two hours from the original departure time. The 6pm news had just started on my radio.
The presidio compound was smaller than I thought. I paid my $3 and walked around, again reading everything on the signs and using my park reading guide. Some of the more important buildings, like the presidio itself, were no longer around, but the school house, an underground museum and the Rojas House were still standing. The park was on the edge of town, and everything outside the four-foot adobe wall was Tubac, its shops and the wandering tourists.
The presidio had more Native American displays in its museum.
It was after 2pm when I finished my tour of the presidio. I spent more time driving around Tubac to get familiar with the layout, locating lush green grass from the "Hurford Ranch" that was irrigating its grass from overhead sprinklers. That ranch had the greenest grass in town outside of the golf course.
Toursts were crowding the narrow streets, licking ice cream cones and looking at Mexican pottery, sculptures and other artsy designs. I was more interested in the smaller Mexican homes with the green shutters and ocotillo fences. There wasn't much to Tubac, as it seemed to be more of a town based on tourism and high-priced galleries. Most of the cars in town, however, displayed Arizona plates.
I had to snicker at the misspelled "Tubac Cementery" sign, home of mostly Mexican graves covered in coloful plastic flower arrangements. The cemetery was across the street from the fancy golf course.
I walked around the upscale "Esplanada" shopping mall but didn't buy anything. (What is there for me to buy these days?) I chatted for a few minutes with the Mexican woman at the tourist center, a sweet older woman who kept thanking me for stopping buy. She had seen her share of tourists today and commented on how older German women dress, as an older German woman had just stepped outside the center.
"They don't really get fat like American women do," she explained, "and they are always dressed so elegantly." Unlike me, who was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and wore oversized winter boots. Her description of Germans fit my own mother to a T. She would have been aghast to be seen with my own down-scaled attire.
I told her I was surprised at how small Tubac was. Where did the kids here go to school? I figured living here as a kid must be horribly boring, when the town's entire economy is based on wealthy older people.
"The students here go to Green Valley or Nogales" she went on. "We have a Montesouri school in town that parents pay for."
And then she changed the subject to Sierra Vista. "I heard there are gangs coming in from Los Angeles." That is true...and it's a battle with the Cripts and Bloods that won't be won anytime soon.
It was passed 3pm now, I was thirsty, and still determined to hike a part of the Anza Historical Trail. I parked by the presidio, closer to the trailhead parking, and took off. I only brought my camera as I had no extra water by now to carry.
The trail passed along private property, skirted a new housing development and then paralled a tributary to the Santa Cruz River. Upon closer look I could see ground cover coming up, giving the river banks a lush green hue with the smell of sweet mildewy humidity. This was sewage effluent at its finest.
But then somehow the trail went north instead of south like I had planned, moving toward the Tumacacori mission. I got on a 1.5-mile northbound access trail by accident. I figured I'd hike for an hour out or until the trail ended or when the trail crossed the river. I didn't mind the diversion as I prefer riparian habitats over desert habitats when it gets hot out.
I passed two felled snags that collected upriver flow of discarded plastic bottles, creating a floating debris pile swaying in the water. Downstream a quarter mile I found another such snag. The creek was evidence that a lot of illegals hike along here as well, as locals had left new gallon-sized water containers along the trail. Discarded clothes and other trash were also evident here. I didn't want to be hiking here after dusk.
The trail crossed the Bridge Road and ended at the golf course near a cattle corral. I turned around here and walked back, getting to the truck in two hours from the original departure time. The 6pm news had just started on my radio.
By now the town of Tubac was void of tourists and open stores. The town was now dead until tomorrow. Hungry but refusing to pay high tourist dollars, I bought a bag of corn chips and salsa from the corner market and ate chips with a tall can of Arizona Iced Tea before driving home via I-19 to Nogales.
The interstate here was booming with southbound traffic. Lights from distant hilltop homes lighted up against the darkening sky, resembling small forest fires. The Nogales area was larger in the dark than during the day, and more lights spread across the horizon in Sonora. The view was actually quite beautiful.
But there was also a sense of danger now as cars sped passed me at a high rate of speed. This route is prime smuggling route and never a day goes by when local newspapers print articles about drug busts or dead illegals along the shoulders. I just wanted to get home as soon as possible.
The Oscars were on the radio. Penelope Cruz and Heath Ledger won supporting actor roles. It wasn't until I got home at 8:30pm that I learned of the other awardees. A Japanese movie, Departures, won Best Foreign Movie. I had never heard of that movie.
Tonight was the first night I did not get chilled after sunset. Even after arriving at the house, a 1000 feet higher in elevation than Nogales, I was warm. A bank marquee in town read 66F.
___
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Tumacacori Mission
I had been wanting to see this old Spanish mission since starting my Anthro course.
Kevin did not want to go since he doesn't care for walking much anymore, and doesn't have an interest in looking at missions.
Eight miles north of Nogales, AZ I got a text message. It was from Sprint: "Welcome to Mexico!" and gave me the prefix to dial back to the United States. That was all good information, but how could I tell Sprint that I was not heading to Mexico, but rather to a small town 30 miles north of the border?
The Mission was established by Jesuit Father Esuebio Kino in 1691. The builders of this mission were of course the Indigenous Peoples of the area at the time, mostly Pima Natives who were forced to convert to Catholicism (always a favorite topic of mine) if they wanted protection by the Spaniards against the nearby Apache. I went to this mission to learn more about the Natives here but was inundated with great displays on the Spaniards and the Catholic church instead.
The mission was manned until Apache raids from the Santa Rita became too intense and the mission was abandoned in 1776-1777 by the Spaniards. A new one built further north in Tucson for better protection. By 1848 the mission was completely abandoned by the remaining inhabitants.
The only mention of any Natives was in the small book store at the main entrance. The Natives otherwise were referred to as "converts" on all the NPS educational signs.
Still, I had a good time and ended up staying longer at the mission than planned because I went to all the sites, read all the educational signs, and even listened to a spunky park volunteer, retired school teacher JoAnn from Rochester, IN who now lives here in Green Valley. Her green NPS shirt contrasted with her light chestnut brown hair. She had us all introduce ourselves to the small group of about 15. One woman was from Denver, another from New Jersey, an older woman and her granddaughter were from Green Valley and the rest were from around Arizona.
"I'm a former Hoosier who moved down here years ago. Now I'm an Arizonian" she said. Arizonian?! People who live in Arizona are referred to as Arizonans, so her little slip was pardonable, of course, but a common-enough mistake I hear from Transplanters to this beautiful state.
"All I ask of you is to laugh at my jokes" she started out telling us. So we were warned.
"What do old men do when they can no longer drive?" she went on. "They buy a mobile home and tow their cars behind them!" Har har har. She did, however, know her stuff about the area's history and gave a pretty good presentation although the half-hour tour was all about the mission itself.
She explained the insides of the mission, showed us unique cracks in the wall, talked about the smelly mortuary behind the church and the graveyard behind that. The last person burried in the church compound was a little girl, Juanita, who died in 1916. Until a few years ago her sister had come annually to place paper wreathes at Juanita's grave, but when the aging sister died the sister's son vowed to continue the tradition. Juanita's grave stood out from the rest: all the graves were mere piles of rocks and aging wooden crosses. Juanita's grave was a small burned orange adobe tombstone.
Graffitti from the 1800s adorned some of the walls in the mission and around the mission walls. But otherwise the compound was nicely restored as a ruin. The old irrigation ditch that ran into the compound was barely visible. The old adobe hut where the Pimas lived was the smallest building on the compound.
It was a beautifully warm day that got downright hot by the time I left the mission. I never needed to put on a jacket. I kept drinking water and wished I had brought more. The skies were blue at first but became overcast a few hours later. I wore my Gortex hiking boots because I thought I was going to walk the Anza Trail out and back to Tubac, but then abandoned that idea when I realized I was spending more time reading about the local history than I was looking at the scenery.
The cottonwoods along the nearby Santa Cruz River were already budding new leaves. The fresh new leaves left a slight light green hue over the canopies. The new buds near Tucson mean that the trees here at the San Pedro should start budding in two weeks.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Back to the River
After a morning of car tire alignments and light gardening I wanted to get away and take the dogs to the river for some free fun. It was 2:30pm when we reached the trailhead parking.
We all had a blast.
The river today was quiet. Trees are still in their dormancy and no bugs or grasshoppers were rustling through the dead grass.
