Yesterday, out in a frigid morning and bundled in heavy outdoor gear, I hurried to feed the horses, goats, and chickens. I needed super-quick to return to my house and warmth. As I was leaving the barn, I saw in the distance and facing me a bright globe. It beckoned from atop the hill, lighting my upward path. That globe’s center so weakened by a cloudy sky posed no harm to a lens. I pointed my camera directly into that light and snapped the shutter.
I stood and stared at the interrupted-light and that tree-lined path. The scene seemed a natural for artwork. I could imagine capturing it in pastels of gray tones, or with charcoal pencils and white highlights. To this purpose and seeking a more intimate photo, I took a closeup.
Today, using these photos, I’ll work to create an art piece. I’ll play using charcoals and colored pencils, experimenting to find whether a distant or close-up view, or somehow a combination of the two, best suits my vision.
This activity will have a more utilitarian purpose as a welcome distraction from today’s long impeachment process. I can work toward creating art while keeping aware of drama in the House of Representatives.
Dear Friends: It will be mega-multi-tasking, using eyes, ears, hands, and brain. Diana
Finally, I slept soundly after a string of sleepless nights with semi-consciousness tossing. It’s weird, that while thousands of worries may parade through the mind, it’s nearly impossible to zero-in on what primarily is zeroing-out rest. Maybe we carry around many levels of worries, some routinely less bothersome than others, but during a non-sleeping and defenseless state all arise as a one-level jumble that confuses. I’m going with this after years of non-sleeplessness.
On the other hand, I’ve popped awake from what has seemed deep-sleeping, with my mind holding an answer to a problem that during the daytime seemed impossible. This happened during my working years and helped with technical issues; and nowadays, it helps me grasp ways to accomplish ranch-related tasks. The old saying, “I’ll sleep on it,” is a reality.
Anyway, last night’s sleep might have have been from having safely got the horses up and down the road to and from a neighbor’s pasture. How to accomplish that was a long-time concern that probably began last summer, when the neighbor whose pasture it is said my horses could graze there in winter. I began considering the distance from my place to his and other elements, like, beyond distance is paved street, vehicle traffic, and deer surprises. Additionally, my equines weren’t used to being led down a paved street, and there are horse temperaments in the mix. Over time, the ideas of using that pasture seemed either workable or totally unworkable, depending on my mood. Ergo, sleeplessness.
This morning in what’s predicted to be a day of good weather, I’ll feed the horses and then will lead them down the road. They’ll have a great day grazing on that pasture.
Winter grazing has become a reality for us all!
Dear Readers: Some can go out and do, but for me, all first must churn internally. Diana
In the chilly and clear afternoon, I walked my horses down the street, almost a quarter-mile, and they grazed on a neighbor’s pasture for a couple of hours.
For days I’d worried about the best way to lead the horses along our neighborhood street. It’s not very busy but does have traffic. I’ve driven my horses on these streets, but without harness and blinkers, would they experience the area differently? Around here, too, what if one or more deer leap from seemingly-nowhere and cross the road, surprising the horses?
My elderly mare, Rosie, is at least 10-times bigger than me. She becomes anxious and challenging to handle in brand-new experiences. The still-standing snow had prevented practicing to walk on the street. Rosie also dislikes separations from her equine family but taking her separately would let me focus on leading her. Otherwise, by first taking Sunni and Pimmy, Rosie would snort, scream, and pace nervously until I could return for her. It seemed wise to start the marching with Rosie.
Who’d have anticipated that, as if we were in a dreamscape, Rosie was easy, and in fact, a smooth companion the entire way. Upon a release in the pasture and free, she chewed grass and peered intentently toward home.
As I waited and watched she was quiet, but I needed to get the others. When I began walking away, she bombshelled into action–full-bore galloping (a beautiful sight!) from one end of the field to another–aiming toward leaping the four-foot fence, a feat she’s not in condition to accomplish. Nonetheless and hopefully, she’d not crash into the vinyl railing and bust it apart to become free on the streets. As I headed home, she screamed for the others.
Sunni is easy to handle, and usually, so is Pimmy donkey. Now, Pimmy became difficult. She disliked the newly-added, ongoing strips of highly-visible asphalt-patch. Donkeys tend to stop, look, think, and decide about moving on. I didn’t have time and pulled hard on Pimmy’s lead rope until she had me worn out. I couldn’t help considering the irony of this: Rosie easy, Pimmy problematic.
