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Archive for the ‘Nature’ Category

100 Things I’m Thankful For

“Some people are always grumbling because roses have thorns; I am thankful that thorns have roses.” — Alphonse Karr
I'm thankful I got to ride a camel with my 4-year-old great-grandson Kaiden. It was a first for both of us. -- Photo by my granddaughter, Keri.

I’m thankful I got to ride a camel with my 4-year-old great-grandson Kaiden. It was a first for both of us. — Photo by my granddaughter, Keri.

In No Particular Order

1, That at 76, I rode a camel for the first time – and with a four-year-old great-grandson.

  1. America’s soldiers, who fight for my freedom, especially the ones I have as a woman able to travel alone and voice my opinion without fear of being stoned. I think daily of my sisters across the ocean who suffer the tyranny of men.
  2. The vivid colors that sunrises and sunsets paint the canvas sky.
  3. My canine companion, Pepper, my shadow who is full of joy and who keeps me from ever feeling lonely.
  4. Listening to a storm rage outside while I’m cozily standing on my third-floor balcony looking out over the Sonoran Desert, for which I am also thankful.

    I'm even thankful for Pepper after she's killed a stuffed cat and I have to pick up the mess. -- Photo by Pat Bean

    I’m even thankful for Pepper after she’s killed a stuffed cat and I have to pick up the mess. — Photo by Pat Bean

  5. Friends, far and near, who know and accept me for who I am, an old broad who is now trying to live life so there will be no regrets.
  6. That magic, silent gray minute between which night becomes day.
  7. A new journal and a good pen.
  8. Learning something new every day.
  9. Air conditioning, heaters, washing machines, soft blankets, a comfortable chair with a good reading lamp, hot baths and all the other comforts of life so abundant to me.
  10. The humming birds, verdins, finches and even woodpeckers that visit my nectar feeder daily, as well as all the other species of these winged creatures that live beside us, often unseen.
  11. Books and the authors who write them. Reading gives us some place to go when we have to stay where we are.” – Mason Cooley 
  12. Road trips.

    I'm thankful for the color yellow. -- Photo by Pat Bean

    I’m thankful for the color yellow. — Photo by Pat Bean

  13. The multiple moods of the Catalina Mountains that form the backdrop for my view from my bedroom balcony. They shimmer in sunlight, take on a green hue after a heavy rain, and play hide-and-seek among the clouds on stormy days.
  14. The amazing and supportive women of Story Circle Network, a group of writing women to which I belong. .
  15. Fields of colorful wild flowers, especially Texas’ bluebonnets.
  16. Lake reflections, especially those that let you enjoy the vivid color of autumn trees twice.
  17. My passion for nature and wildlife that makes each and every day amazing with surprises that range from a double rainbow to a speckled fawn stepping out from the trees.
  18. Every morning I awake ready for another day.
  19. All National Parks, but especially my beloved Zion in Southern Utah.

    A Texas sunrise

    A Texas sunrise

  20. That I’m a writer and can capture life on the wing and live through the good times twice.
  21. Comfortable shoes, cargo pants and bright-colored T-shirts, my wardrobe of choice.
  22. My life, the hard of it and the joy of it, which has made me the person I am today.
  23. Heartfelt hugs
  24. That I got to see the return of California condors to the wild and wolves to Yellowstone
  25. Ibuprofen to relieve aching bones and muscles after hikes and on cold wet days.
  26. Holding hands with family at Thanksgiving while everyone tells what they are thankful for.
  27. That I am reasonably healthy, and that I can pay for decent health insurance, even if it takes a huge bite out of my limited budget.
  28. The pair of great-horned owls that mated in a tree in my apartment complex and gave us three young ones who posed for my camera.
  29. My good women friends, Kim, Kris and Jean, who know all my secrets and won’t tell because I know theirs, too. And my good male friend and former colleague Charlie, who kept me sane when we worked together and who still cheers me on.

