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Anything one man can imagine, other men can make real.” – Jules Verne

            “Energy rightly applied and directed will accomplish anything.” Nellie Bly’s motto.

This time last year I was traveling the Blue Ridge Parkway, and thankfully wasn't trying to set any records. I took eight days to drive the  scenic parkway's 469 miles. -- Photo by Pat Bean

This time last year I was traveling the Blue Ridge Parkway, and thankfully wasn’t trying to set any records. I took eight days to drive the scenic parkway’s 469 miles. — Photo by Pat Bean

Or 44 Hours and Six Minutes

Jules Verne believed, back in the early 1870s, that transportation had progressed to the point that a man could travel around the world in less than three months. His fictional character, Phileas Fogg, proved it – in the author’s classic novel, “Around the World in 80 Days,” which is one of my favorite travel books.

Nellie Bly as she began her record-setting 1889 around-the-world trip. -- Wikimedia photo

Nellie Bly as she began her record-setting 1889 around-the-world trip. — Wikimedia photo

In reality, in 1985, famed female reporter Nellie Bly, also known as Elizabeth Cochrane Seaman, put Fogg’s record to the test – and beat it. Her around the world adventure was accomplished in 72 days and six hours. Nellie’s one of my favorite travelers.

But Bly didn’t hold the record for long, and over the years the days dwindled to just hours for a complete circumvention of the globe. The record, as a passenger on scheduled airline flights, for the around-the-world trip, was set in 1980 by David Springbett. With the help of the supersonic Concorde, he made the trip in 44 hours and six minutes. The record still stands.

While I would love to follow in Fogg’s or Bly’s footsteps, Springbett’s is a bit too fast for me. There would be no time to enjoy the journey.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about this around the world thing, perhaps because I’m caught up in reading the adventures of three 28-year-old New York career women who took a year off to travel the world. The book is called “The Lost Girls,” and it’s by Jennifer Baggett, Holly Corbett and Amanda Pressner.

If you’re into travel books by adventurous women, I’m sure you will like this one.

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

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

Bean’s Pat: Ordinary People http://tinyurl.com/mcuwn5s They don’t exist.

Dove on a Wire

            “How come the doe gets to be the peace symbol? How about the pillow? It has more feather than the dove, and it doesn’t have that dangerous beak.” – Jack Handy

A white-winged dove that watched Pepper and I take a walk this morning. -- Photo by Pat Bean

A white-winged dove that watched Pepper and I take a walk this morning. — Photo by Pat Bean

Just Pondering?

Even John James Audubon depicted a crow as looking a little wicked. Don't you agree.

Even John James Audubon depicted a crow as looking a little wicked. Don’t you agree.

Why is a crow seen as evil and a dove seen as pure? Who made this decision? As a passionate bird-watcher, I enjoy watching crows as much as doves. Maybe even more, because crows are smarter.

And why is a group of doves called a flight and a group of crows a murder?

The Highways of Life

Oops! I think I turned wrong somewhere. == Photo by Pat Bean

Oops! I think I turned wrong somewhere. — Photo by Pat Bean

“I can’t change the direction of the wind, but I can adjust my sails to reach my destination.”  — Jimmy Dean

Should I Turn South — Or West?

Have you ever felt that you knew exactly where you were going, and then suddenly discovered you were headed in the wrong direction?

Should I hike the high trail or the low trail? Perhaps I should do both. -- Photo by Pat Bean

Should I hike the high trail or the low trail? Perhaps I should do both. — Photo by Pat Bean

This happens to me a lot. And I’m not  talking about making a wrong turn when traveling down the road – although I certainly do that a lot, too.

Life has taken me down many paths, some not so pretty, but all educational. Some paths presented themselves because of decisions I made – or didn’t make, which in itself is a decision. Some were made for me because I let someone else lead.

Today, the only person who takes the lead away from me is my canine companion, Pepper – when I take her for a walk. So I have no one to blame for where I end up than myself.

