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             “What makes the desert beautiful is that somewhere it hides a well.” – Antoine de Saint-Exupery

I wondered if this balloon was going to get high enough to miss the wires. It did. -- Photo by Pat Bean

I wondered if this balloon was going to get high enough to miss the wires. It did. — Photo by Pat Bean

Adjusting to a New Life

            After exiting, but not abandoning, my nine-year RV home, Gypsy Lee, in an apartment complex parking lot, I wondered if I had chosen the right place to put down a few roots.

Balloons are a familiar sight over Tucson. -- Photo by Pat Bean

Balloons are a familiar sight over Tucson. — Photo by Pat Bean

            I was still remembering how claustrophobic I had felt after purchasing my last rooted home back in Ogden, Utah, in which I had spent seven years before moving into Gypsy Lee.

            Right up until the last few months, when this old body decided it needed a bit more space and a few conveniences Gypsy Lee didn’t have, I never felt more at home than I did when traveling across this beautiful country. The road truly felt like home and the place I should be.

            I had thought when I retired that I would have about five years on the road before I would need to settle down again. I almost doubled that. I also thought that I would find a place that would call out to me as being my next home. It never did.  

            I suspected I would end up in my native Texas, where most of my children and grandchildren live, and started looking, and continued doing so for almost a year. I found nothing that met my requirements – nice, dog friendly, large bath tub, light and airy, and near town conveniences but with a place to walk – that either appealed to me or was in my measly price range.  

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            When I started looking in Tucson, where my youngest daughter lives and where I was headed to spend this past Christmas, I found what I had been looking for instantly, with the bonus of it being located at the foot of the Catalina Mountains.

            But almost as soon as I had moved into my new, small, third-floor apartment, I broke my foot and also began having doubts if I had made the right decision.

            A pair of Cooper’s hawks nesting in a tree in one of the apartment’s courtyards helped convince me — I’m a passionate birder — that I had, as did the beautiful view I have of Mount Lemmon to the north and the beautiful sunrises that have brightened almost all my mornings.

            I never thought I would live in the desert and like it. But I’m slowly beginning to think of Tucson as home.

            I’m especially enjoying a landscape where giant saguaro cacti — including one here at the apartment that is home to a pair of Gila Woodpeckers – dominate the landscape, and where it is not unusual to look up and see hot air balloons gliding by.           

The Wondering Wanderer's blog pick of the day.

The Wondering Wanderer’s blog pick of the day.

   Bean’s Pat: Basil the Hippo http://tinyurl.com/cq9x969 I fell in love with this story – and Basil.

             “Every man’s life ends the same way. It is only the details of how he lived and how he died that distinguish one man from another.” Ernest Hemingway.

The Blanco River, Colorado. Notice how the details of light against shadow, hard rocks against flowing water are what make this an appealing picture. -- Photo bu Pat Bean

The Blanco River, Colorado. Notice how the details of light against shadow, hard rocks against flowing water are what make this an appealing picture. — Photo bu Pat Bean

   

Some Details I Love, Some I Flunk

My RV was parked by the Blanco River pictured above at one of my favorite RV parks. I loved the river but I also loved the little details around the park, like this charming owl painted on a rock that gave the campground character. Photo by Pat Bean

My RV was parked by the Blanco River pictured above at one of my favorite RV parks. I loved the river but I also loved the little details around the park, like this charming owl painted on a rock that gave the campground character. Photo by Pat Bean

            “The true secret of happiness lies in taking a genuine interest in all the details of daily life.” – William Morris

            I struggled this past three days trying to finish up a magazine writing assignment that required me to stick a lot of facts into only 750 words. In one way it was writer’s block, which thankfully I seldom suffer, but in another way it wasn’t.

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This turtle was yet another detail that made the park stand out from the ordinary. — Photo by Pat Bean

            While I had a multitude of facts, I knew that it was the little details – the funny, the weird, the human touch – that were missing from my story. Without those, my article was cold, boring and flat. I knew I had to dig some of these out and somehow make them fit into few words.

            Finding out the details of a thing, in the same way that Ann Zwinger did in one of my favorite travel books, “Downcanyon,” in which she brought the Grand Canyon down to bug and flower size, is part of why I love being a writer.

            I think it’s also why I love birdwatching so much. It’s the little details of eye rings, feet color, head shape, tail length, etc., that allow one to identify a bird. It’s sort of like finding the solution to a mystery book, which is why I enjoy reading mysteries.  

