Scrub Oak, Manzanita's Ugly Stepsister

Perhaps I was so passionate about Badboulder's manzanita in our last blog David fears that readers may confuse me with Pollyanna. Such is not the case.

Sonoran scrub oak, most common habitat being central AZ, gives me the grumps.

I have truly tried to like this scrub/small tree because it is hardy--requires very little water. It can grow out of a crack in a granite boulder. Actually a blasting permit and dynamite couldn't kill this stuff. The scattered bits and pieces would develop roots and flourish.

I know that it provides sanctuary and food for birds and animals and that knowledge should endear it to me. Unfortunately Badboulder's ungulates, mule deer and javelina, prefer to browse on fruit trees, vegetable plants, and pansies. I've never spied any animal munching down on scrub oak. Our live oak trees provide billions of acorns; so the paltry few acorns provided by our scrub oak are readily available for propagation.

The Sonoran scrub oak, no doubt because of our arid climate, doesn't need to reproduce vegetatively, but sends out great multitudes of sprouts. These sprouts are the only plant that can grow seven feet in height in just one season here at Badboulder.

I try to fight back scrub oak during rattlesnake hibernation. In order to win the battle, I would need to challenge it on a daily basis. That won't be happening.

I have found that I can eventually trim it into a semi-manicured look, shaping it into low bushes and small pom pom trees. After about ten years of my trimming, the shrub requires only semi-annual trims. The greater problem being all the sprouts that need removing from the base of the pom trees. Edward Sissorhands would be most welcome here.

Wikipedia writers describe the scrub oak leaves as small," spine-tipped teeth". I am wondering if they ever experienced one of these leaves jambed under their fingernails or sprinkled into their bras. Scrub oak has needle sharp teeth.

Those leaves never deteriorate, they will be here the next millennium. To avoid sinus flare-ups or asthma attacks, cleanup requires HazMat gear.

Initially my landscaping plan was to eradicate scrub oak--no chemicals--just a bow saw and pick axe. The scrub oak won, so now I try to contain some of it--still no chemicals. David's solution is to let it grow into the brambled mess that surrounded Sleeping Beauty's castle. I would love to be the beautiful princess discovered at Badboulder Castle a hundred years from now when Prince Charming breaks through the mighty wall of scrub oak.


FROM THE KNOTHOLE: Someone once told me that the amount of leisure time one enjoys is a measure of nobility; you know, the more leisure time the nobler. I always thought it had something to do with family bloodlines. Either way, by either measure, I don't claim to have a noble bone in my body. I'm just a backbreaking, butt-busting, shamelessly independent American. Came by it honestly. One of my grandfathers is said to have believed that you must work hard and sweat everyday. That, he said, is the secret to good health. The Herberts in my family were known to ridicule the Kellys in my family for being studious, intellectual, and weak. When I was growing up, the supreme insult from my father was to be called a Kelly. My father was the consummate Herbert; his mother was a Kelly. The Kellys, especially compared to the Herberts, were more genteel and smaller physically. They pursued trades and industries that required use of the head as well as the back. And, oh my gosh, they read books. Tennessee Ernie Ford probably had the Herberts of the world in mind when he sang, ...if you see me comin', you better step aside..

a parting shot from bbman: been to white castle lately? yum.

Transplanting Manzanita

I love getting helpful planting tips from gardeners who have won the battle that each of us Yarnellians face up here on this rocky, windswept mountain. One prized piece of information came to me as an aside the day a stranger helped me cope with a rattlesnake- bitten cat.

George, the stranger, operated an antique shop next door to our veterinarian. His home and spacious garden were located to the back of his business. While I waited for my kitty, George gave a tour of his beautiful shady garden to help soothe my stressful day. (News of rattlesnake bite travels fast in these here parts).

He attributed all his gardening success to the dense shade provided by native trees--transplanted from Kirkland Creek ONLY in the month of January.

We've been heeding that advise for transplanting manzanita, an ornamental evergreen native to Yarnell, with good results. Several years ago, two manzanita plants came up in our driveway; David transplanted them in January. They are now shoulder high.

