Tuesday, July 26, 2022

Hay’s here, some of it anyway. The grower’s trailer can accommodate only half of my order; the balance will arrive in two days.

I was happy to see that truck and its payload rolling toward my barn. Although product and delivery costs this year are triple what they used to be, it’s currently the economy of keeping large animals. Because of reduced water allowances to farmers and less product yield, end-users must search for hay, find what’s available, and afford high prices. Fortunately, I’m a grower’s established customer and can benefit from a share of his cutting.

A rainy and snowy winter would increase harvested hay and help prices fall. Back when bales were readily available and cheaper, I’d stockpile extra. Not possible for the time being, and this week’s deliveries must support my equines until next summer.

I’m sitting on the deck this morning, relaxing in little breezes and enjoying coffee. I’m also calculating the amounts of hay to feed daily to ensure an adequate supply.

Dear Friends: Grab any general coolness before temps rise to triple digits. Diana

Monday, July 25, 2022

Hay delivery tonight, first of two; the second isn’t yet scheduled. I am thankful for having part-time work that helps me afford new hay.

Recent water shortages have made hay astronomical in price. After all, it’s simply dried grass; it’s been fertilized, watered, allowed to grow tall, and then cut and baled. Grass products should be inexpensive and were (comparatively speaking) until recently. Changing weather patterns make it harder to find and afford good hay.

Large animals must eat, and adequate hay is a fine substitute for pasture grazing. Green grass isn’t always good for horses. Growing grass has a high sugar content that may cause serious foot problems in hooved animals. Some animals on summer grass quickly gain too much weight, and on many (horses are susceptible), stored body fat can last a lifetime.

Today, hooray! My equines will receive much of what’s necessary through the coming months. Next week, a second delivery will fill our hay shed. The grower is an experienced farmer, and we’ll discuss possibilities for his yield next year.

He’s been in a tough spot because water has been short. He wishes to keep his regular customers, and too little harvest forces him to divide a yield among us. So we may receive less grass than needed, which happened last year. I have been careful about my horses’ feed amounts to avoid running short.

We have made it to a new harvest. Anticipating upcoming deliveries has eased my concerns.

Dear Friends: Bulk hay, until recently, quickly and inexpensively was available. Diana

Sunday, July 24, 2022

Some guy checking out through my register line yesterday told me that America is about to have a civil war. My carefully neutral response encouraged that true Trumpian to continue. He went on about feelings of dissatisfaction among the righteous. He gave their (and his) reasons for an upcoming social uprising.

Over the last twenty years, I’ve worked part-time as a front-line employee in large retail operations. First in Costco and now in WinCo. In my role, I’ve been victimized by angry people needing listeners. They, in turn, anger me for having to listen and pack it in. My employment demands remaining polite and non-disagreeable. We’re selling products.

Customers needing to speak aren’t concerned that I might disagree and assume I’m sympathetic. Truthfully, these individuals make my insides boil, and with a choice, I’d avoid them totally.

That fellow speaking of an oncoming civil war was the first I’ve heard on the topic. I’m aware of references in newspapers to a potential uprising of dissatisfied Americans. Those people are the extremes, although most Americans are dissatisfied in various ways.

I’d be a more comfortable American if our economic and social situations could remain more stable. Constant fluctuations keep citizens nervous and on edge. We’re not helped by leaders who struggle, seemingly unable to manage adverse conditions affecting most citizens.

We try to cope by packing it in, doing our best to remain silent, and keeping opinions to ourselves. A segment that refuses to cope, or simply can’t, works at recruiting others to its cause. One way is to treat workers in roles like mine as a captive audience and to rattle on about opinions their forced listeners may find disagreeable.

I try to escape such unwanted attention without saying, “Shut up!” Easiest is making myself slip into a fantasy, where suddenly I’m disappearing.

Dear Friends: Being opinionated is okay, but not over-slipping and offensive. Diana

Saturday, July 23, 2022

Central Oregon is bracing for a heatwave next week, predicted to be at its worst on my days off. Oregon has escaped much of the awful heat that already permeates many areas. Our pleasant summer might become less so until fall arrives. Traditionally, the most beautiful weather occurs here in September and October. August usually has a couple of sweltering weeks, but this year’s month could be hotter longer.

Yesterday’s supermarket customers purchased ice cream, soft drinks, and alcoholic beverages. Many said they were headed to the coast, others would be camping in area lakes, and all were preparing for hotter weather by stocking up on eats, ice, and liquids.

I practice chatting briefly with the supermarket’s busy customers. They’ll usually share quick recipes, say why they prefer certain wines, guess at the weight of a chosen watermelon, and comment on their too-busy day. Customers dislike waiting in check-out lines, and ours are long. We checkers rapidly try to process purchases, add up prices, collect money, and offer a quick thanks and goodbye.