            On the other hand, the details of daily life, like balancing a checkbook,  remembering birthdays, putting everything back in its proper place, proper punctuation, or coordinating errands are details I sometimes flunk.

The Wondering Wanderer's blog pick of the day.

The Wondering Wanderer’s blog pick of the day.

Bean’s Pat: A Song for Today http://tinyurl.com/c88458q I started my day with this blog and Fleetwood Mac song. “Go My Own Way.” What I liked best about it was how much fun the band members were having performing it.

Bookish Wednesday

Bookish Wednesday

            “The books that help you most are those which make you think the most. The hardest way of learning is that of easing reading; but a great book that comes from a great thinker is a ship of thought, deep freighted with truth and beauty.”  — Pablo Neruda

Even though it was in the early hours of the morning when I got to sleep last night, I was up in time to take this picture of the moon over Tucson this morning which by the way is not photo-shopped. It's pure Mother Nature at her best.   -- Photo by Pat Bean

Even though it was in the early hours when I got to sleep last night, I was up in time to take this picture of the moon over Tucson this morning ,which by the way is not photo-shopped. It’s Mother Nature at her best. — Photo by Pat Bean

The Joy of Finding a New Author

            I’m persnickety about the books I read, and it gets worse every year. Mostly I read mysteries, fantasies, travel and memoir. And lately I’ve been having a dry spell of finding books that don’t sound like ones I’ve read before, are well-written (That’s a must for me) and make me think.

            I got into fantasy about 10 years ago because there’s room for these stories to surprise me. Two and two doesn’t always have to add up to four when you experience a different world.

            Mysteries have always been a favorite because they present a puzzle. I want to be able to arrive at who-done-it before the final page, but not too far before.   

Mount McKinley in Denali National Park in Alaska.

Mount McKinley in Denali National Park in Alaska.

         Setting and character are also important for me. And I always  want to learn something.

            I know that’s asking a lot, but I’m been fortunate in finding a lot of authors who do it my way. The problem is that when I find one who does, I go on a reading binge and read just about everything they write. For example, I discovered Blaize Clement’s cat sitter books – light reading but rich in characterization, including the cats and dogs – and read all six of her books in two weeks.

            It took me several months to get through Robin Hobbs’ fantasy trilogies, and now I’m impatiently waiting for her fourth book in her Rain Wilds series to be released.

            Within the past year, I got turned onto Patricia Biggs’ Mercy Thompson series. This was a brand new fantasy genre for me, as I’ve been more into the classic dragon tales than werewolves and vampires. But I was hooked and once again, in a short time had read everything she had written.

            So it was with great delight that I discovered a new author yesterday, Dana Stabenow, who I saw had 21 books in her mystery series featuring Kate Shugat. Staying power, I hoped, was a good indication of good books. I started with Book One, “A Cold Day for a Murder.”

            I had my fingers cross when I started reading. I knew I had found a winner when I didn’t put the book down until the wee hours of the morning. The setting is Alaska, and Kate is a gritty character, an Aleut, that fits the wild Alaska park setting. I’m sure I’ll finish the book before I go to sleep tonight – and then I have 20 more to go. Yea!!

            “A room without a book is like a body without a soul.” – Cicero

            Bean’s Pat Volcano http://tinyurl.com/bk3qk92 While I like this photo, the story behind it is what intrigued me most.

 

 

War on Brown Tree Snakes

 

You can still enjoy a beautiful sunset on Guam, but the tropicl island is almost devoid of birds. -- Wikipedia photo

You can still enjoy a beautiful sunset on Guam, but the tropicl island is almost devoid of birds. — Wikipedia photo

“It is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent that survives. It is the one that is the most adapable to change.” — Charles Darwin.

What Do You Think?

          As a hiker, I’ve seen many a snake, from 27 canyon rattlers in one day in the Grand Canyon to a small coral snake at Texas’ Santa Ana State National Wildlife Refuge that a stupid birder picked up — and of  course was bitten.

The brown tree snake that has killed of the birds on Guam.

The brown tree snake that has killed of the birds on Guam.

       I’ve always left snakes alone, appreciating their contributions to the ecosystem, especially that of keeping rodent populations in check.

          The only exception was a poisonous copperhead that I discovered in my Gulf Coast backyard.  That one got chopped into a dozen pieces by the nearby hoe I grabbed because a vision of one of my young children being bitten flashed through my head.

