Friday, May 08, 2020

Sometimes accidental shots turn out to be the best photos.

This season I’ll be on horseback instead of riding in a carriage or cart behind a horse. It’s a tough decision, not starting to drive again. The sport is fun and mine are wonderful carriage horses. I’ve experienced the see-saw, and mostly downward trend, of our economy, weighed it against the costs of having a horse in pulling condition. Since my horses must travel frequently on pavement, they need special horseshoes, with shock-absorbing pads, and all replaced regularly. Until the economy picks up with positive effects trickling to my level, I’ll choose to play less expensively.

My initial disappointment faded once I climbed into a saddle after years of riding only rarely. By now and several times, my horse has carried me through the local neighborhood. Riding again shows me another style of pleasure trip and lets me appreciate surroundings anew.

It helps to ride a trustworthy, unflappable horse that ignores vehicles passing or sudden loud sounds of construction work and airplane motors (we’re near the airport). My body is in tune to the horse’s energy, senses her attention to terrain and surroundings. Her memory is incredible. If once allowed to pause and chew on roadside gasses, she’ll remember the spot and I’ll feel her starting to move toward it when we’re nearby. Mostly she chooses to walk on the gravelly roadside instead of on pavement. Her regular hoofbeats put me into zen modes.

These days of semi-confinement cause many living in the area to go walking. The neighborhood loop where I’ve previously driven my horses and now ride has little traffic. It’s a popular area. Here, we’re approaching a lady who’s often out walking. When we catch up, she’ll slow down. We’ll walk alongside and chat with her.

My truck is about to become tied up for a string of days. It’s hitched to a large trailer, to haul brush and limbs to the dump. After all the needed disposing, I’ll hitch to the horse trailer, load up, and we’ll head off to public lands. There, I’ll ride one horse while ponying another. Our loyal donkey will follow loosely. The four dogs will run alongside. Those dogs! Out again on horse trails, beyond delighted!

Dear Friends: The ongoing, dipped economy forces us to adjust and simplify. Diana

Thursday, May 07, 2020

I’m walking toward a market and masked as are most others around. This scenario makes me wonder why newstories aren’t full of robbery-related incidents. Until recently, an individual entering a store masked as mostly we are today would have appeared threatening. Where I live, in most places it’s legal to carry a firearm openly. In big box stores, I’ve seen on some individuals a holstered gun. It’s frightening, for even if a wearer’s overall attitude isn’t overtly threatening, the visual message is clear.

Think about data from scientific studies on human communications. The general consensus is that seven percent of our communications are verbal. The balance, or ninety-three percent of our communications are nonverbal–they’re visually transmitted. We may use full body language like dancing to communicate stories and feelings, or may express feelings by moving our arms and hands in various ways, or may elect to carry openly a highly destructive weapon in a typically non-threatening gathering. Everything we do expresses elements of our individual stories.

About masks, which we hope everyone in public wears, they cover facial features we’re used to seeing and evaluating. We accustomed to seeing maybe relaxed features with a kind mouth, or perhaps facial tension with jaw-clenching, tight lips. An individual’s Greek profile or Roman nose may create wonder about someone’s heritage, and are reminders that great art has made prominent features classic, ageless, interesting.

Our casual observations provide information about an individual’s demeanor, focus, and general intent. Someone who appears way different and out of the ordinary may become an object of concern.

These days, masks are more ordinary, making us try to understand what eyes convey while peering at one another over our masks. Sudden crinkles at eye corners may suggest a smile. With nonverbal communications increased, we acknowledge another in passing with a nod. We’re learning new ways of looking, unhelped by typical visuals.

So far maybe no masked robberies. Perhaps because most retail establishments have been closed, or because of orders for people to stay put. Even so, there’s an onslaught of gun-buying, and out on the streets many objectors, some with arms, are opposing orders to stay at home.

Dear Readers: These interesting times both invite questions and punch-up awareness. Diana

Wednesday, May 06, 2020

The caption photo shows a local raven lifting off from my watering troughs. In that bird’s wake and floating on water were the furry remains of a catch he/she had dunked. It’s almost common to find unwanted body parts in the watering trough. So far, none have harmed my horses or goldfish and I try netting out visible pieces best as possible.