    Acadia National Park in Maine

    Acadia National Park in Maine

  30. African, cream-laced coffee, something I became addicted to in 2007 when I visited Kenya and Tanzania and went on safari.
  31. Large, gnarly live oak trees that provide beauty to the soul and shade on a hot summer day in Texas.
  32. Gurgling brooks, flowing rivers, memories of giant rapids I’ve survived and waterfalls.
  33. Personal achievements of family members and friends – and of course my own, too. .
  34. Scented candles
  35. Completing a difficult task.
  36. Smiles and belly laughs
  37. My small apartment in which I’ve nested now for three years without my feet getting too itchy.
  38. Happy hour on my balcony with a good friend and a stiff Jack and Coke.
  39. When the Palo Verde trees bloom and the roadsides turn yellow.
  40. My pocket Canon digital camera with its great zoom – and stabilizer that allows this amateur photographer to take good, sometimes great, photos.
  41. Antibiotics and vaccinations
  42. Helen Reddy singing “I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar.”
  43. That the price of gas has dropped.
  44.   My wrinkles, flabby belly and sagging boobs that are well-earned and name me survivor. I’m just happy to still have some go in me.
  45. The journey between destinations
  46. People who still believe that despite all the wars and chaos in the world, there is still hope for peace, even if not in our lifetimes.
  47. Moisturizing cream for my dry skin.
  48. The almost daily e-mails I share with a daughter-in-law.
  49. Time to read, and good glasses that make it possible.
  50. Short hikes that are still within my ability, like the one to Emerald Pools in Zion, which I did on my birthday this year.
  51. Good memories of my mother.
  52. My daily walks with Pepper
  53. WordPress for hosting this blog
  54. An evening spent in a clean hotel room after a long day’s drive
  55. Aspens in fall, when their colors twinkle in the air and the leaves sing to you, which happened to me last month when I took a road trip to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon
  56. Waking up to a world made pristine by an overnight snowfall.
  57. People who like and comment on my blog.
  58. The honking of geese as they fly overhead
  59. Butterflies
  60. Board games with competitive people who are as good losers as they are winners.
  61. Full moon nights, or dark nights with thousands of stars
  62. A good haircut, which was almost a rarity this past year.
  63. That I now have a great-granddaughter to go with my three great grandsons.
  64. That I haven’t had any recent dental problems, especially since I have no dental insurance.
  65. Bra-less days.
  66. The fun I have with my watercolor paintings, even if they aren’t masterpieces.
  67. My curiosity
  68. Roger Tory Peterson, who created the first user-friendly field guides for identifying birds, a hobby that has given me many hours of enjoyment. .
  69. That Pepper, unlike my former canine companion Maggie, likes to cuddle up close on cold nights – warm nights too, which is OK because I have air conditioning.
  70. Chocolate and ice cream.
  71. Scenic byways and backroads – which I promise myself I’m going to travel more of in 2016.
  72. Days when my mutual funds make money instead of losing it.
  73. Time alone with my thoughts.
  74. Audible books, especially on nights when my eyes are tired but I can’t sleep.
  75. The GPS, which I finally got this year.
  76. My brother Robert, who moved to Tucson this year, and who hasn’t once pushed my buttons the wrong way. We’ve done that to each other over the years.
  77. The many opportunities to see live plays in Tucson. I’ve gone to quite a few this year, and not once been disappointed.
  78. Van Gogh’s “Starry Night” and his sunflower paintings, and all the other artists who charge my creative battery.
  79. My writing desk with its window view and computer that has behaved all this past year.
  80. The fun stationary a granddaughter gave me, and our notes back and forth to each other.
  81. The many long talks I’ve had with my oldest daughter this past year while she drove to work. They’ve brought us closer than we’ve ever been.
  82. Pedicures and French manicures.
  83. Going to sports events and other activities involving my three grandsons, ages 14, 15 and 16, who live in Tucson.
  84. My good non-stick skillet and favorite pan

88 The two hikes I’ve taken up Ramsey Canyon this year, one of which gave me a red-faced warbler, which is now the 707th species on my life bird list.

