My house was built before Arizona was a state. As such, it has seen so many things and as I go to bed each night I try not to worry about the leaky pipe or the wobbly porch with a hole in it and instead try to concentrate more on what stories it has to tell.
This past weekend the grandson of the second owner of our home stopped by for a visit.
He grew up in the house and shared some marvelous stories with me.
I learned that there is a cover-up and I was sworn to secrecy.
I learned that Wilford Hayden would ride his old mule from the ranch about five miles north after dinner and sit on the porch chattin’ until well past midnight.
I learned that the brand the Stevenson family use (and did so when they lived in my home) was this:
I learned that I need to crash the next meeting of the Scottsdale Old-Timers club!