Our resident ravens constantly are overhead companions, especially nowadays while nest-building. They fly and communicate noisily while preparing a nest in some high tree. Which tree isn’t easily identifiable, but their highly apparent activities mean it’s nearby.

The ravens visit my watering troughs frequently and over time have learned I’m no threat. They drop in and drink while I’m nearby, but aren’t comfortable enough to stay put on a trough’s edge if I become active and search pockets for a camera. So it’s difficult to capture those adult ravens’ watering antics. Photo taking of ravens is easier when they’re training babies. Juvenile ravens aren’t eager to fly from where their parents park them before an adult goes off to hunt. If I’m careful while photographing, the babies hang around although the watching parent from afar makes warnings.

Raven noises are part of the deal and more so during baby-training. Those big birds have so many sounds that experts categorize them into 33 different categories. Experts say that the sound most common is a classic gurgling croak. It’s audible for over a mile. Ravens from far away hear this sound and respond in like. These birds varieties of noises include shrills, rasps, and knocking sounds. Our locals make them all.

This summer as in years past, I look forward to baby-training days. Especially when the parents teach how to soar into the air and then float on breezes. The wonderful vision is of them as a family winging upward, high and higher, and then descending easily to a sweet spot where they simply float. It’s beautiful to behold.

Through this summer, I’ll be hearing these birds, enjoying their antics, cleaning up after them, trying to capture their images, and welcoming that post baby-hatching phase and close-knit family.

Dear Friends: Bird intelligence never ceases to amaze, if only we could comprehend more. Diana

Tuesday, May 05, 2020

Walking with a smart bird perched on a shoulder or arm is a slow process. For starters, it’s about trying to get that bird to talk or simply talking to it in a one-way dialog. The bird’s listening for a smart bird doesn’t miss a beat. If my bird, Peaches, is silent, he responds physically by cuddling and nuzzling. Sometimes he feels like participating in a conversation. That’s how Peaches and I stroll together.

These days we bump into many neighborhood folks on the streets. Some are old friends like Susie who wondered about all the white that coated my black sweater (it’s powder from parrot wings). Strangers who pass may pause and greet Peaches, with “Hello”. Despite my urging he often refuses to answer. After they pass and are beyond earshot, he pipes, “Bye, bye!”

We’re an odd couple, me and the very white parrot on my arm. As we’re walking, I must appear to be talking to air. There’s no telling why I patter nonstop to a bird that’s also in his own world. Maybe trying to keep him tuned to me, or to teach him a new sight or a word, and to encourage responses in his language or mine.

Suddenly, two geese flying low and passing nearby make Peaches scream for several seconds. Those strangers surprised and frightened him. Something interesting is that Peaches doesn’t appear to scan the sky, as I’ve noticed other smart birds doing, to look for overhead predators. Well, Peaches’ wide vision is incredibly accurate so who knows where he’s looking or what he’s seeing?

Anyway, with Peaches I keep an eye on the sky, after warnings from bird fanciers that a hawk might drop and grab Peaches from my shoulder. That seems unlikely but our neighborhood does have resident hawks. Helpfully, Peaches enjoys standing on my forearm and snuggling against my chest, more protected than when he’s on my shoulder.

Walking slowly and entertaining the bird keeps me looking closely at our surroundings. Here’s a plant that surprised me. I’d never seen it. “Look, Peaches, at this giant Lily of the Valley.” Afterwards, I see it frequently, including on my property. According to my phone app, it’s a currant, interchangeably called a Wax currant, Squaw currant, or White-flowered currant.

Arriving at my small acreage, Peaches and I enter in a new spot–and voila!–directly beside one of those currants. And now it’s a sight beyond wonderful, for on the plant a huge honeybee working hard hops from flower-to-flower draining them. A fat and healthy bee, probably from a nearby well-kept hive, and I need a picture. Hastening for my cellphone while juggling Peaches is disruptive, and before I can organize, alas, the bee has flown.