  1. That there are still plenty of birds to add to my life list
  2. My monthly Social Security check.
  3. Soft flannel pajamas
  4. The color purple.
  5. The new recliner I bought this year when I was suffering from back pain, but I’m thankful I don’t have to sleep in it any more.
  6. That I can wake up without an alarm clock, even if it’s at 5:30 a.m.
  7. Maps to dream over. .
  8. The public library, which gives me endless books to read when my budget is strained to the breaking point.
  9. Fireflies
  10. The fragrant scent of a blooming gardenia bush, which always reminds me of my grandmother.
  11. Mosquito repellant.
  12. Last, but certainly least, my family, which includes five children, 15 grandchildren, 4 ½ great-grandchildren, and my adopted grandchildren, Cory and his wonderful family. And BJ, who recently graduated from high school, and whom I haven’t seen in way too long

 

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, whn contc

The first aspens I saw were off in the distance, where their golden deliciousness stood out in contrast to the dark evergreens -- Photo by Pat Bean

The first aspens I saw were off in the distance, where their golden deliciousness stood out in contrast to the dark evergreens — Photo by Pat Bean

“Willows whiten, aspens quiver, Little breezes dusk and shiver” – Alfred Lord Tennyson

“Late in August the lure of the mountains becomes irresistible. Seared by the everlasting sunfire, I want to see running water again, embrace a pine tree, cut my initials in the bark of an aspen, bet bit by a mosquitos, see a mountain bluebird, find a big blue columbine, get lost in the firs, hike above timberline, sunbathe on snow and eat some ice, climb the rocks and stand in the wind at the top of the world on the peak of Tukuhnikivats. – Edward Abbey            

Aspens at Last

            Jacob Lake, a tiny community that sits at the junction of Highway 89A and State Road 67 and which is the turnoff to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, sits at an elevation of 8,000 feet.   I had expected to see aspen trees by this elevation, but none came into my view, although I usually began seeing these scarred, white-trunk trees around 7,000 feet. Of course that was when I lived in Utah, and now I’m in Arizona.

The second grove of aspens was right next to the road. I stood beneath this one and let it sing to me.

The second grove of aspens was right next to the road. I stood beneath this one and let it sing to me. — Photo by Pat Bean

Still hopeful that the goal of this particular road trip, to see aspen trees in their golden autumn colors, would be met, I took the turnoff  for the Grand Canyon. There was still 44 miles to go before I reached the rim of what many people consider to be one of the seven natural wonders of the world, so there was still time for this road trip’s mission to be accomplished.

And it was – although I was closer to Grand Canyon National Park than I expected before the landscape began to be dotted with patches of yellow that challenged the color of the sun. I was delighted.

Aspen trees gown in colonies from a single seedling that sends up its children through the earth into the sunlight. If you look closely, you’ll see how similar each tree in close proximity looks like its neighbor; and how different they look from a nearby patch of aspens that also hover close together with roots and branches entangled.

 

Near the top of the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. -- Photo by Pat Bean

Near the top of the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. — Photo by Pat Bean

Until its death, only the mother tree can send up new seedlings. Then another tree takes its place. It has to do with some chemical or such that the mother tree sends out as a birth control pill to the other trees, is how it was once explained to me. While an aspen tree can live only up to about 150 years, there is one large aspen grove in Utah near Fish Lake that is 80,000 thousand years old. Just thinking about this sends shivers through by brain neurons.

As I stopped to stand beneath one of the aspen groves, I was reminded that not only are these trees pleasing to the eye, but to the ear as well. The breeze rippling through their coin-sized leaves sent a pleasing melody into the air. The aspens sang for me.

 

Blog pick of the Day. Check it out.

Blog pick of the Day. Check it out.

Bean Pat: Life’s Purpose   http://tinyurl.com/ocjqsok  Why limit yourself to one passion. As a person who has many passions, this blog appealed to me. Even though I know that it’s the people with only one passion who may accomplish the greatest things in life. But oh what they miss.