We walked south on the east side of the river, walking against the north-trampled dead grasses along the shore. The dogs know the routine. As soon as I park the car they run out and head toward the river.
Raptors were in today. I spotted a prairie falcon perched in a cottonwood who took it upon herself to watch my every move. She flew off as soon as I got near the trunk of the tree to get a better photograph.
Along the river itself I spotted a red-tailed hawk. Later a mature great horned owl with its impressive wingspan took off from a low tree branch along the river.
Beaver activity has spread along the river, as colonies of these engineers are felling younger cottonwoods. Several smaller pools have gathered upstream from the dams.
I heard a deeply resonating "Plunk" near the pool. It was Sadie, who fell into one such deep pool, panicking at not feeling the river bottom. I didn't scream nor entice her, out of fear that I may induce panic in her. After a few fantic attempts to crawl out of the pool and over the steep river bank, she finally was able to pull herself out of the stagnant water.
She looked like a newborn that had just slithered threw a birth canal, all wet. But she didn't seem upset. Sara, however, was and attacked Sadie for a while. I have no idea why Sara was aggressive toward Sadie. Perhaps because she was jealous that Sadie was more wet than she?!
But Sadie soon dried off with the running she did a few moments later, her deep sink into the water a quickly-forgotten episode. She was more interested in chasing a mule deer she had spotted ahead.
The dogs were in their own world and I simply enjoyed walking slowly to absorb all the sounds. This was the quietest I've heard the river; the loudest noise I heard was when the dogs surprised a flock of Mexican mallards floating in the river. The mallards gackled and flew further south, then settled back to more river floating.
We made it past the Mormon Battalion Monument on the west side of the river, and the picnic area were the monument is. I turned around when the felled trees were getting too dense and homes appeared on my side of the river.
We got back to the truck in 75 minutes with two very wet and stinky dogs. Sam, as usual, was the clean and tidy one.
There was little trash along the river again. I have to say that trash lately along the river has subsided as fewer illegals are attempting to cross over along the exposed river. What few plastic bottles I saw I left there. It was bad enough that the next round of illegals most likely step into the multiple piles of dogshit along the immigrant trails that were left behind.
http://www.biologicaldiversity.org/news/media-archive/Beavers%20Engineering%20Improvements%20into%20AZ%20River.pdf
We all had a blast.
The river today was quiet. Trees are still in their dormancy and no bugs or grasshoppers were rustling through the dead grass.
We walked south on the east side of the river, walking against the north-trampled dead grasses along the shore. The dogs know the routine. As soon as I park the car they run out and head toward the river.
Raptors were in today. I spotted a prairie falcon perched in a cottonwood who took it upon herself to watch my every move. She flew off as soon as I got near the trunk of the tree to get a better photograph.
Along the river itself I spotted a red-tailed hawk. Later a mature great horned owl with its impressive wingspan took off from a low tree branch along the river.
Beaver activity has spread along the river, as colonies of these engineers are felling younger cottonwoods. Several smaller pools have gathered upstream from the dams.
I heard a deeply resonating "Plunk" near the pool. It was Sadie, who fell into one such deep pool, panicking at not feeling the river bottom. I didn't scream nor entice her, out of fear that I may induce panic in her. After a few fantic attempts to crawl out of the pool and over the steep river bank, she finally was able to pull herself out of the stagnant water.
She looked like a newborn that had just slithered threw a birth canal, all wet. But she didn't seem upset. Sara, however, was and attacked Sadie for a while. I have no idea why Sara was aggressive toward Sadie. Perhaps because she was jealous that Sadie was more wet than she?!
But Sadie soon dried off with the running she did a few moments later, her deep sink into the water a quickly-forgotten episode. She was more interested in chasing a mule deer she had spotted ahead.
The dogs were in their own world and I simply enjoyed walking slowly to absorb all the sounds. This was the quietest I've heard the river; the loudest noise I heard was when the dogs surprised a flock of Mexican mallards floating in the river. The mallards gackled and flew further south, then settled back to more river floating.
We made it past the Mormon Battalion Monument on the west side of the river, and the picnic area were the monument is. I turned around when the felled trees were getting too dense and homes appeared on my side of the river.
We got back to the truck in 75 minutes with two very wet and stinky dogs. Sam, as usual, was the clean and tidy one.
There was little trash along the river again. I have to say that trash lately along the river has subsided as fewer illegals are attempting to cross over along the exposed river. What few plastic bottles I saw I left there. It was bad enough that the next round of illegals most likely step into the multiple piles of dogshit along the immigrant trails that were left behind.
http://www.biologicaldiversity.org/news/media-archive/Beavers%20Engineering%20Improvements%20into%20AZ%20River.pdf
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Agave Roast
Mike had been emailing me for several days to let me know when he was going to hold an agave roast. He had to find someone willing to have the ground dug up, had to locate a few harvestable agaves on private land, and do all the digging.
The agave roast was much like how the Apaches have done it for years: dig a deep, narrow pit, line it with hot rocks and charcoal, throw in agave hearts, cover the pit and let the agave steam overnight. Blue corn is prepared the same way by the Hopi.
The agave roast was scheduled for today at 4pm, which didn't give me much time before class. I had to finish my assignment first, complete some more gardening, take the dogs up Upper Ash Canyon for a 3.2-mile run up the hill, and get ready.
I got to the designated location at 4:45pm, on his friend's acreage east of the mountains about ten miles northeast of our house. We had a perfect view of both San Jose Peak to the south, the Huachucas to our west, and the Mules to our east.
We met at Mike's friend Gilbert's house. It was in an older area of wide lots, sprinkled with single and double-wide trailers near dusty roads. Every yard was its own display of unique ranch artifacts, from old animal bones and skulls to long-abandoned rusty vehicles, overturned coaches and mangy dogs on guard.
But this is the kind of property I like because the focus is on simplicity and comfort over luxury and haute design. There were no property fences here other than natural shrubs.
Gilbert is quiet man originally from San Antonio, TX. Gilbert sat on an old tree trunk used as a bench, sipping his seltzer water as he watched the fire. He bought this land seven years ago and has seen houses spring up quite a bit since moving here.
The fire had recently been lighted. The charcoal still needed to hear up before throwing the charcoal into the deeply-dug pit. The pit was three feet across and at least four feet deep. Judging by the heavily-compacted soil the hole took several hours to dig.
Several cut agave sat near the pit ready for sacrifice. Itwas chilly now, as the sun was low over the mountains ready to set behind the peaks. The charcoal filled the air with a slight mesquite aroma, Native American flute music played in the background, and distant dogs barked. This would have been a night evening out under the stars, chatting about whatever, sipping beer and watching the stars.
"I see the Big Dipper every morning when I go to work" said Gilbert, who has been working for 30 years with the local school district. He was dressed in blue jeans, a tan leather overcoat and a cowboy hat, looking very much like a South Texan. Or like a Mexican, depending on how one sees him with his dark skin and dark hair and quiet demeanor.
But there is more to Gilbert. He is part Native America and the music playing in the background was his uncle Mario's music. There was a resemblance between the two.
Gilbert, like I, was pressed for time as he had to drive back into town for a church service. He helped Mike roll hot rocks into the deep pit, carried the humungous agave hearts near the pit and shoveled hot embers into the hole. Then, with little romp, he was gone. I hope to meet him again some day and get to know him better, sitting on one of his wooden trunk benches while sipping beer and enjoying the night sky.
The sun was now setting low and light was deminishing. Mike and I talked about upcoming trips into Mexico for various research projects, the ever-sinking economy and the threat of local school districts cutting back on teaching positions, freezing pay or eliminating some classes altogether.
And then there's the news out of Mexico, which in the last month has been nearly daily beset with ambushes, beheadings or assassinations. Despite the rising drug-related crimes along the border, with yesterday's protests in Cuidad Juarez just yesterday that closed three border crossings into El Paso, even I am starting to feel uncomfortable traveling into Mexico. Yet according to Mike, traveling to Mexico and knowing where to go is like being streetsmart. Stay away from bars and drug dealers and go more toward the pristine countryside where no one will bother you.