          So why would I now rejoice after reading this morning that brown tree snakes, which are not poisonous, are going to be killed by the thousands on Guam?

          It’s because since World War II, when these snakes hitched a ride on U.S.planes and ships to Guam, these nasty critters have killed off almost all of the tropical island’s birds. As a passionate birdwatcher, I was infected with a personal vendetta against these slithery critters after visiting Guam a few years back. The silence of the trees, from which a symphony of bird song did not ring,was deafening with the significance of the horror.

The bird sanctuary on Rota where I got to watch birds, including the magnificent red-footed boobies, to my heart's content.

The bird sanctuary on Rota where I got to watch birds, including the magnificent red-footed boobies, to my heart’s content.

Thankfully, my daughter, who was living on Guam at the time, treated me to a few days’ stay on the nearby island of Rota. Never had bird song sounded so sweet when it greeted us as we stepped off the plane. It made, however, the lack of birdsong on Guam seem even more tragic.

          You can read all about the plans to poison the brown tree snakes with a simple human headache remedy at:  http://tinyurl.com/bj3dbhh

            I suspect, however, that Guam’s bird population will never recover. But hopefully other tropical islands will be spared the loss of their birds.

            What do you think?

The Wondering Wanderer's blog pick of the day.

The Wondering Wanderer’s blog pick of the day.

Bean’s Pat: A discussion for the writers among us http://tinyurl.com/af8mulh  And once again I ask: What do you think?

            “If I know a song of Africa, of the giraffe and the African new moon lying on her back, of the plows in the fields and the sweaty faces of the coffee pickers, does Africa know a song of me? Will the air over the plain quiver with a color that I have had on, or the children invent a game in which my name is, or the full moon throw a shadow over the gravel of the drive that was like me, or will the eagles of the Ngong Hills look out for me?” – Isak Dinesen, “Out of Africa”

Following the leader forward. -- Photo by Pat Bean

Following the leader forward. — Photo by Pat Bean

Africa

Balloon ride over the Serengeti: OK, which way is forward? -- Photo by Pat Bean

Balloon ride over the Serengeti: OK, which way is forward? — Photo by Pat Bean

            The first image that popped into my mind when I saw that “forward”  was the photo challenge topic this week were the long line of elephants that I watched trudge forward  in Kenya’s Amboseli National Park. What an amazing sight..

            Then I thought about how the native guides were always going forward in search of Africa’s exotic wildlife to give me and my friend, Kim, the best possible safari experiences they could. They did well.

Holding my breath until this baby moves forward and rejoins his mom and brother -- Photo by Pat Bean

Holding my breath until this baby moves forward and rejoins his mom and brother — Photo by Pat Bean

         On the very last morning in the Serengeti, we watched a mama lion and two nearly grown offspring come forward toward us. The guide had seen them and had parked the Land Rover in an ideal situation so that would pass not too far from us.

            One of the young lions, however, took a detour and came over and scratched his back on one of our tires – the one I was standing above. It was both thrilling and frightening and I was glad when he went back to going forward toward his mom.

            Interesting how two weeks of some of the best travel days of my life became fresh again in my mind after hearing one single word.  

        

The Wondering Wanderer's blog pick of the day.

The Wondering Wanderer’s blog pick of the day.

  Bean’s Pat: Winter’s Majesty http://tinyurl.com/b7d8zek A leaf and a simple poem that captures the best and worst of Chicago in the winter.

Friday Quote 

            “It doesn’t matter if the class is half empty or half full. Be grateful that there is a glass and there is something in it.”  — unknown            

Friday Photo

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Did you ever lie on your back and look for castles and dragons disguised as clouds? Did you know you can also find hidden figures in rocks. These are full of heads and faces. What do you see? — Photo by Pat Bean

A Mind Gone Astray

            One of the bloggers I follow was asked if she had ever wanted to be a rock star. She said she would be happy if she could just sing on key. Then she said: “What I really want is to be a best-selling author … sigh.” I could have said exactly the same thing, and that made me laugh.

            Finding kindred souls in the blogging world is one of the best things I like about this new form of reading, which has invaded my life.  I don’t know about you, but I love this part of how the world has changed. 

            And by the way, have you ever wanted to be a rock star? If not, what have you wanted to be? This wondering-wanderer would really like to know.    

