Wednesday, January 05, 2022

_{(January sky’s “Waxing Crescent” is the “Wolf Moon”, rising fullest on the 17th.)}

A customer came into the store where I work part-time. She asked, if I’m “the lady who adopted a little dog from my mother-in-law?” Adding, “She sent me in here to find out how the adoption is going.”

“Of course! I’m the adopter. Tell your mother-in-law that I love the little masked dog. Everything is going well. She’s adjusted to my home, is fun and nearly fearless, has turned into a leader of my larger, herding-types, runs and plays with them. Her dose of Jack Russell dominates, she’s a nonstop zoomer.”

The woman laughed, “I’m glad to know she’s in a great home. Mom was pretty sure the decision to leave her with you was correct, although it happened quickly.”

“I understood she had been rescued, but have wondered from what kind of situation. Honestly, she already knows lots. She has a good recall, chases and fetches balls, rides nicely in a car, is leash-trained, and is very smart. Why was she rescued?”

“Her owner was a man, impatient and not always treating her well. He felt relieved about turning over the dog to someone else. My family worked a bit with her to do a little training. We wanted to make sure she would be adopted by somebody who’d really care for her.”

“Well, she’s in the right place. She has space for running with her buddies, sleeps in my bed, and on my days off goes everywhere with me.”

That woman and I are planning to meet at the store on one of my days off. I’ll have Mitzvah there, too. We’ll take pictures to reassure her mother-in-law that the pup has a loving home.

It’s so cool. The woman giving me the little dog, about a month ago, was traveling home to another Oregon city, and had stopped to buy a leash. She’s following-up, too. While handing Mitzvah over to me, she said her son often comes into the store and he’d ask about the pup. I’ve looked for him, wondered why the rescue. Now, knowing some of Mitzvah’s history, a larger story takes shape.

Next steps for the pup: (1) a veterinarian visit to learn if she’s spayed, and to get needed puppy shots, and (2) afterwards, a play date with Petey, the Gilberts’ Border Terrier. They’ll be an awesome combination, of “energetic littles”!

Dear Friends: In a time of hard-to-find small adoptables, that’s a mitzvah. Diana

_{*Reference to lyrics, from “Sunday In The Park with George”, by Stephen Sondheim}

Tuesday, January 04, 2022

_{(January sky’s “Waxing Crescent” is the “Wolf Moon”, rising fullest on the 17th.)}

Did somebody say, “Snow!” Yep, and non-stopping lots, wet, slippery, and badly needed. Non-stop, also, from the store where I work, went waterproof jackets, boots, and pants. Went de-icers, mouse traps, and heat-lights.

Outdoor conditions became so bad that the store’s forklifts got stuck, causing traffic jams at the load-out site. After our warehouse guys corrected that situation, one waded out into the parking lot and brushed the snow off our cars.

Just before Christmas, I decided to purchase a decorative multi-colored lighting device, but spent too long thinking because quickly they sold-out. Guess what. Yesterday a customer returned one of the lights, it didn’t suit a space planned for it. Almost immediately, the light became mine.

More about Christmas lights, this neighborhood’s still are on, and unusual, especially for my neighbor, John. Always before and on-the-spot he’s disconnected them, seemingly the very moment following New Year’s Day. Annually I accustom myself to missing his lights which please visually and brighten my way. This year, they’re still glowing.

Mine, too, are on. To be honest, I’ll leave them strung and powered-on through January, at least. This season especially, I arrive home from work in darkness, feeling welcomed by strings of glowing colors, beckoning me forward.

By the way, my hummingbird feeder, under-lit in red from a small bulb, does its job well. The unit is being used, nearly is empty. Some of the store’s customers care for over-wintering hummingbirds and know ways creative and cost-effective to heat feeders.

This morning, it’s beautiful outside, with snow covering greenery under a very pale sky.

Dear Friends: Embracing winter with lights, that’s simply the “bee’s knees”. Diana

Monday, January 03, 2022

_{(January’s sky hosts a “Waxing Crescent”, or “Wolf Moon”, to rise fullest on the 17th.)}

The winds that howled through the night actually were active yesterday, and mightily blowing farther out east. A co-worker who lives way east of town and slightly off-the-grid, yesterday described awakening to, and having to fight high winds at her place.

Yesterday, this city nurtured sunshine and a relatively placid temperature. Raging winds locally seemed unreal.

My coworker has large animals to feed and water, those winds were upsetting to her. Today, I’ll share her concerns while tending my own large animals. Especially my horses, eating hay from the ground. It’s a discomforting possibility, their hay might blow away.

I’m due at my part-time job later. Have time to give the horses first hay in their stalls and then release them before leaving. This afternoon, I’ll be hoping for diminished winds while hurrying home at lunchtime. I’ll have just enough time to spread hay on the ground. Can’t stay to feed horses in stalls. So please, no high winds!