The fire was getting big as I warmed up near it. It was 6:10pm when I had to tear away from out conversation and sped to campus where I arrived a minute before class start time of 6:30pm. Mike was left alone to finish the roast: dropping the agave hearts into the pit, covering the pit and making sure the pit was well-covered. An agave roast is an event that takes time both to prepare and enjoy, and the 90 minutes I was able to spend with Mike and Gilbert just wasn't enough.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Squaw Gulch Road in the Santa Ritas
We had agreed to explore this area more today. Weather was ideal, close to 70F and cloudless. The dogs hadn't been walked in a while and were looking forward to a day in the forests.
I had no trouble finding this road. I had been here with the dogs last November and wanted to show Kevin the trails: Drive to Patagonia, turn north on 4th Avenue at the Wagon Wheel Saloon, then left again at the T-intersection. The sign for Squaw Gulch Road was a few miles north on this road passed the secluded homes on either side of the road.
Last November hunters and ATVers were sharing the trails with me. Today there was no one. Even the discarded beer bottles along FR 143 were minimal.
The stockpond I parked at last year was now empty. But the good news is that there was little trash off the trail. That meant that hunters and ATVers hadn't been around for a while. The bad news is that the creek bed was as dry as it was in November.
I drove Essie further up the road this time, finding a nice trailhead two miles from where we turned off on FR 143. We parked at the intersection of FR 144 and FR 4097 with a nice view of the valley below.
The dogs were ahead of us the entire time, frolicking in the grasslands. From a nearby hillside I admired the "amber waves of grasses" as the grass swayed in the wind that was slowly getting stronger as the afternoon waned. We hiked up FR 144.
FR 144 came to an abrupt end at a fenceline with a "NO TRESSPASSING" sign posted. We turned around here and walked back via the dry creekbed where pools of water refreshed the dogs. We could see abandoned mines higher up in the hillsides.
Back at the car we now hiked up FR4097, a rockier and badly eroded trail. The sign warned of a Dead End, and we quickly came across the massive landslide that took out the once wide mining trail. We climbed up over large boulders, ducked under low-lying mesquite branches and stepped over narrow streams of water and hiked up to another abandoned mine near a box canyon.
This was an old lead mine. Lead ore was all around. I picked up a few smaller lead-laden rocks to show Kevin how heavy the metal was.
The view back toward Patagonia revealed more of a vista toward Mexico. We were totally alone. This is what we like: solitary wilderness in an area that the Spaniards mined and explored back in the 1600s.
Kevin even found the abandoned shitter in a nearby rock cutting. The old wooden seat was still quite visible.
"You should sit on that wooden toilet for a photo!" I said.
"I didn't bring my crossword puzzles" replied Kevin.
At this point the canyon came to an end as the rock walls closed in from all sides. In wetter seasons this is where a small but surely powerful waterfall would crash down into the narrow canyon. Had we climbed further up we would eventually reach the southern side of Josephine Saddle, but with Kevin still suffering from that nasty cough I chose not to go further.
We walked back to the truck the same we we came, hiking a total of 3.2 (!) miles in the four hours we were out exploring. We never saw another person on the trail or even on the road until we came back to Sonoita Creek where birders had a feast watching their passion through binoculars.
The dogs were spread out in the backseat and didn't make a ruckus until we were back home.
We agreed that we will be back here again, perhaps to explore trails further north toward Madera Canyon. But we also want to go back to Dos Cabezas again and hike up the creek to the saddle. (Maybe I'll see more coati again?)
Southern California is getting blasted with a severe storm again. Northern and Eastern Arizona will get hit with rain late tonight or tomorrow; we may get some rain ourselves. The mountains today were very dry, dryer than they were in November. (I was expecting to see more rain from recent snow melts.) We need rain in our hills! Temperatures will dip tomorrow because of the front off California but by mid week we should be hitting near 70F again. Nighttime temperatures are also rising, which means I can soon start sowing more vegetables!
___
AZ meth labs and other drug-related news: http://www.azcentral.com/news/articles/2009/02/17/20090217meth0217.html
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Day two of the conference (yesterday)
Yesterday's sessions were packed with great speakers. Mary Irish spoke first to the entire crowd. Living in Phoenix, this active woman works at the Boyce Arboreum in central Arizona and also teaches desert gardening classes in the Valley. Her presentation was very animated, which I like in a teacher. Her knowledge is amazing. When she speaks, others quiet and listen.
According to Irish, there are about 83 native plants that are ideal for this area. I'll stick to my acacias, mesquites, penstemons, salvias and lavenders (which came from Europe) to some of the more drab low-desert evergreens.
A four-man Q&A session followed, hosted by the Sonoitan Jin Koweek and panel members Russ Burrow of the Tohono Chul Park, Rob Call, Cochise County Extension Agent, John White, Curator of the Chihuahan Desert Gardens in El Paso and Jack Kelly, Pima County Extension Agent. This was an entertaining as well as educational question forum, although Rob told me later that some of the people were offended that some of the questions were mocked.
Wynn Anderson, Curator of the Chihuahuan Desert Gardens in El Paso gave a wonderful slideshow of plants he's come across while hiking in Chihuahua, Mexico. The photographs were so beautiful I felt compelled to jump into them to feel the dirt and smell the flowers. His photographs of the Basaseachic Falls in the Sierra Madre were especially breathtaking. The falls there are some of the tallest in North America. Anderson also leads hikes with the penstemon society into Mexico, but, according to him, "those trips aren't cheap."
None of the plants he photographed were native to our area, but he felt there was no reason why none of the plants there could be cultivated and sold in nurseries here. Some of the plants most northern natural range is in the Chisos Mountains of Big Bend, Texas.
I was tired today from lack of sleep the nights before. I sat with the same crowd but tried to find Betty Rae. I didn't see her until the end of the day as we were leaving. We had just finished a very inspriting presentation by Peter Gierlach (aka Petey Mesquitey from Radio KXCI Tucson ) from Spacefood Nursery (who gave me a penstemon for free yesterday). We hugged each other and promised a repeat for next year. At 82 years old, I do hope I get to see her again.
Peter's presentation is an annual event at this conference. So many people enjoy listening to him that the conference room is doubled during his talks. Although he didn't teach anything new, his observations on life in the grasslands of Southeast Arizona, on the western slopes of the Chiricahuas, was quite touching. This tall and lanky man spoke poetically about his daily jaunts through the high grasslands in his "Rotton Cotton Purple Shorts" across faded jeep trails, honoring the badgers and coyotes he's seen along the way, as well as honoring the bones of dead animals as well.
It turns out that Peter has his own website of his desert observations and is a well-known former Tucsonan of earlier decades. This website also includes some of his poetic music. I told Peter that I really liked his desert observations. He's an accomplished gardener, nursery manager and lover of wildlife who's quite happy with the simple things in life. He told the audience earlier that "I moved to Albuquerque with dreams of living in an adobe hacienda but I found out I'm doomed to live in narrow trailers on windy grasslands."
According to Irish, there are about 83 native plants that are ideal for this area. I'll stick to my acacias, mesquites, penstemons, salvias and lavenders (which came from Europe) to some of the more drab low-desert evergreens.
A four-man Q&A session followed, hosted by the Sonoitan Jin Koweek and panel members Russ Burrow of the Tohono Chul Park, Rob Call, Cochise County Extension Agent, John White, Curator of the Chihuahan Desert Gardens in El Paso and Jack Kelly, Pima County Extension Agent. This was an entertaining as well as educational question forum, although Rob told me later that some of the people were offended that some of the questions were mocked.
Wynn Anderson, Curator of the Chihuahuan Desert Gardens in El Paso gave a wonderful slideshow of plants he's come across while hiking in Chihuahua, Mexico. The photographs were so beautiful I felt compelled to jump into them to feel the dirt and smell the flowers. His photographs of the Basaseachic Falls in the Sierra Madre were especially breathtaking. The falls there are some of the tallest in North America. Anderson also leads hikes with the penstemon society into Mexico, but, according to him, "those trips aren't cheap."
None of the plants he photographed were native to our area, but he felt there was no reason why none of the plants there could be cultivated and sold in nurseries here. Some of the plants most northern natural range is in the Chisos Mountains of Big Bend, Texas.
I was tired today from lack of sleep the nights before. I sat with the same crowd but tried to find Betty Rae. I didn't see her until the end of the day as we were leaving. We had just finished a very inspriting presentation by Peter Gierlach (aka Petey Mesquitey from Radio KXCI Tucson ) from Spacefood Nursery (who gave me a penstemon for free yesterday). We hugged each other and promised a repeat for next year. At 82 years old, I do hope I get to see her again.
