We went for dinner this evening and, as sure as God made little green apples, living as we do in snowy Alberta, we started talking about Arizona. Perhaps it’s in our blood – our stolid, complaining blood – that as Canadians the snow on our front lawns (and sidewalks and driveways) leads inexorably to discussion of climes more temperate and vacations serene.
Valley Ho, in Scottsdale, Arizona, seems somehow iconic. There are of course the usual palm trees and clear skies, but there’s the heat-soaked pavement too, and the sense of antiquity and modernity combined. Just the look of it says the sixties to me – an era of apparent cleanliness, if not exactly innocence – and so I dig deep in my pile of images to retrieve this:
Thanks for visiting.