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Archive for the ‘Nature’ Category

”  Hunter S. Thompson

The first time I  rafted down the Grand Canyon, the Little Colorado River entrance to the mightier Colorado River was red and thick with mud from recent upstream rains. The second time it was crystal clean, and we floated in its current. I'm the middle blonde, and I was 60 when the photograph was taken.

The first time I rafted down the Grand Canyon, the Little Colorado River entrance to the mightier Colorado River was red and thick with mud from recent upstream rains. The second time it was crystal clean, and we floated in its current. I’m the middle blonde, and I was 60 when the photograph was taken.

A fantastic read.

A fantastic read.

 

Bookish Wednesday

A fairy tale begins with “Once upon a time.” And a river story with “No shit! There I was,” said outspoken journalist Linda Ellerbee in her essay about rafting down the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon.

And there she was — on an adventure one summer taken by 14 other fantastic female writers. The 15 women ranged in age, and in lifestyles that went from city women who had never peed outdoors to athletic women who considered nature their true homes. They each wrote about the Grand Canyon from their own perspective, and about how the fickle river and the high rock walls affected and changed them.

Being a female writer who has been on this same adventure twice in my life – the last time as a birthday present to myself when I turned 60 – my soul triumphed with joy when I came across their book, “Writing Down the River (1998, Northland Publishing, photographed and produced by Kathleen Jo Ryan) in the public library.

Of course I checked it out. Reading the book these past few days has brought back many memories of 32 days, 16 for each trip, that rank high on my list of the best days of my life.

Among my own writings about my Grand Canyon trip was one about the canyon wren, which often serenaded us during our early mornings on the river.

Among my own writings about my Grand Canyon trip was a bird column about the canyon wren, which often serenaded us during our early mornings on the river.

The first time I went down the river, I paddled myself almost the entire 225 miles in a small raft. I came away from the experience a whole person, accepting both my strengths and my weaknesses.

The second time I let the boatman (she was female but she was still called a boatman) oar me down the river, an admission that time had come for me to slow down a bit and take more time to smell the flowers and watch the birds – but also that my adventuring days were still far from over.

I highly recommend this trip for all women who are at turning points in their lives – and if you can’t go, at least read the book. The words and photographs can’t help but touch your heart and make you stronger.  

The Wondering-Wanderer's blog pick of the day.

The Wondering-Wanderer’s blog pick of the day.

  Bean/s Pat: Where Have All the Flowers Gone  http://tinyurl.com/l89g62e In honor of Pete Seeger and my generation of flower-child music.

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“Yes sir, I am a tortured man for all seasons, as they say, and I have powerful friends in high places. Birds sing where I walk, and children smile when they see me coming.” – Hunter S. Thompson

Metal bird sculpture at Tohono Chul Park in Tucson. -- Photo by Pat Bean

Metal bird sculpture at Tohono Chul Park in Tucson. — Photo by Pat Bean

Fooled by the Eyes

            Searching for birds has its surprises. Sometimes what you think is a yellow-rumped warbler turns out just to be the profile of a

I like it that this bird was created from junked metal parts. -- Photo by Pat Bean

I like it that this bird was created from junked metal parts. — Photo by Pat Bean

quirky tree twig lit by a spit of sunlight, or a snowy egret turns out to be a white trash bag that someone carelessly tossed away, and which was blown up against some weeds by the wind.

I’ve seen leaf birds, shadow birds, bottle birds (a blue one floating on the water that from a far distance looked like a blue heron), stump birds and thousands of litter birds of flotsam,  jetsam and abandoned debris.

I thought about these non-birds during a recent stroll in Tucson’s Tohono Chul Park. Unlike all the litter birds I’ve seen, the park]s birds made me smile.

Are you smiling, too.

The Wondering-Wanderer's blog pick of the day.

The Wondering-Wanderer’s blog pick of the day.

Bean’s Pat: The Currents of Life http://tinyurl.com/kenqp2u Just some things to ponder.

 

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            “You can teach a student a lesson for a day; but if you can teach him to learn by creating curiosity, he will continue the learning process as long as he lives.”  — Clay P. Bedford

Mount Lemmon from the Catalina Foothills. -- Wikimedia photo

Mount Lemmon from the Catalina Foothills. — Wikimedia photo

I Don’t Believe Curiosity Will Kill Me

          

Sara Plummer Lemmon -- Wikimedia photo

Sara Plummer Lemmon — Wikimedia photo

  Did you know that Mount Lemmon, the awesome 9,157-foot-tall mountain that has been my backyard landscape here in Tucson for the past year, is named after a woman?