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The Vermilion Cliffs -- Photo by Pat Bean

The Vermilion Cliffs — Photo by Pat Bean

“When in doubt, wear red.” Bill Blass

            “Green is the prime color of the world, and that from which its loveliness arises.” – Pedro Calderon de la Barca

Red, Black and Green

If you’re driving north from Flagstaff to Zion National Park’s east entrance, you have a choice of two routes, Highway 89 or Highway 89A. Both are scenic. The first will take you up past Lake Powell and the second past the Vermilion Cliffs and the Kaibab National Forest.

Just red for miles and miles. -- Photo by Pat Bean

Just red for miles and miles. — Photo by Pat Bean

I’ve driven both many times, but since I was going to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, my only choice was to take 89A, which is where I passed over the Colorado River via Navajo Bridge.

Red is the dominant color of the scenery as you pass by the Vermilion Cliffs, which are the second step-up in the five-step Grand Staircase of the Colorado Plateau. These red-rock escarpments dominate the landscape for miles in Northern Arizona and Southern Utah.

I cannot pass by them without looking up toward the blue sky, however. The Vermilion Cliffs was one of the release sights for returning California condors to the wild, The population of these nearly 10-foot wing-span giants dwindled to a population of only 22 birds in 1987, all of which were in zoos or sanctuaries. By the end of 2014, thanks to efforts to save this endangered species by we humans, California condors numbered over 400, of which half had been released back to the wild.

One of the condors soaring once again in the wild. Note the attached number on its wings.  -- Wikimedia photo

One of the condors soaring once again in the wild. Note the attached number on its wings. — Wikimedia photo

I didn’t see one soaring high in the sky this day, but several years ago, I saw two flying overhead in nearby Zion National Park. Since I had followed the first condor born in captivity in 1983, when I had placed the story and a photo of the hatchling on the front page of the newspaper I was working for at the time, it was a triumphant moment for this birdwatcher, as well as a monument to the efforts of the human race for saving a species from extinction, whose cause of near death had been the pesticide DDT.

I was still reflecting on this momentous achievement, when the red of the landscape turned to green. In the last few miles, the highway had left the red cliffs to zigzag up in elevation until I found myself surrounded on both sides by the green of pines, spruces, oaks and firs that thrive in the Kaibab National Forest .

But I would have to climb higher, still, to find the golden aspens I sought. … To be continued. 

Blog pick of the Day. Check it out.

Blog pick of the Day. Check it out.

Bean Pat: Winter Syntax http://tinyurl.com/q6wb5ct As a writer and nature lover, I found this blog’s poetry appealing.

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This is an aerial view of the two Navajo Bridges, with the original one on the left. -- Wikimedia Photo

This is an aerial view of the two Navajo Bridges, with the original one on the left. — Wikimedia Photo

          “No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man.” — Heraclitus

Beneath Which Flows the Colorado River

 

Looking down at the Colorado River from the original Navajo Bridge. -- Photo by Pat Bean

Looking down at the Colorado River from the original Navajo Bridge. — Photo by Pat Bean

           The first time I ever crossed the original Navajo Bridge was in the 1960s, and it was night. Built in 1929, and then the highest bridge in the world with the next bridge crossing the Colorado River 600 miles away, were facts which I knew at the time, and facts that sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine , and a bit of dread because of the dark night.

After that first crossing, I drove over the narrow bridge probably over a dozen times more over the next 30 years, and then I walked across it, and stared across it at the new, wider, stronger Navajo Bridge that was built in 1995. The old bridge was kept for foot traffic, with a parking area and a historical museum at one end, and a parking area and Native American open-air market stalls at the other end.

I’ve never crossed the bridge without stopping, and this morning was no different. Pepper and I walked to the middle of the bridge, where I looked down on the river, this time with camera in hand.

My two rafting trips through the Grand Canyon had started just a few miles upstream at Lee’s Ferry, the only easy crossing of the Colorado River within a hundred miles before the first Navajo Bridge was erected. The site is named after John Doyle Lee, who operated a ferry across the Colorado at this spot for many years.

