Writing in Duncan, Arizona

Old Cemetary in Duncan, Arizona

As I settle in to write this post, everything feels a bit topsy-turvy and upside down because I have to drag myself out of a routine that has become an everyday habit: writing a book (possibly). The very reason I found myself in Duncan again about two weeks after my last visit was due to my desire to go deeper into the wordsmithing, and so if I’ve been occupied by putting the proverbial pen to paper, why should writing this particular update be a slightly intrusive chore? Because it’s not what I’m used to writing.

Gila River in Duncan, Arizona

That other side of my writing, the side readers of my blog cannot currently see, has been a flow of inspiration running through me and into a document that grows longer with meandering curves and movements that remain in the draft stage.

Sock made by Caroline Wise in Duncan, Arizona

Consider a brand-new pair of handcrafted socks, one cannot wear them before the last stitch has been added. The same goes for what I’m working on, as nobody knows if I’ll reach the end. Also, when Caroline knitted these new socks over the previous weeks, all she could do was add one stitch at a time. I’m adding one letter, one word, one sentence at a time.

Writing at the Simpson Hotel in Duncan, Arizona

Unlike in face-to-face conversations, nothing in writing is conveyed in real time. There is always a lag, and so it is also true of this post that is taking shape in mid-March, only to be posted in February. The post had to wait, as at the forefront of my intention, I’ve been dumping almost every bit of myself into determining if I possess the wherewithal to accomplish such a lofty task as writing something longer than I’ve attempted to date. From my perspective here in the future, I can assure you that I’ve eclipsed my previous efforts and that momentum is carrying the story further down the proverbial page, at least as of this moment.

Mt Graham near Safford, Arizona seen from the New Mexico border

The snow-capped mountain in the distance is Mt. Graham, where Caroline and I visited the telescopes perched up top. On this trip to Duncan, I am traveling solo, which helps me focus every effort on my task at hand, but there’s only so far I can go in my head before I need to get out and stretch my eyes beyond the screen. It’s a rare day when out walking, talking to my muse, that I don’t leave with something, and today I had to stop along the way on my walk into New Mexico and take note of the Japanese concept of “Forest Bathing,” a.k.a., Shinrin’yoku that would become “Desert Bathing,” or Sabaku’yoku in the larger body of text I toil with on a daily basis.

Old car in Duncan, Arizona

Metaphors appear in everything: through a small break in a window, I peered into an old garage, spotting some classic cars, with one looking magnificent in the shadowy light of morning. I must do the same thing with my mind, which arrives with no small amount of anxiety rushing toward me. Who really knows how full the garage of their imagination is and if what’s in it has value or if it’s crammed floor to ceiling with useless junk? At a point in my writing, I may have to reconcile the wisdom found in the idiom, “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure,” and hope that my treasure might have value beyond trash for others.

WeBe Valentines

Artists Jef Caine and Aileen Martinez at WeBe Coffee in Phoenix, Arizona

Meet artist/illustrators Jef Caine and Aileen Martinez, whom I often run into at WeBe Coffee here in Phoenix, Arizona. I first met Aileen sometime last year due to her vibrant, nearly at the cusp of flamboyantly colorful clothes and the ever-present evolving toolkit of materials she works with, from traditional pencils and paints to digital apps, too. Months went by, though it could have been mere weeks, until Jef came into the shop to join Aileen for a creation session, blabbing, or maybe it was the beginning of the collaboration that started with working on this Valentine’s card they exquisitely created for yours truly that focuses on my greatest asset – MY BIG BRAIN!!

Memories of Scandinavia

Scandinavian Foods in Phoenix, Arizona

I should concede that Caroline and I, in our addiction to travel, are loathe to let go of our experiences. The tens of thousands of photos and millions of words I’ve penned are not the only connections to our adventures. Rare is the day that we’ve not fallen in love with other aspects of those travels, such as Caroline’s obsession with Mayan clothing from a trip to Chiapas, Mexico, a couple of years ago. This past summer, we became once more enamored with the usual stuff: nature, people, history, traditional clothing, and food.

