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Tuesday, March 17, 2020

Today will mark my first excursion from this property in what seems almost forever. My friend, Virginia, at home in LaPine and recovering from a series of strokes, needs a delivery. Immediately following Virginia’s strokes, she was hospitalized in St. Charles. Attendees tried to insert a breathing tube through her mouth and broke her front teeth. She remained in that hospital over a week with an exposed and hugely-painful tooth nerve.

She’s home in LaPine and being cared for by her son, Joe, who’s doing a remarkable job in helping her return to strength. He says that now she can take a few steps using a walker. Last week, Joe had an EMT vehicle transport Virginia to a Bend dentist. He prepared an insert for the missing teeth that today is ready for pick-up.

So that Joe needn’t travel and leave his mom alone, I’ll take the bridge to them. I won’t travel alone as my friend, Iscella (a co-worker at Costco) will accompany me. We’ll be briefly in LaPine without physically visiting Virginia who’s weak and vulnerable to infection. Caution is a wise priority.

This little trip is a welcome break from my almost constant knitting and sewing. It’s fun and thrilling to put together pretty, wearable, and useful garments. But repetitive work can slip into monotony, like yesterday, as my needles created a row of knitting, I actually dozed off.

Dear Friends: Warm weather begins today, it’ll again beckon us outdoors and into spring. Diana

Monday, March 16, 2020

So many glass globes, what’ll I do with them?

The elderly fellow from whom I purchased my house (he custom-built it back in the 70s), was a collector who left behind many interesting rocks containing minerals and fossils and other trivia. I found the rocks along with lots of glass insulators. The rocks were intriguing and I saved then, and same with the insulators which rang a bell in my head. Long ago, power companies commonly placed the heavy, thick-glasses atop power poles, and as a passenger in my mom’s car, I could see those globes. Years later, one of my first workplaces was an organization that supplied electrical components (including glass insulators) to power companies.

After moving into my Central Oregon home and finding those glass insulators, I felt intrigued by the memories they tickled up–of early car rides and my education in electrical apparati. Unsure of what to do with the globes, I set them on the ground in a circle, eventually forgetting about them. Recently, a repair team working on my property dug up the glasses. Again to my surprise, they brought good feelings.

I have more globes than can fit into a two-plus gallon bucket. I’ve set extras around in hopes that seeing them will generate up a way to utilize them. I’ve considered lining them up, say atop a small wall, and with a string of Christmas lights endowing each globe with a colored bulb. Something like that, and hopefully, more motivating.

The last few days have brought snows, nothing serious besides very cold weather. Maybe those snows accumulated to a couple of inches, as illustrated by my little eastside deck.

While out feeding horses and moving around the barn, I came across some glass insulators and their attractiveness delighted me–snow-topped little gnomes! Setting randomly on the lid of a trash can that contained animal feed.

Directly above (shown in today’s header photo) were extras, a bit of the overflow and au natural, on a horse stall window ledge.

Dear Friends: Could you conjure how to utilize these, somehow decoratively, and possible? Diana

Sunday, March 15, 2020

Our weeks of more spring-like than wintery weather changed. Yesterday morning, after we were hit with a snowy freeze, I hurried out to toss hay for horses and goats before hurrying inside to warm my gloved-fingers which felt frozen. The current Coronavirus pandemic has encouraged self-isolation. Preparations are one thing but there’s another reality of entire days in limited environments.

I sat knitting on my neck-warmer while listening to TV. Talking heads occasionally grabbed my attention and I lost control of stitches–how many I had created and if they should have been knits or purls. Since this neck warmer is for me to wear, it’s stitches, knits, and purls are relatively unimportant. This garment will be creative and unique. The rub is that knitting correctly calls for following pattern instructions.

One can knit only so long. In the back of my mind was a sewing project. Recently, a pair of jeans that needed hemming forced me to a sewing machine that’s sat unused for years. It’s computerized with selection-choices looking like Greek. I read instructions and went through a long period of trial and error, finally managing to wind a bobbin, load the top thread and get it through a needle. By guessing, I selected a stitch. Finally, those jeans got hemmed.

Recently driving home and sighting a fabric store, I paused. Having hemmed successfully, why not? Inside, finding an easy skirt pattern, I took a deep breath and waded through materials. I made a selection, found matching thread and elastic for a waistband.