Manzanita, according to Wikipedia, grows in the chaparral biome of North America but doesn't even list AZ in the zone. Indeed it is much prized, but not protected, and grows beautifully here in AZ. The berries and flowers are edible, its thin mahogany bark can be dried and used for a tea and Native Americans used its leaves to clean their teeth. Some species are among the rarest plants in the world; one endangered species was recently cloned in CAL.

Today it was my turn. Again, two manzanita plants sprang up in our driveway. This was their second winter, time to transplant before they became sizable enough to risk being run over. Thankfully no cloning is necessary for Badboulder's manzanita.

Manzanita is far and away my favorite chaparral shrub. I will go to great lengths to avoid getting into their space.

Their beauty as ornamentals is such that I once convinced David to set a dead one in concrete. My sis and I strung it with fairy lights as we laughed and sipped a margarita. The lights now need replacing--a delicate chore as it is old enough to be a bit crumbly. I need my sis and a margarita.

I was working away from home the day an APS representative informed David that the chaparral, on our land but under their electrical line, must be cut. David asked them to please spare the manzanita, pointing out that it never attains great height, doesn't have a long life span and was the most desirable plant we owned. They left the beautiful manzanita which has benefited from the removal of dense brush.

When we furnished our condo, I wanted to display a piece of manzanita, a memento from Badboulder. It was a casualty from the burial of our propane tank. Amazingly, some leaves are still intact, adding interest to our RED wall.

Usually in January, the sweet fragrance of the manzanita's tiny pink blossoms perfumes Badboulder's air. We've had shiveringly cold nights for over a month this year which probably accounts for a delay. It'll be worth the wait!

FROM THE KNOTHOLE: Back when I used to work for America West Airlines, one of my best friends was Jim, but I called him Manzanita Man. You see, to make extra money, he had a permit from the U.S. Forest Service to go into national forests and cut manzanitas. He used plaster to set the cuttings, usually around 6 feet tall, in a 5-gallon bucket. He was connected with several interior decorators in the Scottsdale area who placed manzanitas in the homes of their wealthy clients.

a parting shot from bbman: where were you when kennedy was shot? one of our favorite perennial questions. don't think i have ever met anyone who does not connect with that day. i was in mexico city attending the university of the americas. i was living in a room over the garage of a rather wealthy mexican family. when i arrived home that evening, the mother of the household and her daughter, rosita, came to meet me and, through sobs and tears, offered condolences for the loss of president kennedy.

Scout, Badboulder's Lazy Feline

Scout, our huge orange and white cat, was born in a back alley of downtown Phoenix. One of Maria's co-workers rescued him and his sister Savannah from their feral environment when they were actually a bit too young to have left their mother. However, under Maria's watchful care they grew to be two of nature's majestic cats, both in size and personality.

"The smallest feline is a masterpiece. Leonardo da Vinci "No matter how much cats fight, there always seem to be plenty of kittens". Abraham Lincoln "One cat just leads to another" Ernest Hemingway

They came to live with Maria in December of 1999, sharing a house with her roommates and many dogs of every description--the most notable being two chihuahuas. One chihuahua was a talented actor and the other could sing. No doubt, these performing creatures helped shape the cat Scout would become--an expert at avoiding mayhem and noise.

"A cat is nobody's fool". Heywood Brown

Scout enjoyed adventures in the large backyard. Later, when Maria moved into another roommate situation, Scout's domain included a swimming pool in the backyard with plenty of block fences to strut upon as he made his daily prowls of his neighborhood. Savannah was the shy, retiring type and didn't relish the great outdoors. When Maria achieved her goal of living alone in an apartment, Scout lost his outdoor excursion privileges.