Peter's presentation is an annual event at this conference. So many people enjoy listening to him that the conference room is doubled during his talks. Although he didn't teach anything new, his observations on life in the grasslands of Southeast Arizona, on the western slopes of the Chiricahuas, was quite touching. This tall and lanky man spoke poetically about his daily jaunts through the high grasslands in his "Rotton Cotton Purple Shorts" across faded jeep trails, honoring the badgers and coyotes he's seen along the way, as well as honoring the bones of dead animals as well.
It turns out that Peter has his own website of his desert observations and is a well-known former Tucsonan of earlier decades. This website also includes some of his poetic music. I told Peter that I really liked his desert observations. He's an accomplished gardener, nursery manager and lover of wildlife who's quite happy with the simple things in life. He told the audience earlier that "I moved to Albuquerque with dreams of living in an adobe hacienda but I found out I'm doomed to live in narrow trailers on windy grasslands."
I'd much rather have wild land and a small house myself than a huge house with a square-foot garden in the back.
Although this conference cost me $100 plus another $150 in lost revenue, I enjoyed the comeraderie with other gardeners. Some of the Cochise County Master Gardeneres finally got to accept me as one of them; earlier last year I was the "New Kid in Town." I even took a liking to Jean, who took the Rainwater Harvesting Class with me. She's a retired college lecturer who recently spent all her savings on buying 40 acres outside Tombstone.
The CCMGA committee really outdid themselves on getting everything organized. All the speakers were well planned out and diverse.
Motivated by the speakers and by the warm weather, I spent most of today planting new growths in the front yard and getting the garden ready for more cool-weather vegetables.
http://www.timberpress.com/authors/id.cfm/874
Although this conference cost me $100 plus another $150 in lost revenue, I enjoyed the comeraderie with other gardeners. Some of the Cochise County Master Gardeneres finally got to accept me as one of them; earlier last year I was the "New Kid in Town." I even took a liking to Jean, who took the Rainwater Harvesting Class with me. She's a retired college lecturer who recently spent all her savings on buying 40 acres outside Tombstone.
The CCMGA committee really outdid themselves on getting everything organized. All the speakers were well planned out and diverse.
Motivated by the speakers and by the warm weather, I spent most of today planting new growths in the front yard and getting the garden ready for more cool-weather vegetables.
http://www.timberpress.com/authors/id.cfm/874
http://www.tucsonweekly.com/gbase/Currents/Content?oid=112278
http://www.publicbroadcasting.net/kxci/arts.artsmain?action=viewArticle&sid=15&id=1462294&pid=218http://www.apsdev.org/library/references/news200712.pdf
http://www.publicbroadcasting.net/kxci/arts.artsmain?action=viewArticle&sid=15&id=1462294&pid=218http://www.apsdev.org/library/references/news200712.pdf
_____________
Bisbee made national newshttp://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/29197019/
And this article scares the begeesus out of me because my neck still hurts from the whiplash the dogs gave me Christmas Eve: http://www.azstarnet.com/metro/280324
Thursday, February 12, 2009
High on the Desert-- Gardening and Landscaping Conference
Somehow I thought this was a weekend event. I found out yesterday that it started today. I called both school districts to tell them not to call me. I regretted the financial loss at first, but quickly began liking the entire set up because I got to hang out with old friends.
I got to the conference at 7:30am for the group breakfast, chatting with Amanda from the extension office. Donna and her husband Cliff soon joined in, as well as Bret. There weren't too many members from the 2008 class. Deke and his wife were also there. I had been worried about Deke because his wife had health problems last summer and Deke stopped coming by the extension to care for her.
The morning sessions were general sessions in one open room. Dr. Gordon Wardell from the ARS bee Lab out of Tucson opened the session talking about the current state of health of our commercial honey bees. Why are they dying off? According to him, the reasons are many: global warming, loss of habitat, droughts, stress from traveling cross-country to pollinate almond, cranberry and pecan orchards, parasites, wet weather, pollution and pesticides all are factors for the declining numbers.
Liz Barta, a Certified Health Education Specialist followed Dr Wardell. She let us know that over 50% of all snake bites are with gardeners, and most of those gardeners are over the age of 60. (That gives me 50% protection against snake bites for a while longer!). The audience gasped as the audience today was well into their 60s, 70s and 80s.
In fact, I befriended an older woman today, Betty Rae from Rio Rico. A retired elementary school teacher originally from San Jose, CA, she's been living in the Grand Canyon State since 1990, so she's pretty much a bona fide Arizonan. She claimed she was 82 but she looked a good ten years younger.
"The problem with looking younger is that people expect more out of you!" she said ruefully, adding that gardening gets harder as you age. "You've got plenty of years left in you to garden!"
I hope so. But I also know that two direct paternal relatives of mine died of ovarian (or cervical?) cancer in their late 40s and early 50s.
Betty Rae and I compared sightings of illegal immigrants, since her neighborhood gets a lot of news attention because it's on a direct drug smuggling route out of Nogales.
"It's amazing the trash those people leave behind," she lamented. "I didn't know how bad it was until I saw it on the news...bags and bags of trash that volunteers gather up from peoples' ranches." We were both slated to attend separate sessions in the afternoon but promised to meet up again tomorrow.
I enjoyed today's sessions but at times had a hard time deciding which sessions to attend. There were always three speakers presenting something interesting at the same time in three different rooms. A presentation on penstemons took place at the same time I listened to John White, Assistant Curator from Chihuahuan Desert Gardens out of El Paso, give a slide presentation on the top ten native trees to grow in our area. As a Texan he favored all the oaks, but as a Arizonan I still favor the various acacias that have adapted well to the high desert. He had the Burr Oak, Honey Mesquite, Mexican Redbud, Emory Oak, Escarpment Live Oak, Desert Willow, Sweet Acacia, Arizona Sycamore, and White and Grey Oaks on his top ten list.
I helped Cado give a very informative presentation on Straw Bale gardening. I never realized you could use straw bales to plant a vegetable garden in! That woman is amazing and her passion for water conservation and gardening is infectious. The straw decomposes over time and has to be replaced with fresh straw or soil, but the idea is that plants can grow in straw when the straw is kept warm and moist.
The last hour-long presentation that I listened to was a short presentation on Ants and Termites, given by Dr Skip Judd who is also the Dean from UA-S right here in town. He's an ethmologist and gave us the most common ants and termites found in Arizona. My only complaint with his presentation is that he didn't talk about organic repellants to use on their mounds.
"You either should contact a professional exterminator who has access to pesticides you can't buy on the market, or you learn to enjoy watching them like you would enjoy watching the birds in your back yard" he said about ants and termites in one's back yard. When it gets hot here we get various ants coming out of holes in our back yard and nothing keeps them away. I hate using chemicals of any kind because of the pets. It's bad enough Sadie devoured a three-pound bag of bone meal yesterday; I don't need her nibbling on ant killer. She's going to be well-fertilized for the next few weeks!
Tomorrow is another full day of great speakers, to include Mary Irish, a reknowned Phoenix gardener, writer and photographer and author of several great books about native plants for the desert. I can't wait to meet her! I have some of her books. I will also learn about Mesquites, Vegetative propagation and Grasses of the Semi-desert grasslands.
The Sierra Vista Garden club, that awesome group of gardeners, gave away boxes of free seeds again. I picked up two samples of Tall Grama Grass. I'll experiment with those seeds and see how a small patch blends in with the Tall Fescue in the back yard. I'll also have to remember to give that club a few dollars to offset whatever they spent on the small plastic bags the seeds came in.
I wish, though, that this conference had been held over the weekend so that more people of all ages could attend. When I asked the club president why the dates this year for this event (this is the 16th year this is being held) was during the week, she replied "Because of Valentine's Day falling on the weekend."
I got to the conference at 7:30am for the group breakfast, chatting with Amanda from the extension office. Donna and her husband Cliff soon joined in, as well as Bret. There weren't too many members from the 2008 class. Deke and his wife were also there. I had been worried about Deke because his wife had health problems last summer and Deke stopped coming by the extension to care for her.
The morning sessions were general sessions in one open room. Dr. Gordon Wardell from the ARS bee Lab out of Tucson opened the session talking about the current state of health of our commercial honey bees. Why are they dying off? According to him, the reasons are many: global warming, loss of habitat, droughts, stress from traveling cross-country to pollinate almond, cranberry and pecan orchards, parasites, wet weather, pollution and pesticides all are factors for the declining numbers.