Caretakers worry lots about how best to care for domestic animals. Despite concerns, the work of feeding and cleaning gets done, and somehow animals remain healthy. Daily, we reassure ourselves that despite inclement weather and interfering commitments, we can handle everything, and well enough.

Dear Friends: Country types wouldn’t consider trading places with city types. Diana

Sunday, January 02, 2022

_{(January’s sky hosts a “New Moon”, the “Wolf Moon”, it’ll rise fullest on the 17th.)}

This cute couple and their adorable fourteen-week-old English Bulldog appeared at my register. Their puppy-soft, wrinkly-skinned, sleepy-eyed new pet got everybody excited.

It’s a story that’s fun. An unfamiliar man at my register was buying all sorts of puppy equipment, like leashes, toys, feeding dishes, and so on. I asked why and he said, “We have a new pup.” ‘

Naturally I wondered, “What kind of pup?”

“An English Bulldog. We just picked him up from a breeder here in Bend.”

“Wow! I’d love to meet him. Would you bring him inside?”

“No, we’re on our way home [to someplace near Portland].”

“You can’t bring him in even for a minute?”

“No, he’s sleeping in the car and my wife is waiting. Ahead, we’ve a long drive.”

I finished checking him out, asked again, “Couldn’t you just quickly bring him inside?”

“No, sorry, we must be leaving.”

“Okay, I understand.” Still I pushed, “How about next time you’re in town? Maybe bring him in then?”

“It’s the first time we’ve been in Bend, we probably won’t return.”

I said, “Well, I’ll bet he’s a beautiful pup, and it’s wonderful that he has an excellent new home.”

The man lifted the bags holding puppy supplies. He smiled and nodded, “Thank you very much. Yes, he has a great home.”

The store was busy, my mind quickly turned to the next customer. After I rang up a couple of customers, a woman appeared saying, “I heard you wanted to see him!”

In her arms and half-asleep, a big puppy!

Her husband behind them nodded and smiled. I could have hugged him.

Well, just imagine we cashiers going nuts over that puppy. The couple were pleased and excited. Already, he’s a heavy package. They explained that English Bulldog males in good condition average 70 lbs. Yesterday, they met this pup’s sire, and Daddy weighs 125 lbs.! They talked of playing with naming their new fellow, “Moose”.

In that store, similar episodes occur several times daily. Folks bring in their dogs and we love playing with or just being able to admire them. But this puppy is a special breed, infrequently seen at an early age, and that beckoned my imagination.

How sweet that the couple allowed time to share, awakening their dog and carrying him into the store. How sweet that we could break from our routines, to experience and share the excitement over that pup’s being and potential.

Dear Friends: Carrying a cellphone breaks a store rule, but the photo was a must! Diana

Saturday, January 01, 2022

_{(December’s fullest “Cold Moon” is in Waning Crescent; January’s fullest “Wolf Moon” rises on the 17th.)}

Several years ago, I heard that some hummingbirds don’t fly south in winter, and instead, remain in Central Oregon. This cold, snowy country will freeze liquid bird food. I’m a feathered-friend feeder, keep seed-feeders full through winters, but pull and store liquid feeders before they freeze. A couple years ago, I discovered a warming device for hummingbird feeders and obtained one.

The warmer wasn’t much to see. Some plastic covered a four watt Christmas-light bulb. There were hanging strings and not-very-good instructions. After examining the items, I set them aside, and for a couple of winters since have continued to pull liquid feeders.

Except for this winter.

Yesterday, New Year’s Eve Day, I stood in the kitchen looking out a window and zeroed-in on a hummingbird feeder. Still hanging, its liquid frozen, needing removal. That very moment, a hummingbird landed on the feeder’s perch. Astonished, I watched it try drinking and fly away.

In the dead of winter! Our area does have wintering hummingbirds.

I found the neglected feeder-heater and instructions, brought all inside to study. I have trouble conceptualizing, needed the feeder itself. After bringing in the frozen unit and fiddling around, I connected heater and feeder and plugged the unit into an outlet. After awhile, the little bulb began to transform frozen to liquid.

I understood how it worked! A bird sips liquid from the lower, warm cup. Liquid in the feeder’s upper region remains frozen, but the heated cup facilitating drips keeps filling.

Once hung outside the kitchen window, the heated feeder became a welcoming light for hungry hummingbirds. Toward a healthy 2022! That an odd little heater can do so makes me feel good.

Dear Friends: Happy New Year! May 2022 be healthy and enjoyable for all. Diana

Friday, December 31, 2021

_{(December’s fullest “Cold Moon” is in Waning Gibbous phase; January’s fullest “Wolf Moon” rises on the 17th.)}

Tomorrow we’ll start learning to write “2022”. Despite seeming odd, it’ll become habit.

