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“ G**D**! How magnificently, intricate, interwoven and complex this all is. How can we make ourselves worthy of our limited comprehensions of such magnificence?” — George Sibley

Taking on Henry David Thoreau

The complexity of nature means when the water level is low here, wading birds are the prominent species. When it's not so shallow, ducks claim it as their habitat. -- Photo by Pat Bean

The complexity of nature means when the water level is low here, wading birds are the prominent species. When it’s not so shallow, ducks claim it as their habitat. — Photo by Pat Bean

            I’ve long been a fan of Henry David Thoreau, whose quote,- “If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away.” has long been a personal mantra. But after reading his famed book, Walden, I was left with a nagging thought that parts of it were like Jell-O that never set.

It's not a simple thing becoming a plant from a seed. Everything has to work just right. -- Photo by Pat Bean

It’s not a simple thing becoming a plant from a seed. Everything has to work just right. — Photo by Pat Bean

Now I’m all for living a simple life. My daughters sometimes even chastise me because my kitchen gadgets are few and my can opener a manual one. And I’m truly against buying stuff – that lesson was doubly taught me when I got rid of everything to move all my possessions, plus me and my canine companion into a 21-foot motor home. I was amazed at how many things I had two of – and didn’t even know it.

But I don’t want to live in the woods without a bathtub and eat beans. I want to enjoy at least some of the benefits the human race has accomplished in its lifetime.

Even nature is not simple. It’s complex, as I learned as a reporter covering environmental issues.  You try to save one plant or species and you impact another. You practice conservation and you take away somebody’s livelihood. A tragic flood or fire also comes with benefits.

And when it comes to relationships, each one has so many different complexities that you couldn’t even began to count them.

Nope, life is not simple. So we might just as well embrace it, as Sibley pointed out in his essay, featured in the anthology, When in Doubt, Go Higher.

Blog pick of the Day. Check it out.

Blog pick of the Day. Check it out.

Bean Pat: On thin Ice http://tinyurl.com/gl4wgbh My kind of outdoor adventure, especially at my age.

You Call That What?

Abstract painting is abstract. It confronts you. There was a reviewer a while back who wrote that my pictures didn’t have any beginning or any end He didn’t mean it as a compliment, but it was.” – Jackson Pollock

The End of the Cold War, a watercolor I painted when the Berlin Wall fell.

The End of the Cold War, a watercolor I painted when the Berlin Wall fell.

Abstract Art

The above painting wasn’t meant to be abstract art, but a lot of people see it that way. I painted it back when the Berlin Wall came down, and titled it “The End of the Cold War.”

cheeta, abstract 1          It’s an imperfect flower poking its way up through rusting mortar rockets designed for warfare.

It’s one of my favorite paintings, and currently hangs above my bed.

The photograph below, whose hue has been doctored a bit, was inspired by a blog post I read this morning. http://tinyurl.com/z9u2nr8 The post, Travel Theme: Abstract, suggested readers post their own abstract photography. I loved the blogger’s examples and went hunting through my own photos to see what I could find. As I looked, I also glanced up at the painting in my bedroom – and thought it fit the theme as well.

The untouched photo on the left is simply a small section of a photograph I took of a cheetah in Tanzania, and the doctored photograph below is simply river water.

A River of a different hue. -- Photo by Pat Bean

A River of a different hue. — Photo by Pat Bean

Now go find your own abstract art – and if you like, tell me about it.

The Quirks of Fame

“Fame is like a shaved pig with a greased tail, and it is only after it has slipped through the hands of thousands, that some fellow, by mere chance, holds on to it!” – Davy Crockett

Lake Jackson, where I lived for 15 years and where I still have family, is called the City of Enchantment. Being able to see great egrets -- this one was photographed at the city's Sea Center but you can also see them in drainage ditches all over town -- is enchanting. Don't you think?

Lake Jackson, where I lived for 15 years and where I still have family, is called the City of Enchantment. Being able to see great egrets — this one was photographed at the city’s Sea Center, but you can also see them in drainage ditches all over town — is enchanting. Don’t you think? — Photo by Pat Bean

Travel is so Enlightening

On road trips, when I’m driving the back roads that take me through the middle of small towns, I look for the one thing that makes one place stand out from another.

For instance, did you know that Venice, Florida, calls itself the Shark Tooth Capital of the World? People actually visit this quaint, snowbird town to find them, which isn’t hard to do as the tide and waves are constantly bringing shark’s teeth and other fossils up onto the city’s beaches.

