Monday, May 10, 2021  (16 days before May’s “Flower Moon” rises fullest to Earth)

These days, Central Oregon is warmer and finally new spring is showing itself. I toured the local neighborhood to grab high spots, finding freshness and colors so seductive that I wanted such beauty nearer. So yesterday, just beyond my door, I planted a variety of “spring looks”.

A feature in this neighborhood is a property on which cattle once were raised. Its very old sheds of wood after many years are weathered beautifully. The property recently became sold. Maybe the new owner will tear down and repair. In economic reality, this very visible neglected property has the quality of eyesore. But to many local area residents, its long-aged structures have gained an unmatchable beauty, and equally, are tributes to western history.

The property’s crumbling fences are fascinating. They reveal a history of destructive containments, and now they’re a visual with impact that sparks imaginations of direction and distance.

That old property greets people as they turn in to this subdivision. To me, it reminds of many beautiful cattle past that hung out and grazed. It brings sighs on the relief of having escaped traffic. Most-best though, sightings of it tap into my eagerness for home nearby.

At home and just outside the door, here’s some joyful spring, planted and natural, living colors.

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Dear Friends: I postponed until midweek a road trip into Eastern Oregon with dogs and camera. Diana

Sunday, May 09, 2021  Mother’s Day (17 days before May’s “Flower Moon” rises fullest to Earth)

I’m lifting a coffee and toasting all moms, real and surrogate. Here on this ranch I’m a mom, will be stepping up to the needs of varied critters and trying to fulfill some of my own.

I’m considering loading the dogs and taking a longish drive into Northeast Oregon. I’ll take cameras and periodically stop awhile, to let the puppies run about, while I record images of the desert in early spring.

This long drive will be a way to carve out time for remembering my mom and older sisters (surrogate moms), all gone too-long. I’ve learned that maturity changes our childish perceptions of motherhood. For me these days of reflecting on a before and after, connect with with a fuller understanding of myself. I’m aware of a deep resilience entrenched in my life journey, guiding me to new experiences, surprisingly fun and with continuous learning.

Still, there’s an imaginary part impossible to satisfy. Just think, if one could begin all over again, and could strive to become a mom’s more thoughtful and better child….

Dear Friends: Writing short pieces can be challenging, and so, wishing to all, Happy Mother’s Day! Diana

Saturday, May 08, 2021  (18 days before May’s “Flower Moon” rises fullest to Earth)

The local PBS television has scheduled my favorite news-related show, Amanpour and Company, in late evenings, at 10 p.m. I’m usually exhausted as Christiane Amanpour’s hour begins, and often can’t stay awake throughout. Nonetheless, it’s my good fortune to follow her fine episodes, since also, they’re podcast.

Last night, I had no trouble remaining wide awake and riveted as Christiane interviewed an astute, articulate 98-year-old woman,Selma van de Perre. An amazing person, she was a Nazi-era Jewish Resistance fighter and a Ravensbrück concentration camp survivor. Her autobiography, My Name Is Selma, already is highly regarded and next week will become available in America. Quickly, I pre-ordered it.

I, too, am a child of Jews. My ancestors immigrated to America prior to the Holocaust. They long had been victimized in their home countries for being Jewish. For me, learning about the Holocaust while growing up was awful. Survivors’ stories could make me almost physically ill.

Selma van de Perre describes her experiences while still a high school teen. She had to survive losing to concentration camps her father, mother, and younger sister. Her story is a re-awakening, from the perspective of lifelong learning. Her experience, still vivid with the pain and terror of trying to stay alive, speaks to her incredible courage in how she managed to fight back. She explains with sound wisdom why so long afterwards she has written her book. She speaks to having memories daily of family lost and explains how she deals with them.

The interview has made me eager for more of that lady’s story.

A transition here, to explain that earlier in the day and way prior to Amanpour, I went strolling. With Peaches on my shoulder and a camera in my hand, it was a photo-journaling expedition. I might write more about it tomorrow, but meanwhile, enjoy photos of a neighbor’s beautiful dogs.

I love these of them telling me to, “Get lost!”

