After two months in Benson, the desert was warming, the Palo Verde trees were blooming, and my allergies were staging a full‑scale rebellion. It was time to move north. At the beginning of March, I packed up the trailer and drove three hours to Phoenix, where I’d found an RV park that catered to snowbirds and long‑term winter residents. They welcomed me into their little enclave with the kind of warmth that makes you feel like you’ve been there for years, not minutes.

If you missed last spring’s Tucson Adventure: Tucson, a Passport and an Adventure –

or my 2025 spring Caribbean Cruise, check out the link: Time out for the Caribbean –

But the real draw of Phoenix was proximity to my best friend since high school, Cindy Sharritts Troyer, who lived in Cave Creek. She had moved to AZ from WA state when she retired. We’d met up in Phoenix a few times over the recent years, always at restaurants, always in a hurry. I had never been to her home. This spring, I was looking forward to changing that.  Little did I know what the next few weeks had in store.

Country Music, Old Memories, and a Knoxville “Neighbor”

My first week in Phoenix, the RV park hosted a concert by a country singer, Justin Terry,  whose sign proudly proclaimed he was from Nashville. But as soon, I knew better. He was from South Knoxville—the same high school as my cousins, the same part of town where my late aunt and uncle had lived and developed property.

Throughout the concert, he kept calling me his “neighbor,” thanks to the Sevierville shirt I was wearing. He played the kind of country music that defined the soundtrack of my younger years—songs Cindy and I had listened to together 40 years ago. And yes, many of the songs were the same ones we’d belted out as teenagers.

Cindy came over for dinner at the RV before the show, and we spent the evening listening to music, laughing, and remembering who we were long before life got complicated. It was one of those nights that feels like a gift.

At the Barn With Cindy

The next week, I went to watch Cindy ride her horse, Robby, and to hang out with her and her beagle, Buster. If I live for my camera, Cindy lives for the barn. She has been a horse person for as long as I’ve known her, and retirement has only deepened that love.

Trying to photograph Cindy and Robby together was a joy—and a challenge. Horses don’t pose. They blink, they twitch, they decide the exact moment you press the shutter is the perfect time to look away. But I managed a few good shots, and the time together was worth far more than the photos.

That weekend, there was a reining horse show, and I learned more about Western riding categories than I ever expected to know. Cindy wasn’t quite ready to show Robby yet, but her trainer, Dakota Hudgins of Hudgins Performance Horses, rode him. From my amateur perspective, Robby did just fine for his first show. He looked handsome. He got schooled in how he should behave, and he got some experience that would hopefully make his next time better. 

A Heat Wave and a Desert in Bloom

Then came the heat.

For more than a week in mid‑March, Phoenix hit over 100 degrees every day. It was sweltering. Even the locals were complaining. And with all of that heat coming suddenly and early, spring started popping out all over and all at once. While it was very pretty, my allergies protested loudly.

When the temperatures finally dropped back into the 80s, Cindy and I took advantage of the reprieve and explored Cave Creek and the surrounding natural areas.

Cave Creek has a small but steadily growing downtown that feels both intimate and full of possibility.
The streets are lined with quirky, artistic shops where the owners often greet you at the door.

Although it looks like a classic tourism town at first glance, its heartbeat is unmistakably an arts community.

Galleries, studios, and creative workshops spill their personality into every corner of the district.
It’s a place where creativity feels lived‑in rather than curated, and that authenticity gives the town its charm.

And of course, Cindy, knowing my penchant for all things Steelers, couldn’t resist pointing out the restaurant flaunting its black‑and‑gold colors like a badge of honor.

Arizona has done an admirable job protecting its most sensitive desert environments. Even though my allergies were still in full bloom, I loved seeing the wildflowers, the saguaros, the cholla, and the endless palette of desert greens and golds. I love looking at the Saguaros in the Sonoran Desert and adding in some other foliage, and it is a very pretty place.

Moving Up to Prescott Valley

In early April, I moved up to Prescott Valley for a few days. I wasn’t sure what to expect. I’d heard Prescott was beautiful, but I didn’t know much beyond that.

What I found was a blend of:

• Emory‑Riddle Aeronautical University, where my son earned his online undergraduate degree

• rolling hills and horse country
• cooler air
• and something called the Granite Dells

Now, I knew the Wisconsin Dells, having been there several times, but I didn’t really understand what a “dell” was. Turns out, a dell is simply a small, secluded valley—often wooded, often picturesque. They can exist anywhere, not just in Wisconsin.

And in Prescott, the dells are made of granite—huge rounded boulders stacked and scattered like a giant’s playground. They surround a lake so clear that on a sunny day, the reflections of the rocks in the water look like a painting. It’s one of the most visually striking places I’ve seen in Arizona.  The best views of the Granite Dells are at Watson Lake which is a City of Prescott Park with beautiful views and great access.

I spent my days exploring the trails, photographing the dells, and enjoying the cooler temperatures. Prescott felt like a breath of fresh air after the heat of Phoenix.

A Birthday Drive Toward Page

Just before my birthday, I left Prescott and headed north on I‑40 toward Page, Arizona. The scenery along the way was interesting and varied—high desert, mesas, long stretches of open land. It wasn’t quite the dramatic landscape I knew was waiting for me in Page, but it was still beautiful in its own quiet way.

I didn’t know it yet, but the next chapter—Page, with its slot canyons and deep red sandstone—would be one of the highlights of my spring.

Check out last year’s Post where I learned how to say Saguaro and took a break from the Southwest to visit the Caribbean.

But looking back at Phoenix and Prescott Valley was a great chance to rekindle friendships, explore the 5th largest city in the country, and learn about Dells that were not in Wisconsin.

And together, they gave me a soft, warm, sun‑drenched transition into the next part of my adventure.