Wednesday, March 17, 2021 (4 days before the First Day of Spring)

True to my plan, the dogs and I went hiking. We were out to record the last days of winter. Well, not quite a true plan, because we didn’t go to the mountains. Instead we trekked through a nearby BLM, a popular summertime spot with an irrigation canal, always flowing and a size safe for dogs that play in water.

This grandpa Ponderosa is a greeter on the canal route. Although it’s unwell with sap leaking, it’s a welcome and majestic sight. Usually the canal water is high enough to cover the tree’s discolored base, but winter bares it to create an impression of cold that matches the weather.

Here’s another grandpa, impressive, old, and beaten up. It’s bark is a wonderful honey-golden color that draws one to memorialize the sighting.

The area is alive with critters. Because of dogs running and exploring, the wildlife rarely shows itself. My camera, from a great distance, caught this chipmunk running up a rock and pausing. Got it, a split second before it disappeared.

While thinking about critters, I must include this new shot of my Miles. He’s a true Border Collie, always thinking about and planning his next move. These attributes are essential in the best of the breed, and always visible in captures of Miles.

Each juniper has a unique personality. They’re tough trees. Some old-time area dwellers dislike them entirely. They accuse juniper’s of smelling not good, and complain that the trees have relatively shallow roots and can “steal water” from other plants. To me, they smell fine and I know nothing about water stealing. To me, they’re always interesting to observe, and happily, provide homes to wildlife.

As often as I’ve trekked in this BLM, circling off the beaten path gets me a little lost. In the end, as usual, my dogs lead the way back to our vehicle.

Dear Friends: Happy St. Patrick’s Day! On Sunday, spring becomes official. Diana

Today’s header photo is by photographer, Susan Tusa. An inveterate hiker, she took a series of photos demonstrating deep-winter while trekking near her Michigan home. The photos are of winter sightings in the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore.

Today, I will drive toward the mountains with dogs and a camera, to create for myself a series of post-winter photos. I’m an almost-total novice and my efforts won’t adequately shadow Tusa’s work. She’s a professional with top equipment and experience using complicated editing software.

I’m eager to borrow from her photographer-eye and have learning goals. Today is to seek and recognize, beyond easily accessible ops, photo potential in unlikely places. I’ve a trustworthy eye for balance, but lack a constant reassuring sense of innate creativity, and tend to skip possibilities.

The dogs and I will have fun, get bunches of exercise, and maybe, bring home a camera with several special captures. There might be snow in the mountains, so it can’t hurt to take snowshoes. To be snowshoeing while taking photos would fulfill another of my key goals for this wintertime.

Tusa’s photos appear in today’s Washington Post and are breathtaking. Here’s a link: https://www.washingtonpost.com/travel/interactive/2021/nature-photography-michigan-susan-tusa/?itid=hp_travel

Dear Friends: One steadily self-pushes, to overcome or slide past mental obstacles. Diana

Monday, March 15, 2021 (6 days before Spring is official)

It’s hard to resist an allure of traveling biographically into the world of women’s wrestling. Especially in these concerning days of common focus on #metoo and violence against women. I’m ready to be introduced to a woman who’s 6’2″ tall, topping-off herself with a blonde Mohawk, and wrestling professionally. The author, Jeannine Mjoseth, went by two monikers depending on whether she’d win or lose a match. “Lady Maxine” was the good guy, and alternately, “Mad Maxine”, the heel.

She learned the ropes and secrets of professional wrestling at a special school for women. It was run by Moolah, one of the first big-time female wrestlers of the ’40s and ’50s. Mjoseth says she despised Moolah, who skimmed money from her students, ignored their injuries and pimped them out to her friends.

Besides Mjoseth’s story of her wrestling training and subsequent career, she confirms that wrestling is a staged performance. Its moves completely are choreographed to avoid bodily hurts beyond bruising.

A year or so ago, I watched Netflix’s series, GLOW (Glamorous Ladies of Wrestling). That fun and well-done series got me interested in women’s wrestling. Mjoseth’s book got my attention because it suggests her dimensions way beyond her athleticism during her 20s. After her wrestling career ended, she spent thirty years working professionally as a reporter and researcher who became a science writer for the federal government.