"It is in the nature of cats to do a certain amount of unescorted roaming". Adlai Stevenson
"God made the cat in order that humankind might have the pleasure of caressing the tiger". Fernand Mery


Savannah tolerated, even flourished in Maria's apartment but Scout became a malcontent. He spent his hours sitting on a table looking longingly at the complex courtyard with its pool, palms and block fences. Eventually, he targeted Maria's most prized possessions--her soccer shoes and soccer duffle bag. Even neutered tomcats will spray their owners items when frustration sets in and Scout won the battle.

"The trouble with cats is that they've got no tact". P.G.Wodehouse "Cats know not how to pardon". Jean de la Fontaine "Cats can be very funny and have the oddest ways of showing they're glad to see you. Rudimace always peed in our shoes". W.H.Auden

When Maria phoned requesting Scout change from city to country cat, I was surprised with the promptness in which he was delivered. Initially Scout resided in our cattery until he came to view his new surroundings as home. A native American friend gave me some expert advice--butter the new cat's paws. The cat will lick the butter and all traces of the past away, thus removing scents which might be used to attempt a return.

"The way to keep a cat is to try to chase it away". Ed Howe "It is as easy to hold quicksilver between your finger and thumb as to keep a cat who means to escape". Andrew Lang

After being released to explore the nooks and crannies that boulders provide, Scout would return to the cattery for naps and for night time protection. He continues to frequent the shady cattery loft on warm spring days.

"Nothing is more determined than a cat on a hot tin roof. . . .". Tennessee Williams

Scout accompanies me on all my landscaping forays. After risking a tail shortening by my pruning shears, he retreats from underfoot and curls up for a nap deep inside whatever bush or thicket I'm trimming. If I'm moving wheelbarrows of granite, gravel or stones, Scout faithfully follows me on every trip.

"A cat sleeps fat, yet walks thin". Fred Schwab "In the beginning, God created man, but seeing him so feeble, He gave him the cat". Warren Eckstein

When winter sets in, Scout becomes a house cat moving from easy chair to easy chair as he follows the sun's strongest rays. When summer arrives, it's back to the great outdoors for Scout. He embraces space; the neighbors report he never wanders into their yards.

"It is with the approach of winter that cats become in a special manner our friends and guests. It is then too that they wear their richest fur and assume an air of sumptuous and delightful opulence." Pierre Loti

Our My Blue Desert daughter owns two small cat-chasing terriers. On rare occasions we have small children visiting. Scout is such an expert at hiding when those events occur that there's not one peep of his orange and white fur to be found on Badboulder. Within fifteen minutes of their departure he comes meowing his way out of hiding.

"The cat is mighty dignified until the dog comes by". Southern folk saying

Scout is living in his twelfth year now, displaying the wisdom of an older cat. He hasn't eaten a lizard in years, saves a good bit of his energy for napping, strolls the perimeter of the pond only to admire fish and drink the cool water, and ignores most of young Zorro cat's playful overtures.

"Nothing's more playful than a young cat, nor more grave than an old one". Thomas Fuller
"There are two means of refuge from the misery of life-music and cats". Albert Schweitzer


Scout easily transferred from his big city domain to life in the boulders. Like all the pets we've rescued, Scout became part of Badboulder life and a true treasure.

"If man could be crossed with the cat, it would improve man but deteriorate the cat". Mark Twain "I love cats because I love my home and after a while they become its visible soul". Jean Cocteau

FROM THE KNOTHOLE: Hey, you all, it's me, up here in the knothole, and boy do I have a tough job, trying to keep my eye on four women. It's kind of like the Eagles, you know, strumming and humming their way along Interstate 40, slowing down in Winslow, Arizona, with seven women on their mind, hoping to leave their troubles behind. Fat chance. So, I am not in Winslow, Arizona; I'm in Yarnell, Arizona on Highway 89. Four women on my mind? Yup. But it's all legal. So, don't call Sheriff Joe, the toughest sheriff in the world, just yet. You see, one woman is my spouse in the house. That's the incomparable Badboulderlady. The other lovely ladies are my three daughters, not in the house, but certainly on my mind, whether I am in Winslow or Yarnell, Interstate 40 or U.S. Hwy 89. So, what's my point? Well, we are getting to that, having disposed of the prologue.

