Tuesday, February 18, 2020

It’s nearly impossible to get a decent photo of Miles. Yesterday though, as I walked with the dogs he suddenly emerged from a nearby “brush cave” and slowed by the weeds. Of course, it’s a fuzzy image, but no kidding, I always must look for Miles. He’s fast, most often appears as a “sweeping glimpse”. Nonetheless, this fellow never loses track of his pack. After our outing trek has shifted toward the parking area, he totally disappears from sight, having dashed ahead, to the Jeep (left open for him), and is waiting in the passenger seat.

Often, there’s Osix, waiting, too. As we trek, she stays close to me, but likes to join Miles as a “first in the Jeep” once we’re pointed in its direction.

Ranger and little Louie stay near me throughout a trek. Ranger is a worrier, running ahead and out of sight but often hurrying back to check on me. Louie usually is visible, just plain cute, or pausing to roll in something putrid.

Yesterday, that outing was one of several. There’s no explaining (aside from having consumed a big lunch) why I became so active. Early that day, the horses and I walked the quarter-mile to our neighbor’s pasture where they stayed. Next, I walked to several neighbors’ to tap on their doors and ask for permissions to cross their properties while walking my goats. With solid “go-aheads”, I leashed the two and took them for long stroll.

Now, the piece de resistance. After letting the dogs go running and wearing themselves out, I did something I’ve long considered but never tried. I used a couple of tandem leads to connect the four dogs and somehow got them down to the street for a walk. For awhile, we were a jumbled-mess. They had to learn to walk together, as I sought the strength to keep control. (Sorry, no photos!)

Last night, during a few sleepless minutes, I decided it’s time to go horseback riding. It’s been too long since the horses, donkey, and dogs–all together, joined me for a play-outing.

Dear Friends: Psychedelics might not have offered more fun than yesterday’s outings. Diana

Monday, February 17, 2020

I’m creating a monster, or putting it more gently, a couple little goats have begun demanding that I take them for walks. Always, upon my routine approaches to our goat ‘n chicken pen, their greetings are noisy, and especially, when they see me bringing little tubs with grains and breadcrumbs. Now though, having joined me several times to stroll through the neighborhood, upon my approach they’re more excited, with greetings escalated to ear-splitting.

I’m learning anew these little characters and love recognizing their intelligence and alertness. As a hat-tip to their step-up in status, each sports a brand-new collar and I.D. tag.

As I dashed into the pet store for collars and tags, I stopped short upon sighting a gorgeous red Doberman with recently-trimmed and taped ears. I reached out to the friendly puppy. Oh, how I love Dobermans, especially red ones!

My all-time, most-loved canine companion, Bally, was a red Doberman. For many years, we were a team, she always beside me. I joined the local dog club, learned to show her in conformation classes, and for a couple of years we traveled the circuit. Our best win was a second-place, from a nationally-known judge who was a Doberman expert. I was in a group that joined him for dinner, and he told me that he loved Bally, but that we were out-shown by a very experienced handler. His reassurance about Bally’s conformation, although pleasing, ended my interest in showing her competitively. Instead, we worked on obedience and she earned a C.D. (Companion Dog) title.

Anyway, as I was loving that red pup, her owner muttered something. When I looked up–Surprise!–it’s my friend, Buzz! This puppy is his? “What are you doing with a Doberman puppy?”

“It’s our breed, she’s our forth Doberman.”

Well, who knew!

Buzz and I met as members of ham radio groups and stayed in touch. He’s a technology expert, and periodically, we meet over coffee to catch up with each other. We discuss whatever’s new in our lives, and also, the nuts and bolts of ham- and/or internet-related technologies.

We’ve begun planning to meet again. Maybe he’ll bring his puppy, and I’ll find some photos of Bally. We’ll exchange experiences with the breed, and what we like or maybe don’t like (referring to judges, dog breeders, and fears associated to the breed).

How fun, all this!

Dear Friends: Old pictures bring Bally alive again, almost as if she’s here beside me. Diana

Sunday, February 16, 2020

This day which couldn’t have been more beautiful occurred deep in the heart of winter. Just another lovely day in this season’s unusual warmth. Why such unseasonal beauty? It makes for some stressful-deciding.

