The bureaucracy gods granted us a day off together. It started raining as we pulled out of Kiss the Cook. It had clouded over in the night. Wasn’t quite as hot in Phoenix . . . yet.
It was significantly cooler up toward Flagstaff. At first, I was doubtful about Emily’s suggestion that I wear a long-sleeved shirt, but she was right. And I was soon rolling down those sleeves.
It was still raining when we got to Walnut Canyon. The trail down to the cliff dwellings was wet and slippery, but doable. We weren’t the only people there. It seemed light-years from superheated Phoenix.
The forest smelled great. There was no need to run the car’s air-conditioner.
Lots of datura bloomed at the roadsides.
We headed down to Sedona and had the world-class Cowboy Up Burgers at the Cowboy Club.
While walking around, we passed an enlightened ape with a peeling gold paint-job in front of a “wellness cafe.” What is a wellness cafe? Did the proprietors think the whole thing was as funny as I did?
As we left Sedona, an indigenous angel with floppy wings and a horned buffalo cap blessed us.
We visited the Highway 89 elephant on the way home.
We got into a couple of traffic jams, and Phoenix was blazing, but we were feeling great.
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