But lately, I’ve not been quite so sure that I’ve been heading in the right direction, although there is certainly nothing wrong with the path I’m on. Perhaps it’s just because life has taught me that the more paths I explore, the more I enjoy life.

I guess I’m one of those people who believe Ursula K. Le Guin’s quote – which is permanently on my blog site — “It is good to have an end to journey toward; but it is the journey that matters.”

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

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

Bean’s Pat: Life in Edit Mode http://tinyurl.com/kk6hmhz I laughed at the cartoon, and am now thinking, as I’m at the final rewriting process of Travel with Maggie, which has come down to the nitty-gritty dotting of every I and crossing of every T, that I need just such a muse.

Soapbox Rant

     “I rant, therefore I am.” – Dennis Millier

On the other hand, “Computers and the Internet have made it really easy to rant. It’s made everyone overly opinionated.” – Scott Weiland

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This photo has nothing to do with this blog. I just needed a piece of Mother Nature to remind me that the world is beautiful. — Photo by Pat Bean

A Disney Decision

I’ve been angry all week about our incompetent elected leaders who aren’t intelligent or caring enough to keep the government operating. Perhaps they’re telling us we can do without them.

But just thinking about politics makes my blood pressure jump, which is why I didn’t need to read that Disney is taking an action that would personally affect my severely autistic granddaughter. It also made my blood pressure soar.

Instead of allowing disabled children to jump ahead in lines, Disney will now give them a return time for the ride. While that may be fine for many, it’s not for my granddaughter and others like her, who don’t understand the concept of wait, and who aren’t calm when having to wait. For them, this is a travesty.

But it’s not Disney that I blame. I blame the thousands and thousands of people who have fraudulently taken advantage of this perk, which is the reason for Disney’s decision to change it.

These are the same people who fraudulently use handicapped parking spaces, cheat on their taxes, play hooky from work by saying they are sick when they are not, and who wouldn’t return money to the person they saw drop it. If something benefits them, and they can get away with it, then they do it.

And in the end, everyone pays the price.

Not only have we been setting bad examples for our children,  it’s these same children who grow up to be our country’s leaders.

Bean’s Pat: This helped to calm me down. I do dream and I do imagine: http://tinyurl.com/dgmokv

This Bird’s Not a Wizard

 

This great photo of a Merlin in pursuit of a blue jay was taken by John Harrison who put it up on Wikimedia. You can see his photos at:  http://flickr.com/photos/15512543@N04/

This great photo of a Merlin in pursuit of a blue jay was taken by John Harrison who put it up on Wikimedia.

 

“Whatever you think you can do or believe you can do, begin it. Action has magic, grace and power in it.” – Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Yet I Think It’s Magical

I had been seeing this dark bird shape flash overhead for several days, but hadn’t got a good enough look to identify it. Solving the mystery of what bird I’m observing is part of my bird-watching passion.

A close up look at a merlin. -- Wikimedia photo

A close up look at a merlin. — Wikimedia photo

It was mourning dove size, but it flew nothing like a dove. I thought it flew like a hawk but it was too small for the Cooper’s hawks that have been keeping the apartment complex company all year.

The brief glimpses I had of the bird were tantalizingly frustrating. It would fly overhead past me, and by the time I looked up after seeing its shadow, it had disappeared into the trees.

Merlins, before they grew up and became majestic birds of prey. -- Wikimedia photo

Merlins, before they grew up and became majestic birds of prey. — Wikimedia photo

Finally a few mornings ago, as I sat drinking my cream-laced coffee and watching dawn break, I identified it as a merlin. It whizzed past my third floor balcony at eye level, probably after one of the small song birds that had been flitting around waiting to catch the morning sun, too.

Merlins are not year-round residents of the Tucson area, but they do migrate through and winter here, according to my birding field guide. Since I haven’t seen the merlin in the past couple of days, and since it’s not yet winter, I suspect it was just passing through on its way farther south.

