Wednesday, August 19, 2020

One of the tires on my horse trailer has for weeks given me fits from a visible nail. It probably was picked up in the Horse Butte parking area. There maybe thousands of nails lay around from wood-burnings conducted in the area’s center. Many remove the nails we spot easily, but many more are hiding under the area’s dust. Cleaning nails, and sometimes debris, from that trailhead is an unending job. Parking there is a risk to tires.

Because of the CoronaVirus, I hesitated to go to a tire shop. So instead of repairing, I simply kept adding air to the damaged tire. Well, until yesterday, when the tire wouldn’t accept more air. It turned out that the tire store was respectful of the epidemic. I had to stay inside my truck while workers checked the problem tire. It turned out to be unrepairable, for running through were a couple of screws and a staple, and it also sported a large puncture hole. I needed a brand new tire.

(BTW, the tire shop was impressive in its attention to sanitization. It reminded me of the care we take while working inside Costo. We’re continuously maintaining a sanitary environment, cleaning surfaces, wearing and often changing gloves, using masks and not touching our faces. Unfortunately, the tire store had the same sort of in-denial tire customers as we see in Costco. They’re wearing masks beneath their noses, and usually deliberately, a symbolic “finger-up”.)

I’m loving the horseback riding at Horse Butte, and yes, will return. All together on my truck and trailer are ten tires. I’ll gamble that since the parking lot has murdered only one, maybe in my favor are the odds of escaping another tire-battering. For sure though, upon seeing a tire getting low, I’ll move quickly to have it repaired. It’s better now, knowing that a visit to the tire store isn’t particularly unsafe.

Dear Friends: Correctly masking, sanitizing, and washing hands, frequently, are best practices. Diana

Tuesday, August 18, 2020

The other day, Sunni and I, and the dogs, ambled through the forest on an ancient trail. Before completely reaching its far end, we discovered another old, faint, but well-beaten pathway. We turned onto it, found that it took us back toward the trailhead. At long last, I’d discovered old trails that create a riding-loop, and go purely through forest. They introduce future horseback rides in an area avoiding dusty roads, except for walking across.

On another day, the dogs and I returned. I rode Rosie with Pimmy following, intending for us to travel over that forest loop. We weren’t lucky enough to find the old trail that returned to the trailhead, and so, searched for it by bushwacking.

We wandered from the “Greenery area”, into grassy flatlands or through stretches thick with trees, and a couple of times found ourselves moving upward toward a ridge peak. If our location made it appear we were lost, we turned back toward the Greenery.

My useful habit while on horseback, and when appropriate, is to follow the dogs. Dogs love trails and will discover and travel over them. On this day of our wanderings, the dogs stayed busy chasing chipmunks without finding any beaten trail.

Somewhere and finally we ran across a trail going in a direction that seemed desirable. With dogs leading (as sometimes our trail faded), we went to its termination, where I hoped, at a road where directly across another trail I knew well continued toward the trailhead.

I’ve confidence in the ultimate success of having an easily-accessed, completely-forested loop for my entourage. Hopefully, it would be rideable for as long as five miles, or abbreviated for three-mile rides. Traveling through a forest on horseback is more fun, much prettier, and yea, cleaner than dusty roadways.

Dear Friends: Today, more armed with experience, maybe I can complete this quest. Diana

Monday, August 17, 2020

In my half-sleep this morning, on awakening, I heard clearly in my head, “When I lost my baby, I learned to cry real tears”. There was more, for those words were subtitled, “Goodby, crocodile tears”. I hadn’t a notion as to what those thoughts referred to, and decided to play creatively with them.

I tried to write a short story but couldn’t string-together enough satisfying ideas. I found it beyond my musical talents to use those words as country-western lyrics. Later, I thought more about this and wondered if the words are remnants of an old country-western song from my Oklahoma childhood. In those days, our regional music was nothing like modern country-western. Most old pure-country songs had lyrics either silly and laughable, or heartbreakingly rendered in faux-sobs.

To escape my Oklahoma upbringing, I elected to dislike country music. Instead, I listened to and learned to enjoy classical music–specifically opera. Many years later and seemingly out of the blue, I began yearning to hear the original old-time singers like Jimmy Wakely and Hank Williams. Actually, in those days, country singers sometimes did team with more sophisticated singers like Margaret Whiting and Jo Stafford. They were the daughters of famous musicians and bandleaders, Richard Whiting and Paul Weston.