I didn’t until this past week when I came across a plague on the Geology Wall at Tohono Chul Park.

After I got home, I did a bit of research on the mountain’s namesake, Sara Plummer Lemmon (1836-1923), and discovered that she was a botanist with several plants named in her honor.

Mount Lemmon was named for her because she was the first white woman to climb to its top, and along the way she discovered several plant varieties unique to the mountain.

While it's actually spelled a Spalding, it called a Spaldeen because that's how it is pronounced in the Bronx. Wikimedia photo

While it’s actually spelled a Spalding, it is called a Spaldeen because that’s how it is pronounced in the Bronx. Wikimedia photo

Do you know what a Spaldeen is? I didn’t until I came across the term in Annie Rachele Lanzillotto’s book, “L is for Lion: An Italian Bronx Butch Freedom Memoir,” which I’m currently reading. Great book, by the way.

A Spaldeen, I learned, is a pink rubber ball commonly used to play stickball in the Bronx.  How did I live to my age and not know that, I wondered?

Both these discoveries fulfilled my goal of learning something new each and every day. In my book, a day without learning something new lacks soul.

As Eartha Kitt once said, “I am learning all the time. The tombstone will be my diploma.”

The Wondering-Wanderer's blog pick of the day.

The Wondering-Wanderer’s blog pick of the day.

Bean’s Pat: The White Goose  http://tinyurl.com/ny5obkx Standing out in a crowd

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            “No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up.” – Regina Brett

One of the best things about taking Pepper for an early morning walk is getting to see the sun come up over the desert. -- Photo by Pat Bean

One of the best things about taking Pepper for an early morning walk is getting to see the sun come up over the desert — while the moon is still in the sky. — Photo by Pat Bean

That’s My Life

What Regina said is what I have to do, despite the fact I’ve been fighting a sinus infection. I’ve gotten up, dressed up (OK, so it was just a sweater over my pajamas at 6 a.m.) and walked my dog, Pepper, four times a day.  And I live in a third-floor walk-up.

But don’t get me wrong.  I’m actually thankful, because the task of doing this over the past year has gotten me in better shape than I was a year ago. That’s great news for someone who is pushing 75.

Every old-broad should have a dog to walk.

Bean’s Pat: Interesting Literature:  http://tinyurl.com/oqw3gsj More quotes. I like No. 9 best.

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“Nobody can go back and start a new beginning, but anyone can start today and make a new ending.”  — Maria Robinson

Fly free and high in the New Year. --  Quick sketch of bald eagle doing just that by Pat Bean

Fly free and high in the New Year. — Quick sketch of bald eagle doing just that by Pat Bean

I Call Horse Manure

I’m not sure what is in the air, but all this past week – during which I was on hiatus from writing this blog – I kept running across quotes that in essence said that everything happens for a reason.

A page from my sketchbook, which I hope to use more during 2014.

A page from my sketchbook, which I hope to use more during 2014.

Put bull and my one and only cuss word together and that’s what I say to that idea.

Not everything happens for a reason. The good, the bad, the beautiful and the horribly ugly things happen randomly to everyone.  While there may be causes, no baby dies of crib death for a reason, no beloved pet gets run over by a vehicle for a reason, and no one dies in a nature  disaster for a reason.

We can add reason into the equation by learning and growing from the experiences when life boosts us up, or knocks us down, but there is no reason why things happen in this chaotic world in which we live.

In essence, we are not what happens to us, we are what we make of what happens to us.

What do you think?

Bean’s Pat:  The Philosophy of Old Age: http://tinyurl.com/k63qnas I thought this was worth sharing. Even you youngsters might enjoy it.

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The Palo Verde tree and Mission Cactus growing in Tucson's Tono Chul Park have made a connection. Without the support of the tree, the cactus could never have grown so large, while the large pads of the cactus help capture rain water that gives the tree extra moisture. -- Photo by Pat Bean

The Palo Verde tree and Mission Cactus growing in Tucson’s Tono Chul Park have made a connection. Without the support of the tree, the cactus could never have grown so large, while the large pads of the cactus help capture rain water that gives the tree extra moisture. — Photo by Pat Bean

            “When you feel a connection, a gut connection, a heart connection, it’s a very special thing.” Alfre Woodard

Looking in all the Right Places

            There is something special, as Alfre said, about making a connection. She was talking about that love/lust thing, which thankfully I’ve experienced a few times in my life. While these have all bloomed and faded, they’ve left behind memories, both good, and bad, that put under the microscope help me define who I am.