With all the small birds around the complex, it probably decided this was a good place to fuel up. Merlins, according to Cornell University’s ornithological web site, rely on speed and agility to hunt their prey. The merlins often hunt by flying fast and low, using trees and large shrubs to take prey by surprise. While they actually capture most birds in flight, they will also tail-chase a bird to catch it.

. While not a lifer, I’ve only been able to identify this member of the falcon family a few times. But bird experts say the merlin is becoming more numerous in urban areas, so perhaps there are more “magical” merlin sightings in my future.

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

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

Bean’s Pat: Ian Butler Photographer http://tinyurl.com/ledqorr Great photo of a dunlin for all you birders out there.

 

   “You know, people talk about this being an uncertain time. You know, all time is uncertain. I mean it was uncertain back in – in 2007, we just didn’t know it was uncertain. It was – uncertain on December 10th, 2001. It was uncertain on October 18th, 1987, you just didn’t know it.” – Warren Buffet

I want to think of September as the beginning of my favorite time of year -- but now I know it has to be shared with 9/11.

I want to think of September as the beginning of my favorite time of year — but now I know it has to be shared with 9/11. — Photo by Pat Bean

I Let the Month Pass Purposely

Nine/Eleven: A word that once was only the numbers one called in an emergency. Now, 9/11 has become a synonym for pain, anger, tragedy, loss, and images of two toppling towers, a violated Pentagon, and a plane crash in which both villains and heroes died.

The first sign of autumn from my balcony window. -- Photo by Pat Bean

The first sign of autumn from my balcony window. — Photo by Pat Bean

Perhaps that is why I’m suddenly realizing I lost what has always been my best month of the year, the one that ushers in my favorite season of the year, autumn. I realized my loss when I wrote down the date in my journal this morning and the unthinking passage of time was hammered into my brain.

It’s not unusual for me to let time slip by too fast without thought, but this feels different. I saw people blogging about the terrorist attack earlier this month, and decided both not to read those blogs, not to think about their content, and certain not to write a similar one of my own .

I was a newspaper city editor on that fateful day back in 2001, and the job had immersed me in giving local meaning of the tragedy event to the paper’s 65,000 readers. I had followed up the next year in overseeing and writing a memorial series on 9/11.

Enough was enough, I had thought this year when I thought to ignore the day. I want my cup to be half full not half empty. I want to remember happier days. And so I let September slip me by.

But now I’m remembering, and as I write this my eyes are becoming moist. I guess I wasn’t meant to forget.

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

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

Bean’s Pat: At least this blogger kept his eyes open to the joys of September http://tinyurl.com/ma4mmeq

Beautiful and Thorny

            “Some people are always grumbling because roses have thorns; I am thankful that thorns have roses.” – Alphonse Karr

Pink and yellow and thorny. -- Photo by Pat Bean

Pink and yellow and thorny. — Photo by Pat Bean

It’s a Good Combination

When you’ve reached the seventh decade of life, you begin to notice patterns: The sun comes up and goes down every morning, even if its hidden by clouds; women are attracted to men with a bit of wildness in their character — and then expect to tame them; and being too nice a person usually means one ends up getting taken advantage of even by good people.

How many times have you been pricked by a rose bush thorn? -- Photo by Pat Bean

How many times have you been pricked by a rose bush thorn? — Photo by Pat Bean

The latter is because people treat us the way we allow them to treat us. It took me way too long to discover this fact.

But I finally noticed that prickly people – I’m not talking cantankerous or mean here – get along well in life. Perhaps it’s because most of us prefer a bit of spice instead of too much sugar. If I hadn’t been so intent on ignoring everything about my mother for so long, I might have come to this conclusion much earlier in life. She could be a bit snarly at times yet, I was astonished to see, my kids adored her.