Liz Barta, a Certified Health Education Specialist followed Dr Wardell. She let us know that over 50% of all snake bites are with gardeners, and most of those gardeners are over the age of 60. (That gives me 50% protection against snake bites for a while longer!). The audience gasped as the audience today was well into their 60s, 70s and 80s.
In fact, I befriended an older woman today, Betty Rae from Rio Rico. A retired elementary school teacher originally from San Jose, CA, she's been living in the Grand Canyon State since 1990, so she's pretty much a bona fide Arizonan. She claimed she was 82 but she looked a good ten years younger.
"The problem with looking younger is that people expect more out of you!" she said ruefully, adding that gardening gets harder as you age. "You've got plenty of years left in you to garden!"
I hope so. But I also know that two direct paternal relatives of mine died of ovarian (or cervical?) cancer in their late 40s and early 50s.
Betty Rae and I compared sightings of illegal immigrants, since her neighborhood gets a lot of news attention because it's on a direct drug smuggling route out of Nogales.
"It's amazing the trash those people leave behind," she lamented. "I didn't know how bad it was until I saw it on the news...bags and bags of trash that volunteers gather up from peoples' ranches." We were both slated to attend separate sessions in the afternoon but promised to meet up again tomorrow.
I enjoyed today's sessions but at times had a hard time deciding which sessions to attend. There were always three speakers presenting something interesting at the same time in three different rooms. A presentation on penstemons took place at the same time I listened to John White, Assistant Curator from Chihuahuan Desert Gardens out of El Paso, give a slide presentation on the top ten native trees to grow in our area. As a Texan he favored all the oaks, but as a Arizonan I still favor the various acacias that have adapted well to the high desert. He had the Burr Oak, Honey Mesquite, Mexican Redbud, Emory Oak, Escarpment Live Oak, Desert Willow, Sweet Acacia, Arizona Sycamore, and White and Grey Oaks on his top ten list.
I helped Cado give a very informative presentation on Straw Bale gardening. I never realized you could use straw bales to plant a vegetable garden in! That woman is amazing and her passion for water conservation and gardening is infectious. The straw decomposes over time and has to be replaced with fresh straw or soil, but the idea is that plants can grow in straw when the straw is kept warm and moist.
The last hour-long presentation that I listened to was a short presentation on Ants and Termites, given by Dr Skip Judd who is also the Dean from UA-S right here in town. He's an ethmologist and gave us the most common ants and termites found in Arizona. My only complaint with his presentation is that he didn't talk about organic repellants to use on their mounds.
"You either should contact a professional exterminator who has access to pesticides you can't buy on the market, or you learn to enjoy watching them like you would enjoy watching the birds in your back yard" he said about ants and termites in one's back yard. When it gets hot here we get various ants coming out of holes in our back yard and nothing keeps them away. I hate using chemicals of any kind because of the pets. It's bad enough Sadie devoured a three-pound bag of bone meal yesterday; I don't need her nibbling on ant killer. She's going to be well-fertilized for the next few weeks!
Tomorrow is another full day of great speakers, to include Mary Irish, a reknowned Phoenix gardener, writer and photographer and author of several great books about native plants for the desert. I can't wait to meet her! I have some of her books. I will also learn about Mesquites, Vegetative propagation and Grasses of the Semi-desert grasslands.
The Sierra Vista Garden club, that awesome group of gardeners, gave away boxes of free seeds again. I picked up two samples of Tall Grama Grass. I'll experiment with those seeds and see how a small patch blends in with the Tall Fescue in the back yard. I'll also have to remember to give that club a few dollars to offset whatever they spent on the small plastic bags the seeds came in.
I wish, though, that this conference had been held over the weekend so that more people of all ages could attend. When I asked the club president why the dates this year for this event (this is the 16th year this is being held) was during the week, she replied "Because of Valentine's Day falling on the weekend."
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Snow Flurries in the morning
An inch of frosty snow lay on the ground when we got up. The wind still howled. The wind and flurries only got worse when I took off for work at 6:15. The storm clouds covered the moon which would have otherwise lighted the roads more, but today it was a dark and dreary drive that reminded me more of central Illinois during a blizzard. The schools were not closed today in SV, but they were closed in Bisbee and Tombstone.
By the end of the school day any snow that had fallen had melted, and only a few northern walls had some snow lingering in the cool shadows. By the time I got back home there was only vague evidence that it had snowed early in the day.
And what a day it was. I actually had a great class with Seniors finishing up mock murder trial to two World History students that spent the hours writing an essay on what it was like to be an explorer in the Age of Exploration.
The students were bright and inquisitive. But there was one student who started one class with an emotional outburst. Because we were going over a mock murder trial I initially thought she was acting out her role a little too vociferously. After her first expletive I knew she had stepped over the line.
"You have no idea what a court is really like. I'm dealing with a custody court right now and you have no idea!" she went on. She was standing, pointing a finger at me, and her blood-shot eyes looked fierce.
"You can't compare a murder trial to a custody trial" I reminded her, referring to the differences between criminal and civil courts. She wanted none of that.
"You sit down, woman!" she ordered me. "This court is just bullshit!" That's when I knew she best needed some time out and directed her to go to the main office with the class aide. Classmates around her were backing away and her red eyes warned me that perhaps she could get violent. She had to leave to keep others around her safe. Just then a security guard came in and was able to quietly take the student out of the room.
The students told me afterwards that I handled the student very well. She didn't scare me, but I was nervous for the other students. Once again students who have been with her told me that she has frequent emotional outburts in class and that the regular teacher just takes her outside to calm down.
"She called you a Bitch, Miss, I wouldn't have put up with that" said one student. I honestly did not hear that from the enraged student, perhaps because I was more worried about her proximity to her classmates and focused on her body language. One student did take out his cell phone camera and recorded the rant; I told him not to ever post that on YouTube for the sake of the student's privacy.
The security guard later told me the student quickly calmed down after she was taken out of the room.
"She apologized to me right away for creating a scene but she also said she was glad you [I] didn't get her in any more trouble." (That last part is not quite true; I submitted documentation of the incident to school authorities during my lunch hour.)
This is my second "emotionally disabled" student in as many days. I'm starting to wonder if I'm attracting all these students my way?! Today's incident, however, was one of the worst since leaving that 6th grade class last fall. Today, however, I was not nervous or upset about the outcome. I didn't lose my temper, I got help as soon as I could, the class was very cooperative (most were even apologetic to me saying the student treated yesterday's sub just as badly) and I tried to keep the students from talking about the student after the incident.
"It was obvious that she was suffering from something that's happening in her home life and the trial just brought that out today, so please be polite to her and don't tease her about her outburst."
If I keep getting all these troubled students every day, maybe I'll just join a monastery myself. My goodness, there are a lot of troubled young people out there! I spent a lot of time filling out paperwork in the afternoon.
By the end of the school day any snow that had fallen had melted, and only a few northern walls had some snow lingering in the cool shadows. By the time I got back home there was only vague evidence that it had snowed early in the day.
And what a day it was. I actually had a great class with Seniors finishing up mock murder trial to two World History students that spent the hours writing an essay on what it was like to be an explorer in the Age of Exploration.
The students were bright and inquisitive. But there was one student who started one class with an emotional outburst. Because we were going over a mock murder trial I initially thought she was acting out her role a little too vociferously. After her first expletive I knew she had stepped over the line.
"You have no idea what a court is really like. I'm dealing with a custody court right now and you have no idea!" she went on. She was standing, pointing a finger at me, and her blood-shot eyes looked fierce.
"You can't compare a murder trial to a custody trial" I reminded her, referring to the differences between criminal and civil courts. She wanted none of that.
"You sit down, woman!" she ordered me. "This court is just bullshit!" That's when I knew she best needed some time out and directed her to go to the main office with the class aide. Classmates around her were backing away and her red eyes warned me that perhaps she could get violent. She had to leave to keep others around her safe. Just then a security guard came in and was able to quietly take the student out of the room.
The students told me afterwards that I handled the student very well. She didn't scare me, but I was nervous for the other students. Once again students who have been with her told me that she has frequent emotional outburts in class and that the regular teacher just takes her outside to calm down.