Ypsilanti's Dick Brick, errrr Water Tower. -- Wikimedia photo

Ypsilanti’s Dick Brick. Oops,  I mean Water Tower. — Wikimedia photo

Sharks, which have an abundance of teeth to begin with, are continually replacing any that are lost – and a tiger shark, for instance, can produce as many as 24,000 teeth during its lifetime. That’s according to the web site of Sharky’s Shop, an online store where you can buy shark’s teeth if you don’t want to go beach surfing.

The small town of Woodstock, Vermont, which I passed through one rainy day, as were all the days I spent in this Green Mountain State, doubled up on its privileges to fame. It claimed: to be the only town in America with four Paul Revere bells, to be the site of the first ski tow, to be the birthplace of Hiram Powers, the sculptor of “Greek Slave” for which Elizabeth Barrett Browning created a sonnet, and to be the home of railroad empire builder Frederick Billings.

Perhaps the most outrageous claim to fame by a town I’ve visited, however, is the one made by Ypsilanti, where I spent a few days. This Michigan’s town’s brag is that it is home to the “World’s Most Phallic Structure.” That title was won by the city’s 147-foot limestone water tower during Cabinet magazine’s 2003 contest to find the building most resembling a human phallus.

One look at the tower – built in 1890 by someone either with a macho bent or a sense of humor – and I could see why it must have easily won the contest. Locals call it the “Dick Brick.” It’s said that if an Eastern Michigan University student graduates while still a virgin the tower will fall down. Travel is so enlightening.

Then there’s:

Hico, Texas: Where Everybody is Somebody.

Hico, Texas: Where Everybody is Somebody.

Hico, Texas: Where Everybody is Somebody.

Camden, Arkansas: Home of the Grapette.

Hatch, New Mexico: Chili Pepper Capital of the World.

Green River Utah: Watermelon Capital of the World.

Louisville, Kentucky: City of Beautiful Churches.

Aberdeen, Washington: Port of Missing Men

Rumney, New Hampshire: Crutch Capital of the World

Abbeville, Georgia: Wild Hog Capital of Georgia

Belle Glade, Florida: Muck City

St. John, North Dakota: City at the End of the Rainbow. I’ll stop here, but if you are interested in more town nickname trivia check out: http://tinyurl.com/z9odvg6

So what’s your town’s claim to fame?

Blog pick of the Day. Check it out.

Blog pick of the Day. Check it out.

Bean Pat: Have Bag, Will Travel http://tinyurl.com/zodt2r4  This blog appealed to me because I’m always visiting odd museums when I travel. This blog about a visit to one such museum made me laugh.

The List

“Why can’t somebody give us a list of things that everybody thinks and nobody says, and another list of things that everybody says and nobody thinks? – Oliver Wendell Holmes

While writing is usually aways at the top of my daily priority list, piddling with my art jumps around on the list. -- Painting by Pat Bean

While writing is usually aways at the top of my daily priority list, piddling with my art jumps around on the list. — Painting by Pat Bean

It Works for Me

This is the first year in my many, many years of making New Year’s Resolutions that come February, or sometimes just the second day of January, in which I haven’t broken one or all of those promises I made to myself.

And sometimes it's a bird outing that gets the No. I priority. -- Sketch by Pat Bean

And sometimes it’s a bird outing that gets the No. I priority. — Sketch by Pat Bean

This year I made only one resolution, and I haven’t broken it yet. That’s probably because I finally wised up and decided to make a resolution that I truly thought. I could keep. That’s it’s also one that has improved my productivity is even better.

The resolution is simply a promise to myself that I would start every day off with a fresh to-do list, and then prioritize my goals for the day. I do this now while drinking my morning coffee. While I don’t always finish everything on the list, the most important things usually do get accomplished.

It seems like such an easy resolution, but it works for me. And it worked for Annie Dillard, who wrote that “A schedule is a net for catching days.”

First Lady Michelle Obama advises us women to do a “better job of putting ourselves higher on our own lists.” I’ve taken that advice to heart as well, giving in to the whim occasionally that my daily to-do list No. 1 priority is to be lazy or just read for a day. Writing it down has meant that I lose the guilt such a day has always brought, then find that I accomplish more than usual the next day.

I guess I’m finally learning to listen to what my body, as well as my mind, wants.

