Wednesday, January 01, 2019

My photography hasn’t particularly been area-focused. But here’s a nice view of our destination when I take my three equines to a neighbor’s pasture for a few hours of grazing. In winter, there’s little prettier than the naked tall aspens contrasting brightly against those surrounding conifers.

After studying the scene, I turn to face the opposite direction and begin studying my view later upon starting to walk home. In its unique way this back view is very pretty. Right now, remaining spots of snow identify a deer trail that follows the fence line. This backside area seems a little wild, a spot delightful, tucked among the rural homes.

Now my eyes and mind are focused on my surroundings. Walking home, I see lots of curious spaces that tickle my imagination. One example, on the road’s edge, a tunnel hideaway for some small creature.

I’ve made a key resolution for this New Year, to keep my eyes open more and look for Nature’s natural beauties. There are so many easily-sighted and incredible possibilities. From personal experience, I know that seeing expands our notions of potential, encourages us to feel, and saying it simply, elevates us to joy.

Dear Friends: Have a Happy New Year filled with looking and appreciating! Diana

Tuesday, December 31, 2019

It’s not unusual to see my neighbor, Frank, playing with his Aussies on their side of a fence that separates our fields. On last year’s first day, with the weather warming enough to melt snow, I stood near my horses and caught this cool shot. Seconds later, Frank and I waved to one another and moved toward the fence for a morning conference, one of our brief gabs.

When I was young, intense, and seeking my way in the world, I ignored neighbors who weren’t problematic. After moving to California and buying a house, in which I lived for twenty-five years, things changed, for wonderful neighbors found me. The Hernandez family, a loving clan, ignored my avoidance of a neighborhood involvement and embraced me. No preconditions for their friendship and affection. Finally, my moving from LA to Oregon meant leaving the neighbors I loved, but we still are emotionally connected and in touch.

The Hernandez family opened my eyes to the loveliness of neighbors, pleasant and friendly, who might become good friends. Here in Oregon, I’ve tried hard to value the neighborhood and interact positively with neighbors. I didn’t anticipate finding folks like the Hernandez family.

Several years ago, Frank and Annette moved from CA and became next door neighbors. I felt comfortable with both. Annette works during daytime hours and Frank is retired. We’ve became over-the-fence buddies with similar views and politics. Over time, I found that Frank is a fellow who can accomplish almost anything. He’s often my go-to for knowledge and muscles. In snowy holiday seasons, when Annette’s free from her work, she’ll show up to check on my welfare. I appreciate them.

And, suddenly am realizing how much they’ve come to mean. Perhaps the recent loss of my sister and a sudden sense of disconnection makes my world appear differently. Now, I see Frank and Annette, like the Hernandez family, loving and caring. And living next door!

I am fortunate als0 to have found, and got to know well, other family units–folks nonjudgmental and caring–that I can feel very close to. As this year ends, it’s my good luck to know I have friends who are dear. They help me visualize a New Year in color and hope.

Dear Friends: Thanks again, for following my blog over its first year on Word Press. Diana

Monday, December 30, 2019

Yesterday afternoon and evening, our local environment was lost in freezing fog with low visibility. We who drove vehicles progressed slowly, and I, coming home from work and peering into the evening’s dim, couldn’t see my usual roadway exit onto my property.

Yesterday, a farrier was scheduled to trim hooves while I worked at Costco, and so, I dropped a casual plan to leave the horses on my neighbor’s pasture. My idea was to walk the horses home after work. Maybe it would be dark but I’d wear a headlight and put blinkers on the horses, and so, even with little light we’d get home okay. But leaving work and entering a fogged-out world, I felt thankful that my horses were home.

Of course, customers had been mentioning that outside was very cold with freezing fog, but actual experience landed the impact. Before leaving work, I more than usual enjoyed my shift, perhaps because a week had passed since my last time in the store, and maybe because Christmas finally is past, and we’re in a brief pause before New Year’s.

Today, I’m scheduled to work during hours more hectic, as shoppers do last-minute gearings-up for celebrations. As usual for New Year’s, our samples will consist of “pick-ups and eats”, or finger foods. We’ll hand out variations of chicken wings and thighs, pizza products, cheese and crackers, and yes, more candy.

In holiday seasons, sample servers see carts loaded with wine, and often cases of it being pushed toward checkout stands. When Oregon finally changes its liquor law and allows for sales of hard alcohol in non-state-owned stores, we will witness in grocery carts a massive increase of alcoholic beverages. In states where it’s allowed, Costco is a major supplier of hard alcohol and ultimately will be in Bend.

Today’s shoppers will be more intense, but anyway, my good mood might hold steady. If I don’t feel up-tight and harassed by the customers, I can have fun with them. It’s a two-way street for everybody, servers and shoppers. We’re under the pressures of commitments, resources, time, and weather, and traditional celebratory holidays test to the max everybody’s ability to withstand pressure.

