Pine Top is tops

Lucked out with Hotwire for our airport overnight in Phoenix: $50 for a Radisson with a wonderful outdoor pool. Our typical urban nighttime view of lights dotting blackness magically transformed into a brilliant scene of distant mountains behind palms at dawn--that "we're not in Kansas" feeling.

Which continued in our tour of Saguaro National Park on the Bajada Loop Drive.  Pix of that later.

Visit with Sandy was great. Our first view of Bob's "wash," a western suburban wilderness between house lots that he'd transformed into a maze and cactus garden. Also enjoyed meeting her dear friends Scott and Carol, in their spectacular mountainside house that they renovated, hands-on, themselves. Sandy is waiting to hear about when she will get a new puppy, a welcome housemate that will help her through her mourning.  A Golden Doodle.

Drove to Show Low on the dramatic Salt River Canyon Route.  Up here, it's much cooler than Tucson's 100-degree days, with a Northwest woodsy feeling. Outside our hotel window, horses are grazing by a winding stream--there's actually grass. Our evening in nearby Pine Top was excellent. We stumbled across an outdoor grotto and rustic bar, Charlie's Orchard, that featured a band, the Bootleggers, that played primarily Southern rock and blues, everything from "Hot Rod Lincoln" to Pink Floyd's "The Wall"--and they were good--except for The Girl Singer, Bobby Jo, who played a tambourine and couldn't sing a lick. She butchered Pat Benatar's "Heartbreaker"--just could not get that falsetto. Ouch.  The staff built a fire in the chiminea behind us; we were joined in the circle of its warmth by a friendly woman and her grandson, who were Apache; he went off to play horseshoes nearby and got a ringer. She confided her husband had passed away in May, and it is Apache tradition that the widow cannot dance for one year after her husband's death. This was sort of a hint, I think, that she would've danced,even though the cement patio was empty, customers being few on that chilly night (Tim and I were the only ones who applauded the band)--and that one ought to go for the gusto while one can.    We stayed til the band quit, around 9:30, and redolent of mesquite smoke and humming REO Speedwagon, we drove back to our room in Show Low.

Now we're on the verge of our 5-hour drive to Santa Fe, so this is written in haste and now must sign off.