Yesterday, on setting aside my knitting, I turned to sewing. Not having used the sewing machine for several days meant learning all over how to thread and select a stitch. Before using the machine, however, I cut material. After dredging up old memories of cutting to patterns, this simple skirt proved less challenging than a reintroduction to that sewing machine.

Sewing a first long seam was easy, but on starting a second seam, fabric became stuck beneath the presser foot. I bolstered my courage by considering the next steps as learning experiences. I took apart the machine’s needle and pressure works to release the fabric wad.

Now my new skirt hangs. It’s in a draft mode, needs a little work to finish. Just a waistband and hem.

Dear Friends: Self-isolating means finding ways to push oneself to alternative activities. Diana

Saturday, March 14, 2020

This time around, playing with a periodically recurring wish to learn knitting, I’m starting to “get it”. My neck-warmer is growing into a likeable piece. Okay, it’s full of mistakes, but I’ll be the one wearing it. No need to pull out “wrong stitches” or start over. What’s interesting and fun is a growing sense of learning. My handling of needles and yarn is improving, and each new row adds to the garment’s potential for cute. I chug along, eager to create a whole.

Besides a fulfilling experience of hands-on, there’s real-wool softness and beautifully-colored yarn. These create a pleasurable sense of “coming together”. In knitting, lots of opportunities to communicate will heighten skills and progress. Working with a group involves sharing knowledge and experience. Simply seeing someone in a nicely hand-knitted garment, and admiring the elements of yarn, design, and color, generates pleasant conversation. Casual exchanges with experienced knitters will enhance a newcomer’s skills.

My neck warmer is about half-finished. It needs enough height for one edge to slip under a coat or jacket collar while the other lifts and protects chin and mouth. If today’s pandemic environment forces us toward self-isolation, knitting is appropriate, requiring focus, passing time, and is productive.

Dear Friends: Let’s keep ourselves safe, and have wishes for Coronavirus to fizzle. Diana

Friday, March 13, 2020

Coronavirus has arrived in Bend. I understand that as of yesterday there’s a local patient. This lowers my optimism toward being out and about with little concern relative to the virus. To be honest, I was becoming a little paranoid. The other day while I shopped in a big store, somebody nearby began sneezing and my brain switched to getting the heck out of there fast.

Yesterday, I went to Fancywork Yarn shop to sit-in with a knitting group. The owner, Elise, was spraying sanitizer over everything. She said the shop’s workers are washing hands and spraying touchable areas hourly. She’s altering her business model to include deliveries of yarn and tools for knitters who prefer staying home. That group will include me.

At last, I’ve quit laughing about the overstocks of supplies that I drag home from Costco where I’ve long worked part-time (but not now, for Coronavirus has put my job as a “food sample server” on hold indefinitely). My quick surveys of cupboards suggests that the animals and I will be fine awhile without any shopping. And of course, there’s good old Amazon!

My friend, Iscella, and I have been planning to visit our friend, Virginia, in LaPine. She’s recovering from a series of strokes and still is very weak. Although we’ve no symptoms of Coronavirus, Iscella has questioned the wisdom of visiting Virginia during this epidemic. I talked about this with Virginia’s son, Joe. We thought it’s okay as Bend was without active cases. Now that Bend has a Coronavirus patient, maybe it’s not sound to visit someone highly vulnerable. Today, Joe and I will try to thread through that dilemma.

Folks are advised to wash hands and apply sanitizers frequently. Interestingly, I understand that studies show (and right now, I can’t find a reference) that people touch their faces about 30 times each minute. This thought makes me aware of how easily and often so much touching occurs. Now, Coronavirus is local, feels more threatening, and for me, begins a wishing to stay home more. I’ll start opting for deliveries, watch more television, practice knitting by myself, and work at resisting that old crummy, always-stalking, “cabin fever” virus.

Dear Friends: Hours ago, this now highly-concerning virus seemed a more distant threat. Diana

Thursday, March 12, 2020

Who’d a thought? Chunks of wood, old, dried, and dead-looking can be host to long-lived, flowering plants. They might barely be visible, some just a splotch of color against gray bark, but on close looks are complex clusters of flowering leaves. The other day, my friend Grant found a stalk with joints hosting flowering bits that I’m calling Lil’ Grant. It’s propped against a tree and here’s a photo.

Some of its growths are apparent along the trunk as yellowish blobs. Among the various joints are many tiny and colorful spots. We tried to identify the various flora without success as my phone’s plant app couldn’t capture them in enough clarity.

