The landscape in this part of Arizona has few trees. It features jagged rocky hills that rise from the desert like turtle heads coming up out of their shell. The tallest vegetation is the saquaro cactus we begin to see as our highway winds us from higher elevations down to the desert floor.

The saquaro look like banditos and some only have one arm as if they were in a gun battle and lost the other limbs in a violent Old West shootout.

Fountain Hills is a sleepy bedroom community not far from Phoenix. It is a place to escape the rigorous winters of the East coast and Midwest, a place to leave big urban centers for roadrunners in your front yard and sometimes contemptuous temperamental rattlers.

In Fountain Hills, there is a man made lake with a world famous water feature.The fountain shoots off every hour, on the hour, and it used to be the tallest geyser in the world till someplace thought they wanted to be the new number 1 and knocked this one down to second.

This morning, the sun is waking slow. Palm trees stand like men in lime jackets on an airplane runway waving flashlights at an airplane as it docks at its gate. They are the sun’s cheerleaders.

Chadd told me, on the way into town, that the water spectacle is worth seeing.

Mining for memories is Scott’s full time, no pay retirement job.

I never thought I’d see anything that used to be number 1 in the world.

Most life I document isn’t on anybodies list but my own.

 

 

 

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