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One unique plant that we have in Arizona, of course, is the saguaro cactus. More than one cactus is called cacti, although so many people still say “cactuses”. Having lived here most of my life, I feel that it is my duty to correct that. I’m not sure why, maybe because these things were pounded into my head at a young age. The saguaro cactus is protected by state laws, so you cannot just go into the desert and dig one up and take it home and plant it. You must purchase them through a reputable grower. I am certainly not a cactus expert, by any means, but you don’t have to know anything about them to enjoy them. I love to see them in the front yards of homes, as well as in the undeveloped desert areas. That gives us the opportunity to observe them a little closer. Birds nest inside of the saguaro, like owls, woodpeckers and hawks.  Eventually, as the saguaro dies, like every other living thing, the flesh of the cactus gets eaten by animals and decays leaving the skeletal remains. I was able to get some close up shots of a cactus with holes large enough to see the skeleton inside. Close up shots with the textures and various shades of grays and greens and browns only inspire me to want to paint these beautiful designs. I am always in awe of these clever, desert giants.

Even my tallest shadow is dwarfed by the magnificent height of these prickly neighbors. North Scottsdale is full of pristine, desert landscaped yards. It is good to see the natural beauty of xeriscaped residential landscaping. It makes complete sense to use drought resistant plants that are indigenous to the region. Conserving water means more water to make things like…….

TEQUILA!!! Which is made from the blue agave plant, of course

Okay, class….. that is our lesson for the day! I just had to share a little bit about the glorious state that I live in and love so very much. I don’t get out very often anymore, but this is one visual pleasure that I don’t have to go far to see. With my eyes and arms and heart wide open, I await every breath that this desert city exhales onto me. If I close my eyes and be real still I swear that I can feel the heartbeat of this great land that is alive and beating under my moccasins, just below the surface of the desert floor. The same life force that sustains me and all of the life around me ~ lives that are stationary and lives that are flowing ~

When we moved to Phoenix in 1964, south Phoenix was mostly agriculture and Japanese flower fields. I can remember many Sunday drives with my parents, driving down Baseline Road, soaking up the fragrance and visions of fields of beautiful flowers. We would stop in at a shop or two and walk the fields lost in our thoughts. The last Japanese flower grower closed down several years ago and south Phoenix has continuously been developing, adding to our urban sprawl. One place that has remained a constant breath of fresh air is The Farm at South Mountain. Twelve acres of a peaceful sanctuary lined with pecan trees still thrives in a rapidly fading agricultural environment.

It was only fitting that the day my father’s body was being returned to ash, that my family visited this south Phoenix heaven on earth. He is the one that brought us to the southwest, after all. We ate lunch on the cafe patio (the Farm Kitchen) and quietly strolled the grounds, picking up pecans that had fallen from the trees. A visit through The Cottage, a little artist shop in the back of the property, proved to be a great reward. We had just missed a quilt show that was there the weekend before. My mother and my eldest sister are quilters, an art that I have not mastered and a talent that I was not blessed with. However, I definitely am an admirer of this art form!

Bare trees begin to bud again, flowers bloom, and everything is beginning to become fully alive as Spring approaches in this beautiful, desert valley of the sun. The circle of life continues on and what a joy it is to be a part of everything.

Every now and then I need to get out of my space and out of my own way and head for higher ground. Whether it be someplace far or near. This week I retreated to a friend’s home in Cave Creek, Az. All stress melted away and inspiration and creativity filled my being.It is truly astounding what a difference a day or two (and a night) can do! From the moment I entered this magical fairy land I was overcome with complete blissfulness. Pure euphoria. This environment allowed my to ignite the creative fire within and send me into a gentle dream state. Peaceful flute music played and seemed to harmonize with the desert birds, who were singing their various calls. The weather was perfect and clouds began to roll in overnight. I cannot wait to return, re entry into the big, metropolitan, Phoenix area was a little difficult. However, now that my cup was emptied, there is plenty of room for a refill. This magical desert home is located at the foothills of Black Mountain, so there are a lot of desert critters who hang around. I only saw a rabbit, a crow, hawks, quail, a blue jay, woodpeckers and a few other small birds. Fortunately, I didn’t have to scare off any javelina or coyotes. I heard that the wild pigs are out in full force this season, but just not for me this time!