"She called you a Bitch, Miss, I wouldn't have put up with that" said one student. I honestly did not hear that from the enraged student, perhaps because I was more worried about her proximity to her classmates and focused on her body language. One student did take out his cell phone camera and recorded the rant; I told him not to ever post that on YouTube for the sake of the student's privacy.
The security guard later told me the student quickly calmed down after she was taken out of the room.
"She apologized to me right away for creating a scene but she also said she was glad you [I] didn't get her in any more trouble." (That last part is not quite true; I submitted documentation of the incident to school authorities during my lunch hour.)
This is my second "emotionally disabled" student in as many days. I'm starting to wonder if I'm attracting all these students my way?! Today's incident, however, was one of the worst since leaving that 6th grade class last fall. Today, however, I was not nervous or upset about the outcome. I didn't lose my temper, I got help as soon as I could, the class was very cooperative (most were even apologetic to me saying the student treated yesterday's sub just as badly) and I tried to keep the students from talking about the student after the incident.
"It was obvious that she was suffering from something that's happening in her home life and the trial just brought that out today, so please be polite to her and don't tease her about her outburst."
If I keep getting all these troubled students every day, maybe I'll just join a monastery myself. My goodness, there are a lot of troubled young people out there! I spent a lot of time filling out paperwork in the afternoon.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Ice and more Ice
"There's an inch of ice on the windshield" said Kevin as he walked back inside at 6:15am, his usual departure time. The rain that fell overnight froze on our windshields. The frost was thick enough to require more than a few scrapes from the ice scraper.
Sunday had been chilly and rainy on and off all day, bringing a cold front with it. These storms have brought with them colder daytime temperatures and freeze overnight. I will have to protect some of my fruit trees that have decided to bud anyway. I don't want to lose all my fruit crop like I did last year.The mountains outside have a fresh layer of white snow on the peaks. At this rate I may be able to hike up Miller in two weeks. I'll wait out this week's storm pattern before I decide on a plan.It's weather like this that reminds me that we are in winter after all.
Other parts of the country have had it much worse than we have, with debilitating ice storms that knocked out electricity to residents across western Kentucky late last month, to deadly bushfires in Victoria, Australia right now (173 dead so far and arson is suspected), to more threats of floodings across the Northwest and Midwest from unusually high winter temperatures.
The grass outside is covered in frost across the backyard. I bought extra birdseed to keep our feathered friends fed during this cold snap.
My Monday was another long one. I originally took a half-day assignment at a middle school but then got asked to fill in for an all-day job at an elementary school for PE, which consisted of 4th grade field hockey and first grade jumping rope. That meant I was watching kids with sticks and rope practically killing each other if they had the chance.
Things went well overall, and most of the kids were helpful and genuine angels, but there was a hellion in each class.
The most devastating incident was when one Hispanic boy called a Black boy a “Nigger.” I didn’t think I would ever hear that word from a 4th grader in this age. That is such a hate-filled, ugly word. The victim was completely crestfallen (as I was disgusted) and sat out the rest of the game. Others had witnessed the incident as well and tried to talk the boy into coming back into the play, but he sat back and held back the tears. How many times had that poor child been told that word in his life? This was a quiet, friendly boy who did not deserve this treatment.
The brat, a short and sassy kid with unruly hair, went on to say other mean things to other classmates, including making a death threat to another Black girl about “killing her.” This brat managed to totally irritate the entire group. (That made it easier for their regular teacher to write up a referral with my assistance). He also chose to disobey me.
“Whatchya gonna do to me? Send me to jail?” he said as he walked off with a smirk. How can a 4th grader be so evil? What must his family life be like? There goes a future Death Row inmate, I thought as I watched the brat walk away. Kids like this kid are the reasons so many teachers quit their jobs: because parents aren't teaching their children morals and respect.
The teacher told me that the parents were notified and were horrified, and that their only excuse was that the kid had not taken his medicines that morning. The principal later told me that that perp was a problem child and had been sent home repeatedly.
Other than this one incident and the usual falls and screams that come with elementary school children in a PE class, it was a nice day. I did more jumping jacks, push-ups and mountain climbers than I've done since my retirement. (Thankfully I still do push-ups and sit-ups on my own most nights just to maintain the conditioning.) The mountains from the school yard looked especially pretty, as I could see the entire range covered in white. But before school let out we received an intercom message about a possible school closure for tomorrow due to the next storm due in early in the morning.
Cold winds increased as the night progressed, making my drive home from my Anthro class especially treacherous. I am slated to work at the high school tomorrow but will be notified by 5am whether the schools have been closed for the day. According to the local newspaper, it doesn't look too nice for tomorrow morning and I will be careful. We have not had a bad storm since last May; everything else since then blew through the state too fast to make an impact, or bypassed us entirely. This time Carr Canyon Road has been closed off at the bottom to prevent any more idiots from getting stuck in ice and snow at 7000.'
http://www.svherald.com/articles/2009/02/09/news/doc4990d1af6f036650521014.txt
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/7879979.stm
http://www.forbes.com/2009/02/06/most-miserable-cities-business-washington_0206_miserable_cities.html
Sunday had been chilly and rainy on and off all day, bringing a cold front with it. These storms have brought with them colder daytime temperatures and freeze overnight. I will have to protect some of my fruit trees that have decided to bud anyway. I don't want to lose all my fruit crop like I did last year.The mountains outside have a fresh layer of white snow on the peaks. At this rate I may be able to hike up Miller in two weeks. I'll wait out this week's storm pattern before I decide on a plan.It's weather like this that reminds me that we are in winter after all.
Other parts of the country have had it much worse than we have, with debilitating ice storms that knocked out electricity to residents across western Kentucky late last month, to deadly bushfires in Victoria, Australia right now (173 dead so far and arson is suspected), to more threats of floodings across the Northwest and Midwest from unusually high winter temperatures.
The grass outside is covered in frost across the backyard. I bought extra birdseed to keep our feathered friends fed during this cold snap.
My Monday was another long one. I originally took a half-day assignment at a middle school but then got asked to fill in for an all-day job at an elementary school for PE, which consisted of 4th grade field hockey and first grade jumping rope. That meant I was watching kids with sticks and rope practically killing each other if they had the chance.
Things went well overall, and most of the kids were helpful and genuine angels, but there was a hellion in each class.
The most devastating incident was when one Hispanic boy called a Black boy a “Nigger.” I didn’t think I would ever hear that word from a 4th grader in this age. That is such a hate-filled, ugly word. The victim was completely crestfallen (as I was disgusted) and sat out the rest of the game. Others had witnessed the incident as well and tried to talk the boy into coming back into the play, but he sat back and held back the tears. How many times had that poor child been told that word in his life? This was a quiet, friendly boy who did not deserve this treatment.
The brat, a short and sassy kid with unruly hair, went on to say other mean things to other classmates, including making a death threat to another Black girl about “killing her.” This brat managed to totally irritate the entire group. (That made it easier for their regular teacher to write up a referral with my assistance). He also chose to disobey me.
“Whatchya gonna do to me? Send me to jail?” he said as he walked off with a smirk. How can a 4th grader be so evil? What must his family life be like? There goes a future Death Row inmate, I thought as I watched the brat walk away. Kids like this kid are the reasons so many teachers quit their jobs: because parents aren't teaching their children morals and respect.
The teacher told me that the parents were notified and were horrified, and that their only excuse was that the kid had not taken his medicines that morning. The principal later told me that that perp was a problem child and had been sent home repeatedly.
Other than this one incident and the usual falls and screams that come with elementary school children in a PE class, it was a nice day. I did more jumping jacks, push-ups and mountain climbers than I've done since my retirement. (Thankfully I still do push-ups and sit-ups on my own most nights just to maintain the conditioning.) The mountains from the school yard looked especially pretty, as I could see the entire range covered in white. But before school let out we received an intercom message about a possible school closure for tomorrow due to the next storm due in early in the morning.
Cold winds increased as the night progressed, making my drive home from my Anthro class especially treacherous. I am slated to work at the high school tomorrow but will be notified by 5am whether the schools have been closed for the day. According to the local newspaper, it doesn't look too nice for tomorrow morning and I will be careful. We have not had a bad storm since last May; everything else since then blew through the state too fast to make an impact, or bypassed us entirely. This time Carr Canyon Road has been closed off at the bottom to prevent any more idiots from getting stuck in ice and snow at 7000.'
http://www.svherald.com/articles/2009/02/09/news/doc4990d1af6f036650521014.txt
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/7879979.stm
http://www.forbes.com/2009/02/06/most-miserable-cities-business-washington_0206_miserable_cities.html
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Attempted break-in
I worked on one of my papers this morning, then took the dogs on an "exploratory" hike in a side canyon off the main trails. (There were too many cars parked at the trailhead so I avoided all trails).
