Sunday, December 19, 2021 (January’s fullest moon [“Wolf Moon”] will rise on the 17th.)

The caption photo shows December’s rising nearly-fullest moon, on the eve prior to its reaching a point nearest to Earth. That moon was gorgeous in early evening’s sky.

I turned in the opposite direction, and saw sky colors above the South Sister Mountain. The streaks were from a lowering sun, settling behind the Cascades.

Even Bend’s Pilot Butte, ordinarily mundane, now captured some of light’s mysteries. That butte is a collapsed volcano, about a mile high and very visible. It seems to have existed forever. In the 1800s, Pilot Butte guided wagon travelers who sought pathways to various Oregon destinations. Many travelers continued westward, on to Valley and Coast locations. Some who settled near the Butte created the settlement of Bend.

Sometimes this small city feels larger than it is. Many locals including myself, often look for the Butte to determine current locations. From across town, the Butte’s visibility offers direction-identification and an approximate distance to ones home.

Last night, I arrived home late from work, couldn’t catch December’s fullest moon’s first rise over a dark horizon. Already, that moon was climbing and through clouds, nearly as dramatically as it might have been at earliest rising.

I rushed to get a camera and myself in place, to capture the moon’s rising through semi-dark clouds. By the time I was organized, the moon above turbulent clouds was on its own and lovely.

The Cold Moon is aptly-named for its year-end presence, and it’s also Earth’s “longest” full moon. Cold Moon’s higher trajectories across the sky keeps it sitting above the horizon for longer periods of time.

This month’s full Moon is considered a “micromoon”, or the opposite of a “Supermoon”. Supermoons are full moons that appear larger than typical full moons because they’re closer to Earth. In 2022, three Supermoons will appear, on Tuesday, June 14; Wednesday, July 15; and Friday, August 12.

Dear Readers: I hope to continue capturing fullest moons and marvelous skies. Diana

Saturday, December 18, 2021 (December’s fullest moon [“Cold Moon”] rises tonight.)

I went to a restaurant for dinner, with friends. Being with them was enjoyable. The restaurant experience worried me.

In the first place, the well-known venue didn’t require mask-wearing. In the second, although it pleased that an elderly woman was our waiter (A retiree had landed a job, hooray!), she frightened me by working without gloves. Her fingers were everywhere, on water glasses and plates, even touching foods.

Earlier that day, my Jeep for an hour had drifted with a long line of cars toward a drive-through Covid booster setup. That evening’s waitress, with bare hands carelessly handling glasses and plates of food, concerned me. My friends, as far as I could tell, didn’t share my discomfort. Our dining event had been important to them. Otherwise, I’d have walked out.

Hopefully, that episode won’t spread Covid. Hopefully, my immunity is adequate to survive such surprising encounters.

Probably, like that waitress, my having landed a job directly results from problems in today’s environment. Lots of people unwilling to return to work are leaving vacancies for Seniors wishing employment. I’m happy to be working again and among the public.

I’ve worked as a food handler. The law for handling requires specific and well-defined cleanliness. A wait person not wearing gloves, should at least handle plates and glasses in a manner unoffensive to diners.

Am I too picky? Have I too much fear of Corona Virus and its variations?

Thinking back to my food handling days, I recall some coworkers who focused more on productivity than on cleanliness. I never touched a single output from their efforts. Yet, “those sloppies” were popular, and many customers consumed foods prepared by them.

Since the beginning of pandemic, I’ve avoided public eateries.

As a student of history, and a modern learner, I’m aware of deplorable conditions negatively affecting all of Earth. Consider the reduced numbers of wild birds and honeybees, and melting ancient giant glaciers causing ocean levels to rise. Plastics, discarded and non-recyclable are everywhere. The Corona Virus and its mutations have taken tolls, world-wide, on livability, product availability, and inflation. Masks, vaccinations, and booster shots aren’t jokes.

If there’s a “next time” that I’m invited to dine in a restaurant, I’ll decline. Or depending on who’s asking, opt for home-cooing.

Dear Friends: These days much is different, and many refuse to be on board. Diana

Friday, December 17, 2021 (December’s fullest moon [“Cold Moon”] rises on the 18th.)

There are pleasant things about being old. Experience has taught that while working among young people, I should keep a low profile and stay out of their business. Low profile means keeping to myself, such as education, experience, and life lessons. Staying out of “their business” means remaining uninvolved in social/political opinions and romantic ventures.

I practice limiting my comments, opinions, and observations to whatever we share in real time. For example, I’ll say, “That customer was weird.” Usually, others will agree. I’m hearing generally good feedback about my participation on the team. That’s pleasing.

