Tuesday, June 29, 2021 (In 24 days, July’s fullest moon [“Thunder”] will rise.)

This day is supposed to be another with temperatures reaching triple digits. Since 5 a.m., I’ve been rotating sprinklers and timing flows, getting critical watering done before the sun rises.

Central Oregon summers usually don’t require much air conditioning. Typically, during a week or two in August it’s doggone hot, but otherwise, our summers are mild.

Until this one. Now, it’s staggeringly hot.

Yesterday, I hung horse blankets in the coop that houses baby chickens, to give them shade. Not until this year and in this heat, did I realize in late afternoons that some ranch areas completely lack shade. There’s none where those babies are, and none where the horses are. The horses do have a shade shelter and may escape the sun. The chick babies huddle panting in the tiny available shade. The huddle creates even more warmth. The hanging blankets will provide more shade.

Water consumption is another biggie. Yesterday evening, the horse troughs water levels were lower than I’ve ever seen. Who knew they could drink so much water! The baby chickens, too, were going through water, and I had to prevent an instant without it, so brought in a very large container with gravity-fill.

To stay into gear for creating a water feature, I brought home an asiatic lily. This flower, too beautiful to resist, grows in the ground and will encourage my “water lily state of mind”.

Best of all, it has a very cool look.

Dear Friends: Cool will be “the word” for today, and maybe, too, through days following. Diana

Monday, June 28, 2021 (In 25 days, July’s fullest moon [“Thunder”] will rise.)

What about this unyielding stretch of heat! My ranch in yesterday’s early evening totally was without shade. Hoping for a little cool while the horses ate, I went later than usual to feed, and no use, not a bit of shade. The temp, in their area, 100-deg.

I checked on the baby chickens. They were unmoving in a bit of shade cast by their Igloo but panting heavily. That heat didn’t stop them from running after and squabbling over my offering of bits of bread, which they love. Instantly when bread disappeared, they retreated to the Igloo shadow.

My cat Max has been inside most of yesterday and all of last night. He occasionally has moved, shifting from spots on carpet to those on tiled floors, always splaying-out flat.

As for Miss PattiPearl Plecos, it must be a factor of heat that early today she’s showing herself for the first time in months. She’s lived in this tank for years, is becoming a whopper.

She’s a plecostomus, a variety of catfish that grows approximately to 16″, something I didn’t know before selecting her for my new 20 gallon aquarium. PattiPearl was tiny and almost cute, would work at cleaning algae from aquarium glass. Through our years together, she’s mostly remained hidden inside a little cave. Often I wonder if she’s still alive.

All the tank’s inhabitants get along with PattiPearl, a great community fish. Someday her size will require re-homing her or establishing a larger tank. Thanks to this heat wave, at least she’s shown herself alive and well.

On subjects of fish and tanks, I’ve considered creating a water garden. They’re so cool and hold live water plants. For it, I’ll gather wild lilies from open canals and house hardy goldfish. The fish in winters would join like residents in the heated horse watering troughs.

My neighbor Frank quickly moved on this idea. He has started my plan by donating an unwanted 100 gallon trough.

An aqua-garden should be near water and electrical sources. I’m deciding on a best spot for this tank. What’s good, besides the aqua idea itself, is that despite today’s heat I’ll be thinking about water, plants, and fish–all very cooling notions.

Dear Friends: Now, going out early to beat the heat, to care for horses, chickens, goats, and plants. Diana

Sunday, June 27, 2021 (In 26 days, July’s fullest moon [“Thunder”] will rise.)

Slightly after 5 a.m., in a temp of 69 degrees, I’ve been outside and starting water on one of my eight pines. Today’s temp should rise above 100 degrees, and like yesterday, I’ll early feed and handle the outside ranch animals, and afterwards “my insiders”. Throughout today, I’ll work to fireproof the ranch by watering much more than its name-trees.

Ahead, another busy day.

For most of yesterday, I moved hoses, pulled weeds, tended animals, and worked at staying cool. Oddly enough, that work had a zen component. I discovered something wonderful about devoting myself to earth and nature, in an increased sense of feeling connected. A happy experience that today hopefully repeats.