Yesterday, while clearing property and removing more old wood, I discovered the wood shown in today’s header photo. My phone app nailed its large flowering spots as “Juniper Mistletoe”. This excited my imagination, for after all, anything mistletoe springs memories of long-ago holiday parties and hopes of meeting someone special beneath a hanging mistletoe.

According to Wikipedia, Phoradendron juniperinum is a species of flowering plant in the sandalwood family known by the common name juniper mistletoe. It is native to the southwestern United States and northern Mexico. This tiny parasitic shrub attaches itself to a host tree and taps it for water and nutrients. The shrub produces little-bitty flowers and tiny berries. Birds eat them and spread the seeds.

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The problem with these discoveries is a conflict about whether to discard living plants. Especially those tough enough to survive for a long time in almost impossible places. Plus, they’re pretty. My gathering and burning now is on hold while I wrap my head around having discovered these flora, their lovely images, and the ideas they offer.

Dear Friends: It’s that a pile of sticks may turn into more than a pile of sticks, isn’t it? Diana

Wednesday, March 11, 2020

I took tax documents to a preparer in Redmond and on the way home stopped at Target. I needed a few things, some of which I’d found previously at this store. Yesterday, shopping put me into a “corona shock”. There were many partially-empty or all-empty shelves. For example, an item on my list, almond milk, was available among a few cartons of it.

After adding several personal care items to my cart, I wandered through the store. On my mind was the ladies wear department where I’d look at jeans. There were stacks of jeans, but too few, and none in petite sizes that match my leg-length. Searching through the stacks reminded me that much clothing comes from international sources that create it. Today’s Coronavirus scare prevents shippers from moving goods in adequate amounts and frequencies.

This Coronavirus stuff has become confused in my brain with previous embargo stuff occurring over the past year. I’m no economist and can’t fully understand decisions about what and how much now is allowed into this country, specifically from China. Whatever’s already difficult to comprehend is exacerbated by new and more-restricted shipping because of virus frights.

I’m a confused shopper, who like others wonders if my supplies of disinfectants, soaps, toilet paper, and tissues might last, and what’s possible as they disappear. These worries are so much worse for folks having large families and consuming products in volume.

Secretly, I’m happy that I’ve a supply of long-lasting camping/survival foods. Several years ago on bringing a big box of these foods home from Costco, I felt a little embarrassed. I’m no survivalist-type, so wasn’t certain what motivated that purchase. Occasionally, I’ve looked at that survival box and the space it consumes, have considered getting rid of it. Now, and possibly, it was a great serendipitous purchase.

This short-supply, virus business has many thinking in ways rational and irrational. Rationally, we believe our leaders will work out matters of public safety and product imports. Irrationally, we want to stockpile our usual needs.

Dear Friends: Of course, our crashing stock market emphasizes all the confusions. Diana

Tuesday, March 10, 2020

What’s cut down usually must go away. Yesterday, to deal with mountains of discarded tree branches, I had to drag and burn. Yes I know, most of us dislike open air burning, which I’ve managed to avoid for years. This week, however, facing piles of discarded trimmings, burning has seemed my easiest option.

An option is one thing, another is physical activity. Starting a fire was challenging enough. The flames had to be in a very open area, so my fire was a long way from its intended victims. The dragging was burdensome, and besides, trash wet from rains on the previous day caused lots of smoke. Tossing into the fire also meant avoiding smoke-burned eyes.

In the afternoon, my friends and neighbors, Bill and Grant, arrived to cut and collect firewood. They helped lots with everything. Bill focused on cutting firewood.

Grant and I dragged and burned. After clearing recent discards, we began removing old, now rotten branches that originally were piled as critter covers.

Grant has a wonderful eye for possibilities. He uncovered an old wood joint and pointed out that beautiful lichens and mosses were growing. He photographed the wood’s impressive growths, and we propped the piece against a tree for keeping. I’m calling it “Lil’ Grant” and will describe it in detail on another day.

We managed to clear property, move firewood, complete the burning, and finish with an hour of daylight left. I hurried down the road to collect the horses. On seeing me, they went into lots of galloping and kicking. Pimmy was a bigger-than-usual hoot, cantering and braying. Equinies, happy to see me.

As for them, yesterday was their final full day on pasture. Growing spring grass, young and green, is sugary, rich and fattening. They’ll get limited access, starting now. Sigh!

