We be townies 
November 18, 2013


Several perusers of my blog made mention after the last posting that I told about purchasing a house in Prescott, then proceeded to ignore that admittedly major-by-most-standards event, writing instead about friends, hiking, kayaking and the beauty of our environment.  Some individuals were left wondering about our newly acquired abode.  A person might surmise that after 37 years in one house, the dwelling itself might be the subject at hand.

Thinking back, it seems two factors were at play.  One is simply that people and the outside environment are of primary importance to me.  The other takes into account our previous attempt at house-buying: a move for which I packed all our belongings and did all the other things that one does in preparation for a move, only to have the our sale fall through three days before departure. 

This time, I was taking no chances - my preference was not to talk about it at all until the deed was done.  That proved to be impossible, but I was not counting this house as ours until each and every signature of the multitude required was dry on the page.

But first . . .

While the purchase was wending its way through the serpentine circuit required these days, we availed ourselves of yet another outing.  This one was a random choice - drive out a road to the south a short distance and head off along a drainage through the forest.

An unknown long-ago prospector had tried his hand at locating riches; we found a number of ambitious prospect holes and shafts into a promising quartz vein, one that evidently played out without the hoped-for gold. 

That find set us upward on a hill-slope.  Should be simple enough; however, the thickly vegetated south slope made the going exceedingly rough, at which point I spouted once again my over-utilized mantra: “We’ve come this far; we might as well keep going”.  This encouragement is a companion’s clue to head back the way we’ve come, but in this case, it did lead to some spectacular views of Lynx Lake nestled in the Bradshaws.  I do occasionally wonder why I can't just hike on trails like normal people, but then I wouldn't make all the cool discoveries, would I?

By the time we crested - twice (as is often the case, the perceived mountaintop is not always the actual peak) - we were so ripped and torn by brush and tired from climbing over and through the many bedrock protrusions that we wished for a helicopter to come deliver us to level land.  Despite many times over many years of wishing for that exact rescue, I once again was required to get myself back whence I came and that is what we did.

I love the lichen colors.

Okay, now the house . . .

Be it ever so humble.

This house in what I call Monopoly land became our shelter from the storms on October 16; the intervening time has been a blur of activity.  Why Monopoly land?  The development is officially called Cliff Rose, but all the streets are named after imaginary properties on that classic board game.  We are on Marvin Gardens, just off Boardwalk, and no, I have not yet attempted to erect a large red hotel on the property.

The neighborhood is lovely; the neighbors act as if they just couldn’t wait for the Wuehrmanns to show up.  There are folks out walking and greeting constantly; it is the loveliest thing to sit on our front porch and be a part of this little slice of the world while watching the sunset on Glassford Hill.

This is a close-knit community, one filled with people who come together regularly to support charitable works, including food banks and shelter services.

Such people proximity might have required more adjustment had we come directly from our five-acre shangri-la isolation in Chino Valley, but the intervening year has been one of RV park dimensions in which one could reach out of one’s window and shake the hand of neighbors reaching out of their window should one have wanted to do so.  Relatively speaking, our new tiny lot is huge: sizable enough for a whole slew of RVs, none of which are sharing it with us, thank goodness.

Our "stuff" in a storage unit. Moving in would have been easier if Chris had not been away working that day. Thank goodness for those four strong young men who were patient with me.

And the house: we love our new home; it is light-filled and welcoming, albeit a tight fit after its predecessor.  From five acres to one-fifth acre and reduced square footage requires real adjustments, hence a gigantic sale is in the offing soon, after which we will be able to park in our garage.

Rowdy and I especially love having room to stretch and move, and we all love sitting on the front porch greeting neighbors as they walk by and watching the sunsets/moonrises over Glassford Hill.  Rowdy does get a little huffy with the folks who are walking their dogs, though.

And . . . I have a clothes dryer for the first time in 37 years - zounds!  I’m finding it very easy to do laundry with this handy-dandy appliance.  My fountain is trickling away; the grandmother clock chimes the time and the cuckoo joins in with its contribution - feels like home for sure. 

The new space is somewhat insufficient for all our family history files but at least I do have access to it now as I continue my research on my gigantic computer monitor that I miss much while abiding in the Totee, at least as much as Rowdy misses his “tree”.  He now divides his snoozing time between the top of his tree and various and sundry chairs and couches - it’s all about choices - we like havin’ ‘em.  Who knew a full-length bed could be such a luxury!

We arrived just in time to experience this beautiful autumn-turned maple in the back yard.

The back patio before our "stuff" filled it up.

Moving in . . .

Better without boxes . . .

Rowdy is diligent about his job of insuring packing paper does not get away.

Feeling more like home . . .

As new townies, we are not quite sure how to deal with everything: no compost pile, no brush-pruning structures to shelter the quail and other critters; nevertheless, the animals seem to have adapted to their human counterparts.  Birds abound and the occasional bobcat and mountain lion are reported in the near vicinity, not to mention chipmunks and javelina.

And about those birds: while doing this blog since our Midland adventure began, I have chronicled the avian life we have identified, but somewhere after arriving in Prescott land, I ceased recording that aspect of our attention, which I will remedy forthwith only to add a certain consistency.

It has been a very birdy year - to date, our list numbers 212: 23 of them are life birds.  Growing schlocky with my blog, I neglected to name the new feathered ones we gathered since the Pagosa Springs sojourn.  In southern Arizona, we picked up an Abert’s towhee.  In the northern section of the state, we have identified pinion jay, bushtit, greylag goose, Anna’s hummingbird, white-breasted nuthatch, Say’s phoebe, Gambel’s quail, bridled titmouse, green-tailed towhee and Oregon dark-eyed junco.

It will be fun to watch the seasonal changes in our new back yard, avian and botanical.  We have inherited some of the most glorious roses ever, obviously carefully chosen for both their stunning colors and alluring aromas.  Scarcely ever do I pass them without stopping to admire each one.  Here are a few photos of some:

And now I see that I have once again digressed from the life lived indoors to the one I prefer which is outside.

A month later, we are primarily unpacked; most everything has found a location to rest or has been added to the exceedingly large mountain of stuff relegated to the anticipated garage sale.  I am open for genealogy business in smaller than before quarters, and Chris has been playing music.

We are grateful to be townies, to forgo the long driving times and costs, to have convenience of proximity to activities that before were difficult or not pursued at all.  The quiet solitude of our previous residence was precious; however, I am happy to trade it for friendly greetings as I step out my door.

Last year at Thanksgiving, we found ourselves on the cusp of a great unknown and truthfully, we were both pretty apprehensive at facing that chasm of questions.  Everything that has happened in the interim is added to our life’s memories and for it all, we give thanks.