There has to be a Niner, Ep. 30

Celebrating AZ: Episode 30

First Julie shares an unforgettable night sky at the Higley landing strip, then Lisa takes us to Hart Prairie Preserve for elemental pioneer hard work.

Mug: Nature Conservancy

From "Hart Prairie" for Arizona Highways, 2009

by Lisa Schnebly Heidinger

This smaller gem in the Nature Conservancy crown is 245 acres of comparatively well-kept secret, nestled in aspen, ponderosa and spruce. Formerly the Fern Mountain Ranch, Hart Prairie Preserve is home to the largest known colony of Bebb Willow, a rather nondescript but biologically worthy tree.  Seven buildings on the National Register of Historic Places include the Homestead, where Teddy Roosevelt is said to have paid the ranch owner’s wife a silver dollar for a glass of buttermilk when this was a stage stop on the way to the Grand Canyon.  My father, Larry, pulls up to our cabin to unload before parking in the corral, knowing the car will feel unfamiliar when we next get in it on Sunday afternoon, after two days of walking everywhere.  There’s a lot to carry up the little slat steps to our tiny porch: backpacks to hold gloves, gear and water bottles, duffels with work boots and clothes to layer as temperatures rise and fall.  We bring sleeping bags to put on top of the beds, saving both water and labor by leaving clean sheets when we leave.   The six-pack my dad buys in Flagstaff will stay coldest on the porch, here at 8500 feet.

Copyright Arizona Highways 2009, used with permission

Tapestry in Blue

by Julie Morrison

Living inked, each hour tattooed—

tones too dark for peacock moods—

blue suede broken shoe-lace grin,

red-faced at this state I’m in—

the world a canted angle maze—

culture says is just a phase—

tossed upsides pass by as strikes,

joy topped out at thumbs-up likes—

Loss is weeks of bluesdays come,

sabbath prayers without the sun,

showered, scattered, basement highs

recalling dove-trill picnic skies.

Tomorrow—Halloween in blue—

sweet and sick and all costumes—

knocking, knocking needy asks—

joining the parade of masks—

funny in that ghoulish way

a bruise improves by going yellow—

glee traded long ago for mellow—

soon’s glitter for a glint someday—

To miss the periwinkle feel

of fair and varied color wheels

is blue-veined strain

toward pink-cheeked fun—

oh, pain - indigo - be done—

wear from uniform to denim soft,

or stay

as windowsill forget-me-nots.

Copyright Julie Morrison 2025, All rights reserved