I’m hopeful and said to Peaches, “That bee lives in our territory, knows this plant, and will be back. We’ll watch and wait.”

Dear Friends: Outings with Peaches capture so much, we’ll share more with you. Diana

Monday, May 04, 2020

Just as we consider putting away heavy coats and head warmers comes a string of days too cold to be outside without. Yesterday for example, we had periodic sunshine (no coat) and overcast (bundle up). More such weather will hit before summer settles in, when we’ll start jamming heavywear into closets already probably stuffed full.

There’s a lack of closet space in my house where jackets hang on the backs of chairs and over the upstairs bannister. I grit my teeth to jam something into a closet, or to create space for removing an item. I blame homebuilders (mostly men with less clothes than women) for having little respect for space needs in closets.

The exception in my experience was a house long ago with a huge closet in its master bathroom. For sure, my closet was jam packed but held nearly everything–and so convenient! I’d enter that bathroom, fulfill morning rituals and exit fully dressed, ready for the day. I’ll always miss that bathroom with closet.

Fast forward to my current home, larger and ranch style–long, flat, with lots of cabinet spaces, but oddly, few and too-small closets. In the beginning, I ignored inadequate closet space, but my first high-desert winter changed that. I suspect the closet-packed issues began with my part-time job at Costco.

Working in a huge warehouse means being surrounded by impulse items. Costco’s merchandising policy is to move products in and out, regularly and within short periods. Shoppers tend to buy on the spot if they see and like, while it’s available. Most of us working there know what’s immediately available and joke about leaving our paychecks in the store.

The intensity of our winters varies, but always there are extremely cold periods, short or long. Working in Costco teaches its many varieties of cold weather wear. Toward the end of winter heavywears go on sale. After weeks of seeing what’s available as items rotate to on sale, it’s hard to resist purchasing. So, I’ve tons of winter wear, sometimes finding accidental duplicates.

Could over-purchasing not be the most-primary cause for a lack of closet space? Is the villain technological improvements enabling rapidity and quantities of cheaper fabrics and finished clothing? There are many questions about over-purchasing, like does it symbolize something deeper like a basic human impulse to hoard?

Hoarding has been rampant over our six-weeks, or so, of Corvid-19. Newspapers report such as antiseptics, toilet paper, and baking supplies disappearing from shelves. They claim that hoarding makes haywire our traditional supply chains. Oh, sure, let’s blame the problem on consumers instead of leadership and planning (I won’t continue in that direction).

My closets are full. Winter jackets are strewn around. Today it’s chilly outside and lets me stall a resolution to this problem. The best way to correct my spaces is to start discarding. Many pieces I could live without, but oh, deciding which hurts.

Dear Friends: I’m not a hoarder, I’m not a hoarder. Oh dear, am I a hoarder? Diana

Sunday, May 03, 2020

Yesterday, our high desert weather was a mess. The temperature dropped noticeably and daylight hours alternated between brief sunlights and shadowy periods with very high winds. One moment I might be outside in short-sleeves and another bundled in a warm jacket. The day felt more winter-like than spring. So, I brought in the dogs and let Netflix take over.

It’s been hard for me to find new shows streaming that I feel like watching. Maybe it’s because my moods aren’t good enough these coronavirus days to find writers’ fantasies appealing. Maybe it’s because watching again shows I’ve seen and enjoyed is easier. Unfortunately by now, I’ve too often re-watched and need something new.

So, I’m returning to “The Crown.” Yes, I know, almost everybody but me has enjoyed it. I tried a few times to watch it and always became bored. Yesterday, I started-up again, and from scratch, determined to stay with the series. Actually, it’s good–well scripted, acted, and photographed. But still boring. Let’s face it, an entire episode that focuses on whether to (1) “invite to the wedding or not”, or (2) “let Margaret marry or not”, or (3) “see if hubby will decide to kneel or not” aren’t particularly compelling. Even if they’re presented well-enough.

I suppose the whole point is how over time the monarchy is changing. It’s evolving from following stodgy family traditions to showing signs more of modern outlooks and behaviors. We do see this happening in real-time before our eyes. There already are on film four seasons, and the producers probably are rushing to capture today’s shift forward with Harry’s & Megan’s escape.