Here’s a sweet thing. A young co-worker told me of saying to her mom that she “just loves” me. They wonder if I have an invitation for Christmas Day, have invited me to join their family that day.

Well, I’m too old and far-away from a young family’s experience, to anticipate feeling comfortable in that situation. Kind and fun as the family might be, and despite my affection for a sweet co-worker.

Another sweet thing. I’m going with friends who wish to take me out for dinner. That’s caused a decision situation. I’m uninterested in eating out, since before the pandemic. That stay-at-home-and-be-safe-stretch cinched my disinterest. Besides, having worked in food service, I don’t particularly trust food-handling in big kitchens. I’m not saying that all public food handling is bad. My avoiding simply reflects an achieved mindset.

But I’ve accepted my friends’ invitation, it’s important to them.

Thank Heavens, that although I’m elderly, often distrustful and grouchy, it’s become possible to thread through a few personal tangles. So far, I’m navigating challenging waters that offer work-groups, generational divides, and friendship sharing.

As to The Big Holidays. I’m accustomed to spending them semi-alone, and also joyously, with my wonderful critter family. I don’t seek more, but aren’t taking lightly spontaneous kindnesses from friends and coworkers. It’s all good.

Dear Friends: Dark winter, a cold-season environment, facilitates closeness. Diana

Thursday, December 16, 2021 (December’s fullest moon [“Cold Moon”] rises on the 18th.)

We moon chasers creatively will capture this month’s fullest moon-rise. I’m scheduled to work on the 18th, will help to close the store and not get home until late. By then, the full moon will be floating high, if even visible in our snowy, gloomy-trending skies.

If a visible globe is overhead, after feeding horses and walking uphill to the house, I’ll try to capture it. My fellow “chaser”, Susie, plans to be outside earlier, photographing. Sometimes unfortunate circumstances lead to happy outcomes. Maybe our December efforts will have us winding up with interesting photos.

Susie and I have chased nearly a year’s worth of fullest-rising moons. We’d enjoy creating a calendar for Year 2023 featuring our best photo captures. Many show this year’s risings as dramatic and compelling, others reflect moon strength and beauty.

We’ve experienced in real time the sudden light that appears over a dark horizon. In those moments of dawning, Susie and I have understood how since time immemorial moonlight has attracted and excited humans, and most other living creatures.

We’re falling back and punting now to achieve our goals. A whole year’s worth of monthly risings, and a 2023 calendar of full-moons.

Dear Friends: Little interruptions alter processes and need working-around. Diana

Wednesday, December 15, 2021 (December’s fullest moon [“Cold Moon”] rises on the 18th.)

This is my first day off, after a string of them behind a cash register. My busy workplace carries tough, lasting cold-weather clothing. The customers range from those wishing to look expensively “campy” to real time workers still grubby from the trenches.

It’s seductive to see and touch various apparel purchases for wearing and gifting. The store’s parent organization has given all employees a generous gift card. After days of thought, I started buying, and the gift allowed me a relatively-cheap makeover.

It feels that expensive clothing alters “my look”, transforms me. From pitiful, muddy rancher in Costco-cheap, to quasi-expensive, hip country-gal.

For years, I worked inside Costco and buying there has satisfied. Now there’s a problem from new jeans, shoes, and shirts. They comfortingly differ from cheaper, thinner clothing. Better elements of design, sturdiness, and padding, plus sporting designer labels, creates a little “head trip”.

It’s been years since I’ve experienced this. Way back, in my career days, I carried real leather bags, scribbled with uber-expensive pens, wore big-name watches, and so on. Everybody did in the corporate world. Expensive signalled stature. The instant I retired to Oregon, all that went away.

I’ve enjoyed my Costco trappings which signal “rancher with horses and dogs”. For awhile though, seasonal gifts from my employers will be fun-reminders of old days. I’ll play, but we all know the outer trappings don’t “make” a person. What does is the inner stuff.

That’s what I think about while checking out customers. Whether they’re draped in expensive or old ranch-stained, I’m seeking “some inner” of each. There’s little time for this. We check customers out quickly to avoid waiting buyers. Truthfully, a few seconds are enough for hints as to “the who” of an individual. Those glimpses are fun.

For awhile I’ll enjoy gifts that revive memories, but not for long. Truthfully, I wouldn’t exchange a single day of my retirement for a single one, or more, of the old days.

Dear Friends: Customers in working wear present more as honest and open. Diana

Tuesday, December 14, 2021 (December’s fullest moon [“Cold Moon”] rises on the 18th.)

