Urban Wilderness
Urban Wilderness Dreaming of Doe Mountain in Sedona, but staying home. Fay Canyon in Flagstaff is on my post-crisis to-do list Four blocks from my house, there’s a yard with the most gorgeous hollyhocks. I must have walked my dogs past the little bungalow dozens of times on our 5 a.m. and 9 p.m. walks, but the hollyhocks never caught my attention. A few homes down the street, chickens scratched the ground behind a non-descript brick home. African daisies bobbed among aloe vera plants in a weedy space between an alley and a median. For the more than 20 years I’ve lived and walked in my Central Phoenix historic neighborhood, these details were lost among doggie poop pick up stops, rogue chihuahua encounters and occasional chats with neighbors who happened to be out and about at my fringy walking hours. Most of the homes in my corner of Downtown are old, some coming up on 100 years in age, and encompass architectural styles that include, among others, Tudor, Hacienda, Territorial,