Tag: Trees

Tres Eucalyptus Picture of the Week

Eucalyptus trees along California’s coast are so pervasive that you’d think they were an indigenous species. They’re not—Australian miners brought them during the ’49 Gold Rush. As a kid growing up in Southern California, the tall trees were always a part of the landscape. One of my fondest memories was how the eucalyptus scent in the air announced the coming rain—much like the creosote does in Arizona. Can you imagine visiting San Diego without eucalyptus? It would look like the coastal desert that it really is.

There are many good reasons why these trees are popular. For one thing, they’re fast-growing, and that’s why they’re planted in new subdivisions. If you wanted a tree to dominate your backyard, you’d have to wait a couple of hundred years for a live oak to mature. If you stick a 15-gallon eucalyptus in the ground, it will reach 20-30 feet into the air in five years. Depending on the variety, these trees can grow to 200 feet into the air.

The fast growth of these trees is why farmers plant them on the windward side of their fields. They make great windbreaks. And because they are drought-tolerant, they don’t require a lot of water, even here in Arizona. Decades ago, when Phoenix’s west side was mostly farmland, I would detour off I-10 onto Cotton Lane. It avoided the congestion closer to town. I remember driving past the rows of towering eucalyptus and enjoying the flickering shadows on the windshield in the afternoons. Even during temperatures of 110°, it seemed cooler, if only psychologically. Sadly, those farms have given way to housing developments and warehouses along the loop 303 corridor.

I had always believed that these trees produced trash wood, but—while doing my research—I watched a YouTube video on how to harvest one type of eucalyptus to produce 16 foot long clear white planks suitable for flooring. The wood is quite hard and rivals bamboo in durability. I may have to consider using it on one of my wood projects.

On the other hand, eucalyptus trees have drawbacks. Although they are evergreens, they shed leaves and bark all year round, fueling fires. So, you constantly have to “rake the forest.” Like cottonwood trees, they’re lepers. Infected limbs tend to fall off—onto your head unexpectedly. Unfortunately—like tumbleweed, tamarisk, and kudzu—one of its varietals (Tasmanian blue gum) has escaped and is considered invasive. It doesn’t do well in drier parts of California, but it’s become a nuisance along the foggy coast.

Tres Eucalyptus -A trio of white bark eucalyptus growing along the SR-46 roadside near Morro Bay, California.
Tres Eucalyptus -A trio of whitebark eucalyptus growing along the SR-46 roadside near Morro Bay, California.

I found this trio of eucalyptus—featured in this week’s image—during my morning drive on California’s SR-46. They were only a couple of hundred yards down from the Yucca Hedge that I wrote about last week. At first, it was the light golden bark that caught my eye, but when I began processing this image, I was really pleased to find that there are only three colors in the picture; white, green, and blue (which happen to be the colors of the Sierra Leon flag, but that’s not important here). The simple colors here suggest a graphic photo. I’ll take it, even if it wasn’t planned.

I called this photo Tres Eucalyptus, and you can see a larger version on its Web Page by clicking here. Be sure to come back next week when we add another picture from our time along California’s central coast.

Until next time — jw

Road Bend Picture of the Week

Although I’ve tried my best to hold back time, the season has changed,  and it’s summer again in the desert. Summer’s dog days are the worst time to be photographing our arid home. Except for the brief respite at either end of the day, the bright sun and ozone combine to wash the colors away. It’s like seeing the world through a 2% milk bottle—the glass ones, not the cartons. You need polarizing sunglasses to force the blue to show in the sky again.

We desert-rats are nothing if not adaptive. Like all of the other Sonoran critters, we hide in our holes during the day. For example, the Round-tailed Ground Squirrel escapes the day heat in his den by sleeping splayed-out on his back. I do the same thing, and I’d show you photographic evidence except I’d be banned forever from the Internet. The other thing we do is migrate. Even during this pandemic, Highway U.S. 93 was a parade of boats heading north towards the rivers and lakes on this holiday weekend.

When we were deciding on a project for July, Queen Anne and I followed a similar logic. We looked for someplace cooler—trust me, 90º is cooler than 110º. We scoured our maps for a place nearby in the mountains, a location that wouldn’t have crowds yet be accessible. We settled on the Senator Highway that runs from Prescott south into the Bradshaw Mountains.

Road Bend - Bright yellow-leaved deciduous trees obscure what's beyond the road on the Senator Highway south of Prescott, Arizona.
Road Bend – Bright yellow-leaved deciduous trees obscure what’s beyond the road on the Senator Highway south of Prescott, Arizona.

Until this month, I didn’t know why there was a dirt road called the Senator Highway. I imagined that it was a route that our state assemblymen traveled when Arizona’s capital swapped several times between Prescott and Phoenix—foolish me. Instead, it’s just another mine road that the miners built it to transport ore and supplies between the Senator Mine and Prescott. If you’re skilled at navigating the Bradshaws, you can technically get to Congress via the Senator Highway.

