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

Thursday, March 11, 2021 (10 days until First Day of Spring; and DST starts next Sunday)

This morning I’ll receive my second Corvid shot, and thus, before leaving home, must handle the morning chores. So, to accomplish the feeding of horses and taking them to my neighbor’s pasture, this writing must be short.

And fun, so here are a couple of worthwhile movies on Netflix. My choices run mainly in two directions, complex art films and easy comedies. No shoot-em-ups, bang-em-ups! I think a good movie transports viewers into worlds they can admire, and for an hour or two, feel pleased on being immersed.

I’ll begin with, “What Would Sophia Loren Do?” (2020), a delightful short documentary, in which an Italian American grandmother finds strength and joy in the life of her screen idol, Sophia Loren. It’s salutes both classic Italian films and an eternal toughness within Loren’s screen character. Plus, we get glimpses of the famous actress in real-life, warm, loving, and vibrant.

Another is a movie-length comedy, “East-Side Sushi” (2014). In it and against all odds, a single Latina mom, after finding work in a Japanese restaurant, aspires to become a sushi chef. Its attractive ensemble cast works well together. It takes us on an inspirational feel-good journey with a young woman who’s forced to succeed and determined to win.

Both these movies currently are on Netflix.

Dear Friends: Even after receiving a second jab, I’ll continue wearing masks in public. Diana

Wednesday, March 10, 2021 (11 days until the First Day of Spring + DST begins next Sunday)

In barely over a week will be the first day of spring. Yesterday afternoon, the weather played a joke by surprising us with a blizzard. Heavy hail and snow began just as I started to walk one-third mile down the street to a neighbor’s pasture. I needed to gather and bring home my horses. “Drat this,” I thought, just as a truck turned onto my street. I recognized it as belonging to a neighbor, but instead of turning into his driveway, the truck came clear to me and stopped. “Hop in and make this trip easier,” he said, and after turning his truck, drove me to the pasture.

My three equines coated in hail were galloping in circles and bucking. “Yes,” I’ll be all right,” I said, “The horses will be eager to go home where they have shelter.” He drove away, and I entered the pasture. The horses stopped to wait, easily were haltered. I led and secured each to a tree, arranged in a typical order for our march to home.

Just then, I saw a my neighbor on foot coming down the street and waving, heading toward us. He laughed, “I need exercise anyway, so put on my gloves and am here to help!”

I took the lead ropes for Sunni and Pimmy, he lifted Rosie’s lead from its tether. We began to walk, facing into a thickly-driving hail that made talking difficult, and hearing speech impossible. He was comfortable with Rosie, who was behaving well, and I concentrated on speeding-up Pimmy (no easy task).

We reached home, removed halters, and gave carrots to the animals. My neighbor had enjoyed the process and laughed, declaring the outing had been fun, and wishing me a good evening.

Understanding that I could by myself have brought them home, he came anyway to help in the face of blustery, awful weather. A spontaneous act of sheer kindness. Thinking about it, that’s something I must play forward by acting on the next opportunity to assist someone who seems in need.

Dear Friends: I’m humbled by his spontaneous show of concern and act of sheer kindness. Diana

Tuesday, March 09, 2021 (12 days before the First Day of Spring)

During February’s Black History Month, I was in the middle of works by two talented black authors, Zora Neal Hurston and Isabell Wilkerson. I’ve read some of the great black writers from the 1920’s and 30’s Harlem Renaissance. February’s focus encouraged me to expand my repertoire. It’s embarrassing to admit not already having read several significant contemporary authors. Full disclosure: I ordered books by Maya Angelo and Toni Morrison, and yes, ought to be beaten by a wet noodle.

Anyway, days ago arrived a book I couldn’t recall ordering. Maybe a bonus book from one source or another? It reprints two stories by an American novelist of the Harlem Renaissance. The writer, Nella Larsen (born in 1891), who was recognized by her contemporaries, quit writing after assuming a nursing career. Before that, while working as a librarian, she managed to publish two novels and some short stories.

