Lee Harps

I guess one of the nice things about being on vacation is that one has more time to play with one’s computer and make blog entries. I have also found time to take many, many photos — I will only bore you with some of my favorites.
Today’s entry is fairly large, but will not have a lot of “story” as I often like to include with my entries. The desert has offered so many wonderful “photo-ops” and I’d like to share some of my photos with you.

The desert destination for the day was what are called the “High Tanks”. This area, as you will see in the photos, are places that one would be hard pressed to get to see unless they knew someone familiar with the land and who had the proper vehicles available to take you there. Fortunately, I have spent the week in just such a situation.

Today’s “caravan” consisted of three Jeeps and 10 people. In addition to the group that went on the previous outings, a lady named Gerri and two Canadian friends joined us with her blue Jeep.

A real plus for today’s journey was that it was I who was given the wheel of the yellow Jeep. Really great fun. With 5 gears forward, doubled to 10 with “grandma” gear, one could traverse nearly anywhere with this vehicle! Don and Nancy shared my vehicle and I’m sure Don would have loved to have been the driver instead of generously giving it to me. Don, I do appreciate your letting me drive!

Heading off into the desert, many varied scenes are there to be seen. (To see larger versions of the photos, just double click on it.)

As driver of the Jeep, I had the prerogative to make as many photo stops as I liked; I did so frequently, probably to the chagrin of my passengers and the others in our group.

This is some of the foilage that lives in the desert, although the level of GREEN was quite different from one part of the desert to another. Similar plants were unusually green in one area, and dry and pale in other areas.

For some unknown reason, I tended to only photograph the more colorful areas….

Frequently, while driving along on very sandy, sometimes bumpy trails, one would see a particular bush or tree that seemed to appear photo-worthy.

Sometimes, even things that appeared to be dead seemed picturesque.

Here was a particularly lush, green stand of this ocotillo plant just coming into full bloom that I felt deserved to be recorded.

Plant species seem to have their own assigned places in the desert. Here is a single saguaro cactus standing alone amidst other foilage.

Here is another nicely blooming ocotillo of just waiting to be photographed.

It was interesting seeing how the sunlight constantly varied the shadows of the mountains in the distance.

In a desolate area such as this, what an array of natural beauty!

People who traverse the desert are frequently on the lookout for natural “treasures” they might use to decorate their homes and camp sites. Here, Don has found and interesting cactus skeleton and is busily freeing the interior of sand, getting it ready to stash in the Jeep to be taken home.

Here is more desert beauty.

Our visiting Pennsylvania friends, Dick and Marcia, posed beside a mammoth saguaro cactus for this photo.

Some of the desert mountains looked a lot like slag piles near the coal mines in the mining areas of Pennsylvania, other are, like the photo below, made up of the most interesting rock formations.

I was told we were approaching the High Tanks, but that one cannot see them from afar and would only find them if told where they were located. The High Tanks are a series of 5 or 6 natural, hollowed out formations in the rocks which, after rains, serve as reservoirs (“tanks”) in which water collects and which have, for centuries, meant the difference between life and death on the desert for both man and beast alike. Historically, people crossing the desert would need to find the tanks to supply their water needs. Many deaths occurred for those who were unsuccessful doing so.

As we approached the area, I was told that the tanks were “over there”.

As we became closer, my attention was drawn to this particular part of the hill.

If you look at the very center of the photo where the dark, vertical line appears on the rocks, you are looking at the high tanks. Rain water comes rushing down over the rock face, filling the various tanks that exist down that slope, pouring over from the upper ones to the ones below.

Because much rock climbing is necessary to see the upper tanks, we chose to limit our visit to the very lowest one. Here is my brother, Marlin, chatting with others about this particular tank phenomenon.

Marlin told us that, on previous visits here, they happened upon a ranger whose job it was to periodically measure and record the water depth in each tank.

The tanks have obviously been here for centuries, as was man’s relying on them for water. Within a stone’s throw of the tanks are to be seen indentations in what are known as ‘grinding rocks’ which were used by Native Americans to grind meal. Here is one of several such rocks at this location.

A feature that I found fascinating in this area was the presence of the most unusually hollowed out boulders I’ve ever seen. This hollow boulder looked like it was defying gravity and sat on the precipice of the cliff, just waiting to fall into the gourge below.

Here is the unusual rock formation at the end of the high tanks mountain.

