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Posts Tagged ‘Texas’

Odd Goose Island Tree Raise Questions

Posted in Nature, Travel, tagged , , , , , on April 17, 2011| 9 Comments »

“I soon realized that no journey carries one far unless, as it extends into the world around us, it goes an equal distance into the world within.” Lillian Smith

Has life shaped you like a gulf wind has shaped this Goose Island State Park tree? -- Photo by Pat Bean

Travels With Maggie

Standing in a field of grass patterned with bluebonnets at Goose Island State Park is a tree that’s allowed wind blowing in from the Gulf of Mexico to shape its profile.

It wasn’t much different, I thought on first seeing it, then how life shapes us humans.

For some odd reason, I thought again this morning about that tree, which I had photographed last April when I spent a week with my dog, Maggie, on Goose Island birdwatching. I think my brain was triggered in that direction after reading the quote: “Normal is a setting on a washing machine.”

On finding the photograph, I decided to blog about the message the tree had conveyed to me.

I’m not sure now that was such a good idea.

My thoughts, just as I placed my fingers on the keyboard, became such a jungle of contradictions that I’ was suddenly struck wordless. That’s a rarity by the way.

Do I write about how walking into a newsroom the first time pushed the rest of my life into a direction as slanted as that tree? Or about how coming out of a raft and being pulled beneath it gave me more appreciation of life? Or about how travel has opened up new worlds and new ways of thinking?

I couldn’t decide.

Perhaps some less confused blog readers can help me out. How has life shaped you? I’d really like to know.

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Wisteria and Dogwood Mean It’s Spring in Arkansas

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on April 2, 2011| 5 Comments »

 

One of two dogwood trees visible out my RV, shown in background, during my and Maggie's visit to my daughter's home in Camden, Arkansas. -- Photo by Pat Bean

“If you’ve never been thrilled to the very edges of your soul by a flower in spring bloom, maybe your soul has never been in in bloom.” — Terri Guillemets

 Travels With Maggie

When it’s bluebonnet time in Texas, the wisteria and dogwood are blooming in Arkansas.

The purple chandeliers of wisteria, a woody vine that likes to curl itself around a tree to rise into the air, begin dotting the roadside forest as soon as I crossed the border between the two states in Texarkana.

Then every few miles as I drove deeper into the state, a patch of white dogwood blossoms, usually sheltered by some larger tree, would add its delicate voice to the landscape.

These purple and white flowers helped ease the pain of leaving the magnificence of Texas bluebonnets waving good-bye from my RV’s rear-view mirror.

I arrived at my youngest daughter’s home here in Camden, Arkansas, a few days ago during a late cold spell and overcast days. The sun finally came out yesterday – and so did my camera.

Wild wisteria adds a touch of magical color to Arkansas' landscape. -- Photo by Pat Bean

Wisteria grows wild in the forested land that partially surrounds my daughter’s five-acre rural home, and two dogwood trees grow on her side of the fence.

Both Texas and Arkansas claim the sassy northern mockingbird as their state bird. -- Photo by Pat Bean

I thought I would share their beauty with you. For good measure, I’ve included a picture of a northern mockingbird that hangs around my RV. It’s a familiar sight in both Texas and Arkansas, with both states claiming it as their state bird.

Life is good.

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Memories of My Grandmother’s Home Improve With Time

Posted in Journeys, Travel, tagged , , , , , , , on March 31, 2011| 4 Comments »

I remember sitting on these back steps eating praline candy my grandmother made from pecans I had picked up off the ground. I ate so much I got deathly sick and have never liked praline candy since. -- Photo by Pat Bean

“The richness of life lies in memories we have forgotten.” — Cesare Pavese

Journeys

When I was three years old, my grandfather died. My father took it as an invitation to move our family of three into my grandmother’s house. We stayed there for eight years, moving only after my grandmother died.

Those years weren’t a happy time in my life. My mother and grandmother did not get along; and my father was a good-timing Charlie who left the house early, came home late and almost always gambled his paycheck away.

My life was squeezed between the petty bickering of my mother and grandmother, and my mother’s shrill voice berating my father when he was home. My dad never fought back, and because of this I erroneously considered him the hero and my mother the villain of the family.

Into this chaos came two younger brothers demanding my mother’s attention, and making me feel even more unwanted and unloved. It was with great glee when I could put this past behind me, although of course, as we humans so often do, I created another kind of chaos for my own children.

Mostly dead now, this large tree in the neighbor's yard was an ideal one for climbing, and I spent many an hour nestled among its branches. -- Photo by Pat Bean

I’m not sure why, but this time when I was visiting Dallas, I had a deep-seated urge to find the home of my youth, the one in which my grandmother taught me how to cook, the one where my mother sewed me a beautiful blue flowered dress from a flower sack, the one where I had a faithful canine companion named Blackie, and the one that had a large swing set in the backyard on which I played circus trapeze artist.