As an example, many days feel so warm I’d harness a horse and go for a drive. An inviting idea if there’s no possibility of facing into freezing winds. When my farrier came to trim hooves, he wondered if I’m ready to have the horses shod, and I struggled. Between now and maybe April we’re likely to face streaks of freezing weather and snow. I made a safe decision to nix shoeing and driving before real spring weather arrives.

Meanwhile, most days are lovely with unwinterly-bright daylights creating a beautiful backdrop to my horses, happily roaming and grazing across pasture and around the edges.

In this warmth, grass is beginning to grow, with new green patches apparent. My horses are “easy keepers”, because they can gain weight at the drop of a hat, and especially from too much time on green pasture (grass too sugary and sweet). Very carefully, I control their weight (except for my hopeless donkey) by measuring feed quantities. Annually, during the coldest winter months, they’re allowed full days on pasture, for grass frozen and dead doesn’t increase their weights.

These photos show my horses as “fat enough”. I’ve already reduced their hay allotments. If this warmer winter continues, maybe they’ll start having less time on pasture. Bummer, for reducing their pasture time is as complex as making an “iffy decision” about whether to shoe.

Dear Friends: This winter, the weather ain’t playin’ fair enough for good planning. Diana

Saturday, February 15, 2020

We were approaching the end of our mile- and one-half stroll through the neighborhood, and coming toward our neighbor’s driveway, which takes us to a hidden back-path and to my home. At that moment, Frank (our neighbor), emerged to check his mailbox, saw us and laughed. We paused to chat, and he took these photos, which I love for reflecting my discovery of a fun way to exercise, by walking the goats.

(That’s the street, by the way, on which my horses and I walk, straight along its middle, so that approaching drivers will see us. At the distant end, we curve to the right toward the pasture where they spend many daylight hours grazing.)

Walking with horses on the streets had bolstered my confidence, helped me decide that may be a good way to exercise the goats. In our process of doing this, the majority of drivers have been very kind. Most slow down, to ensure safe space for the animals, giving us a thumbs-up or pausing to inquire about the experiences of having these animals and of walking with them.

And a “surprise photo” as we headed home, capturing us early on this path as I urged the goats along. But soon upon realizing where we were, both leaped ahead and pulled me homeward.

These twins are ten years old, have been with me since their infancy, and unfortunately, mostly penned. I knew everything about them, so I thought. Now, having walked with them, they’ve taught me better. They’re incredibly alert and observant, with great eyesight and astonishing hearing. We often pause, giving them time to sense the environment. They’re seeing and hearing distant objects, as tiny as a wnd-slapping bit of paper, or even tinier, so that I can’t figure out what’s capturing their attention.

Yesterday coming home, our walk took us alongside the pasture where my horses were grazing. The horses recognized us, and after a bit of worrying, the goats recognized their horses.

Thank you, Frank, for these images, and for sharing in the fun of these doggone-cute little critters.

Dear Friends: Never stop seeking new ways to explore, for times of peace and for fun. Diana

Friday, February 14, 2020

These are my hens. Oh, how they love breadcrumbs. Anytime I approach, they race to meet me, from the chicken coop, goat house, or wherever they might be perching, pecking, or lounging in dust. They’re my last four survivors from ten years ago and a small flock of newborns. In the photo, from the bottom up, are Cinderella, Potash, Littletail, and (searching under the stump) Wellsummer.

Since these gals aren’t young, this unusually-warm winter has been a mitzvah. All are healthy, eating well, and not worrisome. Toward the end of last summer, Littletail had been a concern. She’d been picked on by the others, clearly signaling that she’s lowest on the totem pole. Many missing feathers, from pluck-outs by her sister hens, raised doubts about whether Littletail had the strength to fend off others and take care of herself. Whatever’s returned her to full feathers–the weather, her energy, or sheer luck–has my gratitude.

It’s been hard to lose any of my chickens, a fallout from having only a small flock and none destined for dinner. After years of seeing one or two giving up and dying, I’ve recognized a pattern. Most likely, the next-to-fail will be whoever’s lowest on the pecking order. I’ve tried to intervene with hens that show signs of giving up–their feathers lost, eating less, and inequality to the others. Unfortunately, when one’s ready to go, human intervention does little beyond stalling the process. My incredible Littletail! Fighting back, beautiful-looking and holding her own.

Yesterday, I planned to go for a walk with my dwarf goats, but the day turned out mostly overcast and gloomy. That afternoon, with high winds kicking up, I stayed indoors. But later in the day, I stepped out to retrieve the horses from pasture–at that very instant, a magical, amazing phenomenon: The sky came alight, and suddenly, a curtain had lifted! And I had a camera.