~ Let heaven and nature sing ~

A friend gave me a box of lemons and I spent part of the afternoon squeezing them. I meant to squeeze them yesterday, but the day flew by too quickly. My friend lives near Sun City, a beautiful retirement community of 55+ elders. I LOVE “old people” and their citrus trees! HA! Did you ever notice how the elderly always seem to have some kind of citrus abundance thing going on? At least that is the way it appears to be out here in the Valley of the Sun. It cracks me up. I can talk because I am definitely “over the hill” and sliding down the backside of the mountain into the sunset. My elderly neighbors ~ I call them the “O.G.’s”, for original gangsters ~ all seem to have a lot of fruit trees, mostly citrus. The orange blossoms fill the air with the most heavenly fragrance this time of year. The cool thing is that everyone is eager to share their bounty. Usually I turn away the big bags and boxes, but figured that I would be a little more recession minded and see what I could come up with as far as this citrus situation goes. So, I hand squeezed the lemons and got about 5 cups worth of juice. I didn’t realize how far lemon juice can go and how little is needed to make lemonade. Tomorrow I plan on trying my hand at some lemon tarts that I figured I could give to my neighbors and family here. I’m guessing that I can make quite a big batch of them. I seriously have no idea where the lemon juice thing will take me but I am certain to enjoy the adventure. I will keep you updated. If nothing else, I had a zen moment squeezing lemons and I enjoyed that very much. The whole process was very fun, I felt like a little old grandma with my enamel ware and glass juicer. Thoughts of the women who came before me with their vintage kitchens ran through my mind. I could imagine sheets and clothes hanging on a line outside and tall sunflowers blowing in the breeze along the garden fence. I was taken to another time in a different world of my own into what I come close to calling perfect. The best thing this economic freak out has done is drive many of us to simpler ways of living. It is delicious.

Of course, the remainder of the lemons and tonight’s dinner all went into the compost, ready to do it’s thing. Life is so good when at it’s most basic levels.

We took a Sunday drive to northern Arizona and on the way we took the turnoff to Horse Thief Basin. After too many miles on the old, bumpy, dirt road we opted for the turn to Bumblebee that eventually comes out on the backside of Mayor and runs into highway 69. It is definitely the wild west along this old road and it would have been easier taken on horseback, though. This drive reconnected me to childhood memories, as I have lived in the wild west for over 45 years, with the exception of a few years in California and wherever the wind blew. The old days still exist in these tiny, old towns although currently it is a haven for off road recreational vehicles and bicyclists. I wanted to put on some cowgirl boots, pull out my gun and have a shot or two of whiskey. But, it was just a passing scene that played out in my head. My thoughts quickly shifted to putting a crisp, line dried tablecloth topped with an antique bottle holding a sweet, desert flower bouquet on the shabby, wooden table on the old, crumbling porch.

Recent rains have brought the desert to life. Wildflowers are beginning to spring forth from the carpet of green that covers the usually brown ground. It was GORGEOUS to say the least. After a short walk and shooting few photos we were on our way to snow country. Such contrast of scenery all in one day!

Oh, joyful earth!

KOOKY KRAFTS ~ queer & quirky ~ fun & fabulous ~ 1500 Grand Avenue, Phoenix, Arizona, 85007, 602.252.3774 ~ Fri. 5-10 p.m. Sat. 12-10 p.m. ~ also random evenings, or by appt.