What else might change in a New Year? Are people still making resolutions? What residues will linger after a couple of Pandemic Years? Are individuals still the same or have we changed?

It seems little might remain familiar. The Pandemic Years have reduced our confidence in relatively-straightforward futures. Our habits and world views are now intertwined, so that while grocery-shopping we simultaneously consider broken supply chains. Humanity’s world has shrunken.

That’s a stretch from how most Americans grew up. Then, regardless of political and social changes from wars and technology, we planned paths forward that included attending school, gaining subject knowledge, finding projects, and seeking rewarding employment. Above all, it meant linking with one or more significant others, creating families, learning to parent and to mentor others. We could take advantage of much, could plan to give back equally or more.

Now what is “much”? What’s ahead this New Year? Will easily accessible schools re-open? Will people continue masking and avoiding large crowds? Will those able to work start re-filling available jobs? Will loaded supply ships be docked and unloaded? Will trucks, railroads, and airplanes continue doing most domestic transporting?

I ask because there are astonishing technologies on our horizon. Like self-driving vehicles, flight vehicles routinely penetrating outer space, more integrating among televisions, computers, and cellphones. There are technologies already used by individuals, like drones, doorbell cameras, and “Alexa-like” buddies. How will those continue to develop, to affect human behavior?

One resolution is to hunker, sit-back and await whatever may come down the pike. I’m accustomed to masking, avoiding crowds, expecting thinly-stocked grocery store shelves. I’ve altered long-held habits, that’s not been awful. I’m getting used to lots of unexpected.

Then there’s the larger economy. The world invigorated by Pandemic is full of restless people wanting better and healthier living conditions. Besides Pandemic and restlessness, our world suffers from supply shortages, environment destructiveness, and disappearing endangered species. Above all and worst are today’s politics, of power versus powerless.

Mostly, we’ll anticipate a New Year with hopes for constructive social consensus, an easing of vigorously-opposed wants and needs. With hopes for reducing now-massive differences that affect perspectives and impede meaningful progress.

Dear Friends: For all of us, I wish that 2022 becomes “Our Happy New Year”! Diana

Thursday, December 30, 2021

_{(December’s fullest “Cold Moon” is in Waning Gibbous phase; January’s fullest “Wolf Moon” rises on the 17th.)}

This little group of does watched as my three equines walked with me toward a nearby pasture.

Although we were walking as new snow was falling, the flakes were small and expected to stop soon. The day was one of my not-working, which meant the horses could go and graze all day. I wanted them to have that time on pasture. Everything turned out okay and as anticipated, with little snow and happy horses coming home later.

Yes, already we’ve had snow, and now it’s snowing again. This morning, after oversleeping, I quickly must toss on warm clothing, feed animals, and hurry to my part-time job. I’m one of today’s store openers.

Plus, our store will be open on New Year’s eve and New Year’s Day. That seems odd, but things are as they are. So, I’ll be off on The Eve and at-work on The Day.

Whew! This complicated year finally is ending. Let’s consider wishing for a New Year, and about returning to normal…whatever that meant some years ago, or what it should be now.

Dear Friends: Have a day that’s productively reflective, and be thoughtful. Diana

Wednesday, December 29, 2021

_{(December’s fullest “Cold Moon” is in Waning Gibbous phase; January’s fullest “Wolf Moon” rises on the 17th.)}

I’ve tried a couple of times to call my old friend, Rose. She’s now in an assisted-living facility. Each call has somebody in the speaking chain letting me down. Rose and I haven’t yet spoken.

I received her Christmas Card and note (written by someone else). The message was she’s well but confined to a wheelchair, would love hearing from me. The same note probably went out to everyone else close to Rose throughout her life.

She’s now about 92 years old.

Rose was the youngest of many children, of immigrants living in Wyandotte County, or what then was the rural-east of Kansas City, Kansas. She grew up on a small farm, her elderly parents taught their child old-country traditions with a devoutly-Catholic perspective.

I first met Rose when we worked in the same office building, she as a bank clerk and I as a general office-worker. She was older, kind, maybe timid and old fashioned. We connected because our differences offset one another. I was an angry young woman, frustrated and searching. Rose seemed settled, reassuring.

And then she met a man. I can’t recall his name or how they linked up. Rose fell for him. She disliked that he was a drinker and rounder, but found him more fun than men she long knew and usually dated. To my (and to Rose’s) astonishment, he managed to get her into bed.

Rose changed, on one hand was happier and on the other worried. Besides disliking her fellow’s drinking habit, she began avoiding Confessing in Church. She made a huge personal decision to quit Confessing and stuck to it.