So, she’s an ex-athlete and also a writer. Her book is on its way here.

Dear Friends: Like Wonder Woman, one capable of resisting physical violence. Diana

Sunday, March 14, 2021 (in 7 days, spring will become official)

Spring is a week distant but signs are appearing. Warm weather and lots of sunshine are high points. Today especially is significant, as most of us have or are fiddling with our clocks.

This time around I felt prepared. My blog reminders of daylight savings time coming kept me focused. Last night before retiring, in unusual preparedness, I turned the clocks ahead. I’m a keeper of horses and too-short winter daylights always take tolls. I welcome earlier daylights, the first of which starts today.

This morning, Max (my cat) awakened me slightly after 4 a.m. He was massaging my leg. Sleepily, I tried pushing him off the bed, but no dice–he’s a stubborn guy. Hearing the noise, Osix joined us and my wishes for a little more sleep evaporated.

Starting off, the morning felt fine. I was proud of already having clocks turned forward, being early on my feet and looking forward to morning light. Best, I’d go earlier to the barn and feed the large animals.

Something has happened though. Over the last hour, while reading online news articles, my eyes began drooping, my energy is dissipating. I feel tired, want to return to bed. Darn! This year’s changeover was supposed to be different. Isn’t it so, that by careful planning, an impending change will go well?

I suppose the real truth is in the science. Remember that real-time lessons this year constantly have reminded us to pay attention to science. About studies on time and light changes, they’ve been shown to impact our routine functioning. This morning, I’m a textbook example.

Well, I can’t return to bed, it’s is a working day at my part-time job. Must hope not to yawn through the event. Now, as a first light dawns, Peaches has begun his screaming, and the horses, goats, and my last surviving hen, will begin to call.

Dear Friends: Add my honk to those opposed to twice-yearly manual time changes. Diana

Saturday, March 13, 2021 (8 days before the First Day of Spring; DST begins tomorrow)

Yesterday’s weather was lovely with clear skies, high temperatures, and an inviting outdoors.

I understand that modern motorists are unaware that horses legally have the right of way. Lately, while on the streets with my three equines, we’ve been surprised by too-speedy or unusually-noisy vehicles. They pose a possibility of frightening my large animals. The other day after a couple of homemade, speeding and not street-legal, vehicles roared past my house, I felt extra-worried about walking on local, formerly very quiet, streets with my horses.

We regularly have strolled for about a third of a mile to Bobby’s property. The horses and I love his large and very grassy space, unused a few years until we arrived. Until this year, walking there returning home wasn’t worrisome, but this year, with the local housing market exploding and new residents arriving, the street traffic has changed.

My neighbor, John, across the street, with a small pasture, welcomes my horses to graze. Yesterday, fearing traffic, I marched the trio over to spend their day. Crossing the road–what a relief, to feel in control of my destiny! For everyday use, John’s pasture is a little small, but it’ll be our go-to place until my equilibrium rebounds.

Otherwise, yesterday was one of working on the ranch. I cleaned much residue after weeks of too-cold to work outside. Cleaning horsey areas is a never-ending task that’s in funny ways rewarding. I suppose it’s about physical exercise with instant gratification, measurable accomplishment.

Dear Friends: Next week, another instantly rewarding physical activity, horseback riding! Diana

Friday, March 12, 2021 (9 days until the First Day of Spring; clocks forward in 2 days)

A couple of evenings ago, while walking my horses home from a neighbor’s pasture, I could feel their energy rising. Looking around I saw a male on a motorbike coming toward us from behind, neither slowing or pulling over. He saw the disturbance his motor caused and didn’t stop, just held up a hand to calm me while riding on past. The horses weren’t as disturbed as my donkey. She tried charging up front in an attempt to run away. I yelled asking the guy to shut his motor, but he ignored me. Somehow I managed to hold onto the donkey, a strong animal.

That awakened me more to this changing neighborhood. It’s growing, new homes being built, more people moving in, and much becoming less the same. My horses used to pull my buggy through the neighborhood and also through the nearby unimproved outback under power lines. We rarely saw a hiker, bicyclist, or moving vehicle. When we did, they gave us wide berth. My horsey rounds were routine and comfortable.

