Be a Traveler

Recently I was reminded of something I heard and took to heart on one of our many cruises.  "Be a traveler not a tourist," the speaker encouraged.  His point of reference was our upcoming visit to an underdeveloped island nation.  "Remember this is an emerging country.  Do not expect things to be as they are in the U.S.," he advised.  "Embrace the differences.  Treat the inhabitants of your host country with the same respect you would like to be shown from someone visiting your country."  Good advice no matter where your travels take you.

It is with this thought in mind that I visited a rain forest in the Dominican Republic, a banana plantation in Costa Rica and the national zoo of Belize.  And while the way of life was foreign to me, the pride emanating from my hosts was palpable and something in which I could identify. When an extremely rude countryman of mine derided our mode of transportation along with the number of exotic animals on display in the Belize zoo I cringed with embarrassment.  A tourist indeed, and a spoiled whiny one at that.

We are currently on the road.  Working our way north to Nashville and then east to NC.  We decided on this trip to steer clear of the interstate and make our way through the small towns of north Florida and south Alabama.  Listening to the chatter around me at our various stops I was reminded once again to "be a traveler not a tourist."  Because even within the confines of my own great country, regional differences abound.  English is the same, yet different.  Food the same, yet different.  A traveler embraces these differences and celebrates them.

I choose to be a traveler.  How about you?

Glass Beads

The closer I get to the natural world the more awe struck I become.  Take for instance these tiny beads of water found clinging to the grass in my front yard, sparkling in the morning light before the sun rose high enough in the sky to put an end to their dazzling performance.

I could spend the next fifteen minutes pointing out the flaws I see in the images above.  But that would spoil the moment wouldn't it?  Instead I am going to sit back and enjoy the show.... for the second time.

Wings of the Morning

Sadness flies on the wings of the morning and out of the heart of darkness comes the light.
                                                                                         ~Jean Giraudoux

Spring Training

Our family lost interest in baseball as a result of the labor strike in the 90's.  The boys stowed away their trading cards and moved on to other interests.  Being the obedient parents that we were, we moved right along with them.  And so it should come as no surprise that in spite of living in south Florida for sixteen years we had never attended a spring training game.  That ended in a big way this past week.







We took ourselves "out to the ballgame" three times in five days.  We watched from the stands with the Pirate's bus driver, the parents of a Minnesota Twins pitcher and some Red Sox fans who paid far too high a price for their bleacher seats.  We learned that during spring training visiting teams limit the number of starters that make the trip; that up and coming players rarely get a day off; and that we never want to watch another game from the bleachers in the Red Sox's new Jet Blue stadium.  Never, ever, again.  No matter how cheap the tickets.  Not even if the Red Sox are playing the Yankees.  Yes, those seats were that bad.






Our beloved Pirates lost, the pitcher son of the proud parents from Tennessee was cut from the Twins two days later and Red Sox/Yankees game ended in a tie.  The Red Sox inaugural gear for the new stadium was all Kelly green (go figure), the TC on the Twins caps is the team's original logo, and hot dogs always taste better at the ball park.







I am pleased to report that major league baseball has won us over once more.  Spring training is all it's cracked up to be. The Twins' Hammond Stadium doesn't have a bad seat in the house and the new Jet Blue Stadium is buzzing with electricity.  We're already planning our outings for next year.



But you can be assured of one thing, we won't be watching from the bleacher seats.

All Askew

Between house guests and upcoming travel my blogging schedule is a bit askew.  Okay, so maybe it is me that is a bit askew.  And quite possibly the blame could be placed on the number of margaritas I have consumed in recent days.

Whatever the cause, blogging shall remain irregular until after Easter.

In the meantime might I suggest consuming a few margaritas of your own.  Chances are you won't even notice I'm gone.

The Bleacher Dwellers

I felt it immediately upon arrival, the level of comfort and acceptance that says you are among friends.  It took me surprise because prior to the second week in January the majority of attendees were strangers.  Others I knew only casually.

