Ain’t Our First Rodeo
There’s a sense of romance about the rodeo—not in the starry-eyed storybook kind of way, but in the idea of taming the wild in bulls, broncs and cowboys.

There’s a sense of romance about the rodeo—not in the starry-eyed storybook kind of way, but in the idea of taming the wild in bulls, broncs and cowboys.



When ceramist Christopher Heede sits at his potter’s wheel the weekend of March 9 through 11, he’ll be surrounded by a large crowd of people as he throws his clay. But rather than demonstrating in his popular studio, Heede’s creative process will be on display at the Sonoran Festival of Art Extravaganza at Stagecoach Village, 7100 E. Cave Creek Rd. in Cave Creek.






It seems an almost surreal find: polished and honed, a sizeable specimen of fossilized stromatolite stands on display, its telltale waves and swirls evident to the trained eye. Somewhere around 3.5 billion years ago, give or take a few hundred million years, the very cyanobacteria inside (a precursor to today’s algae) were busy converting Earth’s uninhabitable atmospheric gases into oxygen. Without them, none of us would be alive today.



Springtime in the desert is unlike anywhere else on Earth. Landscapes that appear brown and barren one day seem to explode overnight into bursts of yellow, fuschia, magenta and white.



Writer Shannon Severson – Photography Courtesy of Gavilan Peak School [dropcap]W[/dropcap]orld trade and economies are increasingly interdependent as technology melts the constraints of borders, distance, and culture. Language, however, remains a barrier, and American students aren’t typically bilingual, much less “bi-literate,” able to speak, read, and write in another language with total fluency. This is…



Hiking or biking the serene desert trails of Brown’s Ranch, it’s easy to get lost in the rugged natural beauty of saguaro-studded landscapes, bursts of spring wildflowers and precariously balanced boulders.



If you’ve been looking for something that stands out among the long list of Valley culinary choices, you may just find your newest favorite in The Bourbon Cellar.



The sands of time have a way of honing the past, shaping and polishing it so that generations to come can judge it more clearly. At times, the decades or centuries reveal horrors we hope to never repeat. But sometimes what is revealed is nothing less than greatness.



Michael P. Johnson has presence. It’s not the fact that his 6-foot, 4-inch frame makes him tower over most of his friends or his distinct mane of long white hair that makes him stand out in a room; Johnson has a distinctive energy about him that isn’t seen so much as it is felt.