Other than individuals I already know or those with unique and unmistakable characteristics, all customers look alike to me, with many new faces tending to blur. If a returning customer reminds me of something we discussed briefly, the words might be familiar but not that individual. This could change as I become more accustomed to my work, which I’ve done only for about six weeks.

I want to memorize product code numbers. Those at registers who’ve been doing the job long know by heart most such numbers; they quickly check out buyers. I’m getting faster at check-outs, having learned where to find product numbers on my cheat sheet, but am slower than memory workers. Experienced checkers say memory “just arrives” from handling products frequently. Having never been much of a “numbers person,” I wonder if my brain could store many of them.

All should be well by keeping my line moving with brief, comfortable chats. Achieving more would be gravy.

Dear Friends: Always the heat is on, one type of it or another. Diana

Friday, July 22, 2022

Film noir is French for “dark film.” A style of filmmaking characterized by the elements of cynical heroes, stark lighting, flashbacks, intricate plots, and existentialist philosophy. The genre became prevalent in American crime dramas during the post-World War II era, and more so in Foreign films representing a New Wave of filming in the post-Viet Nam era.

I love excellent film noir. One of the finest American examples is Roman Polansky’s “Chinatown,” a great movie. I’ve watched it often, always impacted anew by how successfully it intermixes top-level beauty and underlying decay.

Yesterday, I was considering issues surrounding the water shortages in Central Oregon, where I live, and remembered “Chinatown.” Its story is premised on water shortages in the LA Basin area during the depression era. A detective goes searching for what’s behind water shortages and quickly becomes squarely caught up in the social drama. A great film.

Yesterday, that memory drew me to the Criterion Channel. There, I chose to watch another famous American film noir, by Lawrence Kasdan, “Body Heat,” which he wrote and directed in 1981, several years after “Chinatown” was released. “Body Heat” is a story very different from “Chinatown” but equally impactful.

I find that both represent to perfection, filmmaking art and high-impact viewing. I remember during the eighties seeing and liking “Body Heat.” Now, seeing it again through eyes more experienced with film styles, I’m elevating “Body Heat” to film art that’s equal to “Chinatown.”

It’s fun to consider how real-time water shortage problems triggered an old movie memory. The power of art drew me to tap an associated movie memory and update my sensitivities.

Dear Friends: Fine art is a successful interweaving of reality and escapism. Diana

Thursday, July 21, 2022

Today is a day off from my outside job. Aside from the usual daily chores at home, I have a few goals for fun. I will prepare sections of soil for planting wildflowers to help to save the Monarch Butterflies and to support visiting Hummingbirds. I’ll photograph birds.

I intend to watch the final January 6th Committee Hearing. Live coverage in the PNW will occur late this afternoon. The possibility of appreciating “a Chaney” never seemed remotely possible, but Liz is proving herself an outstanding member of Congress. Throughout my voting years, Republicans have turned me off. I will follow Liz whose example might encourage other moderate Republicans to come forward and address logically and constructively economic and social situations.

There appears to be a key contest of ideas, Chaney vs. Trump. We can hope for the best outcome.

In an associated mood, my friend Susie forwarded an article explaining water shortages in Central Oregon. It’s essentially about water pirating, or an age-old description of unquenchable human quests for visibility, money, and power, with little or no consideration about what’s best for all.

Water shortage is a continuing brutal story of development in Central Oregon. It began in the early 20th Century with the plundering of this area’s surrounding old-growth natural forests. Today, local house building is spreading, encroaching the few remaining local natural forest patches. Central Oregon’s water shortages are because of commercially-drained underground water resources. Behind that are wealthy power brokers, seeking increased profit margin by continually building new structures and commercial golf courses.

Here’s a link to the water article, https://www.opb.org/article/2022/07/19/deschutes-water-rights-access-well-drilling-groundwater-central-oregon/?utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=First%20Look%20July%2019%202022&utm_content=First%20Look%20July%2019%202022+CID_a24c155aa7799e316c8a1c4ff2f34aa9&utm_source=firstlook&utm_term=Learn%20more

Having ranted prior to this afternoon’s hearing, I’ll take a respite to concentrate on butterflies and hummingbirds.

Dear Friends: The future looks really scary if power-hungry Putin wins his war. Diana

Wednesday, July 20, 2022

My computer today is running slowly. I’ll keep this short.