Dear Friends: Highly-productive days are rewarding, and ours relieved me greatly. Diana

Monday, March 09, 2020

Yesterday, I visited my ailing friend, Virginia, in St. Charles Hospital. Her son, Joe, had to leave for several hours and wanted company for her while he was gone, as she tends to panic on finding herself alone. Virginia is very elderly and fragile after recovering from a series of strokes that hospitalized her for over a week. She’s weak but alert, and concerned about her longevity and Joe’s future.

At first after Joe left us, Virginia seemed disoriented. Over time as we talked her voice grew in strength and she stated her opinions (as usual) clearly. Her greatest concern is that if she passes away, her son will be left alone. They’ve lived together for years as the last survivors of a family. Her concern for Joe’s welfare highly motivates her to recover, and it appears she’ll get better. Meanwhile, Joe will continue to take great care of her.

They live in LaPine. A little train of vehicles got Virginia home. Joe drove his car, with the EMT van following and Virginia inside. We thought she needed company, and so, I rode along in the emergency van. My seat was located behind her and she couldn’t see me. Later, she said it wasn’t a problem for she knew I was there.

In their LaPine home, a hospital bed had been delivered and set up in the living room near a television and a blazing wood stove. A Hospice Nurse was there waiting for Virginia’s arrival and took her vital signs. That nurse and Joe went aside to discuss future steps while Virginia and I talked. She has high determination to get out of that bed and probably will. Meanwhile, Joe will provide medications and reassurance.

My trip to LaPine was spontaneous, and created questions about how I’d get home. Joe would have ordered a taxi, but I wanted to avoid that expense. I asked the EMT guys if I could ride back with them, but they were concerned that a new call immediately could divert their direction. Fortunately, it turned out that the Hospice Nurse lives in Bend, she kindly gave me a ride home.

Serendipitously, that nurse and I discovered we’re neighbors living just a few blocks apart. We shared what we knew about a nearby large development under construction on Butler Market Road. Both of us had in “sister stories”. Her sister, in ill health, lives with her, and recently having lost my sister, I’m familiar with Hospice.

The day was eventful and full of learning for everybody involved. Overnight, I thought lots about Virginia and Joe, with hopes that both had become more calm and managed to sleep. I’ll call today to ask how they’re doing.

Dear Friends: Yesterday called for “going with the flow”, and we all exactly did that. Diana

Sunday, March 08, 2020

My ex-supervisor at Costco and friend, Virginia, has suffered a series of strokes and been hospitalized. Yesterday, her son, Joe, called. He asked for help this morning. While he’s handling activities related to Virginia’s ongoing supportive care, I’ll go to St. Charles and keep Virginia company today. If left alone, she panics.

Virginia and I have been friends nearly fifteen years. She was a supervisor in the sample-server component at Costco when I began working there part-time. She’d worked for the demo-services unit many years, beginning in Hawaii where she used to live, and after moving to Central Oregon.

When I began serving samples, our head supervisor was not pleasant, but Virginia understood her. Virginia watched the floor, understood what sample-servers were coping with, noticed who worked well or not well-enough, and often, acted as a buffer between the head supervisor and one or more sample-servers.

My habit of “talking back” is an unfortunate habit I never learned to suppress. Virginia’s occasional interventions helped me remain employed–until I did something that greatly offended our top supervisor. I refused to work on a day she insisted that I must, and she fired me, had me deemed not re-employable. Virginia couldn’t help me.

A couple years after that, the supervisor had retired and I was in Costco. Virginia corralled me, said their new top supervisor was a nice person, they needed more demo folks. She asked me to return to my old job. To my surprise and despite my negative record with Human Resources, Virginia and the new supervisor got me re-employed. I’ve worked there ever since and (mosty) keep my mouth shut.

I could complain to Virginia or make suggestions about working differently. She had remained second-in-command, was a straight arrow–tough as nails, but supportive and trustworthy. She had a soft side and sometimes helped cash-strapped workers financially. Along the line, I met her son, Joe, who kept an eye on her, was a helping hand.

After Virginia retired, we stayed in touch, meeting occasionally, discussing changes in the demo service side of Costco’s business. Over time, she and Joe became family-like to me.

Now, during Virginia’s illness, as they work through this unexpected health crisis, she’s fortunate to have Joe’s intelligent attentive assistance, and by now, he’s exhausted. From recent experience in caring for my ill elderly sister, I know that Virginia needs much more care. I want to help them through this crisis.

Dear Friends: All of us need help from one another, to cope well and live long. Diana