Looking for the Rebirth of a Phoenix

A friend of mine recently asked to buy a painting of this obscure little blip on the horizon, known as Woodruff Butte.

From Holbrook up on the hill, Woodruff Butte can be seen, just barely. This photo looks like my granddaughter is pointing at it.

Located right next to a very small village of Woodruff Arizona, it’s a cinder cone out in the middle of a flat desert no-mans-land, flanked by 2 or 3 much smaller piles of the volcanic pebbled stuff. It has been a favorite hiking spot of residents of Woodruff for generations, kids of all ages hiking the Butte, taking picnics up on top, looking for artifacts of Anasazi civilizations and more.

This is a view from south of the hamlet >

When I knew that an entrepreneur had managed to buy the hill from a descendent of an early Woodruff resident, and that it was going to be dismantled, I decided to paint the mostly unattractive bump, something only its mother would love. Someone asked why I care and I have to say, it feels like a loss of a natural treasure, a lovely traditional excursionary oddity for people with fond memories. I painted over two dozen portrayals of the spot from several angles.

I took a photograph last year and then another one recently. It doesn’t seem to have changed in the last year, but it surely seems flatter every time I look at it.

I didn’t grow up hiking the Butte, but it tugs at my heart strings that the excursion is no longer an option among the current generation of those ambitious enough to climb the heap. The memories are fading as the distinctive profile is shaved and modified; changed before our eyes.

Somewhere in many places the cinders of Woodruff Butte are parts of buildings with no sentimental attachment to an obscure spot in Arizona.

Born of fiery volcanic activity, maybe the Butte will in a "Next Life" rise out of the ashes, like a Phoenix. Stranger things happen in movies. — Wow! A futuristic romance novel about Woodruff Butte — Scintillating!