Dear Friends: As eighty becomes a “new sixty”, ninety-eight becomes the new seventy-eight. Diana

Friday, May 07, 2021  (19 days before May’s “Flower Moon” rises fullest to Earth)

My newest “things” are daily to-do lists. One enumerates stuff that needs doing today, the other records needs doable-anytime, but not to be overlooked or forgotten. A sudden driving inspiration for these lists makes me wonder if they’re an unconscious way of compensating for memory loss. I shrug this off, my memory seems reasonably good. The problem has been my usual helter-skelter way of planning, which has skipped some things that must be done.

For example, take IRS deadlines. How is it that every year mid-April so-quickly arrives! Sure, the coming mid-April date pops into and out of my mind, but until my tax preparer sends a reminder do I awaken to The Hour almost here. Well, in 2022, there’s a new me and ahead of the game. Already, on my doable-anytime list is April’s drop-dead date.

Such ridiculous forgetfulness isn’t new and concerns me as to memory status. We know memory loss may occur gradually or quickly, and it’s sensible regularly to monitor brain capability. Every brain is unique and each person needs an individual way to status memory. For me, fiddling with daily to-do lists might become an enlightenment method.

Aside from mental fallibility, gray hair brings some wonderful things. I’m learning about this while shopping at a big home improvement store.

I’ve been setting up a sort-of shop in my RV garage which has taken me a couple of times to Home Depot. First, when I needed a few two-by-fours. (Aside: Have you seen the price of lumber lately!!)

I was staring at stacked 2x4s when a customer walked over and said, “Can I help you find boards?” I don’t know if I managed to nod before he said, “How many do you need?” He stepped up and began pulling boards and eyeballing them for warps. Each that he liked, he asked, “Is this okay with you?” and when I nodded, tossed them onto a rolling cart. I just had to find a cashier, pay, and leave.

While pushing through the parking lot, I saw him securing lumber on the top of his SUV. He looked toward me, stopped what he was doing, came over, said “Here, I’ll help you load this on your vehicle.” At my Jeep, which isn’t an easy to load vehicle, he manipulated the long boards, got them inside, smiled at my thanks and nodded, “Have a good day!” before departing.

That was so sweet!

A few days later, I returned to HD and now needed several two-by-four cuts of lumber. After finding them and paying, while rolling my boards through the parking lot, a passing big truck slowed. A fellow stuck his head out the window. “Hello! Can I help you load those into your truck!” He hopped out and took on my task. After a big smile, with a “Happy to help you, have a great day,”, he drove off.

Dear Readers: Gray hair invites the good and the bad, enjoy what’s good to offset the bad. Diana

Thursday, May 06, 2021  (20 days before May’s “Flower Moon” rises fullest to Earth)

My couple of small well-established freshwater aquariums are populated with gentle fish. They’re such as White Cloud Mountain minnows, Harlequin rasboras, Kuhli loaches, and one has a pleco that hides and keeps growing. Each tank also house a couple of snails and in each is a male Beta.

Betas, both females and males, display often and spectacularly in a community tank. These are my current boys, and unfortunately, capturing the blue in all his glory isn’t easy, but his photo suggests the possibilities.

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These tanks have been active several years, are pretty, and best, the creatures get along. During the pandemic lockdown, I toyed with wanting to learn more about creatures of the deep and became intensely interested in octopuses. An octopus requires a large salt water tank, so instead, I settled on aquatic frogs, because they’re gentle little beings, and decided to add one to each tank.

That’s when I learned that one doesn’t just buy a frog, one adopts a frog. It’s the real thing, completing adoption papers, promising to adhere to care standards, and all else associated to adopting a living being. It’s because frogs are air breathers. The aquatic types hang out on bottom for long periods, periodically scooting to water’s top, grabbing a breath, and zip-returning to bottom.

My tiny weird-looking pet frogs are difficult to capture in a photograph.

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These photos, which don’t capture their colors, show each reflected in aquaria glass. As is typical, Blue’s hanging out on the bottom, and White’s shooting up for a gasp. Actually, they’re cute and fun to watch.

Like all frogs, aquaria types can leap, and bigly. I understand they also are escape artists. Early on I learned how quickly one can disappear, for while transferring one into my tank, it made a big jump, got past my hand and landed on the tile floor. Luckily, I recaptured the creature without harming it.

I’m glad we can feel somewhat more free than during last year’s lockdown days. Otherwise, I’d probably already have begun setting up and establishing a large saltwater tank. I’d be searching for an octopus.