I slipped down a steep ravine and now sport a nice bruise on my left shin. It's going to hurt for a while.
When we got back to the house my Amazon.com order I placed last week arrived: ethnographic books on the Western Apache tribe, to include a really captivating one, "Massacre at Camp Grant" by Chip Colwell-Chanthaphonh, a native Tucsonan who graduated from UA with a BA in anthropology and got his PhD from IU in the same field. I finished most of the 110 pages in a few hours, totally forgetting about the monthly Master Gardener's Meeting tonight.
Kevin came home by 5:30pm. I could tell he had pulled up into the driveway when the dogs got excited, but was otherwise so engrossed in the book that I didn't hear the truck sweep over the gravel.
"Did you see anyone climb over Jen and Hen's fence earlier?" he asked me as he walked in through the door.
"No, why?"
"The sheriff department got a call that someone saw a man jump over their fence into the yard...they are waiting for the owners to come down to make sure nothing was broken into." When I looked outside I saw the two sheriff vehicles across the street, and two uniformed deputies waiting for our old neighbors to come by and inspect their house.
I saw and heard nothing, even though I was on the couch for over an hour reading the Camp Grant book. Had it been a little warmer out today I would have sat outside and read the book and perhaps have noticed someone jump into our old neighbor's yard.
Until today I felt safe, but now that I know there's a potential burglar or robber in the area makes me a little uneasy. Now I have a new feeling about the neighborhood. The house across the street has been dark since our neighbors moved out last week; the old kitchen light no longer burns overnight.
I know Sara would easily (and gladly!) rip any attempted robber or burglar of our home a "new one" but the dogs aren't always home, especially when they're out hiking with me. I sometimes forget to lock the door, too. I can't expect the cats to defend the home as two of the three would run and hide.
I had to get ready for my Thursday class and couldn't talk long with Kevin, When I got home four hours later the house was quiet. Kevin had fallen asleep reading the same book I got interested in. He may end up reading all the Apache books I have either checked out or bought in order to get information for my research project. I also have two book reports to finish by the end of the month.
Sofar I'm getting all As on all the assignments but geesus it's a lot of work. Tomorrow I work back at the high school for a Spanish teacher...yay! I seem to get all the foreign language classes offered to me and I never refuse them. I can't wait till either the German or French teacher calls in sick...
Saturday is my last Rain Water Harvesting Class. I still haven't read that assignment, either. I'm glad that is over so that I have more time on the weekends to play. Kevin and I are going to do some exploring up at the San Carlos Reservation on the first available weekend.
I slipped down a steep ravine and now sport a nice bruise on my left shin. It's going to hurt for a while.
When we got back to the house my Amazon.com order I placed last week arrived: ethnographic books on the Western Apache tribe, to include a really captivating one, "Massacre at Camp Grant" by Chip Colwell-Chanthaphonh, a native Tucsonan who graduated from UA with a BA in anthropology and got his PhD from IU in the same field. I finished most of the 110 pages in a few hours, totally forgetting about the monthly Master Gardener's Meeting tonight.
Kevin came home by 5:30pm. I could tell he had pulled up into the driveway when the dogs got excited, but was otherwise so engrossed in the book that I didn't hear the truck sweep over the gravel.
"Did you see anyone climb over Jen and Hen's fence earlier?" he asked me as he walked in through the door.
"No, why?"
"The sheriff department got a call that someone saw a man jump over their fence into the yard...they are waiting for the owners to come down to make sure nothing was broken into." When I looked outside I saw the two sheriff vehicles across the street, and two uniformed deputies waiting for our old neighbors to come by and inspect their house.
I saw and heard nothing, even though I was on the couch for over an hour reading the Camp Grant book. Had it been a little warmer out today I would have sat outside and read the book and perhaps have noticed someone jump into our old neighbor's yard.
Until today I felt safe, but now that I know there's a potential burglar or robber in the area makes me a little uneasy. Now I have a new feeling about the neighborhood. The house across the street has been dark since our neighbors moved out last week; the old kitchen light no longer burns overnight.
I know Sara would easily (and gladly!) rip any attempted robber or burglar of our home a "new one" but the dogs aren't always home, especially when they're out hiking with me. I sometimes forget to lock the door, too. I can't expect the cats to defend the home as two of the three would run and hide.
I had to get ready for my Thursday class and couldn't talk long with Kevin, When I got home four hours later the house was quiet. Kevin had fallen asleep reading the same book I got interested in. He may end up reading all the Apache books I have either checked out or bought in order to get information for my research project. I also have two book reports to finish by the end of the month.
Sofar I'm getting all As on all the assignments but geesus it's a lot of work. Tomorrow I work back at the high school for a Spanish teacher...yay! I seem to get all the foreign language classes offered to me and I never refuse them. I can't wait till either the German or French teacher calls in sick...
Saturday is my last Rain Water Harvesting Class. I still haven't read that assignment, either. I'm glad that is over so that I have more time on the weekends to play. Kevin and I are going to do some exploring up at the San Carlos Reservation on the first available weekend.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
A Mexican flag in the cafeteria
My voice was hoarse today and it only got hoarser in the school I got asked to sub in at the last minute. The teacher I helped out got sick and showed the same symptoms I've had these last few days.
It was 7th grade English...a grade I take with trepidation. The day went well overall, the kids kept on task, but some of the essays I looked over concerned me, as so many of the girls wrote about how so many of them have sex because they feel pressured by the boys.
Talking about sex to 7th graders is scary. How does one best tackle that subject without steering any heads or getting Puritan parents on my ass? Apparently many of the girls have more intimate experiences than I give them credit for.
All that aside, lunch today was a quick macaroni-and-cheese plate I gulped down in the cafeteria/auditorium. It was a quiet room, as most students were outside in the pleasant sun, eating their meals with their friends.
Ruminating over the sex topic, I looked up toward the ceiling and saw the Mexican flag staring right back at me. The Mexican flag? I got up to look around to make sure we had the United States flag hanging at the same level at the same size elsewhere on the wall. I saw none. The US and Arizona flag instead were hoisted from poles on either side of the auditorium's stage: as per protocol, the US flag on the left and the Arizona flag on the right.
Why was the Mexican flag hanging so prominently on the upper wall? There were no other flags displayed, like the South Korean, Philipino, German, Irish or Guatemalan flags (flags that represent the student body). The flag was totally out of place and its prominence bothered me. It's as if we are to give Mexico special privileges. It's that "special privileges" that angers many of those Americans who get adamant about the illegal immigrant issues, and displaying that solitary flag only foments the boiling situation here along the border.
It was 7th grade English...a grade I take with trepidation. The day went well overall, the kids kept on task, but some of the essays I looked over concerned me, as so many of the girls wrote about how so many of them have sex because they feel pressured by the boys.
Talking about sex to 7th graders is scary. How does one best tackle that subject without steering any heads or getting Puritan parents on my ass? Apparently many of the girls have more intimate experiences than I give them credit for.
All that aside, lunch today was a quick macaroni-and-cheese plate I gulped down in the cafeteria/auditorium. It was a quiet room, as most students were outside in the pleasant sun, eating their meals with their friends.
Ruminating over the sex topic, I looked up toward the ceiling and saw the Mexican flag staring right back at me. The Mexican flag? I got up to look around to make sure we had the United States flag hanging at the same level at the same size elsewhere on the wall. I saw none. The US and Arizona flag instead were hoisted from poles on either side of the auditorium's stage: as per protocol, the US flag on the left and the Arizona flag on the right.
Why was the Mexican flag hanging so prominently on the upper wall? There were no other flags displayed, like the South Korean, Philipino, German, Irish or Guatemalan flags (flags that represent the student body). The flag was totally out of place and its prominence bothered me. It's as if we are to give Mexico special privileges. It's that "special privileges" that angers many of those Americans who get adamant about the illegal immigrant issues, and displaying that solitary flag only foments the boiling situation here along the border.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Hiking somewhere in the Blacktail Canyon area on Fort Huachuca
Today was my second day in a row that I didn't get called in to work. That's a first in a long time. Weather was nice enough to take a break from studying and to spend a few hours in the mountains.