This is owned and operated by the FABULOUS Phoenix artist, Beatrice Moore. I FINALLY found my way to this amazing shop full of eye candy that I am still feasting on, over and over again in my mind. The minute I stepped foot inside I was transported to another world. The vibe is extremely high and everything is BEAUTIFUL! I am especially fond of the large art cakes that spin in the windows, full of unexpected surprises with every turn. A special kind of wonderland awaits inside this building. It is a delightful experience, far beyond any shop that I have ever been in. Beatrice is not only an amazing artist, but she is the sweetest heart. Her spirit shines brightly through her work. I have been an admirer of her art for many years now, you can only imagine how thrilled I was to actually spend a little time inside of her magical Kraft shop and talk with her.

Pure inspiration.

Pure Bliss.

photos courtesy of Jane Hamilton Fine Art, Tucson/Bisbee Az and photographer, Tom Murray.

BALI ROSE

Rest in Peace, Rose Johnson

The Phoenix arts community is still reeling today from news that one of its pioneers, painter and muralist Rose Johnson, 48, died yesterday, Sunday, May 31, at Sanglah General Hospital in Bali. The Jakarta Post is now reporting that Johnson most probably died from acute alcohol poisoning as a result of ingesting liquor that had been laced with methanol. Also known as methyl alcohol or wood spirits, methanol is a toxic form of alcohol that is used industrially in antifreeze, fuel and solvents. The Post also notes that this is the 23rd fatality from the poisonous alcohol mixture in less than 10 days; Johnson was the second foreign fatality attributed to the tainted alcohol, according to the report.

British-born Rose Johnson was a fixture on the Phoenix arts scene for years and had done illustrations for the Phoenix New Times in the past. A gentle, well-loved and respected person, Johnson painted a number of murals in the Phoenix area, but moved to Bisbee, Arizona, in 1998 after a visit to the small-town arts enclave. There she continued to paint her distinctive, fantasy-based figurative work on both canvas and in mural form, including a mural featured in Sunset Magazine, entitled Sleepwalking, on the side of Bisbee’s old Jonquil Motel. Trips to Bali had inspired Johnson’s most recent work. A videotaped interview with the artist, as well as footage of Johnson in Bali, is available on line.

A special memorial ceremony celebrating Johnson’s life and art featuring an exhibition of Rose Johnson’s work will be held beginning June 20th at 10 p.m. at the Icehouse, located at 429 South Jackson Street, Phoenix, AZ. There will be a BYOB potluck reception after the ceremony and participants are asked to bring food for this. The exhibition will continue through June 27th until 6 p.m

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ROSE JOHNSON was my favorite creative, free spirited artist. Her work was spectacular and she was incredibly prolific. Personally, she inspired me and her art turned me on. The news of her passing has left me saddened and shocked, along with the entire arts community and everyone who knew her.

I was fortunate enough to participate in a group art show with her, in downtown Phoenix, years ago. I felt like I had truly “made the big time” ! The last time I saw her was about 4 years ago when she came to Phoenix, from Bisbee, to do a huge show. It was so BEAUTIFUL being surrounded by her artwork. And, of course, she was precious….

Rest In Eternal Peace, Kindred Art Sister.

This is a little piece of downtown Phoenix in March. Today was full of urban bliss. The weather was perfect and the mood downtown was mellow. There really are no words. I am certain that my sleep world will be full of beautiful dreams tonight.

The old Willow House is now the new Hob Nobs coffeehouse. The old Willow House is still around, as most locals know, by now. They just moved to 17th avenue and Van Buren. I don’t get over there much these days. But, I managed to stop in at the new place and, despite how a lot of people feel about the change of hands, it is really, really nice. The art in there is high quality and the stained glass pieces of art are beautiful. The furniture is warm and COMFORTABLE. And, since most of us “dirty~hippies” have moved on, it is very, very, very CEAN! HA! Most importantly, the coffee is FABULOUS. I have only eaten there once and it was over the top……I only had some rich, desert, sugar thingy. I almost went into a sugar coma afterwards, it was small, but RICH. I feel sleepy and full just thinking about it!! ‘Hobnob” by definition means 1.) to associate on very friendly terms and 2.) to drink together.

Nice.

By the way, I added the birds in the first photo (duh). When I see power lines in a picture, I just have to embellish them!