Sunday, March 21, 2021

I’m sorry not to have taken a photo of the one that’s hanging before I framed and hung it.

This photo is of an old homestead built one-hundred, or one-hundred-fifty years ago. It’s on a property that also nearby has a modern large home. Old structures still standing in Central Oregon fire the imagination. This one is in very good condition, relatively speaking.

Central Oregon’s history is young. It begins around 1850 with adventurers who drove their wagons west. Not all went all the way to California for the goldfields, or to developing cities like Portland and Seattle. In those days, the government was awarding land through the Homesteading Act to brave pioneers. They had to live on and improve acreage over a specified amount of time to earn their property deeds.

The earliest settlers dug in toward the north and near the Columbia River. Their followers trended southward, creating a few small communities before reaching Central Oregon in the late 1880s. Central Oregon had a massive timber forest, which attracted attention, and in the early 1890s, developers began to arrive with visions of creating a lumber industry.

That industry became viable around 1910. That’s when finally a railroad became a reality after the massive effort of laying rails. They were laid between the Columbia River and Central Oregon, in rugged country, through the Cascade Mountains and over deep fissures. There was competition to build a railroad which became a great war between wealthy rival companies. It’s a nail-biter story.

Anyway, my photo of large and probably wealthy homesite, built of wood and set in the then-countryside, might have belonged to a lumber baron. Someday, I’ll knock on the door of the nearby modern big home and inquire about the old home’s history.

About the photo, maybe from five years ago. I liked it enough to have it printed, before being sidetracked by care needed for my older sister. I forgot all about the picture. The other day, I accidentally rediscovered the print and again felt pleased. Best of all the image has held up well over time and now hangs proudly.

Dear Friends: If I can locate the original, saved somewhere online, it too will be posed. Diana

Saturday, March 20, 2021 (Spring 2021 arrives at noon)

Today is spring equinox, which officially introduces a summer season. At noon, the earth’s orbit will be at the point where sun shines directly above the Equator. At that moment across the globe, the sun’s position creates nearly equal daytime and nighttime periods.

The line of shadow, known as a “straight terminator”, exists only at equinoxes. Otherwise, it’s continually shifting because of the earth’s tilt, 23.5 degrees, on its axis. Without the tilt, earth’s shadow line (or straight terminator) always would be straight-up-and-down, there’d be no seasons.

Earth’s tilt and continuous shifting create the seasons. For example, at noon today, the Northern Hemisphere will tilt directly toward the sun’s rays, a position that lengthens days and makes them warmer. By September, the Northern Hemisphere gradually will have shifted toward a fall equinox, when earth leans away from the sun, receives less daylight, and winter approaches.

Astronomy is a fascinating topic, especially today with much happening (or about to) in space, a world of increasing importance that too few understand. Our growing worries, about earth’s changing climate, food supply issues, and sociological shifts, point us toward potential new opportunities in space.

Already, science has produced worlds of knowledge in astronomy–about earth itself and its relation to outer space. While struggling to understand a future relative to the larger universe, we can absorb what’s already known scientifically. The history of how humans acquired our current knowledge fascinates nearly as much as possible paths forward.

Dear Friends: We must understand our old world, to tackle successfully a brave new one. Diana

Friday, March 19, 2021 (2 days before the official First Day of Spring)

On warm and windy yesterday I had to work, but came home early enough to enjoy some of the nice afternoon before high winds kicked up, bringing chill.

Before bringing the horses home from my neighbor’s pasture, I decided to clean the barn. While walking toward it, I noticed a female Western Bluebird flying into the barn, and so, paused to watch for her exit. It’s been a couple of years since Blues showed signs nesting in the barn, and frankly a relief. Pretty as they are, the birds are stupid, wedging nests into crevices tiny and vulnerable to my cat, Max.

This gal’s flight from the barn was delayed long enough to gather that she’s building a nest. I entered the barn, peered in all the likely places, and saw no tiny nest common for small birds. In past springs, Blues have built nests in my barn, and now, somewhere is a new one. Likely, at least one of the working mates was born in and fledged from my barn.