My oldest daughter drove, and together we found my grandmother’s house, where it still languishes, dilapidated and condemned, in the small Dallas suburb of Fruitdale.

Of course there are differences. There is no lush gardenia bush, whose fragrance still haunts me, beside the front door. Two houses now sit where my mother had attended a large vegetable garden. And houses now stood in the large cornfield across the street, from which I remember my dad sneaking into at night to bring home a few ears for supper.

I suddenly remembered how we all laughed, even my mother, as we ate old Miss Hallie’s corn slathered with homemade butter. Strange, I thought, what a difference 50 years had made in the memories that now seemed important.

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Drive Through Downtown Dallas Sharpens the Mind

Posted in Journeys, Nature, Travel, Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on March 30, 2011| 5 Comments »

Dallas: Crossing through the middle of it in rush-hour traffic stimulates the brain cells. -- Dallas skyline photo courtesy of Wikipedia

Ashes to ashes. Dust to rust. Oil those brains. Before they rust. — From A. Nonny Mouse Writes Again by J. Prelutsky

Working crossword puzzles and riding roller coasters are both supposed to be good for the brain. The first one stimulates the thinking muscles and the second one provides a quick shot of adrenalin to jolt the brain awake.

Even though it's essential to keep one's eyes on the road, one still can't help noticing Texas' famous bluebonnets growing wild alongside Dallas' many freeways. -- Photo by Pat Bean

I came up with another way to enrich those little gray cells yesterday. I drove my RV from my oldest daughter’s home in Rowlett to Irving to have lunch with my grandson. Irving, by the way, is the real home of the Dallas Cowboys.

The round-trip journey took me through the heart of downtown Dallas, beneath underpasses and overpasses stacked up to five lanes high, and across seven lanes of one-way traffic near where Interstate 30 and Interstate 35E meet up. I entered 35’s bumper-to-bumper traffic in the right lane and exited, just a few miles down the road, from the far left lane.

The trip had to have exercised and jolted my brain enough to erase at least the couple of years I aged on the cross-town journey.

Strangely, however, I don’t mind the occasional road trip like this. Such an experience lets me know I can still cope with the modern world. It also makes me appreciate all that much more the rural, little-traveled scenic byways I carefully select for most of my travels.

What gave my soul another delight this time was that the shoulders of the busy freeways were often alive with patches of bluebonnets.  They were the first I’ve seen this season.

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Cedar Hill State Park: Mother Nature’s Big City Home

Posted in Birds, Nature, Travel, tagged , , , , , , , on March 27, 2011| Leave a Comment »

Worthy of a Georgia O'Keeffe painting. -- Photo by Pat Bean

“When you take a flower in your hand and really look at it, it’s your world for the moment. I want to give that world to someone else. Most people in the city rush around so, they have no time to look at a flower. I want them to see it whether want to or not.” Georgia O’Keeffe

Just for Today

Mother Nature has her secret treasures, even in big cities.

For example, I spent five years looking in prime birding habitat for a brown creeper, which although illusive isn’t rare. I finally found it just three blocks away from my oldest daughter’s Dallas suburb home.

The Dallas Metroplex is also full of small parks, like the one just off Miller Road in Rowlett, where there’s a small pond, and where I got my grandson, David, first interested in birding. As we started off on a trail that would lead us behind backyards to the edge of Lake Ray Hubbard, we came upon a red-shouldered hawk just as it caught a mouse.

Orange is such a cheerful color. Don't you agree? -- Photo by Pat Bean

Boys being boys, he found that quite exciting – actually so did I.

But purple makes the heart sing.

For a bit more of Mother Nature when I’m in the Dallas area, I escape to nearby Cedar Hill State Park, where I volunteered for a few months as campground host a couple of years back.

 It was here that I saw my first painted bunting and my first yellow-billed cuckoo – and watched as a rainy winter gave way to a colorful spring.

I thought this morning, which is going to turn into a busy day, might be the perfect opportunity to share a bit of the park’s color with you. Then I can go exploring with my daughter, Deborah, in search of more big city sights.

We’re celebrating her birthday a couple of days late by going out on the town. I’ll probably tell you all about it soon.

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As in Life, a Rainbow Hides in Every Storm

Posted in Birds, Nature, Travel, tagged , , , , , , , , on February 1, 2011| 5 Comments »



This is all I could see outside my RV window at 7 a.m. this morning. -- Photo by Pat Bean

 

“If you want to see the sunshine, you have to weather the storm.” — Frank Lane

Travels With Maggie

I’m writing my blog this morning as pelting rain drums a tune on the roof of my RV, which is rocking and rolling with the wind. A clash of distance thunder sounds the cymbals.