In a quiet moment a companion checker and I stand beside our registers. She’s twenty years old, very bright, tall, slender, attractive, and fun to work with. Besides, she’s a natural teacher, has helped me grasp many ins and outs of our “register biz”.

We’re silent at this moment, until finally, I sigh and say, “Well,….” I lose my thought as she looks over waiting. I smile, shrug, and say, “A deep thought.”

“What?”

I say, “Well.” But she frowns, doesn’t get it. I try to explain, “It’s a reference to ‘Well’, as a deep thought.”

“What?”

“‘Well’, just the word. ‘Well” is a deep thought.”

“What?”

I’m trapped, can’t communicate the logic of a phrase that’s a cultural norm among my generation. True, it’s been awhile since I’ve uttered, “Well….,” before losing my thought or deciding not to express more. The cultural norm in my day was terminating by shrugging and uttering the phrase, “That’s a deep subject.”

Listeners of my generation will reciprocate. On seeing my pause or shrug, another might end the moment for me, by laughing and saying, “That’s a deep subject.”

From generations behind, this moment’s attempts to explain to a young companion aren’t grasped. I feel deeply a generational gap. Well (and not intending a pun), I’m trapped in “a gap” about which she hasn’t a clue.

Yesterday in the lunchroom, something similar occurred. While several snacked and stared at our cellphones, I’m uncertain what happened. I read something or heard a comment that reminded me of an old movie, from 1944, entitled, “Farewell My Lovely”. It’s a detective story that starred a then-famous actor, Robert Mitchum. The script was based on a successful novel, “Farewell My Lovely”, by Raymond Chandler, an applauded author of dark stories.

Anyway, something I read or heard made me, after rising and saying, “I’m returning to work”, give a big wave and add, “So, farewell my lovelies.”

A something-twenties coworker laughed and handed me a surprise, “Coming from anyone but you, Diana, that could sound creepy.”

For explaining purposes, 1944 is eons ago and way before I comprehended movies. But I did grow up in eras of Hollywood’s great influence on culture. Suddenly yesterday, I recognized a string of associations that’s been long-stored in my subconscious.

Anyway today, I’m still loving the phrase and great title, “Farewell My Lovely”. It’s fun having stumbled yesterday, re-finding a few forever-stored bits in my mind’s deep pocket.

Plus, I “heart” a trusting young friend who wouldn’t judge as creepy something coming from me.

In the future, I’ll try to pre-think before speaking spontaneously. I’ll do well to consider possible differences in generational understandings.

Except for when I’m ringing out customers of a certain age, many of whom shop in our store. Sometimes, after swapping some sudden old-understanding, we do for seconds connect deeply.

Dear Friends: An old lady among younger’ns will practice treading thoughtfully. Diana

Monday, December 13, 2021 (December’s fullest moon [“Cold Moon”] rises on the 18th.)

Another morning with limited time to write. Today, I’m a store-opener, and tired. We working there have been slammed with customers. Don’t misunderstand, that’s a good thing! But afterwards, we’re finding our ways home, exhausted.

Several days ago, a newspaper article sent me to a link for the Monterey Bay Aquarium. It offers a live feed from its Jelly Cam, where watchers in real time can see jellyfish swimming, all beautiful and relaxing. After live cam hours, recorded feed offers the same pleasurable viewing.

They’re soooo relaxing, those jellyfish! I’m practicing, evenings after work, spending a little time looking at jellyfish. An easy way to allow for myself time to drift and dream.

I’ll share, here’s a link: https://www.monter,eybayaquarium.org/animals/live-cams/jelly-cam

If you crave more action, select another live cam. The aquarium has dedicated cams on its Sea Turtles, Otters, Penguins. One outside and on the aquarium itself shows goings-on.

Dear Friends: Convenient, kind pauses, for feeling, meditating, creating. Diana

Sunday, December 12, 2021 (December’s fullest moon [“Cold Moon”] rises on the 18th.)

Today, a quick hello before it gets time to leave for work.

I’ve something on my mind. More proof of the devastating influence of humans on our environment.

We’ve long been aware that wild birds in large numbers are diminishing. Now, after analyzing 92 percent of extant bird species, scientists have found that no single avian species numbers more than l.6 billion individuals. This is remarkable.

First, because it implies that humans, despite weighing more than common birds, outnumber every single bird species.

Second, because studies show that humans are fostering huge numbers of farmed chickens. In 2019, these avian species, numbering 25.9 billion, prove that chickens are now Earth’s most common bird species.

Humans are the reason many bird populations in nature are declining. Just as every year, human consumption of farmed chickens is rising.