Again, I’ll keep a close eye on Max, maybe keep him inside for weeks. For one, because of possible baby birds. For another, because last year I saved a tiny bunny from Max’s jaws. The bunny has continued to nest under hay stacked in the barn. The other evening, I saw mine (probably “a she”) and her buddy Cottontail hopping around, and said to myself, “Uh oh, baby bunnies.”

I love bunnies and have learned that those born wild must stay so. Instead of trapping baby, I kept Max inside long enough for a juvie to gain strength and awareness. Finally, when Max went to check out the barn, he discovered bunny…and baby noticed Max. Thus began their yearlong standoff. To this day, every morning Max searches for bunny and fails to find. There’s evidence though of its nearness and wellness.

Today, I will search better for the Bluebird nest in order to keep an eye on it. I’ll count the days, and before an egg can hatch, will have Max inside the house. Poor thing, also might have to outwait bunny infancies.

Dear Friends: Promising for myself today, a visit to emerging spring up in the mountains. Diana

Thursday, March 18, 2021 (3 days before the First Day of Spring)

I’m still captured and fascinated by signs of spring’s onset, and simultaneously, intent on improving my “camera eye”.

There’s little need to go hunting away from home with a camera. One can hunt in surroundings nearby and find opportunities to express moods, feelings, and art.

These days, I’ve been staring at the sage plants re-springing into life. They’re sporting pods, soft and cotton-like, that encourage one to reach out and touch. As a most-casual botanist (i.e., miniscule education), I assume pod-softness is how these fragrant plants encourage seed-spreading. Many activities can open the pods–being handled, pecked at, invaded by tiny critters, and blown apart by winds. They’re lovely springtime sightings.

One of my favorites has become this little view through a neglected shed. If the photo were taken in winter, this might work to represent that season. Maybe it’s worth trying, but meanwhile, no more dwelling on next winter.

Time passing is a big factor in photo appeal. Yesterday, I stumbled across a large print of a photo taken years ago. In fact, I remember my older sister, Elaine, in the car and waiting, as I climbed an embankment to capture a surviving historical Central Oregon dwelling. That would have been about five years ago.

I wanted the photo in order to paint its subject, but never got around to that, and in fact forgot all about the print. Yesterday, re-discovering it was an eye-opener. The good print should be a wall hanging! That sent me on a search for framing and matting materials–another project and maybe another story, as not for many years have I attempted any framing.

Dear Friends: Understanding and applying one’s inner strengths unlocks the way to creativity. Diana

Wednesday, March 17, 2021 (4 days before the First Day of Spring)

True to my plan, the dogs and I went hiking. We were out to record the last days of winter. Well, not quite a true plan, because we didn’t go to the mountains. Instead we trekked through a nearby BLM, a popular summertime spot with an irrigation canal, always flowing and a size safe for dogs that play in water.

This grandpa Ponderosa is a greeter on the canal route. Although it’s unwell with sap leaking, it’s a welcome and majestic sight. Usually the canal water is high enough to cover the tree’s discolored base, but winter bares it to create an impression of cold that matches the weather.

Here’s another grandpa, impressive, old, and beaten up. It’s bark is a wonderful honey-golden color that draws one to memorialize the sighting.

The area is alive with critters. Because of dogs running and exploring, the wildlife rarely shows itself. My camera, from a great distance, caught this chipmunk running up a rock and pausing. Got it, a split second before it disappeared.

While thinking about critters, I must include this new shot of my Miles. He’s a true Border Collie, always thinking about and planning his next move. These attributes are essential in the best of the breed, and always visible in captures of Miles.

Each juniper has a unique personality. They’re tough trees. Some old-time area dwellers dislike them entirely. They accuse juniper’s of smelling not good, and complain that the trees have relatively shallow roots and can “steal water” from other plants. To me, they smell fine and I know nothing about water stealing. To me, they’re always interesting to observe, and happily, provide homes to wildlife.

As often as I’ve trekked in this BLM, circling off the beaten path gets me a little lost. In the end, as usual, my dogs lead the way back to our vehicle.

Dear Friends: Happy St. Patrick’s Day! On Sunday, spring becomes official. Diana

Today’s header photo is by photographer, Susan Tusa. An inveterate hiker, she took a series of photos demonstrating deep-winter while trekking near her Michigan home. The photos are of winter sightings in the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore.