Although it’ll be hot, the dogs and I might go hiking beside a cooling canal. A neighbor who gardens mentioned his beautiful lilies after having pulled a few blooming wild alongside a waterway. I know of two nearby canals that in summers are crowded with multi-colored tall lilies.

My little hiking fantasy might lead me to create a water garden. An idea with potential, for yesterday’s water elements increased my pleasure. I saw resident robins frequenting birdbaths, butterflies showing up and hovering, hummingbirds attracted to sprinklers and pausing in air or on a leaf to bathe. Yes, maybe today will be right for starting a water garden.

Already, during each visit to a home center I’ve adopted and brought home at least one new plant. Today will be for bringing home some beautiful water lilies.

Dear Friends: To cope is to comprehend needs and find ways to turn lemons into lemonade. Diana

Saturday, June 26, 2021 (In 27 days, July’s fullest moon [“Thunder”] will rise.)

This is a brief hello. As of today my local area will welcome a string of 100-deg-plus days. Intensive heat makes working with horses uncomfortable for them and for me. This morning I plan to hurry outside while temps are reasonable to feed and exercise.

Already, our weather has been unusually hot and unpredictable. There’s been very high heat with dry-thundering electrical storms. A couple of days ago for an hour, a driving storm of large hail literally brought this area to its knees.

Odd weather patterns are occurring everywhere. Nobody alone is facng the current unyielding heat and dryness.

These patterns force us worry ahead. About remaining well, and surviving miserable weather. About preventing wildfires from popping up and spreading. About maintaining human connections during unusual social times. About a new awareness, of an inhabited large building suddenly collapsing.

Dear Friends: Take things slowly, stay cool, be safe, and when possible assist others. Diana

Friday, June 25, 2021 In 28 days, July’s fullest moon (“Thunder”) will rise.)

Late in the evening, Susie and I headed toward the eastern desert and out to greet June’s Strawberry Moon.

This moon arrives on the heels of the summer solstice and longer daylight, which makes it rise later than other full moons.

Susie drove following her compass in a direction of anticipated moon-rise, winding up in Alfalfa, a nearby community. We searched for a place to park and wait, without trees interrupting views of the horizon.

We parked in a farmer’s field. Nearby in the near-darkness, he drove his tractor and plowed hay while ignoring our intrusion.

Behind us, the western sky was alight. The header photo (above) captures that sunset. Here’s another, which details the mesmerizing sky.

Ahead in the east’s semi-darkness as the farmer plowed, Susie and I set up to wait for the moment of moon rise. We settled into deck chairs with cameras waiting beside us. We munched shrimp and raised our beers in salute to the upcoming moon.

Suddenly through total darkness, Susie’s quick eye caught a glimmer, “Here it comes!” We scrambled for our cameras.

It’s a near-mystical human experience, the very-first glimpse of distant light in its instant of breaking darkness. The moon’s just-beginning glow is a sort-of dopamine, invigorating primitive-like great joy and deep relief.

Powered by the moon, we dance in its rising light.

Susie and I are a moon-chasing team wearing matching jackets, swapping cameras back and forth. We don’t care later who captured which picture.

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The end-page for our June Chase is this team photo, highlighted by the Strawberry Super Moon.

Dear Friends: Have fun–plant a flower, adopt a tree, love the moon–enjoy being alive. Diana

Thursday, June 24, 2021 (This evening, June’s fullest [Strawberry] moon rises.)

Too often, I’m a day late and a dollar short!

Recently I transformed my RV garage from hay storage into a crafting environment. I used to enjoy doing a little woodworking and wished to begin again.

That was before I checked today’s wood prices. I can’t afford decent wood!

To fill time until I can afford desirable wood, it seemed a good idea to go out to get a handle on what’s available, and set eventual buying targets. Yesterday I visited several local home supply centers, to learn what’s actually available and for how much.

I was in Lowe’s when thunders began sounding. Oh, I thought, another dry electrical storm. But soon rain began hitting the roof. I ignored the sounds until they came faster and harder. The rain was growing big and my dogs would be trying to get inside the house.

I hurried to an exit, and there was stopped from leaving by a huge, hard hail storm.

In the photograph, there’s my red Jeep parked nearly one-hundred yards away–with its windows open! The day’s temperature had hovered around ninety degrees. Who’d a worried!

