It's spring somewhere

We are still in Arizona, enjoying the desert in full bloom. Our Prickly Pear cactus has the most beautiful yellow buds that flower during the day, then close at night to go to sleep.

The breezes are warm as the temperatures climb to the upper 80s. We enjoy our coffee on the deck in the morning and our evening strolls.

We are from Minnesota. We spend winters here and most years are packing to head home about now.

But not this year.

It has not been a kind Minnesota winter, and that's the kindest words you'll hear Minnesotans say. It's mid-April and they are fed up. As well they should be.

It's a cruel trick of Mother Nature this year, the winter with no end. I feel for my fellow Minnesotans and I'm not gloating, nor did I write the first paragraph in a mean spirit.

There is hope, Minnesota. Spring must come. And when it does, it will be even more special. Those sights and smells will be appreciated even more after suffering through a very long seven months.

We have not been gone so long that we've forgotten. Those days that drag on and on and on and you just long to see green grass, open windows, and commence with spring cleaning and washing up golf clubs, pumping air into those bike tires, sorting fishing tackle.

Ahhhh, spring. It will come to Minnesota.  And when Minnesotans are enjoying those fresh breezes, tulips popping out of the ground, picnics and outdoor baseball games, Arizonans will be suffocating in the heat, broiling under the hot, intense sun, and getting cabin fever from sitting inside their air-conditioned hot-boxes, paying obscene electric bills to stay cool.

So take comfort, Minnesota. Spring is coming. I promise. We'll be there to celebrate it with you.

April fool

Well, it's April 1...April Fool's Day.

Yesterday was the day I felt like a fool. Guests for Easter Sunday dinner, I decided to try some new recipes.

Never, ever do that.

I was looking online for crockpot, or slow cooker, recipes so that we could go to church and have dinner cooking itself.  I found several ham recipes and several scalloped potato recipes that made it difficult to even choose between them. They all sounded great.

I chose a ham recipe that called for maple syrup and pineapple juice. It was reported to be the best ham ever!

Using half the time called for in the recipe, it was overcooked and dry, and had lost its color. The only thing that saved it was spooning the juices from the crockpot over the sliced ham on your plate.

On to the scalloped potatoes.  The recipe I selected called for a cheese sauce. Now who could go wrong with a cheese sauce?  It cooked up beautifully, so rich and creamy. Poured over the thinly sliced potatoes, it looked great going into the crockpot. Smelled good, too.

The result was awful. The sauce turned into paste, the potatoes turned brown, and again, using half the time called for, they were way overdone.

I had made a Jell-O salad in individual molds. That's about as artistic as I get. No matter what I tried (yes, the warm cloth over the molds, letting them set out at room temperature, running a hot knife around the edges), they would not unmold. I finally shook them out and they ended up looking like little blobs on a leaf of lettuce.

As our guests thanked us and said everything was delicious, I felt like the April Fool.

Thankfully, the deviled eggs turned out (it took 16 eggs to get 10 perfect ones), and the dessert was to die for...angel food cake with a can of crushed pineapple, frosted with whipped cream, topped with coconut.

Maybe our friends will just remember the dessert.

Unexpected wonders

It's the greatest thing to discover something new when you're not expecting it.  That happened just last week.

Granddaughter Heidi and husband, Chris, came from Las Vegas to Mesa for their annual President's Day weekend visit. Besides loving to be with them for three wonderful days, we try to experience some new adventure each time.

One year it was Saguaro National Park and the Sonora Desert Museum in Tucson; last year Tortilla Flats, nestled in the Tonto National Forest/Superstition Mountain Range and from there, Goldfield Ghost Town. Heidi memorialized our adventures with photo albums for us, and we frequently re-live them through the colorful pages.

Two years ago, it rained all weekend so our "adventure" consisted of discovering new places to shop. Gallant Chris dropped us off at the store's doorway as he braved the elements to park the car and sprint inside dripping wet. Once inside, we explored everything there was to see, then ventured to the next indoor place.

But we've been rewarded with perfect weather weekends ever since. This year was the best and even allowed us to eat a steak dinner out on our new deck.

This year's "adventure" was a drive to Globe, a town in a higher elevation about 45 miles east of Mesa. The drive itself was the adventure since the highway is bordered by shimmering rock and steep mountain hills.

Just outside Globe, we saw a roadside sign, Tonto National Monument. Our curiosity aroused, we decided to check it out.

Turning left and up the mountain road about 17 miles, we came to the site. Looking down, you could see the valley; looking up, the beautiful mountainous hills. And there in the hills were two cave dwellings, an upper one and a lower one. As we later learned, the caves were home to the ancient Hohokam (550 A.D.) and later the Salado Indians (1150) who built small villages in the hills.