One tree, or two trees? Either way, there is a connection between them. I do love trees. -- Photo by Pat Bean

One tree, or two trees? Either way, there is a connection between them. I do love trees. — Photo by Pat Bean

Now, in my seventh decade, I find connections that define who I am in different ways. Mostly they come through travel, books and family relationships, the latter of which, when I think hard enough about them, leave me understanding that I was at times better than I gave myself credit for, but also sometimes not as good as I thought I was.

It’s a complicated thing, and sometimes I simply decide to give up thinking about whether I was a good, strong mother, or a weak, spineless one. .

It’s much more rewarding and fascinating to come across things in my travels that connect to my life, like a Chinaberry tree that reminded me of the many hours I spent up in one in  my grandmother’s back yard – until the day I discovered  a rattlesnake sunning on the rock I used to boost myself up into the branches. The snake scurried away as fast as I did. It was probably as afraid of me as I was of it, but I never climbed that tree again.

The perfect setting for making a connection with another human, I thought when I saw these chairs sitting in a Flagstaff, Arizona, RV park.  -- Photo by Pat Bean

The perfect setting for making a connection with another human, I thought when I saw these chairs sitting in a Flagstaff, Arizona, RV park. — Photo by Pat Bean

All this came back to as I watched a white-breasted nuthatch in a Chinaberry tree growing next to where I was camping in my RV, Gypsy Lee. Time, I realized, had taught me to fear the snake when it was where I would place my foot, but not to fear it when it wasn’t there. It was a well-learned lesson that gave me many years of freedom in the outdoors and the courage to face the unknown unafraid.

Books, meanwhile, let me know that I’m not alone in my odd ways of thinking. I delight when I come across a person in a memoir, or a character in a novel, who sees the world as I do, which is through rose-colored glasses despite accepting the reality that the world is chaotic and often unfair.

These are the kinds of connections I never had time to make when I was younger. I was too busy simply living life. But suddenly I find them fascinating. These connections to my life happen often these days, and they enrich my days. So I have come to search for them – in all the right places.

Bean’s Pat: The Gift of Time http://tinyurl.com/lskfbh4 Tosty Mae makes me laugh. And I loved this blog about unwelcome “connections.”

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Resolutions are popular because everyone feels they could use a little improvement.” Marilu Henner

This glorious desert sunset welcomed me home to Tucson

This glorious desert sunset welcomed me home to Tucson. — Photo by Pat Bean

New Year’s Resolutions

It’s 5:15 a.m., and the morning after I arrived back home to Tucson from attending my granddaughter’s  Texas A&M graduation — and the first time since I left on the spur-of-the-minute trip that I feel I have a few minutes of time completely to myself.

Me and my granddaughter, Pacee.

Me and my granddaughter, Pacee.

It was as perfect a trip as a trip with my strong personalities-family could be. By that I mean that I had a fantastic time, the hiccups were few, and my granddaughter’s surprised and pleased face when she saw me made all the hassles to get there worthwhile.

I even enjoyed the two-day long drive coming and going, even though on this trip the destination was more important than the journey. I still, as always, love sitting behind the steering wheel of a vehicle and watching the landscape flow by. The road has always felt like home to me.

I got back to Tucson in time to share birthday cake with my son-in-law, Joe, and then I spent the night here at my daughter’s house, choosing to sleep in my RV, Gypsy Lee, which I left behind for the trip. This morning I will return the rental car I drove, and then Gypsy Lee, Pepper and I will drive back to our small apartment home, where I can once again watch, from my bedroom balcony, the Catalina Mountains come to life with the morning sun as I drink my cream-laced coffee

My granddaughter was one of 4,980 students who graduated from Texas A&M on December 13. She's sitting on the front row on the left, fifth from right.  -- Photo by Pat Bean

My granddaughter was one of 4,980 students who graduated from Texas A&M on December 13. She’s sitting on the front row on the left, fifth from right. — Photo by Pat Bean

Waking up while everyone else is asleep is a thing I do often. It’s almost always the best time of any day. This morning, I lay in Gypsy Lee’s bed thinking about the fast approaching New Year. It’s a time when I always make a long list of resolutions – and yes they are usually all broken before the New Year is a week old.

