Welcome to issue #41 of Trail Mix, a weekly newsletter that’s about the people, places, history, and happenings in Southeastern Arizona, now with a fresher, deeper approach.

Hey neighbors,

Kimberly Crossland here. 👋 And here’s a neighborly face to a name. ⤵️

If you’ve been opening these emails for a while, you’re probably used to a certain rhythm. A list of stories, dates, a few bullet points, the digital equivalent of a quick wave over the fence while we both rush to get the groceries inside before the Arizona sun turns the milk into yogurt.

But lately, I’ve been looking around our town and thinking about how fast everything is moving. We are living through a massive growth moment in Vail, which can be good but can also set off alarm bells for the people who love this area.

You see it (and maybe feel those alarm bells) every time a new frame goes up or a new stoplight blink-blinks into existence where there used to be nothing but a stop sign at the top of a hill (lookin’ at you, Old Spanish Trail). Growth is here. It’s loud, it’s dusty, and it’s inevitable at this point. But here’s the thing:

While the rooftops are multiplying, our roots shouldn’t be thinning out.

So, as promised, I’m changing things up here at Trail Mix. We’re going deeper into the people, places, history, and happenings shaping our beloved little corner of the world. I’m pivoting this newsletter from a "what’s happening" flyer to a why it matters home for Vail's stories. I want to move away from the white noise of the headlines and into the marrow of this place.

I’m talking about the deep dives into the people who are quietly shaping our community in garages, kitchens, and small storefronts.

I’m talking about the history and the "oh wow, I didn’t know that" trivia about the land we live on.

I’m talking about the places that you might not realize are so close within reach.

And yes, I’m talking about the happenings. We’ll still talk about our favorite annual traditions, the fun between the tracks, and the logistical bits of living here.

I’ve built a new community calendar on the website so you have quick, long-term access to everything happening in our neck of the woods. Think of it as our shared kitchen calendar—a simple, beautiful space to see what’s happening right here under our feet.

Submit your community yard sales. Submit your summer camps. Submit the live music at your restaurant. Submit your business’s community classes. Submit your open house. Submit your mom meetups. Submit the things you want people to show up to, so we know where and when to go.

Beyond the dates and times, I want to give these stories the space they deserve. Because if you know me, you know I don’t do lifeless journalism. I’m far more interested in the how and the who than just the when. I love the kind of details you only get when you stop to listen for a few extra minutes.

I want this newsletter to feel like a conversation over a very strong cup of coffee from one of our local food trucks—the kind of gutsy, honest storytelling that makes you sit up and notice the world around you, reminding us all that we’re part of something much older and more interesting than just another subdivision.

Living in the desert isn’t just a dry ecosystem. It’s a personality trait. It’s a specific kind of resilient, quiet stubbornness—the kind that finds beauty in a landscape that isn't trying to be soft for you. To love it here, you have to be okay with a bit of dust on your boots and a lot of wild in your backyard. It takes a certain kind of soul to see the magic in a monsoon or the patient strength in a century-old saguaro, and if we don’t document the soul of Vail now, it’ll get buried under the asphalt. I want you to truly know this place and to feel a sense of belonging that goes much deeper than your zip code.

It’s not about telling you what’s important. There are plenty of news outlets and other publications to do just that. It’s about helping you notice and find a deeper love for what already is.

Together, we’re going to notice the magic in the mundane, celebrate the grit, and protect that close-knit community that we feel, even as the map expands around us. I know I’m not the only one who sees the magic here, which is why this newsletter is meant to be a conversation. Consider this an invitation to pull up a chair.

Of course, digging up these stories and spending hours in the archives is a labor of love—but it does take a lot of fuel to keep the search going. If you feel a tug to support this new direction and want to keep the digital ink flowing, you can buy me a local cup of coffee here.

Think of it as a small but mighty way to join the mission, helping me stay caffeinated through the deep dives and long hours spent making sure our community's stories don’t get lost in the dust.

I want you to read these stories, text a friend, and say, "Whoa, did you know this?" I want you to slow down. I want you to feel proud to call this place home.

Vail is changing, but our spirit doesn’t have to. Let’s dig in.

I’m so glad we’re in this together.

As we face this wave of growth, we have a choice: we can become just another generic suburb, or we can remain a community with a heartbeat. By partnering with this newsletter, you’re helping preserve the Vail-ness of Vail. You’re showing our neighbors that you don’t just want their business—you want to be a part of their history. When you advertise here, you aren't just buying space; you’re helping build something that lasts much longer than a roadside sign.