Looking down the same direction, here is a photo of Dick and Marcia just below this photo which gives one some idea of the magnitude and perspective of this area.

Elsewhere, huge boulders lay lazily in the crevasses of the rocks, looking as if they could come crashing down at any time.

This is another fascinating example of the more unusual, hollowed-out rock formations.

Then, walking along the paths, there was the tranquility of desert blooms. I believe these lovelies (the yellow blooms) are what is known as the “brittle bush”.

Walking along the trails, over rocks, and up hills has a tendency to make one hungry and thirsty, so it was declared LUNCH TIME!

Lunch consisted of fried chicken, veggies, cheese and crackers, fresh fruit and various snack foods. Food always tastes so good after a vigorous trek thru the desert! With the tables and chairs set up, I was reminded of the English gentry who, with their servants, would drive to the country for a formal dinner on the green. Very little green here, no servants and very little formality.

Leaving the high tanks, our return trip took us past more interesting rocky peaks,

desert plant life,

and more rocks.

Driving thru the desert is so unexpectedly scenic.

Heading back to Yuma, the desert flattened out a bit and, while a bit dusty and tired, we returned home, having spent at least 6 hours enjoying the beauty of God’s earth. It’s clear that one does not need trees and green grass to make up the beauty of the earth.

Still vacationing in Arizona, I was struck by the fact that my OLDER brothers share my own love of toys! In this case, the toys are JEEPS, but we’ll get to that in a minute.

First, let me show you how much I’m roughing it here on the Arizona desert. I’m staying in a “compound” at an RV Park near Yuma which both my brothers are currently calling “home”. Marlin is a “Snowbird”, Don is not (which means, Marlin, like myself, will eventually be coming back to Pennsylvania for the summer).

This is command central — Don’s home:

There is a “park model” (permanent) RV next door, and next to that is Marlin’s home-away-from-home:

Then, there is my own personal RV (actually Don’s rental unit) located somewhat down the street from command central. It is the RV located immediately ahead at the end of the street.

That is not me walking toward it. For me, I have adopted one of Marlin’s “toys” and travel at somewhat less than breakneck speed on this:

Yep, that’s me. It’s a small electric scooter that occasionally needs a charge. Very handy indeed.

The Yuma desert has, with the help of some very sophisticated technology, become a huge truck farm, producing vegetable that, I would suspect, we find in our restaurants and grocery stores in Pennsylvania. Expanses of green fields, such as this, seem to contrast so sharply with the brown, arid deserts that surround the fields.

I’m told that, in order to adequately water the crops with water from the mighty Colorado river, the fields must be perfectly level. This is accomplished using ground movers and lasers to be sure that the entire field is perfectly flat. The water is then brought from aquaducts like this, then pumped into the fields where it runs down the rows to make the veggies grow as we like to find them in the stores.

In order to accommodate fields at differing levels, the water is pumped into higher aquaducts by pumping stations such as this.

Just like back home, the fields must be tilled in preparation for the next crop.

With all the news today about migrant workers and illegal aliens which the government seems to be having perpetual difficulty dealing with, here is an industry, much as our fruit industry in Pennsylvania, that relies very heavily on Mexican workers to harvest their crops. Most of the local citizenry is not interested in this sort of work. Here are some of the harvesting operations in progress.

These are fields that we always pass by as we travel to the subject of this particular entry. Beyond the fields are miles and miles of desolate, uninhabitable desert, mountains, and areas where man does NOT live. It is these areas that have attracted my brothers and their wives and frequently the reason those of us from back East come to visit.

Even desert exploration requires special TOYS, and for my brothers, these toys take the form of JEEPS!

This is Don’s Jeep (he at the wheel, wife Nancy checking the load).

My brother, Marlin, has the red Jeep (here with friend from Pennsylvania, Marcia, posing before going with us).

Some of the things these “Jeep Toys” have in common are 1) a roll bar, 2) chrome grills (don’t ask me why), 3) 4-wheel drive with “grandma” gears, 4) CB radios and 5) owners who LOOOOVE to hack these things around rough terrain! The populated areas of suburban Yuma run immediately up against the untamed desert. One drives out a blacktop street to the edge of the latest housing development, and immediately finds oneself driving on desert sand. It takes only a short time to have left civilization behind and to be faced with the beauty of the desert such as this.