Yesterday, an email from the New York Times reminded me of its online book club meeting this afternoon, to discuss Larsen’s book, PASSING. Oy vey, that’s why I ordered the book, still unread and now stuck in a “someday stack”. I want to participate in the book club, and early today assisted by coffee I started reading. Larsen’s style of writing doesn’t immediately draw me in, but her story becomes captivating.

I’ll read like crazy to finish PASSING before today’s early (my time) meeting. Ms. Larsen’s story snags my attention, and the book club’s leader is scholarly. I hope to comprehend more her literary impact, to know better what places her among the great Harlem Renaissance writers, of talent, that to this day astonish readers.

Thank you, Black History Month!

Dear Friends: So much to do and so little time for so much worthy of learning. Diana

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Monday, March 08, 2021 (13 days before the First Day of Spring)

Today, International Women’s Day, is perfect to point fellow film buffs to a fine new movie showing on Netflix. It’s “The Life Ahead”, in Italian with subtitles. It stars the legendary, still-fabulous Sophia Loren.

In this 2020 film, Loren, now eighty-six years old, both looks and acts her age. She still captivates, and as always from somewhere inside, she’s gorgeous. Since her early actress days in the 1950s, she’s been outstanding among international movie stars. Her career began in Italian film’s “early reality” period, when the culture’s movies focused on tragedy and humor, and addressed human beauty from without and within. Loren has appeared in almost-every imaginable lead role calling for a strong woman.

“The Life Ahead” is a modern tour de force showcasing her incredible range of talent. It’s directed by her son, Eduardo Ponti, from his screenplay co-authored with Ugo Chiti. It cases Loren as an Italian Jew and holocaust survivor, who’s become an elderly ex-prostitute. She’s on the edge of poverty and augments her income by boarding a few unwanted children. To two children already under her roof, she unwillingly adds a third. He’s a twelve-year-old orphan from Senegal, a bold, clever thief without an apparent moral compass.

The young actor, Ibrahima Gueve, totally is capable in his leading role opposite Loren. He’s very black, smart, and athletic. She’s very wrinkled, tired, and ill. This film’s beautiful camerawork equally loves both actors.

My favorite movies draw on and illuminate individuals, their entire character, inner and outer. Wholeheartedly, “The Life Ahead” does so. It’s a winner.

On this International Woman’s Day, viva to Sophia Loren. And to other unforgettable, fabulous actresses, who still are active in their eighties. Think of such as Glenda Jackson, Maggie Smith, and Vanessa Redgrave.

Dear Friends: This film reunites us to an Italian eye that has provided to the world great movies. Diana

Sunday, March 07, 2021 (14 days until the First Day of Spring)

Finally, I did it–and all by myself–installed a locking mailbox.

As background, about five years ago neighborhood mailboxes were broken into, robbed, and unwanted pieces strewn on a distant property. The police retrieved identifiable discards and returned them to proper addressees. Soon afterwards, in my neighborhood, locked mailboxes began replacing easy-open kinds. During last Christmas season, neighborhood hikers passed an empty lot and saw bunches of torn-open cards and packages. They posted on social media, warned again about mailbox robbers, and this time, turned my thoughts more to advantages of a locked mailbox.

I don’t worry much about my mail, mostly toss-away junk. There are certain pieces I anticipate, like paychecks from my part-time job. Nowadays, most citizens can expect stimulus checks (or debit cards) by mail. Plus, my neighborhood is rural and the mailperson’s last stop. Sometimes the mail arrives as late as 7:30, and instead of taking a lonely dark walk to the mailbox, I visit the box next morning. Lately, my tours of city streets are revealing an increasing number of locked mailboxes. Finally, it became my time to act.

But, how does one in these days of high construction find and get a trustworthy handyperson? Would I be able by myself to install a big heavy mailbox? How to remove an old mailbox from its forever post? Moreover, where could I most easily find an appropriate replacement mailbox?

Sometimes one bites the bullet, summons courage, and just tries something challenging. I turned to Amazon which had a box already purchased by 4k-plus individuals and had earned a 4.6% satisfaction rating. Well, four thousand customers can’t all be wrong. I ordered the box, which arrived in two days, a too-heavy package that heightened my fears of trying to install.