Eventually the boyfriend’s shenanigans overcame Rose’s needs. She made another huge personal decision, to break up with him. He was unhappy and continued pursuing her, but Rose never backed away from a serious decision.

She remained devoted to her friends, many from childhood. I came later into her life, yet was considered a dear friend. I was neither secure nor dependable, so periodically floated into and out of Rose’s life. She stayed in touch, remembered, cared, and somehow was a cornerstone.

A couple of years ago, Rose fell and broke her hip, or a thigh bone. She had to leave her house and begin healing as a resident in assisted living. A caring neighbor of hers got in touch with me, explained where Rose was, and why, said Rose never got the hang of using a cellphone. There wasn’t a way to call her. I did try but never got through to anyone.

This Christmas, my letter from Rose suggests she’s reasonably well and cognizant and reveals the facility where she lives. I’ve tried reaching her by phone. The first time, a kind lady offered to help by getting Rose to a payphone, so she could call me, or by giving Rose a cellphone to talk with me. I waited several hours before finally realizing that plan had failed.

Another day, I phoned and got stuck with an impatient, angry-sounding person. She couldn’t help me, wouldn’t help me, didn’t know who could help me, and clearly wished me off that line. I went easy on her because these days it’s hard to find help, and thankfully someone was answering that phone. I managed to obtain the facility manager’s name, and today, will attempt to reach Rose.

Thinking about her stoic conservatism, it broke a little in the time that Women’s Rights were opening. That period changed me, too, for I sought therapy and eventually returned to school. The events of a liberating period united us in ways we never have discussed. I’ve always felt that Rose and I share some meaningful history.

If it becomes possible to re-connect through time. and by phone, maybe we can share memories of events that bounded us.

Dear Friends: I’m thankful for “forever friends”, or “my family” over many years. Diana

Tuesday, December 28, 2021

_{(December’s fullest “Cold Moon” is in Waning Gibbous phase; January’s fullest “Wolf Moon” rises on the 17th.)}

If it can be worked out, I’ll adopt two mature hen turkeys and the three chickens living with them. Their current owners are about to sell their house and move. They’ve enjoyed the little flock, want it re-homed to a caring environment.

My friend, Bill, has facilitated this after reading an earlier blog in which I spoke of wanting to add a hen turkey to my chicken flock. From my fantasy, to Bill’s ear.

The couple selling and moving are Bill’s friends, they supply him with fresh eggs. I’ll become his new supplier. Actually, when my first flock were young, eggs aplenty went to Bill. He’s a pay-back kind of guy who gardens, keeps a productive greenhouse, and often exchanges freshies for eggs. That’s how I came to appreciate some uncommon herbs and leafy vegetables.

A problem now will be to create an adequate shelter for the newbies. I’ve a fenced space, adjacent to my current-chicken area, that would let the flocks become mutually familiar. I’d plan eventually to open a gate, and all could integrate. Until then, the designated space needs a covered, three-sided shelter, large enough to wind-proof and keep dry the critters and a hanging feeder.

At my feed-store cash register, folks have wondered if turkey eggs are edible and how they might differ from chicken eggs. I asked Bill, who laughed and said, “Tackle a turkey egg with a sledge hammer!

Adventure ahead! I like this image.

Dear Friends: Nothing ventured, nothing gained, all’s to learn and enjoy. Diana

Monday, December 27, 2021

_{(December’s fullest “Cold Moon” is in Waning Gibbous phase; January’s fullest “Wolf Moon” rises on the 17th.)}

One of my all-time favorite writers on science, culture, and psychology, Edward O. Wilson, has died. He was 91 years old.

Wilson, a lifelong biological scientist, is renowned for his studies of ant species. His works are legend. A dedicated researcher, Wilson applied his vast knowledge from insect research toward understanding other life species. His insights introduced fresh theories that he applied to human capabilities and motivations. He also focused primarily on the importance of maintaining an optimally-functioning, world-wide ecology.

The author of numerous scientific articles and books, Wilson’s learning and ideas continue being studied. Many of his former students are researching, or have researched farther, his insights and theories.

Wilson published one novel–about a boy who after learning to study ants managed to create a career focused on gaining an understanding of insects. Although based on Wilson’s early life, the book was fictional. I read it, fascinated with the boy’s interests and insights. That novel taught me about ants. Prior, it never occurred to me that ants might be human-like. Or that, humans might be ant-like.

I continued to follow Wilson’s work, recognized how well he understood living creatures. He illustrates all beings as socially inclined, and despite their diversities, share many behavioral similarities. His publications make Wilson one of my heroes.

Also wonderful, he had a long life. Throughout, he was cognizant, creative, productive, and best of all, communicated continually intelligently and often.

Dear Friends: A cool read, Wilson’s, Anthill: A Novel, published April 2010. Diana