Only 325 more days to go to complete my New Year’s Resolution.

Blog pick of the Day. Check it out.

Blog pick of the Day. Check it out.

Bean Pat: Bees and Flowers http://tinyurl.com/hebwqhw This is one of my favorite photography blogs.

Karma

             “Just try to do the right thing, and that’s immediate karma. ‘I feel good about myself’. “ – Linda Thompson.

Coming upon a field of flowers is the good karma of a road trip, if you see life as I do. -- Photo by  Pat Bean

Coming upon a field of flowers is the good karma of a road trip, if you see life as I do. — Photo by Pat Bean

Real or Not?

           When a bird is alive it eats ants. When a bird is dead the ants eat it.” This is the best explanation of karma that I can find.

The karma from a bad deed s like touching a cactus. It surely can't feel good. -- Photo by Pat Bean

The karma from a bad deed s like touching a cactus. It surely can’t feel good. — Photo by Pat Bean

The ant quote, and I’m not sure who said it or when I came across it, was one of the many topics on an idea list I keep for blogs. I came across it this morning when I scanned the list because my brain was in down mode. It was a thought that had appealed to me when I wrote it down, and one that still does.

Growing up, I would have been a perfect role model for Pollyanna. I believed right would always triumph in the end. And I kept believing that until my mid-30s, when I had to face the fact that the world is not fair.

To comfort myself for the loss of my rose-colored glasses, I decided that while the world might not be fair, what goes around comes around. And, at least in my dealings with people, I’ve never been let down from this form of karma.

But Linda Thompson, whose quote I just came across today, says it even better. If you do the right thing, or do a good deed, karma is immediate. You feel good about yourself.

Wouldn’t it be nice if the whole world believed this – and acted accordingly?

Blog pick of the Day. Check it out.

Blog pick of the Day. Check it out.

Bean Pat: The Day After http://tinyurl.com/zmssnhd I’ve been humming this song all morning. I liked it when it was at the top of the charts in 1974, and I still like it.

 

Writers on Writing

My writing often starts out like this night's sky. While I'm kind of moonstruck, heading toward the light, the magical way to get there is light years away. -- Photo by Pat Bean

My writing often starts out like this night’s sky. While I’m kind of moonstruck, heading toward the light, the magical way to get there is light years away. — Photo by Pat Bean

“We are the only ones who can tell our stories because we are the only ones who have lived them.” – Susan Wittig Albert*

Words Whisper in my Ear – Or Scream in my Head

The first words I read this morning, as I sipped my cream-laced coffee after taking Pepper out for her first walk of the day, were:

“When you write, you lay out a line of words. The line of words is a writer’s pick, a wood carver’s gouge, a surgeon’s probe. You wield it, and it digs a path you follow. Soon you find yourself deep in new territory. Is it a dead end, or have you located the real subject? You will know tomorrow, or this time next year.”     

       This is the first paragraph in Writing Life by Annie Dillard. Her words felt as if they had picked a line in my brain, as if she had read my mind before writing them. I can’t count the number of times I’ve sat down to write about one thing and ended up writing about something else entirely; then on editing and rewriting my words, I discover it’s the very first, often well-thought out, sentence that requires the deepest knife cut.

Then suddenly the light I was aiming for disappears in a splash of brilliant color, and my writing path is lit by a magical brain wave that lets me know what I'm really writing about. -- Photo by Pat Bean

Then suddenly the light I was aiming for disappears in a splash of brilliant color, and my writing path is lit by a magical brain wave that lets me know what I’m really writing about. — Photo by Pat Bean

My brain thinks differently when I write. And I love it when I discover a writer who can explain the phenomena so well.

My favorite writing quote of all time is:

It is necessary to write, if the days are not to slip emptily by. How else, indeed, to clap the net over the butterfly of the moment? For the moment passes, it is forgotten; the mood is gone; life itself is gone. That is where the writer scores over his fellows: he catches the changes of his mind on the hop.”  — Vita Sackville-West

What writer whispers in your ear, or screams in your head?

 

Blog pick of the Day. Check it out.

Blog pick of the Day. Check it out.

Bean Pat: I am a member of Story Circle Network, which for the past five years has been a tremendous support to me in finding my own writing voice after 37 years of writing with the voice of a journalist. It’s a community of women who have taught me much and never failed to offer an encouraging word. In April, SCN is holding a Stories from the Heart Workshop in Austin, Texas, which is well worth today’s Bean Pat. Check out the details of the conference at: http://www.storycircle.org/Conference/  and if you decide to go, please look me up.