There’s something in me that loves an enthusiastic storm, especially when I’m all snug and cozy in warm flannel pajamas with a good book to read. A cracking fireplace blaze would be nice, but when living in a 22-foot home on wheels, one has to make sacrifices.

My canine traveling companion, Maggie, since it is only 7 a.m., is still sleeping. If left undisturbed – and thunder and lightning don’t normally wake her – she’ll sleep until about 9:30 a.m., when she’ll wake up and give me that “I’m ready for my morning walk RIGHT NOW” look.

This scarlet cheer was tucked beneath a hedge. -- Photo by Pat Bean

This scarlet cheer was tucked beneath a hedge. -- Photo by Pat Bean

If it’s still raining, we’ll use my large umbrella. Maggie knows the drill. And she won’t dawdle, as she normally does.

I usually dawdle, too, another reason why Maggie and I are the perfect traveling companions. I carry binoculars around my neck and frequently stop to search out any bird sounds I hear.  Yesterday a knock-know drumming alerted me to a cute little downy woodpecker in the tree above my head. A soft whistling then refocused my binoculars to a tufted titmouse in the same tree.

 I also take time to snap a picture or two with my small digital camera. Remembering to stick it in my pocket for our walks took me a long time, but these days I feel naked without it.

The first bloom on the Japanese magnolia tree in my son's yard. This tree blooms before it puts on leaves and is always a winter treat. -- Photo by Pat Bean

A few minutes ago, on a whim, I shot a view of the storm outside through the inside of

my RV window. Looking at it, I thought about the photos I took yesterday of winter color around my son’s Texas Gulf Coast home, where winter never fully settles in for the duration.

 The contrast between the images speak to me of the silver lining behind every storm.

Do they say something to you?

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Not Ashamed to be a Tree Hugger

Posted in Nature, Travel, tagged , , , , , , , on January 30, 2011| 5 Comments »

 

The Big Tree at Goose Island State Park on Texas' Gulf Coast. -- Photo by Pat Bean

“I frequently tramped eight or ten miles through the deepest snow to keep an appointment with a beech tree, or a yellow birch, or an old acquaintance among the pines. — Henry David Thoreau

Travels With Maggie

One of my favorite places to escape for a few days when I’m visiting my son on the Texas Gulf Coast is Goose Island State Park, where I always take time to visit “The Big Tree.”

She a fat old broad, more than a 1,000 years old. Her special status is a result of her massive girth – 35-foot trunk circumference with a 90-foot crown – than her 45 foot height. Many live oaks are taller. It’s the combination, note the tree experts, that won her the title, State Champion Coastal Live Oak, in 1969.

Trees fascinate me. This is evident when I take a trip down memory lane with my photos, I find I’ve captured many of their images with my camera

You now have proof. Pat Bean is a tree hugger. This tree grows in Custer State Park in South Dakota. -- Photo taken by a fellow traveler, right after I took her picture hugging the same tree.

I see trees as living art. In summer, their green coolness is a Monet painting; in autumn their bright purple, red, orange and yellow leaves belong on a Gauguin canvas, and in winter, their stark dark and light pattern of limbs remind me of an Escher.

I even have several photos of me with my arms around a tree that I asked the occasional travel companion to snap. While I might be a bit ashamed to be a “Survivor” fan (yesterday’s blog), I take great pride in saying I’m a tree hugger.

Just one problem, Goose Island’s Big Tree is too big for me to hug properly.

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YIPEE: It’s a Traveling Day

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on January 25, 2011| 2 Comments »

I can drool over maps for hours in anticipation of an upcoming journey. This is the route I chose for today's drive. I always right up a cheat sheet for my dashboard that includes right and left-turn directions.

 “… On the road again/ Going places that I’ve never been/ Seein’ thing that I may never see again/ And I can’t wait to get on the road again.” — Willie Nelson

 Travels With Maggie

 Willie Nelson and I share this love of being “on the road again.” And today I get to indulge myself. I’ve been up since before dawn, drinking coffee and reviewing the route I will take from my daughter’s home in Camden, Arkansas, to a son’s home in Lake Jackson, Texas.

 My dog, Maggie, is as eager as I am. She started getting excited as soon as I began packing things snugly away in the RV.

The journey is 427 miles long and I’ll be making it in one run, which means most of my sight-seeing will take place from behind the wheel. If it were spring, and I was truly on the road again and not just hiding out the winter catching up with family, it would probably take me two weeks to go this far.