The Wondering Wanderer's blog pick of the day.

The Wondering Wanderer’s blog pick of the day.

          Bean’s Pat: A Bridge Forward http://tinyurl.com/bf5lo78 Loved the quote, which gave me something else to ponder. I decided I really wasn’t fond of burning bridges.

Oh What a Beautiful Morning

        “Sunshine is delicious, rain is refreshing, wind braces us up, snow is exhilarating; there is really no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather.” — John Ruskin

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The view across the city to the mountains this morning at dawn. — Photo by Pat Bean

          “The first fall of snow is not only an event, it is a magical event. You go to bed in one kind of a world and wake up in another quite different, and if this is not enchantment then where is it to be found?” — J. B. Priestley

A Rare One I’m Told

snow            I posted a picture of snow falling outside my bedroom balcony on Facebook yesterday that brought a myriad of comments.

            I thought you said you were in Tucson, was the gist of the responses.

            I am, and snow doesn’t often fall in Tucson. And yesterday’s brief flurry was gone before time for afternoon tea, or whatever pick me up you prefer.

            So it was very surprising to me this morning that when I woke up there was snow on the grounds here in the Catalina foothills to match the magic of snow and a sunrise on the mountains.

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            Betty Ann, who has lived in Tucson for over 10 years and who came to walk Pepper for me, a job she’s doing until my broken ankle heals, said she couldn’t remember waking up to a morning like this.

            What a shame. I wouldn’t mind waking up to a morning like this any day.   

The Wondering Wanderer's blog pick of the day.

The Wondering Wanderer’s blog pick of the day.

  Bean’s Pat:   Lyin’, cheatin’ and a stolen country song. http://tinyurl.com/a2ar56v Don’t read this column if you take life too seriously and don’t enjoy laughing.

It’s surprising how much memory is built around things unnoticed at the time.”  — Barbara Kingsolver

“To look backward for a while is to refresh the eye, to restore it, and to render it the more fit for its prime function of looking forward.” — Margaret Fairless Barber

This simple colored-pencil drawing of a cardinal holds all my past memories. I hung it on my wall this morning.

This simple colored-pencil drawing of a cardinal holds all my past memories. I hung it on my wall this morning.

A Lifetime of Memories in a Golden Frame

The year was 1978 when I found myself single with two of my five children still left to support. It wasn’t an easy time, especially that first month when I had to borrow money to pay rent.

Although there have been many difficult times since that day, as there are for all who occupy this planet, my life from this point forward only got better and better..  

I spent the next 26 years finishing up a 37-year career in journalism, following it – and twice  where my heart led me to go.

My career took me to the Star-Telegram in Fort Worth, Texas, for three years, then to Ogden, Utah, as features editor for the Standard-Examiner. I stayed for three years here before love took me to Las Vegas for eight months that included a stint working for the Las Vegas Sun.

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I find it interesting that color-pencil drawings of birds, like this eastern bluebird I quickly doodled this past week, are the most common sketches in my art journal.

When love betrayed me, I took myself away from the neon lights to Twin Falls, Idaho, where I stayed for two years as regional editor for the Times-News. It was then back to Ogden, where my former newspaper offered me a job as assistant city editor

In 1987, I answered my heart once again and moved to Erda, Utah, and undertook a daily 56-mile commute to my job in Ogden. But in 1989, I moved back to Ogden alone. I happily stayed there until 2004, at which time I sold my home and bought my RV, Gypsy Lee.

With few exceptions, everything I owned was either packed into my 22-foot home on the road, sold or given away.  The exceptions, mostly books, were eventually stored at my youngest daughter’s home here in Tucson, where I recently moved into a small apartment after almost nine years spent living on the road exploring America from sea to shining sea. .

Sunday, my daughter brought me a few of those bins. And this morning, I hung the only remaining possession that remained from 1978 on the wall of my apartment.

As I stood back and looked at this simple sketch of a cardinal, which belonged to my grandmother, whom I adored and whom died when I was only 10 years old, tears came into my eyes.

The colored-pencil drawing, which even for a while accompanied me in my RV travels, held a lifetime of memories. It is the only thing I own that connects me to my past. As a person who prefers to look forward not backward, I have no regrets that there is nothing else.

But my heart tells me that this red bird may be the most precious thing I own today.

The Wondering Wanderer's blog pick of the day.

The Wondering Wanderer’s blog pick of the day.

