Winter has arrived, but that means something different to us desert dwellers than it does to the rest of the country. For us it’s temperatures in the high 50’s during the day, dipping to the low 40’s and high 30’s at night. In due course we will get colder, there are mornings with frost and ice and occasionally snow will fall on the mountains outside of town. Years ago when I lived in Cave Creek it snowed and stuck a few times, but that isn’t something that we worry about too often.

Christmas has come and gone, and the New Year is on the way. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! Some years are better out of the way than others, and this was one that is good to have nearly finished. If you are in the right frame of mind you could say it was a year of “challenges,” or, you could say it sucked, it’s a matter of perception. I’ll leave you to your own devices with that one.

So to wrap up the year I’m waiting for the guys to come and pump out our septic tank. It’s not quite a holiday tradition, but could be if it keeps on going. We had an interesting Thanksgiving a few years ago along similar lines.

I know it’s been quite a while since I’ve done any writing, however, I’m back in the saddle again!

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year

Sabbatical Ends

In the words of Jimmy Buffet, “Man, it’s been quite a summer….,” and it has. Not a reason in the world to go into details, but I’m grateful this one is over. Fall has arrived, the autumn solstice has come and we are in the gradual slide into winter. We can look forward to shorter days as well as longer and cooler nights, and our daytime highs are dropping down to the low 100’s, which means the summer hiatus is over. Bears and other mammals go into hibernation in the winter, out here in the desert we go into that mode in the summer.

We took a trip up north a couple of weeks ago, to the Mogollon Rim, or, as it is called in Arizona, just the Rim. Some of you may remember Zane Grey, an author that was writing in the early 1900’s. He had a cabin up there and one of his books, “Under the Tonto Rim,” was written while he was there. I’m fortunate enough to have a first edition of it, published in 1926, so this copy of the book is 85 years old.

I have a small collection of old books like that, some of them are Arizona specific, as well as some Ernie Pyle books, some early UFO books written in the early ‘50s, and a smattering of others.

But I digress, the rim is at an altitude of 7,200 feet, so the weather up there is a drastic change from down here (1,000 feet). Daytime temps were in high 70’s, while at night it was dropping down into the high 40’s. Chilly enough to fire up some heat in the morning. We had a couple of small rain storms, and even a few claps of thunder.

Generally summertime in the desert is monsoon time, when there is a change in the airflow. Damp warm air comes up from the Gulf of Mexico, and meets cool air from the Rockies, with the result being incredible thunderstorms, with lightning displays that can’t be matched. Key word here is generally. This year we were the recipients of some of the largest dust storms we’ve ever had. Our biggest one was measured at 50 miles wide, and over 10,000 feet high…that’s a whole lotta dust!

It’s good to be getting back in the groove…happy fall everyone and I’m getting back to regular writing again!

A different perspective

I’ve been thinking about taking up fly fishing again, which will probably come as a surprise to anyone reading this, or anyone who knows me. I haven’t fished in a long time, but in the distant past I was quite the fisherman. Not always successful in terms of catching fish, but successful in the fact that it was a way to be outside me outside and having fun.

When we lived in Glenwood, a suburb outside of Chicago, there were a couple of places that were close enough to ride my bike to for fishing. There is a place called Izaak Walton Park, which was a pretty cool place. In the park there was a Scout Camp, (Black Bear Lodge), baseball diamonds, trails and a series of small lakes. It was nothing to hop on the blue Stingray, pedal over to the park and spend some time fishing for crappie and bluegill.

About five or six miles away was a forest preserve park named Wampum Lake. Getting to Wampum Lake was much more of a journey, if there wasn’t a parent around to drive. It involved some riding through Thornwood, which for some reason was always kind of a spooky place. It seemed deserted most of the time, kind of Stephen Kingish, if you know what I mean. You also had to go past the Thornton Quarry, a huge excavation that seemed to fit right in the general unease of the place.

Wampum Lake was where I learned to fly fish. That’s not quite true, I learned a lot about fly fishing in the back seat of the car, reading a magazine I grabbed somewhere on vacation. It was a special fly fishing issue, and I devoured it. Some how I saved up enough money to by a Heddon Rod, reel, line, and a boxful of flies, and hit the back yard to practice. Practicing fly casting is easier when there aren’t a couple of cats in the yard; they took great interest in this particular sport. None the less, after some time the basic techniques were mastered.

After some practice I was ready to hit the lake. Dad took me to Wampum Lake where I carefully rigged my equipment and headed to the shore. Looking around to make sure there was no one behind me (the back cast is a large part of fly fishing), I took a deep breath and began casting. Practice paid off, and I was able to get the fly out towards some weeds. A few casts later and I had my first strike.

There is nothing like the feeling of a sunfish hitting a fly, on a light action rod. This fish probably came in at about five or six inches, but to me it felt like a massive trout! Now I didn’t go on to be a master fly fisherman. I did learn just a little bit more to appreciate being outside and relaxing.

I think I’ll take up fly fishing again.

Summer....Again!

Once again time has played a trick on me, and Memorial Day Weekend has already slid by. A lot of people think that it isn’t the real beginning of summer, they think we need to wait till June 21, the summer solstice. However, Memorial Day Weekend is the real beginning of summer, I’ve made it official, and you can refer people to me if they have any doubts.