When most people think of hand-me-downs, they think of old jeans, used dresses, cast-off coats, etc. Not me, no way. I think of cats and dogs. You see, Badboulderlady collects cats and dogs like a black sock attracts white lint. And the three daughters, well they sometimes shed pets like a bouquet eventually drops its petals. You see, a pet is a little like a bouquet. When new, always very pretty. But, after you have owned it for a while, some of the natural luster begins to fade. Also, pets are a little like that box of chocolates in the Forrest Gump movie: you don't really know what you're getting. Sometimes pets just don't work out. Scout is not the only pet that has been reassigned to Badboulder nor is Maria the only daughter that has had a pet that didn't fit into their life. So, more than once, our daughters have turned to us to assuage some of life's inevitable pains, like giving up a pet.

a parting shot from bbman: did you ever meet someone who just sticks in your mind? i have. many times. especially in the military service. maybe it is because in the military you do things that no sane person would choose to do: train in the cold, the rain, the mud; go for days with little or no sleep; go for days or weeks or months with no hot food; leave home for lengthy deployments; think, sleep, and eat combat 24/7. i am sure if we went to iraq or afganistan, we would meet some really gritty and unusual soldiers.

while serving on the staff of the 172nd support battalion at fort richardson, alaska, during 1968-'69, i met one such memorable individual--major shugart, the battalion executive officer. major shugart was a man of several dimensions. he led men to kill in combat (1st infantry divisuion--the big red one). he led men (there were no women in the battalion) in prayer at a lavish thanksgiving meal. he chewed men out for their flaws. he praised men for their attributes. he smoked like the devil. he went to the gym and worked out like hell. one could criticize major shugart for the opposing extremes of his conduct. i commend him for the broad broom with which he swept through life. in his own way, he did it all.

Back to Badboulder for Christmas

My leisurely retirement days took an unexpected turn in mid-October. My ninety-one year old mother was diagnosed with an aggressive sarcoma in her left leg. In a matter of days she lost her mobility, started a radiation program and needed assistance with all facets of her life. My sister and I became Florence Nightingale and Clara Barton--acquiring skills quickly thanks to the staff at Carrie Babb Cancer Center in Bolivar, MO. Our dear Aunt Bonnie and Mom's wonderful neighbor, Leann, a retired nurse, gave us practical advice and provided comfort to Mom when we slipped out for an occasional walk.

The two of us met Mom's needs for five weeks before entrusting a nursing home associated with the cancer center with that job. We were replaced with a staff of about 15-16 skilled and caring people who quickly began treating her like a queen.

Providing around the clock care is so demanding physically and emotionally on caregivers that time becomes a blur, meals sometimes consists of a handful of nuts, a bath is pure luxury, and any connections made to your own family is done with some quick texting on a mobile phone. This said, I'm so grateful that I had the opportunity to help my Mom and connect with my sis.

Mom has spent little time dwelling on the gravity of her illness and determined that she was going to see herself through it with a sense of humor. Her Christian faith provides her with strength to tolerate the pain associated with her illness and the loss of her independence.

Now to the logistics of our care providing. My sis and I took turns with the night shift, drowsing some and using an alarm to keep continual pain meds on schedule and assist with bathroom walks. On our night off we relied on sleeping aids to refresh and restore ourselves in order to meet the daytime routine. We took turns driving the eighty mile trip for daily radiation. One trip was achieved by driving around, through and beside some unseasonable November tornadoes. Sis and Mom were nonchalant about the weather but those screaming sirens sure got my attention.

We mastered the art of pushing her wheelchair to the point that she was no longer fearful of those excursions. We cooked her meals--this involved permitting her to eat potato chip snacks and the occasional hot dog, as well as insist on some nutrition. My sis won favor by cooking turnips not once but twice.

Our mom is quite social, thus we gladly entertained a multitude of visitors who bolstered her well-being. Many came bringing gifts of food which we welcomed wholeheartedly and some shared their uplifting stories of battles with cancer. Friends phoned daily to inquire of Mom's well being and the mail never ceased to include wishes for a speedy recovery. Grandchildren, grown with jobs and family commitments, continue to jet in to cheer and support their beloved grams.