I think the thing that is so surprising is how frequently the lay of the land, the plant life, the color of the soil, the density of the gravel, etc. change as one traverses this area. One would expect it to be monotonous and repetative, when, in fact, each area has lots that are unique to where one has just left. Here is a road we used to reach the day’s objective: Laguna mountain.

If you will compare this photo and the two preceeding, you can see some of the extreme contrasts one will find here.

Along the way, we encountered what was either a large hill or a small mountain. Marlin and I climbed to the top which gave me a good vantage point to photograph our tiny “caravan” in the desert.

We also came across what one would expect were they to come across an oasis in the Sahara: trees!

There was no water, however, only wet when it rains and and we did not have to worry about lions nor tigers! This was simply a grove of trees inside which was a nice little area that would be great for picnicking.

After checking this out, it was on the “road” again, heading for the Laguna mountains. I rode in the rear seat of the yellow lead jeep, so was able to get photos of Marlin bringing up the rear.

Then came the Laguna mountain trail. This has to have been one of the most thrilling auto trips I’ve ever experienced! As you will see in this photo, the road, for much of the way, was carved out of the very peak of the steep, narrow mountain range.

The road was very narrow, very steep at times, never with a guard rail of any sort. Only a vehicle such as our Jeeps would be able to travel this path. Here you can see how narrow the road is and how the drop-off is immediately beside the road.

Here is Marlin negotiating a very steep part of the road.

Note the lack of blacktop, but rather the collection of mother nature’s rocks which hold the potential for rolling.

One more photo of Marlin bringing up the rear….

What a ride! I would guess the trip over Laguna mountain took a couple of hours. When we came out the other side, we happened upon some civilization in the form of a mining operation of some sort.

Large conveyor belts carried the material from the mine back to the processing buildings in the distance.

Immediately below is were other “Toys”, these used by the mining company, that reminded all of us of the Tonka toys our kids used to play with.

It was a thrilling day with much to see and experience, and if you are inclined to ask why anyone would do this sort of thing, I think Don’s Jeep windshield says it all:

It’s been a while since I’ve added a post, but I’ve really been busy. At the moment, however, I am still busy, but am doing so in SUNNY ARIZONA! I am spending the week visiting siblings and today we went to visit a brick maker in Mexico, near Los Algodones.

For years my brother has been building things with what he calls “horse manure bricks”. As it turns out, these bricks do, in fact, have horse manure as part of their ingredients, but the end result is quite colorful. Here is a patio which brother Don has paved with them:

These bricks are hand-made in Mexico and we decided to take a drive to the brick yard to learn how these bricks are actually formed. Not something everyone would aspire to doing, but we decided it might be fun (and fun it was)! As we arrived at the site, we noticed piles of firewood stacked along the entire property — wood used for burning to kiln the finished bricks.

Near the entrance stood a most colorful piece of architecture made of the horse manure bricks – reminiscent of early Egyptian structures. It was actually a kiln made of a stack of new bricks under which is built a wood fire. The heat of the fire traverses the pile, converting the bricks into very hard, clay bricks.

Notice the holes in the end of the pile. It is in here that the wood fire is maintained and the heat passes up thru this SOLID pile of bricks! This pile has already been “kilned” and you can see the gorgeous colors that result.

Moving past the brick kiln, we looked down the road to where the bricks are hand-formed. Note the chicken in the driveway and the pigeon on the wire.

The owner’s house was the first building and, sitting in the front was the owner who had dealt with my brother in the past, selling his bricks. Here are my brother and his wife meeting with him. I say “meeting” with him, since he does not speak English and my brother & wife do not speak Spanish. Lots of head nodding and hand motions resulted in our being welcomed to go watch the brick-making process.

As we walked down the lane past dilapidated buildings, bird cages, rusted old vehicles and more chickens, we came upon a flattened area where, drying in the sun, were rows of formed horse manure bricks.

In the same area, we saw a solitary Mexican with a hooked shovel, up to his calves in a wet, brown substance which, with the shovel and his feet, carefully was mixing up the “mud” that was destined to become bricks. We did not see his mud “recipe” and did not see the quantity of horse manure that was added, but there were piles of fine, dry manure behind him. He was a very hard-working man, periodically wiping the shovel clean with his hands, then washing his hands in a bucket of water standing next to him. (We wondered if he bites his nails…..)

There was some “wagering” as to whether he was wearing shoes of some sort in doing this.