Rosie was waiting and screamed hellos as we approached. Once Sunni and Pimmy were free in the pasture, the trio began grazing happily.
Sunni
Pimmy
Rosie
They had only two hours before the sun would begin setting. Then, about getting them home–all at once or separately? Maybe this time have Rosie and Sunni go together, and take slow-Pimmy separately?
Back at home, now relieved and happy, I suddenly could feel the stress of constantly having worried about how to move the three safely. I felt a sort of worry residue, my neck and shoulders were tight with nearly painful muscle-knots.
Later, after returning to the horses and making an “aw shucks” decision, all did travel home home together–slow-going with lots of tugging on Pimmy. Rosie and Sunni were patient, and the instant I could point us into my neighbor’s driveway, I released Pimmy. She’d follow us home. That back way though still was covered in deep crusty snow. The big horses were calm and willing to pause as I stepped carefully.
Once in their space and the gate closed, each got an apple.
I love my horses, and still too, that donkey.
Dear Friends: A tendency to over-worry means loss of sleep and mega-stress. Diana
Yesterday’s free samples of foods were heavy on holiday-styled meats and candies. The haste in which shoppers eagerly grabbed samples made it seem that most had never been exposed to meat and candy. Our demo person responsible for directing customers to packages of pre-prepared chateaubriand sold out quick as a heartbeat. Shoppers surrounded the candy-table madhouses without let-up. And my favorite question: “Which candy to you like best?” To which my, “I don’t eat the stuff”, set questioners aback.
Actually, it’s obvious this year that many customers have changed their eating habits. Lots of them don’t pause for meats (unless they’re trying to please a spouse), and don’t bother to stuff-up on or pocket free candy. These passerbys most often are very slim or very heavy, but at least they’re using will power that’s worthy of admiration.
Through experience, I’ve learned that meat-heavy diets lead to bad high cholesterol, and I swore off the stuff. Another item just awful for people is sugar, included in too many prepared foods. Besides being a learned taste, sugar is highly addictive. A real eye-0pener is the history of sugar-marketing behind its incredibly wide use.
Early last year I decided to avoid sugary products, and after the initial shock managed to stay away from them successfully. Later in the year and tired of plain black tea, I decided to try artificial sweeteners. I swear that after the first packet, I suddenly needed those sweeteners. Essentially, sweet is sweet–and in my example–immediately addictive.
Lately, because artificial sweeteners surely aren’t good for our bodies, I’m deciding to stop using them. It’s a struggle, “Well, maybe just this one cup of tea before I go black”, and it’s as difficult to cut artificials, as I learned earlier, real sugar itself.
One must work hard to avoid becoming sanctimonious after overcoming an addiction. Actually, leaving meats and candies is as much a victory as say, giving up alcohol or cigarettes. Those who’ve won want to preach to others, “Hey, it’s easy, just get the bad stuff out of your life.” But we’re not all alike, and as a sample-server to thousands of big-box customers, I keep quiet. But I do look closely at products in carts, the appearances of those pushing the baskets, and I make assumptions about their habits.
A large and healthy selection of prepared foods made me appreciate a recent introduction to the Whole Foods eatery. One picks up an empty plate, tours the buffet, and selects exactly the items and quantities that he/she wants. A person who doesn’t choose enough to eat may get more; or after picking up more than one can consume, there are boxes for leftovers.
Still, it deserves admiration, the high-volume store that employs me. It has successfully figured out how to make marketing a science. We demo folks introducing new products and offering free samples move lots of products. In fact yesterday as I handed out candy, the store manager, in a good mood with the store packed, and who never has so much as glanced in my direction, passed my table, winked at me, and asked how I was. I could have fallen over.
Dear Friends: This sanctimonious rant, somehow had to get out! Diana
Well, shucks, I’ll be at my part-time job today. I’d rather not, for the weather is gloomy and my comfy chair is calling from a fireside. As usual, I’ll leave my day’s pay at Costco, because shopping there is easier if one’s in the place anyway.
Much as I’d quit in a heartbeat, having a job is a strong incentive for leaving the house and being out among people. “Out and among” are real necessities, values. Besides warehouse shoppers seem family-like for everybody is doing the same thing. Looking for items that the big store reduces in cost before Christmas to clear out specialty items. Probably, today or very soon, Costco will bring in bathing suits. I’ll spot them in carts alongside on-sale designer candies.