I’ve been aware of more traffic, new people, and fewer vehicles slowing for us. The motorbike incident made me worry about the safety of continuing to walk on streets with the horses. Or worst, driving on the streets, a horse pulling my buggy.

Yesterday, while coming to the house after feeding large animals, I heard unusual roaring motors–loud, insistent, maybe heavy equipment working in the neighborhood? Waiting outside my house to see what made the noise, suddenly two vehicles roared into view. Their motors deafening, they passed my house, swung around in the cul de sac, and noisily raced past me in the opposite direction.

The vehicles looked homemade, not street-legal. They were wooden platforms, up off the road at the height of mid-wheel, and with steering mechanisms and motors. Over my quiet street, the drivers, sitting low on their butts with knees high, blasted past in full force.

It was easy to imagine what might have been, if moments earlier these vehicles had appeared as I walked with horses. Horses would never deliberately hurt me, but they’re beasts of prey and alert to events, sudden and unexpected. Loud vehicles chasing them could drive group excitement, and high negative energy can create undesirable outcomes.

I would feel less safe now, walking them twice-daily a third-of-a-mile down the road, to and from a lovely pasture. There might not appear more motor bikes or platform-level thrill riders, but for the safety of my horses and me, we shouldn’t take chances.

This city rapidly is changing right before our eyes. The east side where I live long was considered an outback, populated largely by old-timers with little farms, who grew hay and kept a few horses. This city has become one of America’s fastest-growing, and everywhere with new construction projects giant and small, bringing more new property buyers and residents.

Maybe it’s over-reacting, but I’ll adapt to keep us safe. No more road walking. The thing is, equines are wonderful pets, smart, willing, adaptable. They find their way into human hearts, deeply, indescribably, and absolutely. They’re also big, powerful, sometimes reactionary. Interacting with a horse means understanding that the animal innately is kind, but remaining alert to its energy levels.

Dear Friends: I’m re-thinking our summer activities, and away from the neighborhood. Diana

Thursday, March 11, 2021 (10 days until First Day of Spring; and DST starts next Sunday)

This morning I’ll receive my second Corvid shot, and thus, before leaving home, must handle the morning chores. So, to accomplish the feeding of horses and taking them to my neighbor’s pasture, this writing must be short.

And fun, so here are a couple of worthwhile movies on Netflix. My choices run mainly in two directions, complex art films and easy comedies. No shoot-em-ups, bang-em-ups! I think a good movie transports viewers into worlds they can admire, and for an hour or two, feel pleased on being immersed.

I’ll begin with, “What Would Sophia Loren Do?” (2020), a delightful short documentary, in which an Italian American grandmother finds strength and joy in the life of her screen idol, Sophia Loren. It’s salutes both classic Italian films and an eternal toughness within Loren’s screen character. Plus, we get glimpses of the famous actress in real-life, warm, loving, and vibrant.

Another is a movie-length comedy, “East-Side Sushi” (2014). In it and against all odds, a single Latina mom, after finding work in a Japanese restaurant, aspires to become a sushi chef. Its attractive ensemble cast works well together. It takes us on an inspirational feel-good journey with a young woman who’s forced to succeed and determined to win.

Both these movies currently are on Netflix.

Dear Friends: Even after receiving a second jab, I’ll continue wearing masks in public. Diana

Wednesday, March 10, 2021 (11 days until the First Day of Spring + DST begins next Sunday)

In barely over a week will be the first day of spring. Yesterday afternoon, the weather played a joke by surprising us with a blizzard. Heavy hail and snow began just as I started to walk one-third mile down the street to a neighbor’s pasture. I needed to gather and bring home my horses. “Drat this,” I thought, just as a truck turned onto my street. I recognized it as belonging to a neighbor, but instead of turning into his driveway, the truck came clear to me and stopped. “Hop in and make this trip easier,” he said, and after turning his truck, drove me to the pasture.

My three equines coated in hail were galloping in circles and bucking. “Yes,” I’ll be all right,” I said, “The horses will be eager to go home where they have shelter.” He drove away, and I entered the pasture. The horses stopped to wait, easily were haltered. I led and secured each to a tree, arranged in a typical order for our march to home.

Just then, I saw a my neighbor on foot coming down the street and waving, heading toward us. He laughed, “I need exercise anyway, so put on my gloves and am here to help!”