Thanks to the kindness of next-door neighbors, Frank and Annette, who’ve cut their pasture, my horses will receive a gift of hay. Those bales will help during this hay rationing period before our grower delivers. This year’s wetter weather has yielded more hay than last year’s too-dry season. Hay growing requires full irrigation canals. Hopefully, my coming supply will carry us until next July.

I’ve not been a snow seeker unlike many here in Central Oregon. I’m changing now and rooting more for heavier winters. We need the weather that fills lakes and snowpacks mountains. My perspective isn’t on skiing, but on growing enough feed for large animals and returning to affordability.

I worry about large animals that belong to people who can’t afford the current very-high costs of hay. My part-time job helps me manage the economics of horse-keeping, no cheap hobby even in the best times. Inviting a horse to live on a property means having it around for a long time and through better and worst. Yep, horses are family.

Dear Friends: Now, I’m off to do needed work, before off to my part-time gig. Diana

Tuesday, July 19, 2022

Here’s when I like them best. Sound asleep, both. Otherwise, they’re in a totally opposite mode and very noisy, playing to the nines or knawing on old bones. Chase is five months old and does extra. He chews electrical wires, tears magazine pages, and ruins all possible shoes. The two are done when simply they drop, and wherever they happen to be, as in today’s header photo having landed on a pillow.

Today is a free one from my part-time job. I’ll be playing catch-up on needed work around the property, playing with the animals, and doing some reading. I’ll also be off on Thursday, and thus, will follow the final public hearing in regard to January 6 by the Senate Investigative Committee.

Visitors to Bend from Arizona and California coming through my checkout line describe the intense heat common in those areas. They say they’re amazed to find this summer that here is cool and comfortable.

A couple of ladies, one from Arizona and the other from Portland, were buying lots of food items and preparing for an annual celebration. They explained that Central Oregon’s consistently good summer weather draws ladies from various states who’ve known each other for forty years. Annually, they meet here for a week to revitalize friendships and catch up.

A reminder for locals. Let’s thank our lucky stars for summers of tolerable weather.

Dear Friends: And now I’m out to feed the horses, goats, and chickens. Diana

Monday, July 18, 2022

I’m fiddling unendingly with my Mac Computer to access programs fully. There were assets I appreciated back while using droid-based computers. Some “helpers,” or auxiliary programs I purchased, downloaded, and loved, this Mac can’t access. Or actually, I can’t and am wanting them again!

I like working on the Mac and will continue trying to fix glitches, but changing over is frustrating. I’m finding it impossible to transfer to the Mac images from my best camera. Also, routine text editing is cumbersome and time-consuming.

The key to achieving success is understanding the IOS system. Ah, but that stretches my brain’s capabilities. Anyway, there’s no going back, no returning to my droid. The puppy has chewed its power cord in half.

So here I’ll relax. I will shift my focus, not grind on and instead move around. I’ll go out and feed critters.

Dear Friends: Anyway, it’s time to assume other activities; today’s a workday. Diana

Sunday, July 17, 2022

That photo is of a baby Robin that had fallen from a nest last summer. It was tiny with parents frantically communicating with it and catching my attention. The baby was on the ground in a fenced area with my dogs. It needed rescuing. I picked it up and set it on the ground in a safer area. While leaving it for the parents, I realized the infant would be visible to flying predators. With the parents still carrying on, I decided to rescue the bird.

Knowing nothing about young birds. I embarked on a learning journey.

This one had feathers but couldn’t fly, depended on being fed. I knew it could eat live mealworms, but the pandemic still ruled and many miscellaneous live food producers had gone out of business. My bird needed feeding and I hurried to find someone who might know how to care for a baby.

I learned how at The Reptile Zone. The owner gave me advice which included finding big worms used for fish bait, and feeding those. It turned out that night crawlers were available. My little bird loved them.

It wasn’t pretty to feed big worms to a bird too small to consume a whole one. I cut them into pieces and used a forceps to poke them into the wide open beak. The little bird ate well, grew quickly, and I was a proud mom.

Once the bird knew how to balance, it safely could spend time perched on a tree branch. From that vantage spot, it could watch, learn, and become brave. In a couple of weeks, it went from remaining stationary in place, to flying from tree to tree.

It always came when I called. Until it didn’t. One day, I discovered the bird baby gone. And apparently for good. For days I called for it without getting a response. My Robin fully had fledged.

I hoped it would return this summer and nest in this area. I’ve no sense that it has done so. Sometimes I stand outside and in my “here, Baby” voice call for it. No dice.

I picture the Robin as having survived and now raising babies of its own. I hope someday, a mature Robin will fly in, land nearby, and offer a suggestion of knowing me. Regardless, the whole rescue experience remains a powerful memory.

Dear Friends: A miracle of witnessing natural nature taking its course. Diana