To speed the time along, I’ll probably be listening to my audible copy of Ken Follett’s “Fall of Giants” along the way. But certainly not during the sections of road that will be new to me.

Mike Nomilini captured this picture of the bridge in Coushatta that crosses the Red River at sunset. While I'll be crossing the river today, it's going to be well before noon so my view will be much different.

 I added 15 miles to the shortest route  so I would pass through a few places I’ve never been before. Coushatta, Louisiana, for one. The Red River passes through this rural town. And I’ll be crossing over it on a 900-ton bridge that was  built in 1989 — not crossing it on horseback as John Wayne did in the 1948 film, “Red River.” 

 It was many years ago when I saw the film, but I still remember it.

There’s something in me that also loves river crossings. While the Red River might not compare to the thrill I had crossing the Yukon on a ferry in 1999, I’m still looking forward to it.

 Did I tell you, “I just can’t wait to get on the road again.”

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Things Aren’t Always What They Appear to Be

Posted in Birds, Nature, Travel, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , on January 22, 2011| 3 Comments »

 

Great Egret

Snowy egret

 If you just see the photos of the two egrets on the right, you might think they were the same size, or even that the one on the left was the largest of the two. It’s all a matter of perspective — as you can see from the picture  below of the two of them together. 

                 — Photos by Pat Bean

                                                _____________

“You have your way. I have my way. As for the right way, the correct way, and the only way, it does not exist.” — Friedrich Nietsche

Travels With Maggie

One of my proudest accomplishments when I was a journalist was to get comments about a story I had written from people representing two sides of a polarized issue, each claiming my article had taken their opponent’s side. It was only then did I pat myself on the back for getting the story “mostly” right.

How each of us view life is colored by a unique perspective – our own. Truth is usually somewhere in the middle.

Eyewitnesses accounts of events can vary so greatly they sound like two different happenings. I see this frequently when I read accounts by two different reporters covering the same speech.

As you can see when you get the full picture, the snowy egret on the left is quite a bit smaller than the great egret on the right. These two were sharing a log at Estero Llano State Park in Texas' Rio Grande Valley.

For example, an environmental reporter might lead with a lumber industry spokesman’s quote: “A tree can produce enough oxygen to keep five or more people alive for a year.” But a business reporter’s lead would more likely be: “Logging is the life blood of hundreds of small communities; stop cutting trees and people will starve or turn to welfare.”

Both reporters, in the space they were allowed, quoted the speaker accurately. And the speaker was correctly quoted both times. The stories just came from different perspectives.

Travel has broadened my perspectives. I’m constantly reminded it’s a very complex world out there and that answers to problems do not come easily, nor without compromise.

Even through my camera lens – when indulging in my birdwatching passion – things aren’t always what they seem.

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A Gray Rainy Day and Mount Pisgah

Posted in Birds, Nature, Travel, tagged , , , , , , , , on January 16, 2011| 6 Comments »

 

Mount Pisgah -- Photo courtesy of Wikipedia

“And when it rains on your parade, look up rather than down. Without the rain, there would be no rainbow.” __ Gilbert K. Chesterton.

 Travels With Maggie

 It’s raining, a steady pitter-patter on the metal roof of the RV carport that’s currently sheltering my RV. The world from. my window is tinted with dripping grayness, broadcasting a message for Maggie and I to enjoy the warm coziness inside our tiny home on wheels this morning.

 This travel writer actually enjoys such lazy days. They give me time to make traveling plans, which currently include sheltering from winter in Arkansas for a few more weeks, visiting Texas’ Gulf Coast, squeezing in some bird watching in the state’s Rio Grande Valley, and finally attending a grandson’s wedding in Dallas.

Mount Pisgah from Black Balsam Knob -- Photo courtesy of Wikipedia

 These activities should keep me busy until mid-March when Maggie and I begin our real travels for the year. First on our agenda map is to drive the Blue Ridge Parkway between Smokey Mountain and Shenandoah national parks. It’s been a trip long in the planning, and one of the scheduled stops is the Mount Pisgah Campground.

 I mention this because in response to a recent question (Jan. 13 blog) about special places, one reader said hers was North Carolina’s “ Mt. Pisgah, up high where the Rhododendrons grow.”

I did a bit more detailed research about the peak, and learned there’s a “moderately difficult,” 1.6-mile path to the summit from Milepost 407 of the parkway. I think these old broad legs can handle that, especially since reviews of the trail report that the view from the top “is spectacular.”

 Thinking about that landscape almost has me urging March to get here sooner. But I don’t. I know it’s better to continue putting my own color to the magical grayness outside – and to continue listening to the wondrous composition of pinging rain and Maggie’s contented snores as she slumbers on the couch.

Life is too precious to miss one present moment of it.

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