GG's response to radiation is slowly showing favorable results which permitted me to fly back to sunny Arizona literally missing the first sub-zero wind chill temperature reading in Missouri this winter by mere hours. Allegiant Airlines took deicing precautions at 2 pm and I arrived in Mesa to 80 degrees and sunshine by 4pm. I arrived home for the glorious Christmas season!

It's difficult to find a rendition of "White Christmas" that I don't find enjoyable listening. But, if I inadvertently sing along it's pure blasphemy on my part. Sunshine in the swaying palm trees with blasts of scarlet bougainvilleas says Merry Christmas to me. I've managed to stir up some of our family's traditional Chex Mix and peanut butter fudge. Knothole Man hung my favorite nativity scene and we're enjoying peace and good will here at Badboulder.

I'm wishing all a peaceful, joyful and healthy New Year.

FROM THE KNOTHOLE: I wonder how many people who read this blog have thought about going to the nursing home, or let's call it a care center. Wonder how many of you have long term care insurance. Do you know what it costs per month to stay in a care center? How will you pay for it? Me? I hope to stay in my knothole.

a parting shot from bbman: Ba mui ba. Means 33 in the Vietnamese language. These numbers appeared on the side of big brown bottles of beer commonly available in Vietnam when i was there in '69-'70. i was told that beer 33 was a legacy of the French military presence in southeast asia which ended in 1954. to all the wonderful french people. gotta love 'em.

Badboulder's First Window Mosaic

My craft/guest room captures early morning rays through two large windows and a full view door. The early morning summer rays are so intense that we use black drapes to help sleepers avoid a 5 am wake-up call from the sun. Smaller south facing windows provide natural light without heating the room too much. David custom made these long, narrow windows--not any easy job.

In December of 08 Badboulder experienced a winter storm that brought some 80 mph wind gusts along with rain, sleet and snow. We had never witnessed a mountain storm of that magnitude but saw another less than a month later in January of 2010. This fierce storm uprooted three ancient pine trees in a nearby neighbor's yard. Alas,it also slightly cracked one of our long narrow windows.

Over time the small crack spanned the width of the window. Fortunately only the interior pane suffered. Window replacement would be a bear and distracts from more important jobs, thus I've been given carte blanc mosaic privileges.

Initially I thought subtle, clear or pearlized jewels might be in line but they just highlighted the problem.

Trips to Hobby Lobby(the divorce incubation store) and three Michael's store resulted in the materials needed to make an Asian inspired mosaic on the windows. Hobby Lobby sells adhesive leading for faux stained glass projects. I'm using this for branches. After some searching through Michael's jewelery-making aisles I found some black leaf-shaped gems. I'm using Aleene's glass and bead glue to adhere the gems to the glass.

I traced the shape of the window crack onto white paper with a carpenter's lead pencil, then darkened the line with black crayon. First I arranged the "leaf" beads in a weeping downward pattern that is perhaps a bit more of an Asian look. Eventually, I decided those leaves needed to be stretching for the sunlight and tilted them upward.

I'll reverse this design and create a similar pattern for the opposing window. The window in between will get a more upright branch of leaves.

My intent is to solve the problem with decorative mosaics that becomes part of the decor. Hope this looks better than duck tape.

The old "necessity is the mother of invention" adage has provided another fun, DIY Badboulder project. Just what I need on these cold, snowy and ice-covered days!

P.S. This became another of those work in progress projects. Off to the big city to buy glue--mine had pretty much solidified. Actually I'm off for a girls' night out but like all Yarnellians I always buy necessities as opportunity avails. Should I ever have an audience with a queen, a president or the pope I would probably multitask and buy a loaf of healthy bread or some other essential on my way home. Just a fact not a whine--I love life up here!