This prickly business seems to be a natural part of life, especially when it comes to nature. Some of the most beautiful flowers have thorns. I wonder if that’s to protect them, or to make us work a bit to enjoy them.

That’s another thing the years have taught me. Nature has a lot of good advice to give if I will just open my eyes to see it, and my mind to accept it.

The Wondering Wanderer's blog pick of the day.

The Wondering Wanderer’s blog pick of the day.

Bean’s Pat: Delicious Autumn  http://tinyurl.com/ll8s442  This looks exactly how I like to travel. Perhaps I’m getting homesick for the road

Watching the Sun Come Up

The best way to start a morning is to watch the sun come up. Or so us early-risers believe. -- Photo by Pat Bean

The best way to start a morning is to watch the sun come up. Or so us early-risers believe. — Photo by Pat Bean

   “Morning is when the wick is lit. A flame ignited, the day delighted with heat and light, we start the fight for something more than before.” – Jeb Dickerson

On the opposite side of the landscape from the sunrise, Mount Lemmon was set afire by the sun's first rays. --Photo by Pat Bean

On the opposite side of the landscape from the sunrise, Mount Lemmon was set afire by the sun’s first rays. –Photo by Pat Bean

Morning Walk with Pepper   

Miss Pepper takes in her dessert surroundings as the sun sets the Palo Verde trees in background aglow. -- Photo by Pat Bean

Miss Pepper takes in her desert surroundings as the sun sets the Palo Verde trees in the background aglow. — Photo by Pat Bean

          Most of my working days for a newspaper began before the sun came up. Often I was the first one to make an appearance in the newsroom. And if not, I still usually found things dark and quiet.

It didn’t help my popularity that I would turn on all the lights and cheerfully tell whoever had come in early, most likely to finish a story before deadline, a cheery good morning. Not everyone enjoys getting up before the sun.

But I do,  and this morning was one of those magical ones, the kind that stirs my soul and makes it quiver with delight.

Pepper and I were on the short desert trail near our apartment in time to watch the final  vestiges of last’s night full moon disappear as  the sun crept up over a ridge, shooting rainbows of color as it topped the landscape.

Life is good.

The Wondering Wanderer's blog pick of the day.

The Wondering Wanderer’s blog pick of the day.

Bean’s Pat: Daily W(rite) http://tinyurl.com/qaqqvr6  Advice from a  artist blogger and Ray Bradbury: Just do it. I sort of think the piece of colorful and cheery art accompanying this blog expresses my feelings about mornings.

Bluebird of Happiness

  “The Bluebird of Happiness long absent from his life, Ned is visited by the Chicken of Depression.” – Gary Larson

Three Choices 

Male mountain bluebird. Have you ever seen anything bluer? -- Wikipedia photo

Male mountain bluebird. Have you ever seen anything bluer? — Wikipedia photo

           North America has three bluebirds, an eastern, a western and the mountain bluebird. My tiny blue, glass figurine that represents the symbol of happiness — which is still hidden somewhere in the bins I stored away before taking to the road in my RV — most certainly represents the mountain variety. I hope I find it soon.

A mountain bluebird’s feathers, in my experience, are the bluest of blues. So blue that I was startled the day I first saw one. It seemed to sparkle in the cool, high mountain air where a recent snowfall had frosted the spruces and firs.

It was April 10, 1999. The day is etched in my memory because it was the day I began a passionate love affair with all birds – from the gigantic California condor, whose recovery from near extinction I have often wrote about, to the tiny calliope who once flashed me with its brilliant purple neck feathers.

This is an eastern bluebird that I photographed in the Natchez Trace as he sat on the rearview mirror of my RV. Hes cute, too, isn't he? == Photo by Pat Bean

This is an eastern bluebird that I photographed in the Natchez Trace as he sat on the rearview mirror of my RV. He’s cute, too, isn’t he? — Photo by Pat Bean

I’ve seen many mountain bluebirds since then, including at least 300 the time I was driving Highway 95 through the Glen Canyon Recreation Area. For about 10 miles of the drive, small flocks of the birds flittered along the roadside as I passed them by. I occasionally pulled off the road for a better look through my binoculars. The red-rock settings of the canyon made the blue feathers of the bird stand out — and glitter like stars on a dark night away from city lights.