Looking across at the Colorado River as it flows beneath the new Navajo Bridge. -- Photo by Pat Bean

Looking across at the Colorado River as it flows beneath the new Navajo Bridge. — Photo by Pat Bean

Just a short distance downstream Navajo Bridge crosses the Colorado River at Marble Canyon, which marks the start of the 277-mile long Grand Canyon. This spectacular gorge varies from up to 18 miles wide and 6,000 feet deep. But it’s only a little over 800 feet wide at the Navajo Bridge crossing, and a little less than 500 feet deep.

Looking down on the river from the original bridge this day, I envision myself floating beneath it, and a flood of wonderful memories canter through my brain. Sixteen days, each trip, of river baths, sleeping on sandy beaches, sunbaked skin, watching stars pass overhead through a slim ribbon skylight, hikes to waterfalls and fairy-like hidden canyons, no phones, no mirrors and, most memorable, an unexpected swim through Granite Rapid.

My excuse for taking this road trip was to see aspens in their autumn splendor. I suspect, however, that once again crossing Navajo Bridge was never far from my mind. To be continued …

Blog pick of the Day. Check it out.

Blog pick of the Day. Check it out.

Bean Pat: There was a man http://tinyurl.com/peztncx Poetry and Flowers. Who could ask for anything more? A little bread and wine, maybe?

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Thank Heavens for Wikimedia and generous photographers for this fabulous stitched panorama of Horseshoe Bend because halfway down to the overlook I remembered I didn't have my camera with me. But even if I had, I couldn't have taken such a magnificent photo. -- Wikimedia photo

Thank Heavens for Wikimedia and generous photographers for this fabulous stitched panorama of Horseshoe Bend because halfway down to the overlook I remembered I didn’t have my camera with me. But even if I had, I couldn’t have taken such a magnificent photo. — Wikimedia photo

 

“Walking is magic … The movement, the meditation, the health of the blood pumping, and the rhythm of footsteps. This is a primal way to connect with one’s deeper self. – Paula Cole

On Being the Caboose

            Pepper and I set out for the North Rim of the Grand Canyon shortly after dawn, but stopped just south of Page for a quick hike to Horseshoe Bend. It didn’t turn out to be as quick, however, as I remembered it from my younger days.

The hike started with a steep trek up a sandy hill, where you got a good look at the long downhill path ahead of you leading to the edge of a cliff overlooking perhaps the most photographed spot on the Colorado River.

Pepper, the little engine that could to my caboose. -- Photo by Pat Bean

Pepper, the little engine that could to my caboose. — Photo by Pat Bean

Just coming off a serious episode of heavy-duty back pain – from being stupid and lifting way too many pounds for an old broad my age – I questioned my sanity about going on instead of turning back. It wasn’t the next downhill section that worried me, but the trip back up it.

Pepper, however, was still quite frisky and eager for the hike to continue. As for me, I wanted to prove to myself that I still had some go left in me. As I trudged, step at a time in the quickly warming day, I thought back to 1999 when my 60th birthday present to myself was a rafting trip down the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon.

I had made the same trip earlier in time, when I had paddled through the canyon in a six-person paddle raft, enjoying a wondrous up close, personal connection with the rapids. The second trip down the Colorado through the canyon was made in an oar boat with someone else doing all the hard work, which wasn’t too bad because I got to carefully study the passing scenery.

But then, on a side hike up one canyon, over a ridge and them down a second canyon to meet back up with the rafts, I reached a point where I had to have someone help me over a boulder in the path because I couldn’t manage it on my own. I shed a few tears at that. I wasn’t used to having to be helped on a hiking adventure. Usually I led the way – and was never the caboose.

On this day’s adventure to the Horseshoe Bend viewpoint of the Colorado River, I was following my canine companion Pepper. But at least I was going – and of course the viewpoint was worth the effort. In fact, it was magnificent.

On the hike back, I followed Pepper up the hill, and didn’t resist, nor cry, when she trotted far enough ahead to pull me along with her. I’m quite thankful to have such a wonderful hiking companion, and doubly thankful that I still have at least a little bit of go left in me, even if I have to be the caboose on my adventures. .