Dear Friends: Happy Valentine’s, and have a wonderful day. Diana

Thursday, February 13, 2020–

Yesterday, something about which I’ve thought, that finally, I got up and did, put a smile on my face. I snapped lead ropes onto the collars of my two African Dwarf Goats and we went for a walk. These twin sisters live in a sheltered area, with several hens, and each weighs about 75-pounds. They’re cute as can be, but overweight and need more exercise.

That was their first time walking around in a larger world. Intermittently, the two behaved willingly, timidly, boldly, worried, and interested. Breeze is the more confident and she’s dominant. Poppy tends to yield but can hold her own. As we walked, their little hoofbeats on pavement made me laugh, for comparing their tappings to the beats my horse makes while pulling a cart.

Breeze took our event in stride, mostly walking closely behind me with regular little hoof-sounds. But Poppy worried, sometimes stopping and pulling backwards, forcing me to tug her lead rope (it’s surprising, the strength of a low-profile 75-lbs). Other times, Poppy led us, pulling Breeze and me forward.

We traveled the streets and wove toward the nearby power-lines where a dirt road leads to an active canal. Once out into the open, the goats, wide-eyed, moved slowly. They paused lots, in curiosity, to explore ground smells or listen to whatever, in the air beyond my perception, captured their attention.

I let them be and we moseyed forward. After about an hour, as we neared home, we bumped into our neighbor and friend, Susie. She’d just returned from a big trip and we spent several minutes catching up. With much to talk about, I forgot to ask Susie to take a photo of all us hikers.

Dear Friends: These animals are fun, for a goat can learn to tote a pack and to pull a cart. Diana

Wednesday, February 12, 2020

As a lifelong morning coffee drinker, I didn’t give a second thought to my wake-up cups–until Starbucks was born. Then, I began hurrying downtown for a carry-out moca before heading to the office.

Several years later when Keurig happened, coffee drinkers began paying attention to new faster-producing machines and to creative roasting techniques. As a worker in Costco, I’ve demonstrated new coffee pots and roasts. Now, I tend to look for what’s faster-producing and better-tasting.

Lately, my attention has turned toward additives designed to sweeten coffee. I’s on my mind while sipping this morning’s second cup to which I’ve added chocolate sweetener. Getting used to the taste took awhile. Now, I like it, but only in my second cup–not the first, nor third, only the second.

In my first and third cups, I add a “superfood creamer”. Recently, while shopping in Costco and examining this creamer’s bag, I was interrupted by a customer. She enthusiastically said that she and her friends love the creamer, that it’s kind of coconut-tasting, doesn’t dissolve without lots of stirring, but is great for making coffee taste better. I thanked her, reshelved the bag and walked away, before returning later and tossing a bag into my cart.

At first, I didn’t quite like the coconutty sweetener. But remembering that shopper’s enthusiasm and continuing to try the product, I adopted her view. This coconut has become necessary in my first and third cups.

Recently, a Wall Street Journal article explained that increasingly food producers are focusing on ways to expand the market for coffee sweeteners. Yes, my experience is an example of effective marketing–how much and quickly it can alter consumer habits.

It’s slightly annoying that, after years of drinking coffee to increase my alertness, and finding it pleasing enough, now I seek what promises to make each sip more enjoyable. Thinking back and in reality, the old days seemed good enough, and were less expensive.

Dear Friends: Talking myself back to the past, to a Mr. Coffee, and drinking it black. Diana

Tuesday, February 11, 2020

Yesterday, I sat with a small group that had gathered to meet for a final time. En route to participate, I didn’t realize they’d pre-agreed for this meeting to be their last. In my past and having worked with groups, I’ve learned they can re-plan, re-energize and be revived. These participants, however, felt tired, they were finished and unwilling to try again.

Thus ended Bend’s Chapter of NOW. Too bad, for these are times calling for more public participation in anything political. It’s also a textbook example of organizational failure. Its organizer and leader is bright, articulate, and charismatic, and in the beginning, had lots of goals, energy, and ideas. Over time, she wore herself out, likely from not knowing how to delegate effectively. It’s a serious art–to delegate and support, that like all arts arises from careful pre-structuring and pre-planning. Group success requires communicating well and arises in a group that has negotiated, clearly stated, and agreed on a mission and vision.