Many of my friends enthusiastically have recommended “The Crown” and its careful production lets me see better now why they’ve appreciated it. I suppose that upcoming episodes will grow more complex with Elizabeth’s increasing capabilities in her Queen-role. Actually, the series highlights complex questions, like why do the Brits continue supporting very high-pageantry and an incredibly expensive monarchy, when the country’s Prime Minister actually runs things?

Oh, what the heck: maybe another series is about to crop up that examines very closely our own confusing, and uber-expensive, political and social trends.

Dear Friends: If only “a Freud” were around to illuminate us on today’s social complexities. Diana

Saturday, May 02, 2020

We went for a long walk, Peaches and I. We crossed a couple of adjoining properties that I’ve permission to pass through and continued over the mile-and-a-half loop encircling our neighborhood. I watched the sky intending to pull Peaches from my shoulder if an area predator were scouting above. My bird made our whole walk easy though by staying on my forearms and leaning against my chest.

In Cockatoo terms, Peaches, a Citron Cockatoo, is a little guy. Citrons are smallest in the genre. What my bird lacks in size, he compensates mightily in sounds. Until yesterday, we’d not gone walking in too long, for his grown-out flight wings were worrying me. If Peaches suddenly became frightened and leaped from my shoulder, maybe he’d fly to who knows where. In caution of coronavirus, we waited to visit the bird veterinarian until this week.

Maybe because he’d not been outside in a long while, Peaches stayed silent for the first half of our walk, and although quiet, he was totally alert and active, nuzzling my hands and chin. Finally, I wondered what would happen if I made the first move. I verbalized a couple of “Hellos!”

The bird responded immediately, “Hello!”

After we exchanged “Hello” several times, I moved on to “Goodby!” So did Peaches, and now, we’re walking down the street with loud, “Hello, hellos!”, “Goodby, goodbys!” For the bird, that was “game on”! He let loose with some amazing vocabulary that he shares only at his choosing, and added wilder sounds that reverberated in my ears.

Peaches made me laugh out loud, and does so even when he’s annoying, like last night at bedtime. When I said “Goodnight, Peaches”, he let loose a big squak. Remembering our earlier exchanges, I squaked back. Peaches immediately squaked twice, and I echoed. Our “conversation” got louder and more varied, until finally, my best option was to blow a kiss and walk out on him.

Dear Friends: It’s easy to get so lost with a smart bird that you’ll forget it’s just a bird. Diana

Friday, May 01, 2020, Corvid-19, partially-unlocked Day #01

It’s May and here we go! For weeks of mornings, many of the news bits arriving in my early emails have focused on the hardships and related impacts of a serious active pandemic. Now there’s changing news, it’ll begin addressing real-time impacts, socially and politically, of reopenings among American public places. I’ll choose to stay home and read all about the changes.

For me, aside from boredom this period of social isolation hasn’t been too uncomfortable. Kind neighbors have been willing to fill my list while they’re out shopping for themselves. I’ve learned to obtain online and painlessly much of what’s needed, to run my household, feed me and my pets, and handle outside efforts on the property. I’m more involved with this small acreage than ever in my years living here and do lots of outside work. If I were a gardner and creating fresh produce, that would close the biggest loophole, but my growings are at beginning stages.

I’m assuming that for most of us it’s been similar and a little lonely through this inconvenient but okay period. We’ve been forced to stay inside, to sit back and see differently the world and ourselves. I keep trying to assess the positives for myself. For example, I’m more aware of and sometimes surprised by my preferences in books and hobbies. I’m discovering stamina for physical work, more than I figured possible. I’ve found creative ways to interact with my large and small pets, and understand better their importance in my life. And I appreciate more how blogging daily challenges my thinking skills and how writing helps to keep friends in my life.

What will our oncoming new normal–nationally and internationally–look like? Will we carry forward and find time for newly-found personal activities? Will we remain on the alert for potentially-bad international situations, say beyond wars, like new viruses? Who can tell, who can tell?