Bean’s Pat: Unusual Hotels http://tinyurl.com/a7n3736 This blog made me want to travel to Fiji for a night’s stay beneath the sea. I may have moved into an apartment but my itch for traveling to new places is unabated. I found these places fascinating. Which hotel would you stay in if you could?

“A few minutes ago every tree was excited, bowing to the roaring storm, waving, swirling, tossing their branches in glorious enthusiasm like worship. But though to the outer ear these trees are now silent, their songs never cease. Every hidden cell is throbbing with music and life, every fiber thrilling like harp strings, while incense is ever flowing from the balsam bells and leaves. ”  ~John Muir

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Tree Partnerships

During the three summers I spent at Lake Walcott, I never got tired of looking at the park’s many trees. My favorites were the willows, Russian olives and the cottonwoods. The cottonwoods, thanks to Snake River irrigation water, were huge, the willows graceful and the frosty color of the Russian olives, which also grew larger than any I had seen elsewhere, gave the park’s greenness a vibrant texture.

Arms entwined in a naked embrace. Bell-lughing now. How about you? -- Photo by Pat Bean

Arms entwined in a naked embrace. Belly-laughing  now. How about you? — Photo by Pat Bean

What amazed me was how many of them seemed to have grown up in pairs.

And like John Muir, I saw the trees in their many moods: From their naked branches, whose forms sometimes made me think of an Escher painting, to their passionate dance when a wind storm blew across the park, to their quiet summer verdancy when they issued an invitation for me to sit beneath them and partake of their shaded coolness.  

And when I saw this week’s photo theme, the trees were the first thing that popped into my mind. if trees could make love, would their foreplay begin with kissing leaves? What do you think?

WORLDWALK

“I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. The great affair is to move.” – Robert Louis Stevenson

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Where the road leads, I followed. This one let to the top of Mesa Verde in Colorado. — Photo by Pat Bean

There are needs, and then there are NEEDS

I know what it means to have a tugging in your heart that must be answered. A need to be loved, when I thought I wasn’t, was the first. Fulfilling that need had both good and bad consequences, but my children, their children, and their children made the journey worthwhile.

"I Married Adenture" by Osa Johnson.

“I Married Adventure” by Osa Johnson.

The second, the one that defined me as the wondering-wanderer, started at about age 12 when I read Osa Johnson’s “I Married Adventure.” From the first pages of that book until forever,  traveling to see the world has been in my blood. Exactly how I wanted to see North America firmed up after I read William Least Heat Moon’s “Blue Highways.

The third thing that tugged at me waited until I was a young mother with young children, all of whom had given me a very vexing day. My 6-year-old son had taught his younger brothers how to climb the backyard fence, then he and his 8-year-old sister had engaged in serious sibling rivalry all day. The youngest boy, meanwhile,  had gotten into the sugar bowl and had tracked the sweet granules all over the house.

I was close to being a sobbing mess when my 4-year-old son gifted me with a stemless yellow flower. The adoring look in his eyes turned what had been a shadowed day into one of bright sunshine. Never mind that he had stolen the flower from the neighbor’s yard.

blue-highways-2At about 2 a.m. the next morning, I woke up and felt this burning need to write about how that yellow flower had affected me. From that minute forward, I have needed to write as much as I needed to breathe.

Perhaps that is why when I learned about Steven Newman’s book, “Worldwalk,” in which he wrote about his four-year walk around the world, I knew it was a book I had to read.

I quickly discovered that the 1989 book –which details Steve’s optimistic 15,000-mile trek (of course he took boats where he couldn’t walk) across five continents and 20 countries, with only what would fit in a backpack — was not just not available on Kindle, it was out of print.

Thanks to the Internet, however, I found a rag-eared, stained paperback, copy for which I paid $1 plus $3.99 in shipping charges. The book didn’t disappoint, and I highly recommend it to any reader who believes the good in this world outweighs the bad, and who has an insatiable need to see the world, even if from an armchair.  

In fact, if you’re the first to request my copy, by privately messaging me on Facebook or e-mail, I’ll mail it to you free.  I love sharing books I have read.

Bean’s Pat:  Peregrine falcons http://tinyurl.com/b7hasb7 If you want to feel proud of yourself as a human being who cares that we share the land with wildlife, this is a bird that should help. Peregrine falcons, once nearing extinction, made a tremendous comeback after we humans started caring – and banned the use of DDT.