It must be so, the summer cottages in Bar Harbor, Seal Harbor, Northeast Harbor and so many other towns in New England are open for the season. It’s no different on the west coast, Avalon has opened for the summer, the Catalina Express has added more runs per day, Hotels, B&B’s, gift shops and restaurants that have been shuttered against the winter are open and raring to go.

Amusement parks, water parks and campgrounds in the Midwest are ready for visitors, the summer hiring and scheduling is moving into high gear. “School’s Out,” by Alice Cooper is blasting across the airwaves.

But you know what it is that really says summer to me? It’s the first 20 seconds or so of “Honky Tonk Woman.” When I hear that cow bell, followed by the pulsating drums and then the reverb of the Telecaster, I’m blasted back into summer.

I’m back on my blue Schwinn Stingray, with the banana seat, 5 speed shifter and ape hangers. We’re cruising all over Homewood and Glenwood. Spending hours at the Lion’s Club pool doing jackknifes and cannonballs off the high dive. Racing our souped up HO slot cars on a custom track, complete with banked curves! Fishing at Izaak Walton or Wampum Lake for bluegill and crappie. Hanging on a friends screened in front porch with summer thunderstorms belting out around, the thunder so loud it hurts our ears, and the lightning so bright it makes us blink

So, I’ll fire up the BBQ, find some meat to toss on it, put on some tunes from the summer of ’68, salute the summer and be a kid again for a while. Happy Summer!

Friends

It doesn’t get much better than this for Phoenix weather, or weather anywhere else as far as that goes. Currently it’s 1:30pm and we’re at 79 degrees, in the sun, our high for the day. That is opposed to sometime in August when it is 100 degrees, at 3:00am, but that’s another time and place that we aren’t at, yet. There is a nice, soft breeze coming from the west, the buoy-bell is chiming in from time to time, and we are winding down for the day, getting close to siesta time. It is vitally important to take a mid-afternoon siesta on a day off; it may even be a requirement, which is why I am so adamant about getting it in.

We’ve got company in town, from Troutdale, Oregon. Now how’s that for the name of a town? Beats Gary, Indiana in a heartbeat. It beats just about everything in any type of comparison you can make. Troutdale has a Main Street like you would imagine, with small shops where you can browse, graze, sup and dine. Most of the buildings are older and restored, with great brickwork and wood work that could easily take you back in time.

Having company works so well on all levels. Being able to spend time with people you love and care about is one of life’s treasures. We do exactly what you are supposed to do when you have guests. We visit, talk and eat. We spend quiet time together, it is incredibly relaxing and soul mending to spend time with people that you don’t need to be talking with all the time, but when you do it’s worth it.

Tonight we’re going to fire up the Weber with real charcoal and no fluid. I think the menu consists of burgers, brats and beans, with moi, as the talented chef de cuisine. Then we’ll eat, visit and spend a nice evening together.

Here’s to friends, family and company.

An American Classic

I see that it has been over a month since I’ve been here, and to stave off any thoughts anyone had about abandoning the blog or getting to busy, let me lay those crazy thoughts to rest. After much thought and meditation it seemed best to me to forgo the inevitable end of the year rehashing the past, mulling on the present, and trying to read the future (my apologies to Al Stewart, and if you understand this reference you are a true survivor of the ‘70’s).

So let’s rip into the current topic. Today the classic and timeless all American sandwich. Now I’m not what some may consider a “foodie,” but I have spent the majority of my working life in restaurants. This followed my short and disastrous career in landscaping, which is both future fodder and a digression. Let’s just say that I know my way around commercial kitchen’s better than most, and not only can tell you the five basic sauces, but can also do them from scratch.

A bologna sandwich, on white bread, (Wonderbread to be precise), with mayo, and sliced tomatoes. That’s it, the classic all American sandwich. A purist will have Jay’s potato chips and a Canfield’s Swiss Crème Soda to round out the entrée portion of the meal.
Let me state here that I am not a paid, or unpaid shill for any of these companies, I’m operating out of pure motives to describe this great meal, so that you too can reproduce it yourself at home.

This sandwich that takes me back to places like Chicago, Bear Cave, Camp Betz and Middleville, Michigan. At this point some may think that there is a slight emotional attachment to the sandwich, however I recently conducted some tests and came up with astonishing results. Bypassing both the possible childhood memories and nostalgia, this sandwich simply rocks! There were some glaring holes in the process, no Wonderbread, Jay’s potato chips or Swiss Crème Soda, but the experiment will stand on its own.

I purchased some bologna, a loaf of white bread and tomatoes then headed to the test kitchen. First I spread the mayo fairly thickly on the bread. Next the bologna was added. NOTE: If you are using thinly sliced it will take at least 4 slices, (don’t forget to take the wrapping off). Commercial bologna which is thicker sliced will only take two pieces. Finally I sliced the tomato, fairly thick and placed two slices on the sandwich. I topped it off with the other piece of bread, placed it on the cutting board and cut it in half. Classic presentation of this sandwich is on a paper plate.

Ahhh…..success! Wash it down with an ice cold glass of milk, and you now have one of the best recipes in the world. In the timeless words of gourmands the world over “WOW.”