Costco is an incredible marketeer, its stores turn seasons into mish-mosh. Customers are ready to, “Buy now!”, before an item disappears!” To be honest, accepting this is another sign of our times. We’re confused about such matters as democracy, Brexit, and why tourists were allowed to peer into a volcano at the exact moment it exploded.
Yesterday, while thinking about these matters, and feeling grateful that we had only intermittent rain and light snow, I braved the still-icy landscape, started my Gater and got to work. Getting ahead of predicted new snows meant moving trash barrels and hauling hay from uphill storage down to the barn. With large animals to care for, there’s always much that needs doing.
Right here at home, I could spend all my minutes staying productive, resting-up afterwards, and understanding clearly a constructive benefit for each activity.
Ah ha, today is a Friday the 13th, a “bad luck” day. Supposedly, Fridays that fall on “calendar 13s” have been considered bad luck ever since biblical times. A popular explanation for this bad rap is that it was the date of The Last Supper. That event was attended by 13 individuals–Jesus’s 12 disciples and one other, Judas. Ever since, a popular fear has been of the Fridays that fall on any month’s 13th day, and in general, there’s caution toward the number 13 itself.
This Western superstition, known as “The Thirteenth Phobia”, is why many tall American buildings have no 13th floors. Those buildings’ elevators lack “13th floor” buttons, their platforms move directly between the floors 12 and 14.
I always have appreciated this living superstition as an example of our collective human takeaways from history. There are many such ancient legends, and over time I’ve wondered how long people might hold onto assumptions passed down through the ages.
I’m reading a book, “A Long Bright Future”, by Laura L. Carstensen (Founding Director of the Stanford Center on Longevity). She points out that up until the 19th century, the average human life was only 20 years. In the 19th Century technology was born and extended human life. In the beginning, it extended human life to about 23 years. The early 20th Century innovations extended human life more to about 35 years.
Technology created in the mid-20th Century began extending human life more. Labor-saving and medical technologies slowly began to flip the tradition age pyramid. Through human history, the largest populations were of young people. These days, the aging populations in affluent nations are on the verge of becoming the largest healthy sectors. This flip of demographics is changing our politics, economics, and social orders.
I’m fascinated to watch and learn, as our society undergoes new experiences and evolves toward large-scale changes. Our leaders are attempting to comprehend and meet changing needs, while trying to hold onto traditional values from our history and economics.
So, let’s enjoy the known old-ways, like those cautions associated to today’s date. The future will bring much that’s new, and that might alter many known traditions and assumptions.
Dear Friends: This is a brave new world, of noisy fighting in the world’s politics. Diana
Yesterday, my friend Julie at lunch introduced me to the Whole Foods eatery. I loved it, wondered why I’ve never gone to Whole Foods for coffee and prepared food. Especially since I sometimes shop there to find fruits for Peaches. Most of my time in that commercial area is in Costco where I work and conveniently shop. Yesterday, it was a delight to choose food items without being force-loaded with unwanted french fries, rolls & butter, and etc. At Whole Foods, with a large selection of prepared foods, one may choose exactly what and how much of it one wants.
Julie and I brought books to exchange, and especially were “into” the works of Mary Oliver, the poet. Julie and her daughter, avid fans, have many of Oliver’s books. Some of those came home with me on a borrowed basis. Last night, I began reading Oliver’s “Blue Pony” poems. She’s a wonderful writer.
The best part of lunch was the time hanging out with Julie. She’s a person who pursues bunches of various interests, and to boot, is a great listener. We talked nonstop, encouraged one another onward in our quests. She read my poem and was kind, but her questions suggested to me that the flow of ideas might be too abstract.
I came home and activated my right brain to conjure how to adjust and make my poem more accessible. Brain encouraged me to set goals. One, is to adjust the poem so it’s easier to read, and two, make it more fun to read.
My next expedition for coffee, and to sit with an electronic tablet, will be to hang out searching for meanings and striving for clarity, at Whole Foods.
December 2019 Super Moon (photo by Elaine La Rochelle)
Last night, this year’s final Super Moon totally was invisible in our rain-heavy part of the sky. Tonight will be the final appearance of that gorgeous circle. If the moon appears in local heavens, I’ll be watching. That globe lights the earth and generates optimism. Just think, all creatures from time’s beginning, upon seeing those full moons, have responded to its energy. Every creature has enjoyed, too, the moon’s pretty slices between its full appearances.
The header photo is a steal from my friend Elaine’s FB page. I hope she’ll forgive my hurried grab without asking first for permission. The thing is, Elaine gets great moon shots, and this one’s an example.