Both dwellings, upper and lower, can be toured today. Three of us (admittedly, I stayed behind) toured the lower dwelling. It was a steep half-mile walk to get there, but worth the effort, reported my fellow travelers.

Photo by Chris Tertipes

Inside you could see various rooms. Though primitive, they contained doorways and wooden beams protruding through stone openings. The walls still miraculously contain markings. Touching a marking leads to an instant reprimand by a nearby guide, as my husband can attest.

The caves were carefully chosen so the morning sun warmed it in the winter and the shade offered cool protection from the summer sun.

Aside from the surprise discovery of the monument itself and the beautiful scenery, it was fascinating to learn more about the lives of the Salado (meaning salty) and their everyday lives. Men would hunt in the pre-dawn hours, bringing home a rabbit, perhaps even a wood rat, to skin and cook. Later they would set quartzite stones in mortars of clay and desert soil to construct a new room. Women would don sandals of woven yucca leaves and go the desert hillside where, carrying a gathering basket and a crude pole, they would harvest fruit from the saguaro.



Saguaro cactus in bloom

Later, during midday, this would be boiled to make jams or syrup.

I was most fascinated by the arts and crafts of the Salado. Beautiful decorated clay pots, pottery bowls, woven goods (woven primarily by men) and baskets, as well as inlaid turquoise jewelry, reaffirmed my belief that all peoples have an appreciation for artforms and creativity. Some of the preserved artifacts were displayed in the Visitor's Center and included an exquisite piece of lace.

Grandpa and Heidi return from the lower cave.
Saguaro cactus plants in background.

So next time you see a road sign that gives you even a twinge of curiosity....go explore! We were glad we did.

Nothing better

As I write this, I am watching the most beautiful Arizona sunset outside our living room window with palm trees in the foreground. We hear the news reports of frigid, sub-zero temps back home and are grateful to be in the warmth and beauty of the Southwest where we can be active and enjoy our retirement life. There is nothing better.

 Cactus in bloom (2012)

But I am lonesome for my children and family back home in Minnesota. While we enjoy being here in the sun, we often wish we could jump in the car and just drive across town to see them. There would be nothing better.

We had a voice memo from our five year old granddaughter this morning. I didn't even know there was such a thing as a voice memo, but there it was, appearing on the phone. So I pressed on the message bar, and voile---on came her sweet little voice.

"Hi, Grandma and Grandpa. I'm selling Girl Scout cookies. How many would you like?"

Now, wait a minute. How did she know we'd be such an easy mark and buy some in the first place? Well, of course, we would. This is her first year in Daisies, the beginner group of Girl Scouts.

We called her back and placed our order. Forty dollars worth. Never mind that we're easy targets, this little girl is a super-sales professional. When we were done ordering, or so we thought, she asked if we would consider buying some cookies to send to soldiers overseas.

Think about it for a moment.

Who, I ask you....WHO would say no to that? Certainly not us.  Turns out for every box of cookies sold to U.S. troops serving our country overseas, the Girl Scout association will arrange for shipping them. It warmed my heart to order two boxes, honoring our brave troops in the tiniest way. Nothing better than that patriotic feeling.

Then I find out our order of two boxes for the soldiers put our granddaughter at the level of sales needed for this mission to earn a badge. So it was a win-win: we felt good and she was excited and proud to have accomplished the requirement needed for her badge. Boy, there's nothing better.

How often have you experienced a "nothing better" moment?

A "nothing better" moment for Granddaughter Jessica.

My "nothing better" moment comes each time I am together with my children and their wonderful spouses, my granddaughters three and great-granddaughter one. I want the time to stand still as I take in the pure joy of being with them. The time will pass too quickly and the occasion will always come to an ultimate end, as I suppose it must.

But my heart will be overflowing. Love, pride, gratitude and joy will fill it to the brim.

Above everything else, there is nothing better.

Freezing in Arizona

Now I know I will not get any sympathy from my fellow Minnesotans; that is, unless you planned a winter get-away week in sunny Phoenix, paying a premium for your airline tickets.

But here I go anyway: It is freezing in Arizona.

No amount of whining can get an ounce of sympathy from my brother-in-law. But we are setting records here in Arizona, a state totally unprepared for freezing water pipes and outdoor pools, and homes lacking cold-weather insulation. People just don't have down jackets and ear muffs at the ready in their closets.

This is an area where over 2,000 jailed inmates are housed in a tent sans heat and air conditioning. It is literally, a tent. It's called Tent City, set up back in 1993 after Maricopa County's infamous Sheriff Joe Arpaio refused to release any incarcerated inmates due to jail overcrowding. Tent City has stun fences around the perimeter, facial recognition computer software for inmate identification. K-9 units and patrol deputies.