As I thought about the things I want to put on this year’s list, because while I break my resolutions they do stay in my head and I do keep them occasionally, I realized that last year’s resolutions were still good to go – with just a little tweaking.

And that’s the same for my life. This old broad loves her life and could only think of a few tweaks to make it better.

Does this mean I’ve achieved all my goals, or have just relaxed enough to accept myself for who I am?

Well of course I haven’t achieved all my goals, but I do give myself a pat on the back for putting a big dent in them. And yes, I no longer beat up on myself when I’m not constantly in achievement mode.  So I guess it’s a little bit of both.

But mostly I think it is simply because I have come to not just accept, but to love, all my imperfections. So now I just have to decide what tweaks will make 2014 even better.

The Wondering-Wanderer's blog pick of the day.

The Wondering-Wanderer’s blog pick of the day.

Bean’s Pat: Oh Christmas Tree http://tinyurl.com/mqujzxy I don’t have a Christmas tree this year, although I have put up a few holiday decorations around my apartment. I gave away my huge collection of ornaments when I took to the road in Gypsy Lee. They now hang on my youngest daughter’s tree, and since I’m spending Christmas with her I’ll get to enjoy the memories again this holiday. A lot of the ornaments are travel souvenirs, but my favorites are  simply a few plastic poinsettia blooms, which hung on my first Christmas tree. Money was tight back then, and so that tree was decorated with nothing more than the plastic flowers that I had  separated from a dime-store  bouquet. There have been over 50 Christmases since that day, and the red flowers have seen them all. Meanwhile, enjoy the trees on this blog. I did

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            “Loving Life is easy when you’re in love with it.” – Author unknown

Scissortails and a Whistler in the Rain

A scissor-tailed flycatcher sitting in the rain at Brazoria National Wildlife Refuge. -- Photo by Pat Bean

A scissor-tailed flycatcher sitting in the rain at Brazoria National Wildlife Refuge. — Photo by Pat Bean

My son Lewis caught his birding addiction from me. I make no apologies. The shared craziness has given the two of us many hours of delightful magic and wonder.

So when I recently visited him and his family for a few days at his Texas Gulf Coast home in Lake Jackson, we decided to ignore the stormy weather forecast and go look for birds. . Sure, it was drizzling, but that could stop at any time. And besides, it would be our only chance to spend a day birding before I would be moving on to visit other Texas family, which includes two other kids and 10 grandchildren scattered far and wide across the Lone Star State.

We decided to go to Brazoria National Wildlife Refuge, which is located only eight miles away from my son’s home. It holds memories of Lewis’ first bird outing with me, and the moment he identified a tropical cormorant — which was the exact moment he was hooked on birding.  We laughingly relived that moment on our way to the refuge.

This is where Lewis and I were standing when the temperature dropped and the sky opened wide. -- Photo by Pat Bean

This is where Lewis and I were standing when the temperature dropped and the sky opened wide. — Photo by Pat Bean

We were standing on a boardwalk near the entrance to the refuge – ignoring a gentle rain while watching a chummy trio that included a dowitcher and two yellowlegs foraging in a pond – when a stiff breeze dropped the temperature several degrees.

In minutes we were standing in a deluge, but fortunately were standing under a roofed portion of the boardwalk. We waited, and waited, but it was soon evident that the rain wasn’t going to stop and we should head back to the car. The umbrella we shared did little to keep us dry, such was the fury of the storm.

I expected Lewis to turn toward the exit once we were in the car, but he headed deeper into the refuge.

“We can do a little car birding. Maybe we’ll spot some ducks,” he said. I laughed, knowing this is exactly what I would have done if I had been by myself. I have mentioned before, haven’t I, that passionate birders are a bit crazy.

“I’m sure we’ll have the place to ourselves,” I answered, as Lewis turned on the car defroster to keep the windows from fogging up.

I didn't get a picture this day of the black-bellied whistler, but here's a shot I took of them at Texas' Brazos Bend State Park a while back. -- Photo by Pat Bean

I didn’t get a picture this day of the black-bellied whistler, but here’s a shot I took of four of them at Texas’ Brazos Bend State Park a while back. — Photo by Pat Bean

We ended the soggy day with the car splashing through puddles so deep I was surprised the vehicle didn’t stall. What a great adventure. We even spotted 24 bird species on our outing. For the birders among you, I’ll enumerate: Forster’s tern, blue jay, killdeer, common and great-tailed grackles, laughing gull, European starling, black vulture, mourning dove, mockingbird, meadowlark, scissor-tailed flycatcher, white ibis, lesser yellowlegs, short-billed dowitcher, western sandpiper, willet, great egret, greater yellowlegs, snowy egret, bank swallow, savannah sparrow, black-bellied whistler and pied-billed grebe.