Whyever this morning’s words popped up, they made me recall and rethink. I remembered the wonderful singer, Jo Stafford, who created an alternate life as Cinderella G. Stump. Here, Cinderella sings with Red Ingle and his fiddle, in 1960. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H_ukeZqJYPY

Stafford also teamed with her dad, and as Jonathan and Darlene Edwards. They created an album of left-handed playing and singing, an hilarious parody that kept my friends and me in stitches.

In contrast and as herself, here’s the talented Jo singing with the magnificent one-and-only Ella Fitzgerald, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ctyT-9o4Vl0

Thank you, dream life, for reviving some of my heart’s fondest memories!

Dear Friends: I’ll be rediscovering more of the past’s fabulous creativity and listening. Diana

Sunday, August 16, 2020

Locally, the big news yesterday was a fire across town that forced the evacuation of many city folks. I became aware of the fire while leaving work and coming home under the very thick, very black smoke that hung overhead. It was frightening. I stood outside my house, seeing smoke rise and hoping fire crews quickly could get the blaze under control. And they did for Oregon’s firefighters are among the world’s best. They’re accustomed to putting out forest (and other types of) blazes, locally and anywhere else that needs their skills.

Here in Central Oregon, most folks enjoy hanging onto much of what’s natural to the environment. Most, upon seeing a serious rising of black smoke, hurry outside to reassess their vulnerabilities. Many local homes are historic and wood-constructed, with yards or acreages tree-filled. Of course, there also are worries about the flammability of other vulnerable stuff, like stored fuel and electrical components.

I hadn’t been home long before my kind neighbor, Bill, checked-in to make sure I knew about the fire and was handling okay the needs of my animals and property. Bill is a source of information about what-is-or-might-be, through his associations with some in local government. Plus, as a long-time Oregonian, he’s accustomed to witnessing common natural disasters and understands preparations for dealing with many of them.

Our temperatures are rising and today’s are expected to climb to around 100-degrees.

Throughout this era of CoronaVirus, we’ve all witnessed the stretchings of visible and invisible drama. Since last December, many black clouds have hung over our heads, after we began learning about the Virus and it’s possible life-span. Since then, its threats have played constant havoc in earthworld’s people’s lives.

At least and thankfully, it’s possible to extinguish some fires quickly.

Dear Readers: Today, I’ll be on horseback, hopefully feeling cool, and considering myself lucky. Diana

Saturday, August 15, 2020

A long-time and very dear friend, and I, recently re-linked.

Jan and I became friends when I lived in Kansas City. We were in our twenties and shared many common interests. Throughout the years, we pursued goals, one we shared was to free ourselves of “childhood baggage”. We chose individual paths toward self-discovery, but throughout shared a broad array of interests that fed our minds and imaginations.

Jan was a natural artist, I dreamed of becoming a writer. Eventually, she fell in love, married, and had a child. I decided to join my family and move to California. Though Jan’s and my paths diverged, we occasionally got together, in the midwest or on the west coast. Over time, our individualities and life experiences set us on separate ways and through years of silence.

Suddenly, the other morning Jan popped into my mind. I sat thinking and remembering us. I wanted to write to her but shrugged it off, as for years we’d been silent. In that moment, I had almost too-little time to create a blog, run outside to feed the large animals, and as requested, arrive early at work for a group meeting. I got busy, forgot writing to Jan.

Yesterday morning, a note from Jan showed up in my email. Ya could’a knocked me over with a feather. It revived my sense that some communications occur in ways above and beyond human understanding. Somehow through time and space, and at the moment Jan popped into my mind, we must have reconnected.

New technology makes it so that our iPads allowed Jan and me a face-to-face reunion. We shared a great catching-up, a swapping of ideas, impressions, and thoughts about the future. The hour was re-energizing. That got me really thinking.

Here’s a perspective, that perhaps some of my psychic energy had drifted toward a sponge-like-dryness. I’ve a sense of refreshment now after soaking in validation by a kindred other. Maybe all that happened only has sprung from a writer’s imagination. I’m even wondering now if the event were real, or if I simply imagined those transactions with a dear friend.

So there they are, psychic possibilities versus the real. Sometimes it confuses as to which is in play.

