I drove north to Flagstaff. I haven't been there since Evan's birthday party.

On the way.

The weather cooled down nicely.It was in the 90s in Tucson and in the 20s at night in Flagstaff.

Almost there.

Saturday, my camera batteries failed and you will have to imagine me making a chocolate cake with chocolate jalapeno frosting. We also went and saw the movie Oblivion.

This morning we procured batteries and then went to Picture Rock Canyon.

Evan and Homer.

Part of the trail is the Arizona Trail.

Sign.

I admired the tall trees.

Looking up.

I climbed up the boulders to search for rock art. Evan was below looking at pottery sherds.

A grinding slick is visible on the rock.

Picture Rock Canyon is aptly named.

Bow and arrow man, deer.

Rock art.

A thousand years ago or so, someone pecked the designs. Perhaps they were marking their territory, noting an important event, or hoping to catch some animals.

I wrote Rock Art in Arizona.

We went to an antique store and I noted the poor mounted bat. I purchased a photograph and a blue-on-white Staffordshire soup tureen for $25, dating to the 1860s or 1870s.

Bat.

I admired the trees that were blooming.

Cherry blossoms.

And then it was time to go home. I drove south and south of Phoenix the cars in front of me started acting crazy. Black smoke was billowing and cars were driving off to side. As I approached I could see a red car with its front engulfed in flames. It did not look like anyone was still inside it.

Car on fire.

At home the cats are climbing all over me. They are locked up in the bedroom and Buddy is asleep on the carpet, snoring loudly.