When he finished mixing the pile and made it all neat and tidy like this

he went over to the faucet and cleaned his feet. Guess what: NO SHOES. He makes his living in his BARE FEET!

Having finished the “MUD”, he brought over his wheelbarrow and began to fill it with mud.

When the barrow was full, he proceeded to wheel it down to the area where the mud is formed into blocks of brick-shaped pieces.

The wheelbarrow seemed full to overflowing, but had settled in nicely until he reached the far end of the forming area.

Next, he took a special tool and smoothed the sand over which he would be laying the new bricks for the initial drying in the sun.

He then removed a wooden form that had been soaking in water, took a fresh bucket of clean water and proceeded down to where the wheelbarrow was parked.

Using a rag, he carefully washed down the form with water to be sure it was smooth and clean.

The clean form was then laid in place next to the row of bricks he had, presumably, made yesterday.

Then, with his bare hands, he began to transfer “mud” from the wheelbarrow into the form.

Clearly a man of experience, he had almost the exact amount of mud in the form and proceeded to make sure the forms were full.

Once full, the top was made very smooth with his hands

and the form was removed.

The form was then placed against the new bricks, more mud was added

and in no time,

six more bricks were added to the line.

I took the liberty of “documenting” other parts of the “estate”. The operation is located along a country blacktop road.

I found some of the “things live” interesting, such as the chickens, with this rooster being particularly colorful.

There was a chicken with about 6-8 baby chicks, but my photo of them didn’t turn out well.

Scurrying around the brick piles were tiny lizards.

and in somewhat ramshackle pens were some of the most unusual and beautiful fancy white pigeons who very willingly posed for my camera.

We were pleased to have been able to visit the brick-making operation when they were actually making the bricks, but it was time for us all to depart.

When we returned home, I took some photos of how the bricks had been used by my brother(s).

A special “THANKS” is due to my brother Don for having known where this place was located and for getting us there, and secondly to my brother Marlin for sharing some of his photos with me for this entry. I was most impressed with how hard the brickmaker worked, how precise he was with forming the bricks, and how the boring, dull brown blocks of “mud” could be transformed into something so colorful and useful. Do the bricks smell of horse manure? The answer is “no”, but I’m told that rain on these bricks results in the smell of a burning chimney…. but then, it rarely rains in southern Arizona.

Last night I got a haircut (got my “ears lowered”, as my Dad used to say.)

Today I found myself in warm sunshine, very cool air, feeling the chilling effects of having had my “ears lowered”! I was exercising one of the responsibilities of having a garden with a split rail fence: that of maintaining the fence.

Every rail fence owner also needs a supply of replacement rails and posts.

Today, it was my duty to replace the center post in this photo, as the old one had rotted out.

I’ve discovered that those who cut (split) these rails are folks who have obviously never tried to install them. Rarely can one find a rail that will fit into the holes in the posts. Having recently replaced the blade on my electric chainsaw, I decided to take matters into my own hands and cut the rails to actually fit into my posts.

As I looked on the ground at the pieces I had removed, I was somewhat amazed to see something alive; it is still too cold here for insect life. In a tunnel bored into one of my rails was a live carpenter bee!

Apparently I was not the only one to have gotten a haircut! To have made the chainsaw cut this close to the tunnel, the bee surely got a haircut as well. Unfortunately, further investigation found its mate lying in the grass. Perhaps his/her haircut was a bit too close….

Sometimes one needs to “smell the roses” and enjoy things that lie before you that have charm but that you take for granted. The events of the past couple of weeks have been one such example. It all began as I enjoyed a cup of delicious, fresh-brewed coffee at church. Remember the church with the spire extending up thru the falling snow a couple of weeks ago?

This is Market Square Presbyterian Church, the “Beacon on the Square” located on the square of downtown Harrisburg, PA, diagonal from the Hilton. This church serves up the best coffee in town, thanks to a lady who both attends church there, but who also just happens to own and operate a very quaint coffee, tea and spice shop across the river in Lemoyne called “Kauffman’s”. Her shop is an experience in times past and offers a certain serenity of friendliness, space and delightful aroma. As you approach her shop, you will see TWO signs hanging from the building:

To the left is her shop, Kauffman’s, and immediately on the right is Fraulie’s German Deli, owned and operated by a very German lady named Margot. The two shops are separately owned and operated, but with respective entry doors facing each other, the ladies who operate these two shops have become great friends (they even choose the same colors of dress for each day – yesterday it was cranberry!) When you enter Kauffman’s, first you notice the aroma of freshly ground coffee, then you see the inviting store interior.