Dear Readers: Use your mind, use your imagination, and see the many possibilities. Diana

Friday, August 14, 2020

Went for a horseback ride over in the Horse Butte National Forest. It was lovely, with my friend Anna riding Rosie and I on Sunni. Pimmy followed us and wearing a new donkey fly mask covering her long ears and face.

This outing was spontaneous and without a particular goal except to relax and enjoy. For several miles we simply ambled along.

It’s a joy that Anna loves Rosie, a pleasure to see how thoughtfully she communicates, how well the two interact. Anna guides the mare to stroll casually, invokes Rosie’s natural long strides–it’s lovely.

Sunni and I get along better as she wears a bit-less bridle. I’ve practiced bracing my elbows in a manner to prevent her sudden neck-dippings to grab for grass. Now after working to resolve our differences, Sunni and I move along appropriately. We’re team players though, and periodically I give Sunni permission to pause for grass.

The next time that I’m out and riding alone, I intend to explore very faint side trails. Some appear to sprout from our main trail and others seem to track alongside at a distance. In that beautiful forest it’s quiet and surprisingly cool, and likely, most trails are remnants from hunting seasons. Nonetheless, Horse Butte long has been a horseback riding area, and I’ll probably discover some wonderful old and still pretty-well beaten horse paths.

Dear Friends: If today you happen to be in Costco, look for me and say hello. Diana

Thursday, August 13, 2020

Like nearly everybody else, I’m hooked on the worldwide impact of the ongoing CoronaVirus pandemic. Blogs by writers living in other countries suggest that they, like us, mostly are at home and looking through their windows or hanging out in their backyards. Nearly everybody worries about present and future health care and the overall environment.

Much about how such as these evolve will result from how societies are governed. I live in Central Oregon, in an essentially remote and almost landlocked area between mountains and desert. I’ve considered myself a remote watcher of national politics and of shenanigans among the rich and powerful. I’m not feeling so remote now, for my area visibly is being impacted by decisions of those who govern this nation.

Yesterday, ICE personnel showed up, right here in nearly-landlocked Bend, and arrested two long-time citizens. They claimed they had a warrant, but didn’t or couldn’t produce one. Local citizens seeing what was happening immediately surrounded and blocked that ICE truck. Bend citizens used social media to publicize and protest those arrests. Bend’s mayor supported ICE’s appearance and the arrests.

Recently, too, we in Oregon learned that the Trump Administration has allowed lumber producers to start cutting into Oregon forests, to log the remaining, relatively-small stands of giant old-growth trees. Meanwhile, the State has initiated a lawsuit to oppose this and hopes to make impossible any cuttings of old growths.

I repeat that, until now, I’ve felt a relatively distant observer of national politics. But no longer, for I’ve become as disgusted as one living in a major city who feels highly impacted by this Nation’s poor leadership. I’m stunned by its blatant neglect of the sheer necessity to cope realistically with deteriorating factors related to human health and our struggling environment.

The pandemic and the politics are awakening many citizens to the fact that ahead is a new world. Regardless of whether we allow government to continue as is, or whether we vote and change our leadership, much won’t and can’t be the same. Our planet is overburdened, has been managed poorly. Saving it and ourselves requires a widespread acceptance of new constraints, and accordingly, changes in how we behave.

Neither paper money, gold, nor such as bitcoin or virtual money, could help if ahead there comes a time of genuine, real shortages–say, of food, toilet paper, fuels, hospital equipment. We all must get smarter and also hope that ahead our leadership also becomes smarter and is more caring.

Dear Friends: I try to avoid writing about politics, but sometimes…. Diana

Wednesday, August 12, 2020

This will be short and fast, as it’s to be an at-work day and I’m running later than usual.

One of the members of our local driving club has asked to go riding with me, and I’m pleased for an opportunity to expand our friendship. Driving with others is fun, but not similar to the sort of hanging out and just talking that happens with others while horseback riding. This summer of horsebacking has been great fun, because of the riding itself and for becoming more in touch with friends.

It’s also been a period of new adventure, as I’ve tried to learn and understand better my somewhat complicated mare, Rosie. Working to know her more has forced me to recognize more within myself, and some personal insights have been surprising. I’m not yet articulate about these surprises but will be by the time Rosie and I completely are in sync.

Basically it’s true, that to get “the feel of a horse” means searching equally to understand more of one’s own feelings. Believe me, it’s is easier said than done.

Anyway, this is a prelude to my running out and feeding the large animals. I’m on the way!