I should not have been surprised.  I've been here before: swim meets, little league, basketball, football.  Whatever the sport or geographic location, those who share the bleacher seats bond.  They come together week after week, strangers connected by the thin thread of participants on the playing field.  Over the course of the season the threads become intertwined and relationships are formed.  Tidbits of lives beyond the ball park are shared and before long the bleacher dwellers are cheering on each other as well as the team on the field.



Senior softball 2012 has come to a close.  Saturday evening the team gathered to celebrate one final time and everyone was in agreement.  It was a successful season all around.

As for me, I shall miss the bleacher dwellers.  We are strangers no more.

Food Fight

The other afternoon I ventured to the local marina in search of photos.  I knew that if I timed it correctly I might come upon a fishing charter or two returning from an afternoon on the water.  A fishing charter with a catch to clean means only one thing.....  pelicans.

On this day luck was with me.  One fine looking vessel was pulling into the marina as I arrived.  No sooner had the boat tied up to the dock than the scavengers began to arrive.  Much like a heat seeking missile honing in on its target the pelican zeros in on a free meal.  They arrive en mass, bobbing up and down in the water patiently waiting for dinner to be served.

There is only one small problem.  Too many pelicans; too few fish.  The end result?



Food fight!



The ensuing bill smacking and wing flapping is on par with any barroom brawl Hollywood could engineer.  It is truly a sight to behold.  The free-for-all goes on for several minutes until eventually someone emerges victorious. The bulging gullet and protruding tail leave no doubt as to the victor.



The losers resume their posts and the melee resumes.

At one point this little guy took notice of me and my upraised camera.



He separated himself from the crowd and began paddling in my direction.



He was sorely disappointed to learn I had nothing to offer.



Oh how I love these magnificent creatures.  I could watch them for hours.

Girlfriends

I cannot imagine my life without girlfriends.

Girlfriends get you.  They laugh with you.  Cry with you.  Listen to you, even when you talk too much.  Girlfriends drink sissy beer and think ice cream cones are a suitable lunch.  They teach you how to tackle yard sales and Chico's sales.  They laugh at your forgetfulness because they too are forgetful.  Without girlfriends I may not have survived high school or motherhood.  And I would not have a trunk filled to the brim with memories that I cherish.

In the past I spent several years without girlfriends in my day to day life.  We moved.  They moved.  My girlfriends became scattered.  Fallen rose petals picked up by the wind and carried to far off places, Alabama, Tennessee, Texas, Maryland, Ohio and Connecticut.  Some I lost touch with completely, others were only a phone call or an email away.  However the absence of their daily presence left a void that I didn't know how to fill.

At one point The Kid offered to run an ad in the local newspaper to find me a "shopping buddy."  It was an act of self preservation on his part.  He hates to shop.  But girlfriends can't be found on Craig's list or through an ad in the local paper.  Girlfriends are treasures stumbled upon in unlikely places: a high school lunch room, a church event, a swim meet, a co-worker, at the end of a country lane, the neighbor across the street or the back yard fence, even on the internet.  In due time I managed to fill that void with Floridians transplanted from Iowa and Michigan and Pennsylvania lake dwellers who like to have fun.

It's a known fact, you can't have enough girlfriends, both old and new, at all ages and stages of your life.  They make the good times better and the bad times tolerable.  Some share your past others your present and the most precious of all share both.

Tribute to Tulips

After three days the tulips are spent.  The leaves have wilted; the petals fallen.  Yesterday afternoon they were officially pronounced dead and laid to rest in the big green bin.  A sad end for such a happy little bouquet.

During their short stay they brightened up a corner of my home and posed without complaint for daily photo sessions.  They were the pastels of Easter; a breath of fresh air tinted with the scent of spring.

I enjoyed them so much I may just have to head to the local Publix and buy me some more.  Pink.  I hope they have pink ones this week.  I love pink tulips.