Tent City


Sheriff Arpaio thinks if our troops in Afghanistan have rough and meager accommodations, well, then so should our law-breakers, by gosh. It was reported on last night's news broadcast that Sheriff Arpaio, a seemingly heartless guy, softened and ordered hot chicken soup for the fellows for dinner. He tried to arrange for hot cocoa as well but wasn't able to. Not sure I get that, but there you are.

So here on our block, plants and varieties of cacti are covered in blankets and sheets.

Our neighbor's cactus plants covered for protection.

On a morning drive, my husband and I saw huge bougainvillea trees covered as well. Their beautiful red blooms grace even our freeway landscape. The covered ones were, of course, at a private home, not the freeway.

This freeze has great cause for concern for local citrus groves and peach growers who are in danger of losing their entire harvest. They are busy around the clock trying to save the fruits (pun intended) of their labor by watering the ground around the trees first, some even resorting to spraying from a helicopter.

 

Well, the good news is, as my friend Evie in Minnesota pointed out, this abrupt climate change will last only several more days - not months, as Minnesota is accustomed to enduring.

 

But that is the whole point: Arizona is definitely NOT accustomed!

 

Holidazzle, Arizona style

Every year since 1992, over 300,000 spectators converge on downtown Minneapolis' Nicollet Mall to celebrate the Holidazzle Parade. It's an annual event that's not to be missed. Sponsored by local businesses, participants are all locals. It brings community together year after year, delighting young and old alike.

 

 

 

Adults, kiddies and tiny tots come bundled in jackets with furry hoods, warm knitted mittens and scarves, carrying blankets to sit on or wrap around themselves as they are delighted by one float after another.

Beautiful light displays slowly advance down the mall, marchers warming heart and soul with smiles, waves and laughter. It is a winter tradition bringing folks from miles around to enjoy the hour-long festive event.

 

Well, here in the Arizona desert, we have our own Holidazzle. Okay, a bit smaller in scale, but the lights, decorations, waves and laughter are all there, not to mention the holiday spirit.

 

That is white rock on the ground, not snow!

Yes, folks, it's a golf cart parade!

Sixteen golf carts joined in this year, weaving in and around every street in the resort park. Some had lighted Christmas trees on top, and all were decorated with lights, wreaths, jingle bells and garlands.

Christmas music played from a few of the carts and if you were lucky, one would pass by throwing Christmas candies. Why, even Santa himself was there, riding in a cart alongside Mrs. Claus.

No Parkas found here; no folks bundled in blankets, no frosty breaths. No snow, no rubbing hands together, no stomping feet. Arizona's answer to winter.

Although I miss the Holidazzle parades at home in Minnesota, this one warmed my heart all the same.

Hope you are enjoying the holiday season and taking time to participate in a few festive events.

 

Too much to endure

Boy, it's really an affront to humankind.

As we grow older, we are expected to endure the loss of parents, aunts and uncles, and even friends. We grieve their passing and realize there is nothing we can do to stop these inevitable losses that are as much a part of life as death.

We grieve things and places, too: St. Paul's own Dayton's Department Store, A&W root beer stands, IBM Selectric typewriters, the local paper boy.

We somehow seem to go on. We buck up. Keep a stiff upper lip.

But now we are told we will lose the 80-year old Hostess Bakeries.

What???

No more Twinkies? Ding Dongs? Squiggle-topped chocolate cupcakes?

And what about Wonder bread? With its eight added nutrients, my childhood was made up of Wonder bread sandwiches: P-B-J, bologna-peanut butter-Miracle Whip; crushed potato chips; sliced radishes. You name it, if it fit between two slices, it was a Wonder bread sandwich.

The loss is almost too much to endure.

Have you ever  had the pure joy of shopping in a Hostess thrift shop? Nothing beats the satisfaction of getting your favorite snacks at a bargain price.

I bet there are a million stories of the memories people have of Hostess's assorted products. One of my favorites is from my second-cousin, Barbara. Her husband, Mort, brought dinner guests from work home for dinner; unexpectedly, of course.  A gourmet cook, she kept her cool and quickly put dinner together.

When it came time for dessert, she simply grabbed some Hostess Twinkies, opened a can of cherry pie filling, spooned it over the Twinkies, and topped it off with a squirt of Reddi-Whip. As I recall, she received great praise for her invention.

I unashamedly recall dashing into a gas station with an intense craving for a Hostess cupcake, salivating as I ripped open the cellophane and stuffed one in my mouth.  Then the second one. 

And that was just last year.

Nope, I really don't know how we'll do it. I certainly feel sorry for the generations to come, having to go through life without the simple pleasure of a Ding Dong.  Thank you, Hostess Bakeries.

Sigh..................