Back in our vehicle, with its air conditioning blasting away, Pepper and I continued on our day’s journey to the North Rim of the Grand Canyonas Dr. Seuss’s words danced in my head. Oh the places you’ll go and the things you’ll see. To be continued           

Blog pick of the Day. Check it out.

Blog pick of the Day. Check it out.

Bean Pat: Wednesday Vignettes http://tinyurl.com/qape662 Tranquil

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View across Lake Powell from Wahweap Marina. -- Photo by Pat Bean

View across Lake Powell from Wahweap Marina. — Photo by Pat Bean

“The power of the river is to flow wildly. The power of the lake is to think calmly. Wise man both flows like a river and thinks like a lake.” – Mehmet Merat ildan

Then Lake Powell before Dark

            After joining up with Highway 89 in Flagstaff, where I made a quick stop for gas and snacks — Cheetos and a Coke despite my resolution not to eat such road trip fare — I didn’t stop again until Page, where I checked into the Super 8 Motel.

Lone Rock as seen from the beach where I camped my first night in Gypsy Lee. -- Photo by Pat Bean

Lone Rock as seen from the beach where I camped my first night in Gypsy Lee. — Photo by Pat Bean

While the accommodation was definitely economy with no frills, the cost of my room, $150 a night, definitely wasn’t. I had gotten one of the last free rooms available in town when I had called five days earlier. The only room free at the Super 8 — and it was the cheapest of what was still available — had been a three-bed unit. It was a bit of overkill for me and my canine companion Pepper, for whom I paid an additional $10 pet fee. But I was thankful for it when I arrived because the people in the check-in line, both ahead and behind me, were turned away because they had no reservations and there were no vacancies.

This motel, one couple said, was their last hope. Page sits pretty much in the middle of nowhere on its northern edge with the Utah border.  Kanab, if the unlucky travelers were headed west was 75 miles away, and Flagstaff, if they were headed south, was 135 miles away. Little else was located in between.

Page, with only about 8,000 residents, has about 15 hotels – and sees about 3 million tourists annually. The town sprang up in the late 1950s as a housing community for workers and their families during the construction of the nearby Glen Canyon Dam, which backed up the Colorado River to form Lake Powell. The 17-square mile city of Page, land for which was purchased from the Navajo Nation, is perched atop a 4,300-foot mesa, about 600 feet above Lake Powell..

View from a scenic overlook near Wahweap. -- Photob y Pat Bean

View from a scenic overlook near Wahweap. — Photo by Pat Bean

It was still a couple hours before dark after I was checked in, so I decided to check out Lake Powell from the Utah side of the border. You can see the lake from Page, but the better views, I knew, were on the Utah side.

This would be a nostalgic trip back in time for me. I had camped at Lake Powell’s campgrounds several times when I was living in my RV, Gypsy Lee, and toured its lake aboard a boat before that. As an environmental reporter, I had also written about its controversial construction that flooded Glen Canyon, and its environmental impacts on the Colorado River. As in all things, there were two sides to the story. Actually, there were a hundred sides as I now recall.

But this late afternoon was not for thinking, just for seeing – and remembering. And the very best memory of all came when I looked upon Lone Rock. This unimproved beach was where I spent my first night in Gypsy Lee back in April of 2004.  What a great sundown ending to my first day of this road trip. To be continued …

Blog pick of the Day. Check it out.

Blog pick of the Day. Check it out.

Bean Pat: The Open Suitcase http://tinyurl.com/nfg6823 This is a great blog for those of us who can’t afford to visit Europe, And if you don’t live in New York, you can even have fun trying to find Europe in your own backyard.

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Palo Verde Trees

The trunk and branches of a Palo Verde at Sacaton Rest Area. -- Photo by Pat Bean

The trunk and branches of a Palo Verde at Sacaton Rest Area. — Photo by Pat Bean

“The more often we se the things around us — even the beautiful and wonderful things — the more they become invisible to us. That is why we often take for granted the beauty of this world: the flowers, the trees, the birds, the clouds — even those we love. Because we see things so often, we see them less and less.” — Joseph B. Wirthin

In a Historical Setting

            My second stop of the day was at the Sacaton Rest Area at Mile Marker 183 on Interstate 10. I wasn’t tired, (Pepper and I were only about 75 miles from where we started our road trip) but I had discovered that Arizona Rest Stops are usually scenic and informational – and this one didn’t disappoint.