Some of this group participants yesterday drove long distances to attend. The leadership team is educated and offers impressive track records. Three years ago at this Chapter’s startup, all felt eager and worked hard. Over time, as general interest dropped off and recruiting participants became difficult, those self-burdening with the most work began to sense failure and feel burnout.

This Chapter after its first couple of meetings didn’t communicate adequately (at least to me) its plans and activities. I had joined, but never receive emails or saw information on social media. Essentially, my membership has fallen into the cracks, although last night’s group insisted on having recruited and communicated regularly with 300 members.

There were problems because the National NOW also imposes structural requirements on chapters. Ultimately, demands became too difficult to achieve. It’s understandable, the hardships in keeping alive a chapter. It’s sad, too, when well-meaning people come together, after sharing interests and energy, to give up and disband. On the other hand, maybe they’ll find productivity again, maybe by reunifying and establishing new goals better-suited to their combined capabilities.

Dear Friends: Leadership is an art that well-practiced, yields, guides, supports potential. Diana

Monday, February 10, 2020

This small city has grown rapidly in my relatively few years living here. The above photo is of a small farm, near my home, a sight cherished by us wannabe country types. Sure, there remain other small farms, but many are disappearing quickly. Farm spaces are being refilled with clusters of too-close new (and to me, ugly) homes.

Across the road from this farm is what remains of an old barn. For years it stood in full view, battered and recognizable. Each time while driving past, I’d salute that barn’s age, survival, and historical viability. Recently, the structure changed, and now, consists only of bare support bones. Otherwise, it’s been stripped of all the wood covering, and now, it’s hard to visualize what sort of structure those bones might represent. It’s coverings, glowing and weather-aged, went to one or others intending to frame pictures, build furniture, or punctuate some expensive new building with historic wood.

Since seeing that the little barn has all but disappeared, and so quickly, I’ve felt an urgency to record some old structures that still exist. Today, that’ll become my project. I’ll go out with a camera to capture some visual history and create a little photojournalism. Stay tuned.

Dear Friends: Our little semi-rural neighborhoods are very special and becoming rare. Diana

Sunday, February 09, 2020

Clogged head, runny nose, sneezing, and crum!, a head cold. Most likely, it’s from one or more shoppers in Costco where I work part time. Happily, I recently lugged home from Costco an oversized package of tissues that’s providing a stockpile, a stash, supplying enough disposable little hankies for long as needed and through my worst. Sometimes I’m grateful for having to purchase oversized packages and more product than I normally consume. Like now, when my sneezes are building or my nose starting to drip, it’s comforting having new tissue boxes available for a room, desktop, or vehicle.

That aside, today I’m going to work, and sorry to say giving back to the givers. When we serve customers while burdened with colds, we often make references to our “allergies”. Just a little lie that fools nobody, for about colds we get ’em and give ’em.

Maybe sensing that cold coming on is why I stopped my car, near downtown, on spotting a little yarn shop. I wanted to go inside and look at yarns, colorful skeins of it. Maybe I felt a glimmer of wanting to knit something. The “real yarns” made of natural fibers suggest warmth and security. Those elements drew me, as probably did other deep wishes for seeing and touching yarn fibers.

It’s reminding me that folks often say they greatly enjoy seeing my horses grazing on pasture down the street. Maybe these elements stir related emotions–horses and yarn. It’s worth more thought, but that’s later for me.

On that chilly day, and probably because of my approaching misery, I wore a heavy sweater. The store’s proprietor complimented my sweater (while I couldn’t remember if it’s wool, because usually, I wear artificial, cold-blocking, easy-care fabrics). Later, the sweater’s label affirmed her good eye.

She knew her stuff and guided me toward a knitting project. I brought home a skein of multi-colored natural wool, a pattern that’s Japanese-inspired (she said, it’s easy??), and a set of circular needles (she said, they’re easy??). Moreover, I enrolled in a beginning knitting class. That should confuse this left-hander who’s unorthodox in needle-handling. Anyway, it’s all about seeking comfort, warmth, and productivity to carry me through this tough patch.

As we wrapped up the transaction, I asked her name. She responded with pride, “Alysia, and this is my shop.”

(In Bend, for fine yarns, check-out Alysia’s, “Fancywork Yarn Shop”, 200 NE Greenwood.)

Dear Friends: Applause to entrepreneurs, with courage to do “their things”, and so often, well. Diana