Q: What exactly causes that fresh/earthy scent when it rains in the Valley? It’s a real distinct scent, not flowery or sweet, but more like a fresh, clean smell.
A: Your question worked its way to the top of the pile at just the right time — Tuesday, when we had that delightful morning rain. As soon as the skies cleared we leapt into the Valley 101 mobile research lab, and set out to find the source of the scent.
You are right. There was a truly remarkable aroma in the air, which we soon traced to a half-eaten Big Mac under the floor mats in the backseat of the Valley 101 mobile research lab. While we would not describe this as “fresh/earthy” it was definitely distinctive.
After a stop at the car wash, we sought advice from the estimable Carolyn O’Malley, executive director of the Desert Botanical Gardens and an honorary member of the Valley 101 faculty.
Santa Cruz County is for the birds. That’s not a criticism. It’s a compliment.
Literally and figuratively, birds are a major component of the Santa Cruz Tourism Council’s effort to draw visitors to the state’s smallest county. The area is well known as a birders’ hot spot, and that’s probably why birds of another feather have landed in 1o different locales. They are all sculptures, spread across the county at resorts, offices and parks as beacons that direct visitors to places of interest.
St. Anthony’s Greek Orthodox Monastery is an almost miraculous oasis in an otherwise flat piece of Arizona desert near Florence. In less than two decades, the monks who live there have built churches, chapels, housing units, maintenance facilities, rotundas, fountains and sandstone walkways and converted an otherwise arid piece of ground into a lush, almost tropical, garden where greenery covers almost every square foot of the once-barren landscape.
Today’s disreputable land promoters selling lake shore lots on edges of mirages are mere amateurs when compared to the wheeler dealers of yesteryear. The lawless Arizona territory attracted the wide gamut of frontier con men ranging from tin horn gamblers to stock swindlers.
One was Doctor Richard Flower. Doc Flower wasn’t really a doctor. He earned his living for a time selling cure-all bottled medicine. Although Doc Flower claimed his recipe could cure everything from baldness to toothaches, it really had no redeeming medicinal value. It did contain enough alcohol to mellow its imbibers enough that nobody felt ripped off. Anyhow, that’s how he came to be called Doctor Flower.
Doc Flower eventually grew weary of small-time scheming and decided to play for higher stakes. Fortunes were being made in the Arizona mines and since Doc Flower didn’t have a bonafide mine of his own, he decided to create one.