Dear Friends: Knowing what you do, and if one could start over, do you wonder what you’d study? Diana

Wednesday, May 05, 2021 (Cinco de Mayo + 21 days before May’s “Flower Moon” rises fullest to Earth)

I’m watching a South Korean series currently streaming on Netflix. “Navirrela” tells the story of a 70-year-old man, a retired postal letter carrier, who strives to fulfill his lifelong dream of becoming a ballet dancer. Without any dancing experience, he has specific wishes, “to learn how to soar” and to dance in a production of “Swan Lake”.

We shake our heads, for he looks his age. He shuffles while walking, worries about aging, and has zero physical potential.

This old man happens upon a 23-year-old, practicing a routine in preparation for a ballet competition. The old man’s eyes light up on seeing the other perform a complex series of twists and leaps. Afterwards, he collars the young man, begging for instruction in beginning ballet.

This seemingly implausible plot, in Korean with subtitles, has had me wondering, had me laughing, and had me in tears. It’s a captivating series about social and family complexities, about aging and hope, and about conflicting interpersonal issues. Above all, it’s about how new relationships may develop, and how they may change over time.

To me, the entire cast was new. Playing the 70-year-old, a wonderful lead actor, Park In-Hwan, an experienced and well recognized South Korean, is sensational in his role. The young man who’s an aspiring competition dancer is Song Kang, usually a dramatic actor. For this role, he spent months learning ballet, is athletic and dances convincingly. The large supporting cast of family and community members complete the fine ensemble.

Currently, this series consists only of one season, but another is on the way. I’ve found tuning into this story to be a worthwhile experience.

Dear Friends: Foreign-sourced series, beyond story and talent teach much about the larger world. Diana

Tuesday, May 04, 2021 (22 days before May’s full “Flower Moon” rises nearest to earth)

Here in Central Oregon skies change as constantly and unpredictably as the weather may vary. My little ranch near the eastern base of the Cascades offers easy viewing of the complex profile of an ancient volcano. Known as Broken Top, its collapsed center creates a magnetic profile that becomes altered in appearance with every weather shift.

Broken Top demands attention.

Yesterday, low-laying clouds capped and slightly obliterated Broken Top’s profile. In fact, only its moodiness was the bit of Cascades showing through massive cloudiness. I couldn’t stop looking and wondering what it might be like to be on Broken Top, and studying contours from a horse’s back.

This season, and hopefully not just my imagination, Broken Top’s appearances alter from previous years. For example lately, when its sharp peaks and edges are set against an almost unclouded sky of very light blue, they’ve seemed unusually prominent.

This photo shows the mountain framed by an almost neutral background, a vision differing from today’s header photo and compelling equally.

I didn’t intend this morning to write about Broken top, but as usual slipped under its spell.

My plan was to respond to another inspiration. Yesterday, as my Cockatoo and hound dog received their annual health care, I admired beautiful plantings that punctuated the veterinary clinic and took photographs.

My property is on the town’s very east side where it’s far less moist and much more rocky. It’s very desert-like. My views of mountains this time of year are fabulous, but early spring makes me thirsty to see vibrant ground-life and natural colors.

This season, I’ll be more free than usual. Maybe I’ll try to create and maintain a little patch resembling these.

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Dear Friends: Removing oneself from living among lushness feeds a searching for tropicality. Diana

Monday, May 03, 2021 (23 days before May’s “Flower Moon” rises nearest to earth)

Yesterday, I posted on Facebook the above photo of Peaches and me out walking. Our long-time friend, Karen McCarthy, posted about an afternoon several years ago when Peaches and I visited her Madras Greenhouse. On that day, I captured this much-loved, “Peaches In The Greenhouse”.

Peaches has been more on my mind, because our veterinarian today will trim his flight wings. Right now, Peaches is fully-feathered, capable of flight, but doesn’t realize this. He rides dependably on my shoulders as we walk outside, but a sudden fright causing a fluttering could take him airborne.

We’re prepared for today’s veterinary visit. Peaches has a travel cage, loves it, and inside sings and dances, but it’s been months since last we used it. Yesterday, we practiced to be sure he’s still comfortable about entering and exiting. Here’s that genuine pro.