FROM THE KNOTHOLE: Well, here we go again, looking through the windows of Badboulder into her very soul. And what do we see? Badboulderlady, of course. And that, folks, is about as close as we will get to Badboulder's soul. When I asked Badboulderlady, deep down in her soul, who she would rather visit with, the president, the queen, or the pope, I was a bit surprised by her response. I presumed that she might want to take on the pope and help him see the world from a different point of view. Keep in mind that we are from Arizona where a prominent Catholic Hospital was recently sanctioned, i.e., stripped of its Catholic status by the local bishop for performing an abortion to save the mother's life. Or the queen who really needs to get over this business of being offended when the curtsy or the bow is omitted. Nope, Badboulderlady would choose neither the pope nor the queen. She chose the president. Why, because of the three, his office is the most prestigious.

a parting shot from bbman: 5 cents: the price of a coke when i was in high school; 22 cents: the price of a gallon of gasoline when i was in college; priceless: receiving a box of jello parfait dessert and a manual egg beater from my mother while in the middle of the jungle in vietnam in 1969.

Autumn at Badboulder, 2010

David captured Badboulder's fall season for me because I totally missed it. He has stated throughout our years in taming this wilderness that it's a rare day when a blossom can't be found after a killing frost. He found plenty.

The golden aspen didn't sneak in from our Colorado pictures; it was a Christmas gift from Matt in 1995. The tree didn't flourish until the house was built to shadow summer's intense sun.

One might also think the golden cottonwoods are leftover from the Colorado drive but such is not the case. Those stately trees grace the town wash and are home to Yarnell's famous buzzards.

The Virginia creeper that enthralls me, provides the flash of scarlet.

The purple wild aster is a bit less endearing because its nasty little burrs tangle the pets' coats but its showy blossoms make it a keeper.

David just couldn't pass up our neighbor's quirky (and junky) property. The windmill is a treasure, rivaled only by the "smiley" skillet. Frank didn't do much cooking but his sense of humor was always present. Alas, Frank's "old writer's cabin" appears doomed; nature's forces or the bulldozer loom.

The woodpile is destined for the cook stove. We gave much of the hollow tree away to a local artist for his drum-making project. Both " drummings" and wood burning are Yarnell happenings that can be traced to the people who came before us-the Yavapai nation.

One favorite feature of blogging for me is enlarging and viewing Badboulder's photographs. That old "picture worth a thousand words" adage works for me. I'll grab my coffee and relish autumn.

FROM THE KNOTHOLE: All life on Earth; all buildings on Earth; all roads and dams and canals on Earth;and even mountains and sand dunes and rivers and polar ice caps eventually yield to the forces of time and nature. Look around. Everything eventually comes to an end. People die. Property changes hands. Things wear out. Roads are abandoned. Houses fall down. Stuff becomes obsolete.

Especially in the autumn, we see the end is near. Leaves turn color. Temperatures fall. Frost touches the Earth. Still, everything fights to turn back the onward march of time. Look! What beauty! What color! What energy! What drama! What a magnificent battle unfolds as everything wages a life and death struggle to experience one more chance for life. And so, when autumn comes, what should we do? Look back? Revel in the present? Or look for hope in the future?

As you look at the many images depicting autumn, what do you see? The past? The present? The future? Do you see life or do you see death? Do you see an opportunity missed or an opportunity at hand? Do you feel sad or do you feel happy? Or, does it really matter what you think or feel?

In college, I learned that some philosopher said, "I think, therefore I am." But in Sunday School, long before I went to college, I learned, "I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord which made Heaven and Earth." I have to wonder if the philosopher and the psalmist were not both troubled by the same dilemma: Here I am, alive, in this great big wonderful world. Now, what do I do?

a parting shot from bbman: see the usa in your chevrolet. that well-known gm ditty was belted out in the 1950's by dinah shore. it still resonates with me. but, since my chevy is a 1992 model year, i will limit my travel in the usa by chevrolet to the white spar highway, a designated scenic route on U.S. Hwy 89 that lies between yarnell and prescott, az. happy trails, everyone.