Friends

Kim and me retiring the raft that gave us many years of exciting adventures on the Snake River in Wyoming.

Kim and me retiring the raft that gave us many years of exciting adventures on the Snake River in Wyoming.

“The greatest gift of life is friends.” – Hubert Humphrey

 

Lucky and Blessed Am I

Kim a long-time friend, who now lives a thousand miles away, called yesterday and we talked for hours. And when I hung up, I realized how blessed and lucky I was to have her in my life.

We’ve been friends for over 30 years now. She’s more family to me than some members of my own family.

Kim and me on my 70th birthday, right before we went sky diving together.

Kim and me on my 70th birthday, right before we went sky diving together.

As a person who has lacked roots most of her life, I’ve had friendships that seem to have simply disappeared after a year or so when I moved away. Others, like Kim in Utah and Kris in Idaho, are friendships that have survived the distance. Whenever I talk with, or see, them, it’s as if our conversations just ended the night before and we pick up right where we left off.

I thought about this when I walked my canine companion Pepper at o-dark-hundred this morning beneath a sliver of moon that reminded me of the Cheshire Cat’s grin. Both Kim and Kris are as unlike me as a live oak tree is from a palm tree. But I’ve found over the years that such friends are the best kinds, because each fills in the holes of the other person.

Thinking about how each of these two friendships began, as I am now, is making me giggle. I met Kris after a breakup with my second husband, and at that point in my life was still searching for a male soul mate, as was she. She found hers, and I realized I was sabotaging relationships because I enjoyed being single much more than I had ever enjoyed being married.

Kim came later, after I had given up on ever finding a soul mate and was focusing on outdoor activities, like rafting, skiing, sailing and hiking. Kim, who worked at the same newspaper as I did, was more dedicated to being a single mom than finding a man – and so it was that we found ourselves the only single women at work who weren’t chasing after some man.

And once we started hiking and taking road trips together, the friendship was cemented. Or maybe it was the night we had too much to drink and pledged we would get tattoos, then both reneged the next morning when we came to our senses.

Whenever I count my blessings, I always include Kris and Kim. As I said, I’m a very lucky and blessed woman. I hope you are, too. 

Blog pick of the Day. Check it out.

Blog pick of the Day. Check it out.

        

Bean Pat: The Paths of the Spirit http://tinyurl.com/zofb836 Sleepers are quiet. Lovely post that left me with lots to think about.

Art: American Bittern

Painting by Pat Bean

Painting by Pat Bean

“The purpose of art is washing the dust of daily life off our souls.” –Picasso

            “A picture is a poem without words.” – Horace

Hiding in Plain Sight

An American bittern in its natural habitat. -- Wikimedia photo

An American bittern in its natural habitat. — Wikimedia photo

I haven’t seen many American bitterns, but the ones I have seen have all been surprises. By that, I mean that I usually had stared at a weedy patch of grass in shallow water for some time before seeing this wading bird.

And then I only saw it because it moved.

The American bittern is one of my favorite birds, perhaps because it’s striped feathers are in themselves art.

Nature is often hidden, sometimes overcome, seldom extinguished. – Francis Bacon      

Blog pick of the Day. Check it out.

Blog pick of the Day. Check it out.

Bean Pat: Daily Echo http://tinyurl.com/jt9r6rx Meeting on the Moor. My kind of walk.

Nature: Winter Trees

Winter gives this tree a stark beauty that spoke to me. -- Photo by Pat Bean

Winter gives this tree a stark beauty that spoke to me. — Photo by Pat Bean

            “If you look closely at a tree you’ll notice it’s knots and dead branches, just like our bodies. What we learn is that beauty and imperfection go together wonderfully. – Matthew Fox

I didn't realize until I got home and compared my photos with ones I had taken earlier at Arivaca Cienega that the same tree had spoken to me when it was decked out in spring finery. -- Photo by Pat Bean

I didn’t realize until I got home and compared my photos with ones I had taken earlier at Arivaca Cienega that the same tree had spoken to me when it was decked out in spring finery.  — Photo by Pat Bean

There’s Beauty in Starkness

            I took a friend and her dog with me and my canine companion Pepper this past weekend to hike the Arivaca-Cienega trail 70 miles southeast of Tucson. It’s an important birding area, and a place where I’ve hiked before, only in the months when everything was lush and verdant..