You will be greeted by Betty, who, with her warm smile and manner, will make you feel welcome.

Around the walls of the room are slate chalk boards which list her menus of goods.

The shelved cabinets (originally pharmacy shelves) have rows and rows of containers of spices, nuts and dried fruits. When Betty moved the business to Lemoyne from the Shipoke community in Harrisburg, she had to find quarters that would accommodate the extreme height of these shelves.

In the rear of the shop, stacked 6 high, are dozens of bright green metal cans with lids (as a boy, we always called these “lard cans”.) Within these cans are Betty’s stock of wares. She takes considerable pride in being unlike what has become the “norm” for Yuppie coffee shopes these days. She has no espresso machine, she makes no lattés, and she carries no pre-packaged, commercial versions of her wares! When you ask for a cup of coffee, it is freshly ground and served to you in a coffee press.

In the cabinets to the left are burlap bags with tops rolled down, each containing a different variety of whole roasted coffee beans.

Note the wooden paddles which label the coffee varieties. More about them later. We’ll come back to Kauffman’s, but first I’d like to move next door to Fraulie’s.

As you enter the doorway of Fraulie’s Deli opposite Kauffman’s, you will first see wall shelves of German products: cookies, marzipan, mustard, candy, flavorings, etc.

To the right is her display cabinet of meat and cheese items.

Since there is almost always a line of customers ahead of you, one will find the aisle standing with people, mostly speaking German, if not steadily, sharing a few German phrases with Margot who is the only person in the shop and who will most likely be seen at the register.

As you wait and slowly work your way, in turn, toward the register to be served, one has plenty of time to enjoy the banter of conversation and to peruse the purchase possibilities of the deli cabinet. Shall it be German sausage (wursts), Bavarian salami, havarti cheese, or Black Forest country ham?

One of my favorite things to do is to arrive at the shop around lunch time and to have Margot create for me a delicious sandwich like none one can find anywhere in the area. First, she will have you choose the bread you would like.

Then you choose the “innards” for the sandwich from her deli offerings, choose a mustard, and your sandwich awaits. Mine was a rye bread with German hot mustard, Leberkäse and Danish cheese. As you leave, Margot bids you “auf wiedersehen”.
What I like to do, then, is take sandwich in hand, return to Kauffman’s, have Betty prepare for me my coffee of choice in the coffee press, and enjoy lunch there in Kauffman’s.

As you can see, the coffee in the coffee press is timed with a sand timer — four minutes, if I’m not mistaken. While having lunch, it is common for local postal deliveryman, Jerry, to stop by with Betty’s mail, to sit for a spell, and sometimes having a cup of Betty’s coffee as well.

I said I would return to the subject of the paddles and labels in the glassed-in cabinets. Betty happened to mention to me, as she shared a cup of coffee with me, that she was no longer able to find the wooden paddles she used in her display case and would like very much to find someone who might make her some more. I guess she presented her case properly; at any rate, I found myself saying to her: ” I could probably make you some of those. How many would you like?” She replied, “Oh, I could use four or five of them.” That was 17 paddles ago. I knew they would be within my capability, and would probably be fun to make, so I proceeded. Using some of the sycamore lumber I had around the shop, I resawed it into 1/4 inch stock, cut them out and adorned them with the wheat chip carving “trademark” that adorns most of the things I make.

Assembled, they look something like this:

I hope I’m not stealing one of Betty’s favorite stories, but she and her son (who helps her in the shop when available) have come up with a very interesting coffee blend. First, you have to understand that Betty’s late husband was a Presbyterian minister, making her a preacher’s wife. Here is a photo of a bag for their famous blend perched under the grinder:

Note the name. The ingredients of the blend, if I’m not mistaken, are the following: Sumatran, House Blend, Italian, and Tanzanian coffees, hence the unusual name. Betty loves to tell the story of the local minister who wanted to purchase some of this delicious mixture as Christmas gifts, but to prevent his giving “S.H.I.T.” to his staff, they decided to rename the blend as “Special Blend #2″ for his use. Imagine its name if they also add Yrgacheffe coffee to the mix….

It’s always a pleasure to visit both Kauffman’s and Fraulie’s.