Dear Friends: Hope you have a wonderful day. Diana

Tuesday, August 11, 2020

Yesterday, I understood that “All roads lead to Rome”. In that moment Anna and I on horseback were paused at a forest intersection of five roads. I wanted to grasp our location from a map on my cell phone, and to my shock found my phone had a map detailing this area, except for the road on which our horses were standing.

This “new road” was one Janet and I found a day earlier. Today, Anna and I were exploring it. I had been attracted to a faint old trail going toward the woods. It soon became better defined and continued a half mile. It petered out at an area surrounded by terrain destruction from vehicles in hunting seasons. We continued along the vehicle road and arrived at this intersection.

During my earlier ride with Janet, I recognized this road’s termination near the hunter’s camp on my “Blue Elderberry Trail”. Still, this intersection confounded until it appeared on my phone’s map. The road bringing us here was one I’d noticed previously, had been curious, but not explored. I skipped opportunities to ride on it, and now, saw it as integral to a more complete “Blue Elderberry”.

What months ago began as “my giant corner” of the Horse Butte National Forest has shrunk into a small corner with all roads meeting. These might be mappable for horseback riders as one large loop that contains several smaller loops. Just maybe, for trying to visualize that overtasks my brain.

More about yesterday’s ride. Anna on Rosie mostly was in the lead because of Rosie’s bigger stride. While following on Sunni, I benefited from Anna’s descriptions of Rosie’s frequent muscle flexings. Rosie seemed to flex too often and Anna began searching under the saddle, found a bit of tree debris. She wondered if it were poking at the horse, removed it and continued to ride. Anna said that Rosie’s back muscles now completely were relaxed.

Anna is sensitive, thoughtful, and a natural teacher. I rode Sunni who in a bitless bridle suddenly would halt to grab for grass. Anna showed me an alternate way to hold Sunni’s reins, and demonstrated how a rider can brace elbows against hips and resist sudden neck-dippings. Ha! With a little practice, I became the decider of whether and when Sunni grazed.

Later this week, Anna and I will ride again. We’ll be out east by the Badlands. She’ll be on her giant horse (17+ hands), with me on little Sunni (14- hands). Until then, I’ll go and hawk some wares at Costco.

Dear Friends: This summer’s rides might generate a “New Blue Elderberry” paper map. Diana

Monday, August 10, 2020

As may happen with my friend, Janet, on the spur of a moment we teamed up. This time we went horseback riding, she on the calm and dependable Sunni.

I rode the fun Rosie, who occasionally does surprise a little.

After having started Sunni wearing a bitless bridle, I began thinking of the same for Rosie. She’s maybe tad hotter than Sunni, but mostly it’s barely noticeable. The wonderful thing was to have a riding partner on my first time riding Rosie and with a bitless bridle. Throughout the bitless ride Rosie cooperated perfectly.

Janet, a thoughtful friend, brought me a belated birthday gift from her garden. This morning it blooms more and is beautiful.

On this ride there appeared a very faint horse trail that I’d not noticed before. We set our horses on it and eventually the trail became more defined. It was easy to navigate and seemed to rise although didn’t appear to be going over a ridge. It took us into an area that definitely has action during hunting seasons.

Our trail finally petered out and we were on a road I didn’t recognize. My electronics noted a direction of the trailhead and we turned that way. The area remained strange to my eyes and at some point we turned off, onto a smaller, not well-defined trail. This little trail quickly brought us to a slight ridge. The moment our horses stepped over I knew where we were.

We had arrived at the “Blue Elderberry Trail”! We were near the hunter’s camp and beginning to descend on a stone-lined trail going downhill and turning toward the elderberry bush.

I now understood that we’d come from a road I had noticed before but never tried. It turns out to provide a back way to the hunter’s camp. If coming from the elderberry bush, it’s an opposite way toward the trailhead. This is exciting!

My neighbor, Frank, is experienced in making maps and has offered to help create one showing a forest trail. I will ride this larger loop, perhaps today, and record key coordinates for him.

Today, my excellent horsewoman friend, Anna, will ride Rosie, and use any type of bridle she wishes. Rosie benefits from a session with Anna riding. And just as important, Anna’s feedback to me explaining Rosie’s needs has helped me gather the understanding and bravery to ride Rosie without a bridling constraint.

Dear Friends: “Get going and keep growing” has been key to a wonderful summer. Diana