In remembrance of two Arizona police officers who died in the line of duty near Mile Marker 183 on Interstate  10. -- Photo y Pat Bean

In remembrance of two Arizona police officers who died in the line of duty near Mile Marker 183 on Interstate 10. — Photo y Pat Bean

A large bronze marker at the site informed me the rest area had been the site of the first Government Indian School for Pimas and Maricopas, as well as Pima villages that served as friendly resting places for travelers heading west during the Gold Rush. The site was also the birth place of Ira Hayes, a Pima Indian who was one of the flag-raising Marines at Iwo Jima.

I remembered seeing the 1949 movie, “Sands of Iwo Jima,” in which Hayes actually portrayed himself.  It was one of those unexpected memory recalls that left me wondering what other trivia was  hidden in my brain that might never be brought into the light without a jolt to shake it loose.

Continuing its tribute to heroes, the rest area also contained grave markers of two Arizona police officers, Mark Dryer and Johnny Garcia, who had died in the line of duty.

A nice place for a road trip stop. -- Photo by Pat Bean

A nice place for a road trip stop. — Photo by Pat Bean

After reading all the honorary plaques and informational posters, and pondering their meanings, I finally let myself simply enjoy the landscaped picnic area and the Sacaton Mountains that formed the rest area’s backdrop. What I liked best were the Palo Verde trees with their green trunks and branches.

The Palo Verde is Arizona’s State Tree. Numerous of these trees grow around my Tucson apartment, where they turn the landscape into yellow eye-candy when they blossom in early spring.  Then, depending on the desert’s dicey water situation, they drop some or even all their leaves to conserve moisture. Their green bark can do everything that leaves do, making these trees one of the most drought-tolerant in nature. Appropriately, their name in Spanish simply means green stick.

This second stop of my road trip, where Pepper and I took a short walk taking in the views, reminded me, yet once again, just how amazing Mother Nature is. Don’t you agree? To be continued …

Blog pick of the Day. Check it out.

Blog pick of the Day. Check it out.

Bean Pat: Extraordinary http://tinyurl.com/pzc6svh Beautiful photographs, meaningful words.

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“There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir. We must rise and follow her. When from every hill of flame, she calls and calls each vagabond by name.” — William Bliss Carman

Autumn color in my son Lewis' Texas Gulf Coast front yard. -- Photo by Pat Bean

Autumn color in my son Lewis’ Texas Gulf Coast front yard. — Photo by Pat Bean

            “Listen! The wind is rising, and the air is wild with leaves. We have had our summer evenings, now for October eves!” – Humbert Wolfe

Road Trip Fever

            October is my favorite month of the year. I thought about this while I drank my cream-laced coffee this morning and looked out over the Catalina Foothills from my third-floor balcony.

I slept in until after seven, and so the sun had already crept down the mountain, bathing Mount Lemon and the valley with a warm glow while a brisk October breeze brought the feel and scent of desert freshness, after two days of on and off again showers, to my body and nose. It felt and smelled delicious. From my viewpoint, the valley was dominated by a rustling green sea of tree tops, their verdant hues enhanced by the monsoon rains that visit the Sonoran Desert.

And the color of October in Maine's Scarborough Marsh.  -- Photo by Pat Bean

And the color of October in Maine’s Scarborough Marsh. — Photo by Pat Bean

 

But elsewhere, in higher climes, the aspen trees are turning golden, the maple leaves are burning with fire, and the forests are wearing coats woven of lemon yellows, apple reds, pumpkin oranges and plum purples.

Such splendor calls to my heart. I especially want to see the sun-illuminated glow of aspen leaves as they wink to me in the wind. I’ve got road fever.

So o-dark-hundred tomorrow, I am heading to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon on a route that will take me through some of this country’s most scenic landscapes, which hopefully will be lit up with the colors of autumn.