The morning started out as usual: I read more of my reading assignment, did some gardening and then took off with the dogs to run an errand on post. Since I was on post I figured I could take the dogs up a northern-sloped hiking trail; I had Blacktail Canyon in mind. The northern canyons are known for their unique habitats and streams. I had never hiked this part of the Huachucas before.
I'm not sure what trail I ended up on. I pulled into what started out to be a training site for soldiers, but there was also a hiking sign warning adventurers that the road ahead was "difficult and hazardous terrain." Boy, that was an understatement! It also warned hikers to not hike alone. Well, I was not alone; I had three dogs with me. I was ready for the challenge.
We took off at 1:36pm.
Whatever the name of this trail was, it was not the Blacktail Trail as mentioned in Leonard Taylor's "Hiker's Guide to the Huachuca Mountains." I had turned off a mile too soon. Nothing in the hiking guide matched what I saw.
I drove 1.3 miles in my truck to a Y. A sign here pointed left to Blacktail Pond, right to Deer Springs. I figured I'd take the dogs to the pond where they could refresh and then we'd turn around. I never saw the Pond.
The trail was more of a tank trail that narrowed and widened and got steeper the higher I got. At some points the trail was so rocky it felt like I was hiking up a steep rockslide. A dry stream bed meandered along the path and disappeared into the cottonwoods. There was some trash left by illegals here, illegals that surely were picked up by post security as this area is heavily guarded off the paved road.
There were no signs anywhere directing hikers to the right direction so I guessed at each intersection. When I reached the Douglas fir line the trail got softer, but there was deep erosion along this way. Closer to the ridgeline I passed a spring that came up from the trail. Here there was some ice and melting water for the dogs to refresh themselves.
I had to stop many times to regain my breath. I've had what I think is an upper respiratory infection, with a sore throat, sneezing and coughing up brown phlegm since Sunday morning. Today's exertion made my breathing a litter harder.
I finally made it to the ridgeline at 90 minutes. By now I had hiked longer than I wanted as I started out with a one-hour goal at this steep grade. Once on the ridgeline, though, I was able to enjoy the direct views of Mount Wrightson and more views toward the Sierra Madres of Mexico and Parker Lake in the western valley. Even at the elevation I was at here I felt the warmth of the sun. The yellow windbreaker I packed in my backpack stayed there.
Here the trail leveled off for a while before it gained even more steep elevation along a steeply-eroded ledge facing into the mountain canyons. OK, it was two hours into my hike and I had had enough of uphills with little scenery. I turned around at 3:30pm, just six minutes shy of two hours.
Hiking downhill on the steep, loose rocks wasn't any easier. I could feel the old blisters from the Miller Peak hike come back.
I made one stop for the dogs near the icy water. But from here on out it was a fast-paced trek back to the car as we were completely in the chilly shadows of the mountains.
I was exhausted when we got back to the truck. I failed to note the time, but the truck clock said 5:44pm as we got to the PX gas station. That late? I gassed up for $1.83, now the cheapest place in the area (the station near our house is selling regular unleaded for $2.03, which is 35 cents more than at the start of the year).
A man tanking up his F-150 in front of me complimented me on the well-behaved dogs and seemed to have taken a liking to Sammy. He must have thought I was weird for using the squeegee on the INSIDE of my truck windows (to remove all the dog snot). My hair was plastered to my head from the hat that I wore, and my jeans were dusty from the trail. I know I was not a pretty site and just wanted to gas up and go.
Today is a perfect example of how I should have better reconnoitered today's hike. I had no map on me and hadn't even read my hiking guide until after I got home. I was a mile off my route. I have to redo this hike so that I can judge for myself how pretty Blacktail and Split Rock Canyons are.
I googled the area on Google Earth when I got home, saw the road I pulled off on but never found the trail up to the ridge. There are so many jeep trails in the northern Huachucas, most which I'm sure are used by military personnel. One could get lost in this maze.
So in essence I have no idea where I was, what the elevation was (around 7000' is all I can guess) and where all those other crossroads led to. Had something happened to me it would have taken a while to find me as I told Kevin I was heading to Blacktail Canyon. I ended up what I surmise was a maintenance road used for the testing facility nearby. Other than two plastic water jugs and two well-faded beer cans, there was no sign of recent human activity on the trail I was on today.
Monday, February 2, 2009
A hike in the mountains on Super Bowl Sunday
NBC started its pre-pre-pre-pre-pre game show at 8am for a 4pm local kick-off time. That gave us time to take the dogs up the Mule Mountain Trail. I wanted to explore the canyon there with Kevin. I was last there over the Christmas school break and wanted to see more of the canyon. I was not disappointed.
One other hiker and his dog were ahead of us, so instead of hitting the peaks we opted for the canyon first where we didn't expect to see a soul. Kevin brought his GPS along: we started out at a 6870' elevation. I didn't think we were that high.
It was a pretty day, with warmth and blue skies. The canyon had standing pools of icy water which Sara used prolifically. This canyon got prettier the lower we trekked down the mountain, as the naked rock either widened or narrowed over impressive rock walls. Oaks, Desert spoons, agaves, manzanitas , grasses, hedgehog cacti lined this canyon. At times I felt I was in Sycamore Canyon (outside of Nogales) or Sykes Pool east of Tucson. This was untamed wilderness with just the five of us. I wouldn't want to be there during a monsoonal rain.
I could have explored more but the canyon walls got very narrow at one point and water pooled at the bottom. Neither I nor the dogs were willing to climb up and over the rocks; we had gone further anyway and had to trek back up to finish the Mule Trail to its end facing the northern slopes toward Tombstone.
Kevin is at his finest when out "scouting." I enjoy watching him when he gets pensive in the wilderness. I took him to the limestone overlook and there he stood for quite a while, looking through his binoculars at whatever it was he was spotting toward the north. This is Apache Country and I'm sure he was thinking of all sorts of battles the Natives fought against White Eye in these mystical hills. He is the epitome of an infantryman, moving slowly while keeping an eye out on his target. While he was out scouting I meandered with the dogs further up the exposed rocks...only to see more rocks sloping downward. What hidden treasures were in these foothills?
"Thanks for thinking about this place" said Kevin as we got back to the truck. I'm glad he finally got to see these hills. My thighs were sore as we got home and the dogs were exhausted.
The Cardinals-Steelers game started shortly after we got home. I was busy downloading pictures of the hike and reading other websites. I never saw the first half although the game was on the TV in the same room. Nor did I see my favorite part: the commercials. And when Kevin went to bed before halftime I knew the game was lost.
It was a good game, from the tidbits I saw of it. The Cards had a three-point lead in the last two minutes of the fourth quarter and it looked like they would win the game, but the Steelers grabbed another touchdown at the very end. They won 27-23.
I was rooting for the underdog, the Cards. I had a co-worker years ago who was an avid Steelers fan. He was a creepy sort, always pretending to be a spy whenever we'd travel on business and he made me uneasy when in public. His cellphone was a headpiece that wired behind one of his ears and he'd speak into a hidden mouthpiece tucked under his collar. He'd call his wife every five minutes to make sure she was at home (!!!). So when the Steelers won I thought of this guy, knowing that he was ecstatic somewhere back East. Even spies need to have fun, too.
I have to admit that Card fans were well-behaved, both here and in Florida. Even the KVOA announcers who broadcasted live from Tampa admitted that it was the best game in Super Bowl history, as well as the longest at over four hours. All the KVOA announcers were dressed in red, even today at a post-analysis game.
The announcers did apologize about a ten-second pornographic feed after the Arizona touchdown that Comcast viewers in Tucson were exposed to. (We here in the corner get only Cox Cable). The station repeatedly has told its viewers the porn did not originate from KVOA and that officials are investigating the matter.
There is always next year. I'm not crying by any means but a local win would have boosted the economy in the Phoenix-Glendale area for the Cards. At least the Cards won their division league and have bragging rights for coming from behind. Two weeks ago I had no idea that Arizona had a professional football team. Now I hear about the Cards all the time. I learned a lesson.
The worst part about the end of the football season is the start of baseball. Ugh. But at least there is basketball!!! Now that I can enjoy.
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