I find the pine-covered mountains, like the Bradshaw’s, hard to shoot. The trees get in the way. I mean, how many different ways can you get an image of ponderosa pine tree bark? I hunt for edges—splashes of color, an opening to the horizon, or building ruins. That’s what I’m showing in this week’s featured image. At a bend on the highway, I saw some trees (I believe Arizona Ash) with bright yellow-green leaves shinning in the sun against the duller blue-green evergreens. I liked how they obscured the path. My mind wants to find out what’s beyond. It’s a classic leading-line perspective trick, and I find the dappled shade on the road a bonus. I named the first image for our July project Road Bend because it’s a simple title for a simple photo.

You can see a larger version of Road Bend on its Web Page by clicking here. I hope you like it. Be sure to come back next week when we present another image from the Senator Highway outside of Prescott.

Until next time — jw

Hidden Springs Ranch Picture of the Week

The cottonwood trees I showcased in this month have told a story of winter in the uplands of Arizona—a part of our state we Zonies keep secret from outsiders. The photos show as much about the chilly morning, crystal clear air, and open spaces as the trees do. After all, there’s nothing special about cottonwood trees—they’re everywhere. Their Latin name is Populas, which means “People’s Tree.” (Wow, did you catch the irony? I have a series of People’s Tree photographs that I shot in Peeples Valley. Yeah, I meant to do that all along).

Although you can find cottonwoods throughout the United States—in one form or another—they’re not widely used in landscaping. In Arizona at least, some homeowners associations explicitly forbid them in their association rules. Although they are fast-growing and provide shade, they’re messy, attack water lines, and are prone to disease, so as they age—just like me—parts fall off. One of their significant irritants is in their name. The mature trees spread seeds to the wind on white cotton-like tufts. When seeds are in the air, it can look like its snowing, and quite a few folks are allergic to them.

If you’re a rancher and you want a fast-growing tree to say, line your driveway, there is an alternative—the Arizona Ash. These trees grow tall quickly, but are less messy, live longer, respond to pruning, and they are more pest resistant. They also have more fall-color than cottonwood, but only slightly. The ash doesn’t get that gnarly old look that interests me.

Hidden Springs Ranch - Well manicured Arizona Ass trees line the drive of the Hidden Springs Ranch in Peeples Valley.
Hidden Springs Ranch – Well manicured Arizona Ash trees line the drive of the Hidden Springs Ranch in Peeples Valley.

When I was shooting my Peeples Valley trees, I first thought that the Hidden Springs Rancher lined his driveway with our friend, the mighty cottonwood. That’s why I photographed the entrance. On second glance, I did a face-slap and thought, “Of course!” Unless you wanted to drive over broken branches all of the time, you would pick a different kind of tree. But, it was winter, and from afar, a bare tree is a bare tree.

I included this week’s photo—called Hidden Springs Ranch—in this series because … well, I needed five pictures instead of the usual four, and my first impressions were wrong. My intentions were good. In case you’re wondering, Hidden Springs is the other ranch in Peeples Valley—they raise horses instead of cattle.

You can see a larger version of Hidden Springs Ranch on its Web Page by clicking here. I hope you like it. Come back next week when we begin a new series from another Arizona back road.

Until next time — jw

Cottonwood Grove Picture of the Week

I want to begin this week’s post by thanking Deb Poteet for her advice about wearing fish-net stockings. If you missed what she said, it was a helpful comment to last week’s post. She said that she got her information straight from the Candy Store dancers—the gentlemen’s club on Cave Creek Road near Costco. It made both Queen Anne and me wonder what she was doing hanging around old strip clubs. Deb really does surprise us sometimes.

On another subject, Her Majesty is improving with each day. She goes to physical therapy three times a week and limps around the house without her walker or a cane. When I remind her that she doesn’t need to do that, she drops the Chester impersonation. It’s interesting to see how fast a woman can recover when you walk up to her death bed with a bottle of Dawn dish detergent and ask, “How much of this do I put in the dryer?”

Cottonwood Grove - A small grove of cottonwood grow along a dry brook in Peeples Valley, Arizona.
Cottonwood Grove – A small grove of cottonwood grows along a dry brook in Peeples Valley, Arizona.

Meanwhile, back up the mountain in Peeples Valley, and the second in my series of cottonwood tree images. This week’s featured image that I call Cottonwood Grove was another image taken on the Maughan Ranch north of town. Like other members of the Poplar family, these large fast-growing trees only grow where there’s a good water supply. In this image, there’s about a half dozen growing along the banks of a dry brook, which eventually feeds Kirkland Creek. Scenes like this one are familiar throughout the west.

In an Arizona Geography class that I took at Arizona State University, the professor told us how the trees filled the length of the Salt River bed. A family of beavers dammed the river under the Mill Avenue Bridge while the river still flowed. When the Corps of Engineers built the dams east of town, the Salt River stopped flowing, and the trees died, rotted, and eventually, a summer monsoon storm blew them over. That would have been a swell topic for a photo essay, but I wasn’t here then.

You can see a larger version of Cottonwood Grove on its Web Page by clicking here. I hope you like it. Be sure to come back next week for another cottonwood portrait from Peeples Valley.