Waiting for the hail to stop wasn’t a possibility. Consistently, it came, hard and slanting, and ever more so as a small crowd of us wanting to leave watched.

Finally, I just went for it and hurried straight into that hail. My head and face were slammed by blistering bullets before I managed to climb into a front seat where I landed in a puddle of water and ice.

I drove barely able to see ahead the road. But here’s a thing about this town. Leaving its west side and entering its east side can be akin to experiencing two different weather worlds. Once I reached the east side, and suddenly, no rain or hail. Streets were dry as a bone. I arrived home greeted by unconcerned dogs.

I’ve described our recent, dry, thunder and lightening events. That’s what happened here on the east side, but over across town, they faced an entirely different weather event.

Dear Friends: I’ll get creative and play with leftover wood scraps from old remodeling projects. Diana

Wednesday, June 23, 2021 (Tomorrow evening, June’s fullest [Strawberry] moon will rise.)

The area where I live has crazy weather. Over the last two evenings, we’ve huddled through electrical storms. Maybe other parts of town received rain but not mine. Here, my dogs, terrified by thunder, have scratched mightily on outside woodwork, window screens, and glass doorways, trying to gain entry. Once inside none relaxes, and all huddle around me waiting for a thunderbolt to finish us all.

Some of the big bolts are very ferocious, as if announcing the known world’s ending.

National newspapers carry stories daily about more excessive heat blanketing America’s west. My cousin Mary lives in Los Angeles, and says it’s been hot enough there to make breathing difficult.

The reason, global warming. We can recall years of lagging belief by many world leaders and like-thinking followers who refused, at least publicly, to acknowledge global warming’s existence and impact. (Hat’s off to Al Gore.)

During mesmerizing events like electrical storms, one considers checking last year’s calendar to remember what weather type then held sway. I didn’t check my calendar, because of having an entirely new perception. After my years in Central Oregon and looking out a window, I saw for the first time that the atmosphere “looked green”.

Then for the first time I associated our Central Oregon weather to that of summertime Midwest where I used to live. There we feared tornadoes, and during tornado watches, I’d stand outside looking for an atmospheric tint of green. Seeing that suggested a funnel en route and announced, “Get into shelter!”

My complete surprise yesterday on seeing green suggested weather that differed from last year’s.

There’s plenty of evidence, personal and economic, supporting a reality of changing climate. Moreover, the changes are ongoing with out-of-pattern weather continuing to surprise and worry us.

Dear Friends: I’m a brain-button ahead of my dogs and nearly as terrified by crashing thunders. Diana

Tuesday, June 22, 2021 (In 2 days, June’s fullest [Strawberry] moon will rise.)

Already this month’s Strawberry Moon looks full. There it was very early this morning lighting the western sky, reflecting in a window as I let my dogs outside for a few moments. This month’s moon is to be at its fullest Thursday night. My friend Susie already is studying solar data and deciding where best we might witness actual moments of the moon’s rising.

I’ve always loved full moons, especially autumn’s big harvest moons. They’re farther from Earth than winter Super Moons, but nonetheless are incredibly bright, and to me, comforting. As autumn days become shorter and I’m trudging up from the barn in near-darkness, a harvest moon is warm and inviting.

That used to be plenty enough, to encourage me to pause beside my house and photograph the beautiful moon. Next morning, I’d post a picture, blog about the moon, speak to it’s joy and of course how it revives Shakespeare’s magnificence.

I’m not particularly adventuresome and rather happily “live in my head”. A vision from my house of the moon once was quite satisfying. That has changed since Susie and I teamed to “chase the full moon”. She’s outdoorsy, not satisfied to gaze at full moons from our neighborhood, but wishes to witness the actual moments of a moon’s rise above a very dark horizon. In other words, no city lights.

She studies solar information for when a full moon will rise and to estimate where best to witness it. I’m a passenger during miles of traveling toward more darkness. We will park in a remote spot and wait staring at a blank horizon until it reveals a spot of very-first light.

What an incredible light! It’s like the whole world itself newly is rising. We two are like prehistoric humans, awed by a new light that’s making safer the surrounding darkness. We are joyful and dance with our cameras.