Sometimes, what we desire, though, is hard to find in the United States. Take herring, not pickled, canned, or creamed. I wanted fresh herring, but that is not to be found. Caroline, with her relentless sleuthing skills, found a place that sold salted herring. After our recent experience with bacalao (salted cod) and the success of desalting it, I felt that salted herring could offer me what I desire, so we bought five pounds. Shipping was going to be pricy because of the weight, so if we are already paying for 2-day delivery, we might as well throw some other stuff into the package. We had originally found the Scandinavian Specialties shop up in Washington before Christmas, but they were sold out of many of the items we wanted.

By early February, things were restocked, and we were able to order a variety of caramelly goat cheeses called Brunost, another cheese popular in Sweden called Prästost (Priest cheese), and different types of crispbreads. We also just had to buy crispy onions as we’ve come to believe that Scandinavian crispy onions must be the secret ingredient in their amazing pølser (hotdogs). The photo shows our Scandinavian life-savers that bring us back to last year’s summer vacation. Daniel Espinoza of Scandinavian Specialties assisted us with our order and was incredibly helpful. He’ll also play a key role when we will order a cured winter lamb specialty called Pinnekjøtt towards the end of summer. These little luxuries are incredible reminders of just how fortunate we are.

Back to Duncan

Train passing through Duncan, Arizona

This is a consolidation post covering the previous five nights that I was staying at the Simpson Hotel in Duncan, Arizona. Why was I staying at the Simpson with proprietors Deborah and Clayton for this length of time? I was on a mission to write. And what does this train have to do with any of this? I still need to get my steps in, and as I’ve never seen this freight train in all the years Caroline and I have been traveling out this way, I felt it was high time to run out and catch it. Lucky for me, the whistle of its approach can be heard from the crossing preceding this one. The train is on its way to the copper mine up in Clifton-Morenci, and after it finishes its northwest trek it will turn around and head right back through here in about four hours, as it returns to New Mexico.

Following my routine out here in Eastern Arizona, I’ll be seated at the table in the parlor of this old west hotel by sunrise to start writing. Coffee will arrive at about 9:00, If I so desired, I could have it earlier, but I’m in no rush. As I’ve written previously, the luxurious vegetarian breakfasts are nothing less than a level of spectacular that only Marcel Proust could adequately describe. By 10:00, I’ll be done eating, though I only move one seat, back to where I originally occupied a place at the table, in order to continue tossing words upon the electronic paper.

Hal Empie's Pharmacy in Duncan, Arizona

By lunchtime or maybe early dinner, I’ve got to get up from the hardwood chair to get the blood flowing and gather more steps on my path of trying to maintain the 10k goal Caroline and I have. Speaking of Caroline, she’s working from home this week while I attempt to maintain a deep focus on the subject matter of writing. The good news is that my productivity nearly tripled during my stay, which wasn’t a certainty, but it turns out that not having a parade of people with whom I’ve cultivated regular conversations passing by in any of the multitude of coffee shops I frequent. Here in Duncan, I’m able to find a level of concentration that is elusive while I’m in Phoenix.

Many of my afternoon and/or evening meals are taken at the only restaurant in town, the Ranch House Restaurant, a classic small-town joint where I obviously stand out. The situation might be easily repaired by me donning a baseball cap, or if I were willing to invest in proper Western gear and a pricey cowboy hat, I too could look like a boss and get the respect the staff and other patrons offer these icons of the local community. Alas, I’m a simple hatless man who doesn’t really fit in. After eating, it’s time to collect a few more steps and talk to my muse about the direction of what I might be writing when I return to the hotel.

U.S. Post Office in Duncan, Arizona

And then I write, write, and write some more. No, I’m not visiting the post office to drop these missives. They are collected in a growing document in which I’m working on the roots and trunk of something I hope will grow into a fully formed tree with dozens of branches and tens of thousands of leaves. I did learn over these five days that intense writing sessions can wear one down and that when an incredible burst of productivity is realized, the consequence might be a total loss of inspiration to go further. A break was required.

So, this would be my last day in Duncan, and though Deborah and Clayton offered me an extra day, my forlorn heart required a dose of Caroline to resuscitate it from its longing to be embraced by her loving arms. Not expecting me until the following day, my Saturday return was a surprise to her and a relief for me.