I realized, looking at the naked branches of trees on the narrow, winding and rough backroad that we traveled to get there, that today was going to be different. It was winter and the color green was almost nowhere to be found.

But as before, beauty was around every corner. It was just different, a starkness that let you see deeper into the heart and soul and bones of Mother Nature.

It was an awesome day, even though we got there late and the birds were taking a nap somewhere out of sight. The exception was a pair of greater roadrunners that scurried across the road ahead of us as we headed back to Tucson.

I will return… Perhaps I can catch the tree in autumn.

Blog pick of the Day. Check it out.

Blog pick of the Day. Check it out.

Bean Pat: Open Suitcase http://tinyurl.com/zohd9u6 Take an armchair train ride through Africa.

Turtle Rock at Dinosaur National Monument in Utah.

Turtle Rock at Dinosaur National Monument in Utah.

            “The world is big and I want to have a good look at it before it gets dark.” – John Muir

 

A Turtle and a Lizard

One Saturday morning back in January of 1999, I woke up at o-dark-hundred feeling lazy and bored after a heavy-duty work week. My first inclination, as I noted in my journal that morning and reread for the first time this morning, was to turn over and go back to sleep. That, however, was quickly followed by the words “road trip” jumbling around in my brain.

Lizard petroglyph at ; Dinosaur National Monument, Utah

Lizard petroglyph at ; Dinosaur National Monument, Utah

Knowing which of those two thoughts would reinvigorate me more, my then canine companion Peaches and I set out on a day trip to Dinosaur National Monument, a mere 250 miles away from my Ogden, Utah, home. .

We left in time to see what I think is the most magical moment of the day, those seconds between night and dawn when the world is all gray and silvery and the world recatches its breath – and so do I. But we missed it because of the bright street lights on Harrison Boulevard as we exited the city. I was disappointed, but I consoled myself by knowing the day was young and there were still magical moments ahead that I wouldn’t miss. It’s the same feeling I have at the start of any road trip – and I’ve never been disappointed.

Among the sights I recorded on the drive to the dinosaur quarry were a farmer feeding his cows, snow in Echo Canyon and ice fishermen out on Strawberry Reservoir. I stopped in Heber for breakfast, where I was waited on by a grandmotherly woman who sweetly called me honey. Her words took me back to my Southern-raised origins.

There was more snow after Heber, but the road was mostly a sandy slush as the snowplows had already been out. I passed a guy rubbing snow on his car’s windshield to clear it, and was thankful my wipers and windshield fluid were keeping mine clean. The windshied fluid, however, ran out just as I was coming into Duchesne, where thankfully I stopped at a gas station and replaced it so I could see clearly again.

Just a few of the 1,500 or so dinosaur bones on display at the monument's enclosed quarry exhibit.  -- Photo by Pat Bean

Just a few of the 1,500 or so dinosaur bones on display at the monument’s enclosed quarry exhibit. — Photo by Pat Bean

After Duchesne, it was sunny and bright all the way to the Dinosaur Monument, which was located east of Roosevelt. On arriving, I didn’t spend too much time looking at the actual bones of dinosaurs exposed by diggers in the quarry. I was more in the mood to explore the 10-mile Tilted Rocks Road, which is rife with petroglyphs and pictographs, and scenic views of Split Mountain, which a few years earlier I had rafted past on the Green River.

It was memories of a quick drive on this stretch many years earlier that had been in my mind as destination for this morning’s spur-of-the-moment road trip. And this time, as I had not earlier because someone else was in charge, I was able to leisurely enjoy the drive at my own pace. I stopped often to get closer up views of the wall paintings and landscape. I saw mule deer, rabbits and visited a shelter site that may have first been used over 9,000 years ago.

The views of Turtle Rock and the Lizard on the Rock were two of my favorite sightings. They held the magic for me that made up for missing the gray still seconds between day and night.

I didn’t pull back into my driveway until well after dark, and after encountering more snow in the mountains. It had been an invigorating road trip, and I didn’t feel lazy or bored anymore; nor did Peaches, who enjoyed a good romp in the snow on our return drive.

Blog pick of the Day. Check it out.

Blog pick of the Day. Check it out.

Bean Pat: Glenrosa Journeys http://tinyurl.com/htmsjfj Do a bit of bird watching with Candace.