Being pushed outdoors has altered my relationship to the moon, now closely related to my increasing sense of the total connectedness among everything living regardless of classification. We humans are beginning to grasp this holistic inter-living connectedness. It’s the reason witnessing a moon-rise interrupting darkness seems nearly a primitive experience, erasing time and commitments, freeing ideas and soul, and re-enlightening.

This Thursday evening we’ll head east into darkening, searching for an optimal view of horizon. We’ll park and await in darkness with cameras for an earliest light, and the quickly increasing glow that offsets the Earth’s night.

Dear Friends: Studying the worlds of nature and solar affirms a totality of connectedness. Diana

Monday, June 21, 2021 (In 3 days, June’s fullest [Strawberry] moon will rise.)

Yesterday was “chickies-move day”. I went early to clean the area where they’d be housed. I raked, picked up, and tried to think creatively how to move the chicks. Their brooder, a 100-gallon watering trough, had to be taken from the garage, moved about one hundred yards downhill to where they’d live the rest of their lives.

My options weren’t easy, because the brooder’s bulky weight, with bedding and chicks, needed careful handling for safety. Yesterday was Father’s Day, too. I swallowed hard, thinking of interrupting a family, but did ask my friend Susie for help. She had hiking plans with her husband and son, but that afternoon was very hot, offering her a window of free time. Susie kindly bicycled over.

She’s unafraid of physical work and we hatched a plan. Together we’d lift the brooder up and into my Gater’s cargo bed. We’d drive downhill to the coop area, and unload the brooder onto a sled. We’d pull that loaded sled to the designated chick space, and then, unload and release the babies one-by-one.

Upon being released the babies were cautious and confused, but not for long. Soon they began trying to climb on the area’s enhancements.

After a bit the flock discovered its supplies of food, water, and chickie-grit. The littlest two, Welsummer and Amber (both a week younger), followed cautiously.

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Job well done! We had secured the area by closing off two exits. We had moved the chicks and safely to where they’ll get to know an elderly hen and twin goats (and vice versa). After a couple of weeks the babies won’t be area intruders and may freely join Big Welsummer and the twins.

Oh Happy Day! Got new chicks, got ’em feathered, got ’em moved, and next, we’ll get eggs.

To Wonderful Susie, thank you!

Dear Friends: Thanks to the heavens for friends! Diana

Sunday, June 20, 2021 (In 4 days, June’s fullest [Strawberry] moon will rise.)

The full Strawberry Moon is shaping up and yesterday rose showing three-quarters. Three-quarters moons make me feel happy because they look huggable. I captured the emerging Strawberry yesterday at mid-afternoon in a beautiful sky. The full version moon will rise on Thursday.

Yesterday’s early morning sky predicted a gorgeous summer day. Working down at the barn and looking up, I saw “mare’s tails” clouds. They’re long, thin, wispy, and resemble a horse’s flowing tail. As those clouds promised, the day’s weather remained pleasant.

So much in fact that I set the chicks’ brooder outside, allowing the babies hours of sunshine and natural warmth. They’re happy outdoors, alternately chirping quietly or engaging in brief squawking anxieties. It’s time they’re free and roaming outdoors. I thought of an easy way to out them.

A large area adjacent to the chicken coop has a small doorway that can be shut against exits and entries. In that area the babies safely could wander and learn. They and my one mature hen and twin goats could learn to become comfortable together, across a generous chicken-wire fence.

That’s to become today’s project. Clean and sequester the adjacent area, and move-in a spare dog Igloo to house the chicks before they’ll join the other residents. I’ll prepare the area, carry chicks into the sequestered space and set them free. It’ll be fun, watching the changing develop.

Speaking of fun, a neighbor, Kristen, was batching-it for the weekend and decided to host a girls night out. Her impromptu gathering included Susie, Laura, and Lara’s friend Lynn (from Eugene), me and Kristen.

Susie, Laura, and Lynn were just back from bicycling miles in the McKenzie Pass. I had completed essential ranching chores. Kristen on-the-spur had managed to whip-up one of her fab, very-low-carb, keto deserts.

The day couldn’t have been better.

Dear Friends: Plans are good, and so at times are pop-ups–serendipitous ideas and activities. Diana