Once, I participated in an Audubon check of bluebird boxes near the top of Monte Cristo in Northern Utah. During one of the nest box inspections, the leader of this long-term project was dive-bombed by two agitated bird parents as he unscrewed the top of the box so we could all check what was inside. I held my breath as I observed six baby mountain bluebirds with developing soft smoky gray feathers. It was truly a magical moment, especially when we all retreated and the parents saw that their babies were unharmed.

And so was the moment I had yesterday, when I observed my first mountain bluebird in the foothills of the Catalina Mountains, which are now my backyard.

The Wondering Wanderer's blog pick of the day.

The Wondering Wanderer’s blog pick of the day.

Bean’s Pat: 23 Thorns http://tinyurl.com/qbdv4fk I started this blog because it was titled Baobab Tree. I can’t resist trees — or blogs about them. But the blog talked about a lot more than trees, including rhinos and fish eagles, and I was fascinated and charmed by the conversation, lengthy though it was – and with more to come. .

The joys of being the first female editor to invade the editors' meeting at the Standard-Examiner in Ogden, Utah.

The joys of being the first female editor to invade the editors’ meeting at the Standard-Examiner in Ogden, Utah.

Managing to Survive my First Job as an Editor

            When I sold my home in 2004, and rid myself of almost all my possessions so I could spend the next leg of my life’s journey traveling this country in a small RV,  I packed away the few things I couldn’t part with in bins, which eventually ended up here in Tucson with my youngest daughter.

I just retrieved those bins and have been reliving the memories they hold. One of these had me belly laughing until I almost peed myself. It was a printout of an AP photo that had been posted on the board at an editors’ meeting, my first venture into what until then had been an all-male domain— I should note that the year was 1980 when women were just beginning to make themselves a force to be reckoned with in the working world.

On my first day in attendance as an editor at the meeting, one of the macho male newspaper editors boomed out: “OK guys. We all have to watch our language now. We have a lady present.”

I still journal and scrapbook. These 2 pages are from the Nana's Day celebration my daughter's family gave me for Grandparents Day.

I still journal and scrapbook. These 2 pages are from the Nana’s Day celebration my daughter’s family gave me for Grandparents Day.

Perhaps he didn’t mean his words as a put-down, but I took them that way. I didn’t want to be treated different, or special, because of my gender, especially not when I was fighting for equal pay for equal work. While I never cuss (unless you count the S word, and back then not even that) I flared back with: “That’s right. You #$%^&**” guys.”  I didn’t spare the offensive adjectives. “Watch your language.”

They all laughed, but I think they got my message. At least there were no similar comments, or vulgar words either, in future editor meetings.

There did, however, continue to be sexism actions from the photographers, who posted the day’s  picture selections on a presentation board. Almost every day there would be a cheesecake photo – one time it was Miss Nude America – that had no chance in a zillion of making it into our family-oriented newspaper.

Finally,  I piped up: “OK. Fair is fair. What about some beefcake tomorrow?”

The above photo, with stickers identifying me as the blonde, and the caption: “Lets get this editors’ meeting over with, made the presentation board the next day.  Everyone laughed, including me. I do have a sense of humor. In fact, I loved the joke so much that  I swiped the photo printout and put it into my scrapbook. It still makes me laugh.

The upshot of my beefcake request, meanwhile, is that there were no more cheesecake photos brought into the editors’ meeting. Sometimes you just have to tackle issues by way of a back door.

And always scrapbook, so that memories, and belly laughs,  can be relived.

Bean’s Pat:  Totsy Mae http://tinyurl.com/ll74neu  I absolutely adore this artist’s fantastic watercolors.