It will just be me and my canine companion, Pepper. And that’s my favorite way to travel. I’ll tell you all about my trip in upcoming blogs. So stay tuned.

Blog pick of the Day. Check it out.

Blog pick of the Day. Check it out.

Bean Pat: Dreaming in all the right ways http://tinyurl.com/ph982gs Give somebody a hug today, for me.

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“There is only one day left, always starting over: It is given to us at dawn and taken away from us at dusk.” – Jean-Paul Sartre

Daisies dancing in the sunlight. -- Art by Pat Bean

Daisies dancing in the sunlight. — Art by Pat Bean

Lighting up the Catalinas

I walked my canine companion Pepper, still in my pajamas, at o-dark-hundred this morning. It’s a time when few people are about in my large complex. By the time I was back in my apartment, fixed myself a cup of cream-laced coffee, and settled on my bedroom balcony with my journal and a daily to-do list, it was 6 a.m.

While the sun was up, as it had not been for the past two rainy days, it had not yet reached the Catalina Mountains that so comfortingly stand to my north. I smiled, delighted in the knowledge that I would now be graced with an opportunity to watch the sun creep down from their peaks.

butterfly

A butterfly enjoying the sunlight and the flowers. — Art by Pat Bean

And as I watched, my mind wandered back to the many times I had watched this same sun’s rays creep down the red mountains in Zion National Park. I usually visited this, my most special place in the world, in early April, when mornings were often chilling to the bone. Often I would find myself huddling next to a dawn campfire, watching as the golden rays slowly crept down the cliffs, eager for its warmth to reach our valley camp site. Once I sat so close to the fire that I suddenly realized my tennis shoes were melting.

While these days I find my body mostly rooted close to home, my mind is still free to continue wandering all the places I’ve traveled and relive all my adventures. And since I never know what place my memories will take me next, I still have the luxury of being surprised. And surprises were one of the things I liked best about traveling.

Blog pick of the day. Check it out.

Blog pick of the day. Check it out.

Bean Pat: Lettuce Lake http://tinyurl.com/pz9u75b And there’s also the easiness of armchair travel to let me visit places I’ve never been.

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A Bump in the Road

             “Tomorrow hopes we have learned something from yesterday.” – John Wayne

I remember this morning with perfect clarity. That's my youngest daughter and grandson fishing. And the light was just perfect for taking photographs. It's moments like this that make life worth living.

I remember this morning with perfect clarity. That’s my youngest daughter and grandson fishing. And the light was just perfect for taking photographs. It’s moments like this that make life worth living. — Photo by Pat Bean

OUCH!

I have been greatly blessed to have lived a healthy, free-from-physical-pain life. Emotionally, however, I’ve been through the wringer, twisted dry and emerged as sweet-smelling cotton at the end, having learned something from the tears and heartache — and always discovering the silver lining behind the dark clouds in the end.

Another morning brought me the sight of new life, once again emphasizing the importance of the moments in each day. -- Photo by Pat Bean

Another morning brought me the sight of new life, once again emphasizing the importance of the moments in each day. — Photo by Pat Bean

I’m not sure, having been laid low 12 days ago by an attack of back pain, that the outcome for physical hardship will be the same. The good news for now is that I’m on the mend – and once again able to think logically enough to continue on with life – and with this blog, which seems to have turned into a kind of public journal.

Intellectually, I knew the time would come when this old body, so blessed for three-quarters of a century, would get hit by the circle of life. But emotionally, I wasn’t ready. The problem with my back is simply the results of time and living, and, thankfully, with a little medical help, will just be a “bump in the road.” At least that’s what my doctor said, and for now I choose to believe him.

But we both know there will eventually be more bumps ahead.

Thankfully, I live in a time when medicine has answers to keep at least most of the pain at bay. But it’s up to me to make the most of this blessing. It’s sure got me thinking about how I want to spend the rest of my life, as do plan on being around yet for a long time – despite the potholes in the road.

Bean Pat: http://tinyurl.com/q5y57do I took this bloggers words to heart this morning.

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