Spring

Autumn arrives in early morning, but spring at the close of a winter day.
                                                                                        ~ Elizabeth Bowen

Spring Fever

While navigating the aisles of our local supermarket yesterday afternoon I heard someone calling my name.  It was faint.  The  voice soft and muted, whisper like.  Curious creature that I am I followed the sound past the Cheerios, the fish sticks and the tomatoes until at last I saw them.  Tulips.

They had called to me, how could I possibly resist?

Nothing says spring like a bouquet of tulips and I have spring fever.  Spring fever?  In Florida?  Sounds crazy I know.  It is possible to live in the land of endless summer and catch spring fever.  You're just going to have to trust me on this.

And while you're at it, enjoy the tulips.

More Than The Status Quo

Taking a photograph every single day is both rewarding and challenging.  Occasionally I reach the 11th hour and suddenly realize I have nothing.  Panic stricken I reach for the camera and begin desperately searching for something, anything, to shoot before the hourglass empties of sand.

I have learned that it is extremely helpful to take a few shots early in the day.  That way if life gets in the way I have something I can use.  Those early morning images not only save me (remember the rule, the photo must be taken on the day it is posted), but often they are diamonds in the rough.  Little treasures that make me smile and bring me joy.  Images that are out of my comfort zone, that tell me I am capable of more than the status quo.

Yesterday was one of those days.

Five Weeks

Thirty-five days, beginning in January, reaching across February to grab hold of March.  Five weeks of fun soaking up the warmth of the Florida sun.

There was a big band concert at the beach.



Softball games galore.



A lot of dining out.





A little quiet time here and there.





A quick cruise to Mexico and back again,





And a little horsing around with The Kid.



You're a spunky old gal at 91.



Guess you will just have to come back next winter and we'll see what you can do at 92.

Catch Me If You Can

Catch me if you can, otherwise known as photographing The Kid.

The man is a master of evasion.



An adept game player



A tease extraordinaire.



He's a maestro of avoidance.



A champion of concealment.



A hotshot frustrater.

He's contrary, unmanageable, unaccommodating, unhelpful and uncooperative.

I guess that's why I love him.

(But please keep that to yourself.  I wouldn't want him to know these things.)

Unseasonably Summer

Like the rest of the country, south Florida is currently experiencing warmer than normal temperatures.  At 5:50 a.m. this morning the thermometer registered a steamy 76 degrees.  Needless to say the air conditioner has been humming in an effort to keep the heat and humidity on the outside of our four walls while we remain inside.  It is far too early for the oppressiveness we refer to as summer.  The local weather forecaster claims that relief is on the way.  I think he just might be right for a change as the skies to our north and west are growing darker by the minute.  Storm clouds are a brewin.

On a side note, if you are not a regular follower of my 365 project, today might be a good day to check on my progress.  You can do that by clicking here.  I admit, I am pleased with the results. By this time last year I had already cheated and was beginning to struggle.   While I am not thrilled with all of my photographs I am delighted that after two months I am still committed and playing by the rules.

Enjoy your Sunday.

Fear

Having lived in tornado country for fifteen years, I know the kind of fear that grabs hold and won't let go when the weather turns unseasonably warm, the sky an eerie blend of yellow and green and the storm sirens begin to wail.  I spent many an hour huddled in our laundry room, in the dark, trying desperately not to allow my fear to spill over onto the two young boys at my side.

Yesterday that fear returned as I sat helplessly in front of the television observing the warning and watch boxes dotting the map.   Huntsville Alabama and Nashville Tennessee of particular concern. You see people that I love very much in this world live beneath those deep red boxes and yesterday their fear was my fear.

Today my heart goes out to those who lost everything.  I cannot begin to imagine picking up the pieces after such devastation.

To my friends and family who lived through it, I love you all.  I'm so very grateful that you are safe.

Blackbird

Blackbird singing in the dead of night



Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise



Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise



Blackbird fly, blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night



You were only waiting for this moment to arise.
                                                                                   ~Paul McCartney