Today, I will drive toward the mountains with dogs and a camera, to create for myself a series of post-winter photos. I’m an almost-total novice and my efforts won’t adequately shadow Tusa’s work. She’s a professional with top equipment and experience using complicated editing software.

I’m eager to borrow from her photographer-eye and have learning goals. Today is to seek and recognize, beyond easily accessible ops, photo potential in unlikely places. I’ve a trustworthy eye for balance, but lack a constant reassuring sense of innate creativity, and tend to skip possibilities.

The dogs and I will have fun, get bunches of exercise, and maybe, bring home a camera with several special captures. There might be snow in the mountains, so it can’t hurt to take snowshoes. To be snowshoeing while taking photos would fulfill another of my key goals for this wintertime.

Tusa’s photos appear in today’s Washington Post and are breathtaking. Here’s a link: https://www.washingtonpost.com/travel/interactive/2021/nature-photography-michigan-susan-tusa/?itid=hp_travel

Dear Friends: One steadily self-pushes, to overcome or slide past mental obstacles. Diana

Monday, March 15, 2021 (6 days before Spring is official)

It’s hard to resist an allure of traveling biographically into the world of women’s wrestling. Especially in these concerning days of common focus on #metoo and violence against women. I’m ready to be introduced to a woman who’s 6’2″ tall, topping-off herself with a blonde Mohawk, and wrestling professionally. The author, Jeannine Mjoseth, went by two monikers depending on whether she’d win or lose a match. “Lady Maxine” was the good guy, and alternately, “Mad Maxine”, the heel.

She learned the ropes and secrets of professional wrestling at a special school for women. It was run by Moolah, one of the first big-time female wrestlers of the ’40s and ’50s. Mjoseth says she despised Moolah, who skimmed money from her students, ignored their injuries and pimped them out to her friends.

Besides Mjoseth’s story of her wrestling training and subsequent career, she confirms that wrestling is a staged performance. Its moves completely are choreographed to avoid bodily hurts beyond bruising.

A year or so ago, I watched Netflix’s series, GLOW (Glamorous Ladies of Wrestling). That fun and well-done series got me interested in women’s wrestling. Mjoseth’s book got my attention because it suggests her dimensions way beyond her athleticism during her 20s. After her wrestling career ended, she spent thirty years working professionally as a reporter and researcher who became a science writer for the federal government.

So, she’s an ex-athlete and also a writer. Her book is on its way here.

Dear Friends: Like Wonder Woman, one capable of resisting physical violence. Diana

Sunday, March 14, 2021 (in 7 days, spring will become official)

Spring is a week distant but signs are appearing. Warm weather and lots of sunshine are high points. Today especially is significant, as most of us have or are fiddling with our clocks.

This time around I felt prepared. My blog reminders of daylight savings time coming kept me focused. Last night before retiring, in unusual preparedness, I turned the clocks ahead. I’m a keeper of horses and too-short winter daylights always take tolls. I welcome earlier daylights, the first of which starts today.

This morning, Max (my cat) awakened me slightly after 4 a.m. He was massaging my leg. Sleepily, I tried pushing him off the bed, but no dice–he’s a stubborn guy. Hearing the noise, Osix joined us and my wishes for a little more sleep evaporated.

Starting off, the morning felt fine. I was proud of already having clocks turned forward, being early on my feet and looking forward to morning light. Best, I’d go earlier to the barn and feed the large animals.

Something has happened though. Over the last hour, while reading online news articles, my eyes began drooping, my energy is dissipating. I feel tired, want to return to bed. Darn! This year’s changeover was supposed to be different. Isn’t it so, that by careful planning, an impending change will go well?

I suppose the real truth is in the science. Remember that real-time lessons this year constantly have reminded us to pay attention to science. About studies on time and light changes, they’ve been shown to impact our routine functioning. This morning, I’m a textbook example.

Well, I can’t return to bed, it’s is a working day at my part-time job. Must hope not to yawn through the event. Now, as a first light dawns, Peaches has begun his screaming, and the horses, goats, and my last surviving hen, will begin to call.

Dear Friends: Add my honk to those opposed to twice-yearly manual time changes. Diana

Saturday, March 13, 2021 (8 days before the First Day of Spring; DST begins tomorrow)

Yesterday’s weather was lovely with clear skies, high temperatures, and an inviting outdoors.

