The warmer side of the mountain . . .

. . . often calls to us during the winter, and the Verde Valley's proximity allows us easy access for day trips into climes more suited to our preferences, and then of course there's a river over yonder, and that suits us just fine.

One recent jaunt over there found us bouncing long & hard on a rough dirt road that I swear was not as rutted and rocky the last time we did it.  Both east and west along the Verde River, mountains loom large and rugged, encouraging me to put up with the eye-teeth-rattling journey with the reward of Arizona scenery at its best. 

The end of the line is at Brown Springs, whence we slog our way down-canyon to the Verde . . .

. . . but first . . . those cayuses.  I swear they are pushier than last time we wound our way through them: they clearly are hand-fed by other trekkers.  Not finding easy handouts from us deterred them not in the slightest.

It seemed fairly certain that one of them was determined to climb right into the truck and begin rummaging through the glove box.

The horses were fenced off from following us for most of the walk, and we were happy not to be tripping over them for the entire distance.

Our walk consisted of rockhopping through creekbeds and bogging down in soil waterlogged from springs seeping out from the mountainside.  Nearing solstice meant the sun was low in the south, seldom reaching our canyon-bottom route except when our direction veered more directly toward it and opened up to the welcome rays.  It was just warm enough to allow us to enjoy our shaded walk contrasted with sun-touched clifftops above us.

I seem to have misplaced any sense of discernment regarding which photos to use and which to leave out,  so my solution is to use a whole passel of 'em.  Maybe the calendar's turnover will magically change that . . . or maybe not.

The soft season, seeping spring and shaded spot offered up a mid-December surprise of a butter-yellow columbine blooming silently from the forest duff for anyone who chanced by just then, or for the love of life.

We rearrange our schedule . . .

. . . to fit in a Sedona stay with Tom & Pam; after all, what pesky appointment could possibly be more important than time with friends.  Chris had to play one late-afternoon gig before we could hie ourselves to red-rock country, and then the fun commenced.

Who could ask for anything more than a pre-Christmas stay with beautiful Oak Creek streaming by right out back and stately sycamores stretching toward the narrow slit of sky above the canyon!

A serendipitous encounter at a casual archaeologists' lunch had let us hear about a prehistoric rock art site that we had not known about previously, so that was our quest for the day.

 

As often occurs on the way to one destination, other sites of interest require investigation, and so it was that we stopped of at Honanki, itself a rock art site and a substantial cliff dwelling.

Moving on . . .

In order to perpetuate the protection of the little-known site, I will not say more about the location, other than that it's in the Red Rock Secret Mountain Wilderness Area. 

 

 

We found the place without overly much difficulty, and with only one detour and backtrack.  The energy of the extended pictograph panel was palpable.  We were astounded at its breadth and mystified by many of the unique paintings.

Although we were left without the slightest idea of the possible meaning of many of the markings, we all agreed that the various interesting depictions of snakes with multiple spikes emanating from their tails must surely be meant to indicate rattlesnakes with rattles aquiver, but why so many?

 

 

 

Sadly, some of those who had passed that way before us (long before us - 1899 to be exact in some cases) had felt no qualms about memorializing their presence by inscribing names and dates alongside and sometimes right over the top of the ancient art.  Certain members of the Purtyman clan, early Anglo pioneers of the region, were especially zealous with their 19th century and later markings, although various other passers-by have contributed to the degradation.

I found other evidence of later habitation: a small post & barbed wire enclosure had been jerry-rigged beneath a rock overhang.

After our intrigued inspection of all aspects of the extensive site, it was somewhat startling to turn away from the cliff face and view the tree-framed views outward.

 

 

Along our outward walk, Pam spotted this beaded piece, possibly left as a tribute to those who came before.

 

 

Our hosts and fellow explorers.

Peace garden, breakfasts, Christmas lights, wetlands . . .

Turning from the ancient, we were enchanted by a peace garden at the Sedona Creative Life Center and a chat with the gardener himself.

Pam, the ever-creative hostess treated us to a luscious & beautiful breakfast "at home" . . .

. . . and a second morning, we dined at Garland's.  My meal of avocado toast topped by spiced pepitas and chimayo was yet another delectable breakfast.

And what would Christmas in Sedona be without the lights at enchanting Telaquepaque.

How could we pass up the grand piano at the resort without a tune from the señor.  His rendition: beautiful, the piano's tone: not so much.

What a nice surprise we had on the way home when we called a short halt at the Sedona Wetlands Preserve, where we found a memorial to our old pal from Elderhostel days, Dena Greenwood.  Dena was instrumental in developing the preserve with its riparian habitat and walking/birding trails.

 

 

 

How delightful to spot this cheerful harbinger of spring, at winter solstice, no less.