Until next time — jw

Broken Cottonwood Picture of the Week

Well, I might as well tell you right off, because you’re going to find out anyway. I’m cheating on this month’s project. I didn’t search out a new back road for us to explore. Instead, I just drove up the highway to Peeples Valley and photographed old cottonwood trees that I’ve meant to shoot for the last couple of years. I guess you could consider Arizona 89 off the beaten path if you’re used to driving I-17 to Prescott, but it’s the way we go to Costco all of the time, and it’s the official route for every car and motorcycle club tour every weekend.

The reason I shirked my responsibility this month is that I had to put Queen Anne down—wait, that’s not right—oh yeah, she had knee replacement surgery, and I’ve been wearing two extra uniforms since. I’ve been her nurse and maid, and quite frankly, I prefer the white stockings because my toes keep getting caught in the fishnets.

When she first came home from the hospital, her knee looked like a sewed up bag of haggis—that’s the Scottish delicacy of oats and various animal parts boiled in a sheep’s stomach. It was black and blue with stitches that could make Frankenstein jealous. She was all doped up on pain medication and spent most of her time in bed. When she did get up, she’d hobble on her walker to the bathroom or eat a cup of food.

In less than two weeks, she’s moving much better and can make her way through the house without assistance. Now she’s going to rehab three times a week where they ask her, “How far can you bend your knee before it hurts?” After she demonstrates, they grab her leg and bend it further. The whole town of Wickenburg knows when that happens—sort of like the Pit of Despair in The Princess Bride. It seems to work though, because she has more movement each day, and she’ll soon be back to normal. I do think shes enjoying being waited on hand and foot because she milks it for all she can get. She even claims the doctor said that ice cream was medicinal.

Enough about her, let’s talk about photography. As I said, we frequently travel through Peeples Valley, where there is a large cattle ranch—Maughan Ranches—with white fences lining each side of the highway. In the green pastures, there are some very old cottonwood trees that I find appealing, so on a Saturday, when I was able to escape, I drove up and spent a moment behind the camera. After looking at images on my screen, I decided that since it’s winter and there’s no leaves or color, I would process them in black-and-white. In all, I think it shows the subjects off much stronger.

Broken Cottonwood - A pair of cottonwood trees, where one has fallen leaving the survivor leaning precariously in Peeples Valley, Arizona
Broken Cottonwood – A pair of cottonwood trees, where one has fallen leaving the survivor leaning precariously in Peeples Valley, Arizona

This week’s featured image is called Broken Cottonwood. It shows half a pair of old trees. One of them has fallen from decay or rot whose remains litters the ground. The second tree leans to the left to avoid crowding. Now that it stands alone, it leans precariously, like Grandpa McCoy on his cane. There’s a tension in this shot that the little windmill on the right seems to balance.

You can see a larger version of Broken Cottonwood on its Web Page by clicking here. I hope you like it. Be sure to come back next week for another cottonwood portrait from Peeples Valley.

Until next time — jw

Four Ponderosa Picture of the Week

When an Arizonan talks about a pine tree, the red barked ponderosa is most likely what they’re referencing. It’s the common pine tree in Arizona. We have so many of them that our grove grows like a slash across the state’s middle, like a belt, and they continue east into New Mexico. It’s the world’s longest contiguous ponderosa forest in the U.S. Sadly, some of our brightest citizens try to burn them all down each fire season.

It’s a happy tree for me because it means that I’m in the high country when they’re around. Most likely, I’ve traveled to escape the desert heat and spend some time in the shade of the tall pines napping with a bit of fishing line tied around my toe. I have a fond memory of getting up early on a fall morning to drive up to Hawley Lake, and as the sun came up, we were on the Rim Road. The morning sunlight flickered between the tall trees, and I felt like I was driving through the Black Forest in Germany. Although I’ve driven that road hundreds of times since then, I’ve never had the same feeling.

Four Ponderosa
Four Ponderosa – Growing in a grouping that reminded me of a four-poster bed. Maybe I thought that after my long hike and I was tired (and don’t forget, tired).

During my visit to the Hualapai Range outside of Kingman, I was surprised to see ponderosa growing. In the Desert Southwest, they only grow at higher elevations. On the road, I rely on the trees to estimate my height. First, come the pinion pine at around 5,500’, then the ponderosa starts at 6,500’, and then the aspen show up at over 7,500’. The mountain island on top of the Hualapai’s probably is most likely the western edge of our grove. Only the Black Mountains are west of here, and they’re not high enough to support the big trees.

I walked by the ponderosa’s in this weeks image on my way back to Archie after a hike up the mountain. My legs were already sore, and this four-tree grouping reminded me of a four-poster bed. The spacing between them was ideal for hanging a hammock. It’s a good thing I don’t carry one because I would have spent the night, or even worse, I would have rolled over and fallen out onto the ground. That would be just my luck.

I call this week’s image Four Ponderosa, and you can see a larger version of it on its Web Page by clicking here. Be sure to come back next week when we show another photograph from the Hualapai Mountains.

Until next time — jw