The old mining town of Jerome, a charming village dangling like a beard from the mountainside, is now a sort of Zonie Greenwich Village. It absolutely captivated me. When I stopped to buy some gifts, the folks in the art shop invited me to an artist's opening that Saturday — art, live music, wine, and visiting with the artists. That was hard to turn down, but I had to be home Sunday.
The really stupid thing is, I was within 45 minutes of Jerome on Saturday, and didn't realize the coincidence until this very moment. Rod (a non-drinker, which makes his generosity in this effort even more appreciable) drove me all the way to Prescott (two hours) for late lunch at the multi–award winning Prescott Brewing Company — just over the mountain pass from Jerome. Would have added no more than 45 minutes to the drive back to Phoenix, and would have added immensely to the trip. Oh well; I'm keeping a list of reasons to go back. (Like I need reasons.)
I made it half-way through "Journey Within" on the drive back down Oak Creek Canyon, but when I turned to head across the valley to Jerome, I felt something more aggressive was in order so I popped in Sonia Dada's "Day at the Beach" which worked nicely; bouncy funky blues, semi-gospel and jazz.