Two Birds

Caroline Wise and a bird in Arizona

Rarely a day passes where a bird doesn’t fly into Caroline’s orbit alighting up on head, shoulder, or hand if she extends it. From ungainly seagulls trying to balance on her oval skull to owls and hawks on her shoulders, to the finches, robins, hummingbirds, woodpeckers, grackles, and other small birds that look for one of her dainty fingers to land on for a break and what we assume to be a moment of communion.

I remember a day some 15 years ago as though it was yesterday, we were on the Oregon coast when a pelican approached opening its beak pouch to offer her a fish as though Caroline was its chick. Fortunately, she’s never been the curiosity of vultures, though we are both aware that the day will arrive when their species will feast upon her, since being a Zoroastrian Parsi, she’s made it clear she desires a sky burial.

Things Will Be Haywire

Crazy stuff taped to a pole in Phoenix, Arizona

The astute reader will have noticed that I went 40 days after New Year’s Day without sharing a post, and it was not because I fell from the Earth. I fell into writing, writing something bigger than usual, and no, this photo is not part of my effort. While the date on this post is the 8th of January, and the date of the photo was from the 2nd of January, this is actually being posted on the 11th of February because that’s the day I opened a new office document and began penning a thing.

I do find it peculiar not to be sharing anything on a regular basis. After years of pushing so much out here, it appears that our lives have taken a pause if the frequency of posts was considered a measure of our activity. Rest assured, we remain quite busy with Caroline working on a number of fiber arts projects and I, well, writing as I’ve already said. We’ll return to traveling as soon as I feel that I can afford a window of distraction while still being able to fall back into this work that, from where I sit today, looks to become my most ambitious project yet. I have to admit, writing that feels link a jinx of sorts, but I’ll try to keep the superstition at bay.

Hopefully, this will be the one and only allusion to this plan to use many words to accomplish the goal of creating/penning something I’ve never attempted previously.

So, please understand that for a while, the missives here on the blog are likely going to be few and far between but not so few that I’ll be left feeling years from now, when I look back at 2024, that Caroline and I took time off from busy, adventurous lives. Stuff will happen, and stuff will be noted.

Happy New Year From Out Here

Simpson Hotel in Duncan, Arizona

Happy New Year, and welcome to 2024. I took up my place in the first sunlight of the day while Clayton was busy in the kitchen making coffee and presenting us with a parfait breakfast starter.  Caroline is on the phone with her mom in Germany, and I try basking in the warm sunshine while writing, but enjoying the ambiance of the Simpson Hotel is a powerful distraction.

Karthik and Lakshmi at the Simpson Hotel in Duncan, Arizona

A newly married young couple who arrived last night joined us for our morning meal: Lakshmi and Karthik, who also live in the Phoenix area. They’ve been out wandering around the area for the past week, trying to get more of the Southwest into their senses before Karthik takes off for India to deal with some of the beaurocracy involving working on an H1B visa. While he’s gone, Lakshmi will be dealing with their move up to the Portland area. When they told us about their travels from the Petrified Forest to Gallup, over to Santa Fe and Albuquerque in New Mexico, and various points between before finally landing in Duncan, Arizona, it was nice to see a mirror image of Caroline’s and my enthusiasm for sharing time together exploring our world. In the popular vernacular of the day, they are vibing. Over breakfast, sumptuous as always, we discussed the drive home, in which all four of us were traveling in the same direction but talked of a detour through Virden, New Mexico, to try catching sight of some sandhill cranes.

Sandhill Cranes in Virden, New Mexico

These large birds were in short supply, and the ones we did spot were quite distant from where we could observe them. We’d brought binoculars, but even so, nobody got a great view of the cranes. No matter, we’d seen wildlife and were able to share some enthusiasm with Lakshmi and Karthik about how incredible these opportunities are.

Cow sign in Virden, New Mexico

With nothing left to do, and instead of trying to wedge something else into the last minutes of our getaway, we accepted that our long weekend was coming to a close and that by focusing on the drive west, we’d be able to go further into In Search of Lost Time.

On a final note, Clayton left us with a quote from historian Charles A. Beard to ponder: “The bee fertilizes the flower it robs.”