I understand that modern motorists are unaware that horses legally have the right of way. Lately, while on the streets with my three equines, we’ve been surprised by too-speedy or unusually-noisy vehicles. They pose a possibility of frightening my large animals. The other day after a couple of homemade, speeding and not street-legal, vehicles roared past my house, I felt extra-worried about walking on local, formerly very quiet, streets with my horses.

We regularly have strolled for about a third of a mile to Bobby’s property. The horses and I love his large and very grassy space, unused a few years until we arrived. Until this year, walking there returning home wasn’t worrisome, but this year, with the local housing market exploding and new residents arriving, the street traffic has changed.

My neighbor, John, across the street, with a small pasture, welcomes my horses to graze. Yesterday, fearing traffic, I marched the trio over to spend their day. Crossing the road–what a relief, to feel in control of my destiny! For everyday use, John’s pasture is a little small, but it’ll be our go-to place until my equilibrium rebounds.

Otherwise, yesterday was one of working on the ranch. I cleaned much residue after weeks of too-cold to work outside. Cleaning horsey areas is a never-ending task that’s in funny ways rewarding. I suppose it’s about physical exercise with instant gratification, measurable accomplishment.

Dear Friends: Next week, another instantly rewarding physical activity, horseback riding! Diana

Friday, March 12, 2021 (9 days until the First Day of Spring; clocks forward in 2 days)

A couple of evenings ago, while walking my horses home from a neighbor’s pasture, I could feel their energy rising. Looking around I saw a male on a motorbike coming toward us from behind, neither slowing or pulling over. He saw the disturbance his motor caused and didn’t stop, just held up a hand to calm me while riding on past. The horses weren’t as disturbed as my donkey. She tried charging up front in an attempt to run away. I yelled asking the guy to shut his motor, but he ignored me. Somehow I managed to hold onto the donkey, a strong animal.

That awakened me more to this changing neighborhood. It’s growing, new homes being built, more people moving in, and much becoming less the same. My horses used to pull my buggy through the neighborhood and also through the nearby unimproved outback under power lines. We rarely saw a hiker, bicyclist, or moving vehicle. When we did, they gave us wide berth. My horsey rounds were routine and comfortable.

I’ve been aware of more traffic, new people, and fewer vehicles slowing for us. The motorbike incident made me worry about the safety of continuing to walk on streets with the horses. Or worst, driving on the streets, a horse pulling my buggy.

Yesterday, while coming to the house after feeding large animals, I heard unusual roaring motors–loud, insistent, maybe heavy equipment working in the neighborhood? Waiting outside my house to see what made the noise, suddenly two vehicles roared into view. Their motors deafening, they passed my house, swung around in the cul de sac, and noisily raced past me in the opposite direction.

The vehicles looked homemade, not street-legal. They were wooden platforms, up off the road at the height of mid-wheel, and with steering mechanisms and motors. Over my quiet street, the drivers, sitting low on their butts with knees high, blasted past in full force.

It was easy to imagine what might have been, if moments earlier these vehicles had appeared as I walked with horses. Horses would never deliberately hurt me, but they’re beasts of prey and alert to events, sudden and unexpected. Loud vehicles chasing them could drive group excitement, and high negative energy can create undesirable outcomes.

I would feel less safe now, walking them twice-daily a third-of-a-mile down the road, to and from a lovely pasture. There might not appear more motor bikes or platform-level thrill riders, but for the safety of my horses and me, we shouldn’t take chances.

This city rapidly is changing right before our eyes. The east side where I live long was considered an outback, populated largely by old-timers with little farms, who grew hay and kept a few horses. This city has become one of America’s fastest-growing, and everywhere with new construction projects giant and small, bringing more new property buyers and residents.

Maybe it’s over-reacting, but I’ll adapt to keep us safe. No more road walking. The thing is, equines are wonderful pets, smart, willing, adaptable. They find their way into human hearts, deeply, indescribably, and absolutely. They’re also big, powerful, sometimes reactionary. Interacting with a horse means understanding that the animal innately is kind, but remaining alert to its energy levels.

Dear Friends: I’m re-thinking our summer activities, and away from the neighborhood. Diana