Summer Wears a Green Gown

A new guest has moved into the guest house. Her name is Summer. She wears that old, old look. Paris shears have not altered the hem of her skirt nor changed the line of her bodice. Bespectacled little chemists, stirring the brew in their odorous dye pots, have concocted no outlandish colors for her to go swishing about in. Slick and glossy fashion ed itors of slick and glossy fashion magazines seldom call on her for an interview. She carries no appointments for sittings before highpowered cameras operated by highpowered young men. She's just as plain as can be. Her plainness is the essence of poise and dignity. Don't think for a minute, though, that she's just an old hat. She wears a green gown and it is mighty becoming. It isn't a monotonous green, mind you. It is the gray green of the saguaro, the silvery green of ripening grain, the dark green of the pine, the bright green of the sycamore, the light green of weeds on a canal bank, the green of olives with a faintly bluish cast, the just-right green of new mown grass. In her gown are gracefully blended all the greens of growing things.

How little, indeed, she needs the services of the bespectacled chemists and their little dye pots. There never was a dressmaker who could match the fragrant simplicity of her gown. And she has the nicest manners. She's real lady-like with gentle ways and not in the least demanding. Now that hussy, Spring, who just moved out! If she wasn't a sight and a caution! It's true she was as pretty as a baby lizard and as gay as a grasshopper in love, but she was always singing and dancing about. making more noise than a squawling calf, flirting with all the boys, causing no end of trouble, and without one serious thought in her giddy, little head. H-mm! Life isn't all just parties and pretty flowers and dancing and carrying-on! Someone has to wash the dishes and shake out the carpets. It was about time Spring was sent packing. And didn't she leave the place in a shambles when she moved out. Our new guest in the guest house is entirely different. She's mild-mannered, even-tempered and as gracious and charming as she can be. She's gay, too, but in a quiet sort of way, the kind of person who prefers the waltz to the jitterbug. She's composed, serene and smiling, and carries herself as if she were somebody, which, in truth, she is. She's so cool and calm in her lovely green gown. and she has the loveliest name. Her name is Summer . . . R.C.

Of Men and Mountains

As we always do this time of the year, we turn our thoughts to the mountains. Summer is here. It makes us realize again the amazing and versatile climate of Arizona, where you find the weather you want whenever you want it.

Up in the mountains of Yavapai county this month, the Rough Riders are celebrating their 50th anniversary. We carry a short article with historic pictures as a tribute to the inspired crew who rode out of the territories of Arizona, New Mexico and Oklahoma fifty years ago to write military history in Cuba in the Spanish American War. For the people of Arizona, we extend greetings to the Rough Riders who will meet in Prescott. To other survivors of the gallant band who, because of illness or age, could not attend the reunion, go our very best wishes. The Rough Riders had spirit, good humor, vigor and daring. They faced danger with a jest and a smile on their lips. What formidable foemen these Americans who went into battle laughing! How invincible they were then! How invincible other Americans with the same spirit have proved themselves to be in the wars since '98! You just can't beat a bunch of boys who know how to laugh.

The White Mountains of Arizona, through which Larry Cardwell takes us touring this month, seem to be miscast. They rise tall, cool and serene out of mesa and desert in a land popularly associated with cactus, sand and sage brush, their grandeur accented by their place on the planet. They are not the largest mountains in the world, but how well they serve the people! They foster a great Indian reservation, farming, ranching, lumbering and provide recreational opportunities for thousands each year. The deep snowdrifts in which they clothe themselves in winter become spring freshets that eventually turn into liquid gold that irrigates the soil of the Salt River Valley. For good fishing, good loafing, good weather and good scenery, we recommend the Whites.

There is an interesting place in the mountains of northern Gila County we thought you'd enjoy hearing about. It is a place called Payson, a real western town that has gone plumb loco about flying. Read "Cow Town on Wings" if you want a preview of the Air Age. You don't find a landing strip in every backyard, but if the folks keep going you might some day find exactly that. Don't get the idea, though, that Payson is one of these chrome and leather places. It still wears the marks of stagecoach days, and that is what makes it interesting. R.C.

ARIZONA HIGHWAYS is published monthly by the Arizona Highway Department, Phoenix, Arizona. All communications should be addressed to ARIZONA HIGHWAYS, Arizona Highway Department, Phoenix, Arizona. The Tariff: $3.00 per year, in U. S. and possessions; $3.50 elsewhere in the world. 35 cents per copy. "Entered as second-class matter Nov. 5, 1941, at the post office in Phoenix, Arizona, under the Act of March 3, 1879." Narrative and illustrated material herein published are the property of the person to whom credited and cannot be reproduced without permission. ARIZONA HIGHWAYS will not be responsible for unsolicited manuscripts or illustrations. Material contributed for editorial consideration should be accompanied by return postage. ARIZONA HIGHWAYS is copyrighted. 1948, by the Arizona Highway Department. Phoenix, Arizona.