In response to my Facebook posting yesterday, another friend who’s long known Peaches wondered if he’s still noisy as ever. Yes! is the simple answer. Here he’s upside down, giving me earfuls about being asked to take a real shower. He best loves spray baths.

Aside from making too much noise, Peaches is fun, to play with or simply to watch.

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From a past walk, this is one of my favorites. Peaches is admiring crafty neighbor’s artwork.

Peaches isn’t my home’s only bird resident. He has a quiet buddy, Gilbert, a gorgeous rescued racing pigeon.

Gil is lovely, a peaceful, easy-care fellow. Soon, I’ll write more and about both these birds, because I’m devising for each an aviary.

It’s long bothered me that in warm weather each should have more outside time in safety from predators. My research finds it mega-expensive to build an aviary from scratch or to purchase a ready-made. But guess what, portable dog crates possibly might be solutions. For gentle Gilbert, such a container could be perfect. But Peaches needs caging fabric strong enough to withstand his always inquiring, destructive beak. We’ll practice, stay tuned.

Dear Friends: Inside birds are eye-openers, every personality has amazing intelligence and awareness. Diana

Sunday, May 02, 2021 (24 days before April’s full “Flower Moon” rises nearest to earth)

My resident Robin, I’m sure, because for the last week or so, a particularly active and noisy one has been working or hanging around the northeast part of my house. Anytime I approach that corner, the bird begins flittering busily from treetop to treetop, watching and chattering, probably because of a nest nearby.

I love Robins, plentiful and loyal residents year-around. I like to think of them as the “Border Collies of birds”. It’s because of the way that Robins commonly hunt on the ground. They remain still for long moments while listening for a prey’s movement, and suddenly will go into action–zooming and pouncing before flying to a fresh hunting spot.

Robins resemble Border Collies because of each has an instinct to fixate intently on a goal or an object. Each will freeze and wait for a right moment before zipping wholeheartedly into action. Looking closely, I almost see a Robin’s head tilt to listen, and it’s absolutely mesmerizing to witness an unwavering Border Collie’s focus and intent.

My Border Collie, Miles, wants nothing more than to be a herding dog. After years and to this day, when he follows as I ride horseback, I’m continually admonishing Miles to “get away”, “beat it”, “quit trying to herd my horse”. The horses reasonably are tolerant, but if too annoyed will kick out.

The more a challenge becomes, the more this dedicated herder tries to meet it.

His thick and beautiful coat will go bye-bye in a couple of weeks. His groomer will reduce seriously the current coat, matted, dried-mud heavy, and impenetrable, transforming Miles into looking like a plush toy. So, a future photo op will capture the “pure focus effect” emanating directly from a plush toy. That’ll be a sight.

Dear Friends: It’s fascinating that mixed types share so many similarities and tendencies. Diana

Saturday, May 01, 2021 (25 days before April’s full “Flower Moon” rises nearest to earth)

I felt these deer unblinkingly watch me raise a camera and point it to them. I also felt wonder that the deer seemed to be communicating, weren’t eager to turn and bolt. Well, there’s good old camera-truth that proves the photographer’s sense off, for both deer were focused elsewhere.

I love seeing wild deer roam over Eight Pines Ranch, or just hanging around grazing. My dogs warn that deer are passing through, usually a small herd that’s fun to see and not disturb. If I miss a passing, hoof images are appealing. Often on seeing me, deer will turn and move away, but sometimes they pause like these pictured.

Deer usually travel through Eight Pines in herds of anywhere from three or four, to ten or twelve. Groups are of one gender but for rutting season, or when there’s a baby buck still traveling with mom.

Every herd member is hyperalert to possible intrusions. Our local types, “mule deer”, have ears big and practical. Perhaps the pictured gals didn’t hurry from my camera, were relaxed enough to gaze elsewhere, because one of their companions was the designated watcher and poised to run.

When I first moved to Central Oregon, deer paraded almost-unendingly through my place. Their well-beaten trails host the now-fewer migrating deer. The animals are being displaced by rapidly-growing human populations. The local, formerly abundant, wild properties are becoming covered by new, very-densely situated, home and business structures.

Ever more and more, I relish deer-glimpses. In several short years the city will expand eastward, and new buildings will consume this neighborhood. Quickly, local deer crossings will become history.

Dear Friends: Contemporary history is a too-rapid process, we can watch change and predict impact. Diana