My reference: https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/silent-skies-billions-of-north-american-birds-have-vanished/

Dear Friends: Selfish human dominance, devastating and heartbreaking. Diana

Saturday, December 11, 2021 (December’s fullest moon [“Cold Moon”] rises on the 18th.)

According to weather experts, this week the lower Cascades will receive snow. In this east-side foothills community with a great need for snow, we’re witnessing minimal falling flakes. Most locals, including we not into snow sports, are hoping for snow. Our inland city is surrounded by agricultural areas. We need annual healthy melt-offs to meet the water needs.

I moved here sixteen years ago, in the days that annual heavy snowfalls stopped traffic. Through winters folks stayed busy shoveling and snow-blowing. Local ski areas were big ticket destinations, remaining busy through their operating seasons.

This was/is a “winter town”.

The past few years have offered warmer winters with little (if any, to speak of) snow. Decreasing annual snow-melting makes water scarcity a major topic. Toward the end of last spring, many of Oregon’s natural lakes had very low water levels. Resident mature fish were so endangered that wildlife authorities began allowing unlicensed fishing.

Recently, a couple checking out through my register in the feed store where I work described themselves as “intrepid fishers”. They described fishing last season from water-starved lakes, said their catches didn’t taste good. It seemed their caught fish already had been suffering. The pair doesn’t expect to fish this year. There’s a low possibility of water levels regaining decency.

I ask people checking out their thoughts about water levels and possible snow. The long-time locals are worried, many newcomers not so much. Those newcomers will learn. The history of settlement in Central Oregon is all about this area’s mountains, trees, and water.

On moving here I cared little about water needs, a common discussion topic. I’m not a snow sports person and tended to ignore water worries. Now having learned some economics of water availability, I greatly wish for snow.

This community is horsey. I have horses, they’re my sport, and horses need hay. Current water conservation efforts allowing farmers limited supplies of water, means less watering and reduced viable yields. Hay consumers are facing skywards-driving costs, which won’t lessen unless snow falls, and lots of it.

Regardless of an individual’s sport preferences, and/or intellectual interests, or how long one has lived locally. We’ll all be forced to understand how, and from where, we receive water. We’re starting to understand how badly, and soon, we need lots more of “the how”.

Let it snow!

Dear Friends: I wish to have lived in “this perfect area” a hundred years ago. Diana

Friday, December 10, 2021 (December’s fullest moon [“Cold Moon”] rises on the 18th.)

From my long-time friend, Julie. Today’s header photo is of her eleven-year-old granddaughter, Abby.

I’ve known Julie and her husband, Dave, for years, but only recently met her son, Matt (Abby’s dad). While checking him out in the feed store where I work, his name popped up on my register. He was buying chicken feed. We started talking.

A couple years ago, Julie and Dave brought Abby to my little ranch for a ride on my donkey, Pimmy. Abby loved that! Matt and I, on recognizing one another, talked about the Christmas Parade looming ahead. I wondered if Abby might enjoy riding Pimmy again, and this time in the Parade. I’ve written previously that she did ride, accompanied by Matt, her Aunt Darcy, and Grandma Julie.

My donkey has proved that she’s a great binder of friends. I’m learning that chickens are too.

Folks at my register with chicken feed share quick stories about their flocks. These are cold days, and some have chickens still laying, others with chickens on pause. Mine still are laying, and although daily yields are diminishing, the chickens are providing enough to share.

Anyway, I was the recipient of three left-over pumpkins. They stayed on the barn floor a day or so. I wasn’t eager to try cutting them for the barn-related animals. Earlier experiences taught me that pumpkin shells and skins are tough-tackles.

But my pony, Sunni, walked over to a pumpkin, opened her mouth wide and took a bite. After chewing, swallowing, and managing to take another big bite, she wandered away. For me, that was a teachable moment.

I set the bitten-into pumpkin and another whole one out with the horses. Next morning, there wasn’t a single sign of pumpkin-remains. Now, I knew it possible to offer pumpkins without having first to cut!

Nonetheless, for the chickens, I halved the one remaining whole pumpkin with a very sharp pruning saw, and set both halves in the chicken area. By day’s middle, both looked like this one pictured. By day’s end both were thin-skin bowls, wobbling in the breeze.

Abby’s love for donkey rides and for her chickens squarely fits her to the local environment. After a few more years, she might routinely come through my cash register line for feed of one kind or another. Then as I’m learning, we’ll swap short stories, we’ll catch up.

Dear Friends: Who ever dreamed that operating a cash register could be fun. Diana