I took the lead ropes for Sunni and Pimmy, he lifted Rosie’s lead from its tether. We began to walk, facing into a thickly-driving hail that made talking difficult, and hearing speech impossible. He was comfortable with Rosie, who was behaving well, and I concentrated on speeding-up Pimmy (no easy task).

We reached home, removed halters, and gave carrots to the animals. My neighbor had enjoyed the process and laughed, declaring the outing had been fun, and wishing me a good evening.

Understanding that I could by myself have brought them home, he came anyway to help in the face of blustery, awful weather. A spontaneous act of sheer kindness. Thinking about it, that’s something I must play forward by acting on the next opportunity to assist someone who seems in need.

Dear Friends: I’m humbled by his spontaneous show of concern and act of sheer kindness. Diana

Tuesday, March 09, 2021 (12 days before the First Day of Spring)

During February’s Black History Month, I was in the middle of works by two talented black authors, Zora Neal Hurston and Isabell Wilkerson. I’ve read some of the great black writers from the 1920’s and 30’s Harlem Renaissance. February’s focus encouraged me to expand my repertoire. It’s embarrassing to admit not already having read several significant contemporary authors. Full disclosure: I ordered books by Maya Angelo and Toni Morrison, and yes, ought to be beaten by a wet noodle.

Anyway, days ago arrived a book I couldn’t recall ordering. Maybe a bonus book from one source or another? It reprints two stories by an American novelist of the Harlem Renaissance. The writer, Nella Larsen (born in 1891), who was recognized by her contemporaries, quit writing after assuming a nursing career. Before that, while working as a librarian, she managed to publish two novels and some short stories.

Yesterday, an email from the New York Times reminded me of its online book club meeting this afternoon, to discuss Larsen’s book, PASSING. Oy vey, that’s why I ordered the book, still unread and now stuck in a “someday stack”. I want to participate in the book club, and early today assisted by coffee I started reading. Larsen’s style of writing doesn’t immediately draw me in, but her story becomes captivating.

I’ll read like crazy to finish PASSING before today’s early (my time) meeting. Ms. Larsen’s story snags my attention, and the book club’s leader is scholarly. I hope to comprehend more her literary impact, to know better what places her among the great Harlem Renaissance writers, of talent, that to this day astonish readers.

Thank you, Black History Month!

Dear Friends: So much to do and so little time for so much worthy of learning. Diana

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Monday, March 08, 2021 (13 days before the First Day of Spring)

Today, International Women’s Day, is perfect to point fellow film buffs to a fine new movie showing on Netflix. It’s “The Life Ahead”, in Italian with subtitles. It stars the legendary, still-fabulous Sophia Loren.

In this 2020 film, Loren, now eighty-six years old, both looks and acts her age. She still captivates, and as always from somewhere inside, she’s gorgeous. Since her early actress days in the 1950s, she’s been outstanding among international movie stars. Her career began in Italian film’s “early reality” period, when the culture’s movies focused on tragedy and humor, and addressed human beauty from without and within. Loren has appeared in almost-every imaginable lead role calling for a strong woman.

“The Life Ahead” is a modern tour de force showcasing her incredible range of talent. It’s directed by her son, Eduardo Ponti, from his screenplay co-authored with Ugo Chiti. It cases Loren as an Italian Jew and holocaust survivor, who’s become an elderly ex-prostitute. She’s on the edge of poverty and augments her income by boarding a few unwanted children. To two children already under her roof, she unwillingly adds a third. He’s a twelve-year-old orphan from Senegal, a bold, clever thief without an apparent moral compass.

The young actor, Ibrahima Gueve, totally is capable in his leading role opposite Loren. He’s very black, smart, and athletic. She’s very wrinkled, tired, and ill. This film’s beautiful camerawork equally loves both actors.

My favorite movies draw on and illuminate individuals, their entire character, inner and outer. Wholeheartedly, “The Life Ahead” does so. It’s a winner.

On this International Woman’s Day, viva to Sophia Loren. And to other unforgettable, fabulous actresses, who still are active in their eighties. Think of such as Glenda Jackson, Maggie Smith, and Vanessa Redgrave.

Dear Friends: This film reunites us to an Italian eye that has provided to the world great movies. Diana