Transition question: How does the moon remind us of poetry?
Yesterday, my friend Noell and I met for coffee, and to discuss ourselves relative to the arts of writing and drawing. We brought examples of our creations since we last met. Both have been motivated by the recent deaths of loved ones. On her part, Noell is journaling, and for me, it’s a poetry binge. Noell is an honest, good writer, and hopefully, will go ahead and start a blog. I needed courage to reveal my poem. She got it! Discussing our efforts actively encouraged each. We made plans to continue working and will get together again.
I’ve been asked to include my poem in a blog and will soon. Meanwhile, the poem is undergoing revisions relative to cadence, sounds, meanings. Fortunately, rhyme isn’t an issue. My key ideas are written, but poetry is more than ideas…it has technicalities. I’m a starter on a learning streak.
What I have found by converting some complex feelings into concise thoughts, a poem draft can energize like the sighting of a full moon. Move over, Shakespeare!
Dear Friends: Last night, after writing a bit of Haiku, for Noell, I sent it to her. Diana
It’s Emily Dickinson’s 189th birthday! Especially notable now to one attempting to create a worthwhile poem. And because for years I studied her poetry. She’s one of the greatest writers ever and like many famous writers a most complex individual.
Years ago, while on a business trip to New York City, after completing my work, I found myself free for several days before heading home to California. Thinking about Dickinson, I rented a car, and drove to Amherst hoping to gain insight into the poet’s life, creativity, and talent.
In Amherst, after touring the University, I managed to find and join a group about to go through the Dickinson mansion. The College owns the Dickinson place and allows instructors and students to live there, but reserves as open to tourists half that building. The rooms, hallways, stairs, and personal artifacts are preserved from Emily’s adulthood.
My visit there happened during the earliest days of internet, way before Emily’s work finally went online. Then, while visiting the Harvard Bookstore, I discovered a hard-bound set of volumes containing facismilies of all Dickinson’s known original poems. The collected poems, shown handwritten, illustrate how over the years her poetic style developed and eventually how her handwriting began to change. I was and still am fascinated by those volumes, they’re as interesting as the poet herself.
On Dickinson’s birthday, recalling my trip to Amherst and re-thinking her poems and unique style, this wannabe poet feels reassured. Poetry writing is a daunting process because of the requirements related to structure, rhythm, and sound. Many fine examples exist that meet those writing demands.
As usual in learning, and maybe especially with a topic as complex as writing poems, it would help me to become informed by a hands-on “how-to” education. I’m scrambling to read books on the topic even while attempting to create a poem.
Anyway now on Emily’s birthday, I have an early draft of an original poem, and today a friend will read it. I’m timid with trepidation but one must start somewhere. Otherwise, like Dickinson, my first and maybe future poems could wind up in a drawer.
Dear Friends: Writing and linking stanzas are powerful in searching for truth. Diana
I’m sitting in Starbucks and sipping a late afternoon latte late. Usually, this is where I meet friends to discuss politics. Here we huddle without worrying about whether an overhearer has a different perspective. That’s how it is at Starbucks, just do your thing.
This afternoon, my thing is a poem I drafted days ago, it needs work. I’m testing whether an environment beyond my living room will facilitate improving the poem. Here with spiked caffeine, without barking dogs, no screeching Cockatoo. If the horses are hungry so be it. All will rest until I’m home again.
Here during a quiet late afternoon, and by the way, among understanding company. Sitting around me, another six or seven loners either are focused on their computer screens or studying their cell phones. Actually, to make significant progress on this poem I should earlier have come here. I must return on another day and try again. Anyway, the coffee is good.
What delayed my arrival was earlier taking a walk down the road to visit my neighbor, Bobby. He used to have horses and misses them. His fenced pasture hasn’t been occupied in a long while. Last summer we talked and he said it would be okay for my horses to graze on his place in winter following a serious weather freeze.
Last week, we got a deep freeze. Right now, snow still standing is turning icy-slick in weather that’s begun to warm. It’s unlikely that before spring new grass will grow, and now the frozen grass is perfect for horses. They’ll graze all day without gaining weight–a big deal with some horses, and mine for sure.
Today Bobby was very willing, said “Bring them over.” That’ll happen around midweek. I’m a little challenged about leading all the equines together to his place, but will figure out how. A beginning might be to walk each horse individually down the road in hopes it will hold true that “practice makes perfect”.
Dear Friends: I’m working today, so won’t be strolling around with a horse. Diana
Diana's Morning Blog 