The scissor-tailed flycatchers and the lone black-bellied whistler were my top two favorite sightings. It was late for the scissor-tails to still be in the area, and along with a colorful pair of adults, there was also a tree full of less bright and shorter tailed juvenile scissor-tails.

The whistler stood in the middle of the refuge’s gravel road beneath the dripping sky, and didn’t budge until we were almost on top of it. Whistlers are a species that I love, especially when a flock of them fly overhead belting out a tune.

The Wondering-Wanderer's blog pick of the day.

The Wondering-Wanderer’s blog pick of the day.

Bean’s Pat: The Iris and the Lily http://tinyurl.com/lnt5xz4 Back road landscape. If you are a fan of Mother Nature, you will love this blog.

 

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Wherever I traveled, books were always part of the journey. And this lake in Illinois' Lincoln Trail State Park is just one of many I've sat beside while reading. -- Photo by Pat Bean

Wherever I traveled, books were always part of the journey. And this lake in Illinois’ Lincoln Trail State Park is just one of many I’ve sat beside while reading. — Photo by Pat Bean

“Travel is like love: It cracks you open, and so pushes you over all the walls and low horizons that habits and defensiveness set up.” – Pico Iyer

Finding Buried Treasure

The above quote begins essayist Pico Iyer’s foreword in the book “Wanderlust: Real Life Tales of Adventure and Romance.”

Just find me a bench, like this one that sits in Amherstburg, Ontario, beside an Erie River harbor and a book, and I can be happy for hours. -- Photo by Pat Bean

Just find me a bench, like this one that sits in Amherstburg, Ontario, beside an Erie River harbor, and a book, and I can be happy for hours. — Photo by Pat Bean

I recently reclaimed this book of travel essays, unread except for the foreword, from one of the dozen or so bins of stuff I couldn’t part with when I began a life on the road in 2004. Finding it again – with its many intriguing chapter titles such as “On the Amazon,” “Naxos Nights,” “I Lost it at Club Med,”  “Bewitched on Bali” and “Sleeping with Elephants,” was like coming across buried treasure.

A travel book is always one of the books I’m reading at any given time, along with a mystery, a fantasy and a nature book (more and more these days on my Kindle); and I always have dozens of backups – I guess you could say books are my security blanket.

As I renewed my acquaintance with this book of essays called “Wanderlust,” which I acquired before spending nine years living full-time in a small RV, I saw that I had highlighted quite a few of Pico’s travel quotes in its foreword, which probably coincided with my frame of mind with freedom of the road loaming ahead.

Perhaps they will mean something to you, too.

  “…home is something portable that we carry around with us”

            “…’wander’ has little to do with crossing borders and getting stamps in one’s passport, and everything to do with stretching the boundaries of one’s perspective and being constantly drawn to challenge. The person susceptible to wanderlust is not so much addicted to movement as committed to transformation.”

            “We travel, then, in search of both self and anonymity … and people cannot put a name or tag to us.”  

            “A man (or woman) never goes so far as when he doesn’t know where he is going.”

            “Many of us travel not in search of answers but in search of better questions.”

That last was certainly true of my travels. I found few answers but hundreds of questions.

The Wondering-Wanderer's blog pick of the day.

The Wondering-Wanderer’s blog pick of the day.

Bean’s Pat: Autumn Path http://tinyurl.com/mt4uedk I chose this blog today because it made me want to get out and take a walk – and moving is a good thing to help insure this old broad’s ability to continue traveling.

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Tucson sunset -- Photo by Pat Bean

Tucson sunset — Photo by Pat Bean

  “We must learn to reawaken and keep ourselves awake, not by mechanical aid, but by an infinite expectation of dawn.” Henry David Thoreau

Can you feel the passion in this sunset? I can. -- Photo by Pat Bean

Can you feel the passion in this sunset? I can. — Photo by Pat Bean

Sunrises and Sunsets Come in Infinite Colors 

An Arkansas pink and purple morning. -- Photo by Pat Bean

An Arkansas pink and purple morning. — Photo by Pat Bean

A Texas dawn. -- Photo by Pat Bean

A Texas dawn. — Photo by Pat Bean

And I love them all — infinitely.

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