Dear Friends: On this May Day, holding our noses and diving into tomorrow. Diana

Thursday, April 30, 2020, Corvid-19 Lockdown Day #43

There’s a huge push to re-open the American economy, assisted by the appearance of a drug that might ease coronavirus suffering. There’s lots to consider, and many are debating about whether it’s appropriate now for businesses to reopen and people to come together. I’m in the camp that says wait longer, but I haven’t much of a vote. My option is to decide what to do personally based on whatever seems right in my head.

We’ve all tried through the months of this pandemic, to make sense of the many frights, realities, and handlings of it. World leadership has proven a mess! Perhaps one of the most powerful illustrations of reality was that the hardliner Boris Johnson was stricken. His condition was severe enough to warrant emergency and ventilator care. After Johnson recovered, and now fully aware of corona’s impact, his position seemed to soften toward managing both the scientific and social needs in Great Britain.

I’m not sure what’ll become more right in my head. For one thing, it’ll make sense to keep staying home until the safety of reopening is proven. For another, staying in-home limits our activities, can be uber-boring, and continues to promote distancing from other humans. When businesses start to re-open, tomorrow in fact, we’ll remember the old ad’s words: “Should I stay or should I go?”

My decision may simply go on hold for another couple of weeks. I’m near finishing my chainsaw project of liming trees and now have huge and unwanted piles of brush and limbs. The city dump will be offering days of free yard debris dumping. I’ll be there often bringing trailer loads of discards. Not until mid-May will I seriously assess the odds of staying or going. Anyway, by that time, who knows what more we might know?

Dear Friends: Have a creative, enjoyable, and hopefully another, shirt-sleeve day. Diana

Wednesday, April 29, 2020, Corvid-19 Lockdown Day #42

In the last 41 days, I’ve taken a vehicle and left my property about four times. Two to shop for groceries, once hauling a trailer to our local dump, and finally, so Peaches could visit a veterinarian. Okay, maybe we’re all in this together, but we’re sure feeling alone.

Today, I read that the skin’s “need” to touch and be touched scientifically is proven. That tossed my thinking back many years to when I knew a young and talented engineer. He was fascinated with skin’s attraction to skin and illustrated why by pointing his index fingertips near one another in a straight line, but preventing them by a tiny fraction from touching. The fingertips couldn’t be steadied completely against “miniscule dancing”. They seemed wanting completely to draw together. He intended someday to study this phenomenon. I wondered why then, and occasionally have since.

Today, an article in “Neuroscience”, about “skin hunger”, helped clarify that scientist’s focus on his fingertips’ mutual attraction. The “Neuroscience” article cites data from Miami University’s Touch Research Institute about the ways touches affect humans. Under our skin are pressure sensors, which respond to touching by sending messages to the brain, where then a nerve slows our nervous system. Responses to touch are relaxations in blood pressure, heart rate, and brain waves. (I’m including below a link to the article.)

During the past 40-some days of practicing human social distancing, and as it continues, maybe our animals have and will help more than we’ve realized. Of course, they get us outside for walks, but we also touch our pets lots. Some touches are for planned purposes, but most often, they’re thoughtless stroking habits. In any case, our brain pressure sensors respond to these skin contacts by relaxing us.

I’ll quit pushing away my dogs when their pleas for strokes interrupt my involvement with an intense Netflix series. Now, appreciating more our mutual needs for those strokes, I’ll pause Netflix and hug the dogs.

This amplifies the importance of a huge variety of pets. Horse-handling for example demands lots of touching and grooming. My dwarf goats, ditto. As for my hens, they’re always mutually in physical contact of one sort or another and enjoy being near me but don’t need my handling. They greatly need one another.

I’m reminded of the annual Pet Parade where folks show up with healthy lizards, snakes, and all varieties of well-cared-for pets. So, in Day 42, I’m doffing my cap and recognizing more, both why we need touching and in appreciating pets of all sorts.

(https://www.wired.co.uk/article/skin-hunger-coronavirus-human-touch?ncid=newsltushpmgnews)

Dear Friends: It’s been notable how greatly animal adoptions have increased in this period. Diana