Caution is wise but often overthought. What happened is that the old box easily came off its post. Most important, with some effort I could lift my new 23-pound box. Its bottom was pre-drilled with accompanying lag bolts and a drill bit. Best of all, because I hate having to wade through complicated instructions, these were super-easy directions. Finally, with the old box off and holes drilled, I hefted the new box onto its post and installed bolts. Voila!

I write about this, because my installing out on the street attracted neighbors and walkers who paused to talk, making my job fun. People described their fears five years ago when expected checks were confiscated, destroyed, and spoke of relief that monies were in checks, not cash. Hikers passing gave me a thumbs-up. One couple said it was they who had posted at Christmas about discovering discarded mail and packages in an empty lot.

I didn’t take a photo of the new box. It’s too new, not pretty, and maybe for awhile somewhat intrusive. Besides, I already miss the battered old warrior.

Dear Friends: Luckily, we still have postal deliveries, with the Post Office in much disarray. Diana

Saturday, March 06, 2021 (15 days until the First Day of Spring)

Yesterday was a beautiful warm day. I took the horses over to my neighbor’s pasture and was walking home when another neighbor driving past paused for a catch-up chat. We observed noticeable changes in this neighborhood. More vehicle traffic, new homes being built, more residents moving in. Until recently, this had been an ignored part of town. Likely, the changes will upgrade our neighborhood and be financially beneficial, but we long-timers liked our old space and its social arrangements. Alas, everything changes.

Including the weather. As we talked, I stood outside his car wearing a light sweater without winter outerwear. He mentioned that nighttime would bring rain and snow. I looked at the sky, blue, beautiful, and unlikely to change. As proof, he held up a cellphone showing a weather alert. When we said goodbye, I continued toward home, my thoughts on physical and social changes, and weather forgotten.

So, this morning, there’s snow, okay. I’m surprised without being surprised, and even happy. The new snow gives my horses more days on pasture. Our rapidly warming weather was producing green grass, too high in sugar and not good for horses lacking exercise. Until this snow, my biggest challenge was acclimating myself toward becoming more physical after a lazy winter. The horses need exercising. I must hold their ropes, lounge and long-line them, to rebuild their strength (and mine) for an active summer.

Their extra days on pasture also give me extra time to chill out.

Dear Friends: Best to play with what’s coming up rather than making work of it. Diana

Friday, March 05, 2021 (16 days before the First Day of Spring)

Today is my mother’s birthday. Throughout my childhood, March 5 was one of a year’s important days. Mom has been gone now many years, but she was influential and mysterious, personal characteristics still living in my heart.

It’s almost impossible to understand enough about our parents because times constantly change. My mom grew up in a social period when most women had to depend on support by men, and when men hoped to seek out and offer support to women of beauty. My mom was a beautiful woman, confident as to her impact. In old pictures, she’s wearing designer clothing, open-toed shoes, with hair arrangements resembling those of the most popular movie stars. In her generation, women and men found movies a huge source of entertainment, along with vinyl recordings and radio.

My father died while young in a highway accident. That forced mom out of a primary role as homemaker and mother. She knew next to nothing about managing money and functioning independently. There were years of trials and tribulations, but with some help, she wound up owning popular beer bars in two army towns. She was a pretty woman tending bar, and young soldiers crowding the places made her affluent.

Lives change over time, and ultimately, sometimes mom had more money than other times. In periods forcing her to struggle, she did her fighting and decision-making mostly internally. As a result, her choices could be difficult to understand. To me she always seemed a mystery, and I loved her dearly.

My life’s trials and tribulations have taught how little stays the same. I’ve had to rethink situations, alter views, change approaches, and try hard to adapt to whatever life offers at any given moments. Now, I’m less confused about mom, for I know what it means and feels like, having to reprocess oneself on the spur of a moment, or with a little luck, over a stretch of time.

I remember being six or seven years old and asking mom for money, to go to the drugstore (in those days a safe walk for kids) and buy her a gift. A dollar or two had me taking home to her a big jar of Woodbury Face Cream. Always, she was kind and appreciative.

It’s again her birthday. Happy Birthday, Mom!

Dear Friends: Understanding others is a whole-life journey, we first must learn how to see. Diana