Dear Friends: I look forward to today’s action, and hope for a very short shift. Diana

Sunday, December 29, 2019

After a string of days with little or nothing for me to do, today is loaded. The farrier who works on my horses lives in CA and travels to Bend for his local clients. He’s in town and this morning will trim my horses. A neighbor is having a party I hope to attend, at least briefly, before or after working my shift at Costco. Ideally, these three events would be on different days instead of piled into one.

That tro of activities has me thinking about some visuals from yesterday evening. I was trying to capture a small view of Mt. Jefferson and happened to be looking skyward as an airplane flying overhead, heading southeast, was leaving a jet track. The plane’s clean smoke path, alongside a billowing track laid previously, seemed interesting enough to photograph.

As I watched that plane, another appeared, coming opposite and northwest, at a lower altitude, toward that first plane. Hmm, their merging smokes might make an interesting photo.

Woops! Now a third plane, flying way above the second. Two airplanes moving northwest with smoke tracks at different levels and toward Plane 1 from the opposite direction. Their trailing smokes would be a trio stringing clouds that aren’t natural. They could create stories in the sky.

My focus on three levels was off for this shot captured all four smoke levels. Look closely to see the highest airplane’s smoke line. In my mind’s eye, this visual is a powerful version of star wars.

About the photo with Mt. Jefferson, a more distant peak that’s rarely visible from my property. Last evening’s clear and open sky revealed it, and lucky for me, those Canada Geese as well. As if the mountains and geese weren’t enough, the jet stream sightings were piece de resistance.

Dear Readers: We can’t estimate enough the natural beauties that surround us. Diana

Saturday, December 28, 2019

As 2019 dims, we consider its key events and an approaching new year encourages new thoughts and feelings. Traditionally, New Year represents a “clean slate”, an image pushing forward ideas for changes in a new year. We conjure up desirable changes and goals and begin to create resolutions.

These morning rambles of mine have their own history in the form of feedback from readers. I’m trying to recall how many years ago readers’ comments to this blog, at a year’s ending or a new year’s beginning, started sounding this way: “I no longer bother making New Year’s resolutions.”

I’m a listener and responder who learns from others. So afterwards for some years, I hesitated to mention anything about New Year’s resolutions. In fact, I tried to avoid thinking about them. As my readers wisely have pointed out, promises to self for significant changes aren’t reliable, but are made to be broken. And in reality, if one “could do it”, one would “be doing it”.

Now, we’re peering down the throat of 2020, a year that seems a significant milestone. Many years of life give me much to look back and reflect on, in two-ways, with regrets and applause. Most previous annual endings left me planning forward for personal wishes, say for wealth, prestige, beauty (perhaps not in that order).

This year is different. Our collective future needs planning, still on a personal level and yet differently. Thinking about relevant plans will make our goals more broad. For example, how might an individual make (at least) one ongoing, significant effort to combat our eroding environment? For example, should we search for and contribute time and energy to groups chartered to improve human rights?

Time, technology, and socio-political experience have made us newly aware of human nature, it’s potential for greatness and as it’s real-time impact on natural nature. Many well-communicated debates about the possible future negative impacts on our environment and species, have changed many of us.

This approaching new year is an ideal time to reflect and think through personal positions on large issues. Perhaps it would help to find ways to address individually one (at least) of our nation’s and the world’s needs for changes.

Dear Readers: Wishing that for 2020, humans do think, plan, and resolve to act. Diana

Friday, December 27, 2019

Awakened at 2 a.m. by my barking dogs, spotty sounds that gradually intensify. My cat leaps from my bed and onto a window sill and peers into darkness. Now, all my dogs are noisy, some hurrying up and down the hallway barking toward both sides of my house.

In the winter more deer come through especially during late and wee hours. Ordinarily, when the dogs become active, they must go outside to work off energy, but not during the hours that most of our world sleeps or tries to sleep. “Quiet, dogs,” I mutter, but they don’t and won’t, not until they’re ready, which seems to take forever.

During daytimes, deer move along traditional paths while browsing. A couple of deer paths cross my property. If deer cross behind the house, near the horses, my dogs will sound alerts. If deer cross in front of my house, the dogs don’t always notice. This time of year I may glance out a front window and see a casually moving little herd, maybe a few does and sometimes also a juvenile or two. These little herds often are identifiable, as some deer have unique markings, and may remain days in the neighborhood.

Deer may be browsing on one property or another as I lead my three equines down the road. Our destination is nearly a quarter-mile away, a neighbor’s pasture. The horses and I began taking such walks after the season’s first deep freeze, when field grass became safe for horses that gain too much weight on healthy, high-sugar grass.

I had been worried about marching three equines all at once along the street. A big concern was that one or more deer might leap from bushes and bound across the road, surprising the horses, and especially Rosie who’s hyper-alert. In an event of situationally-frightened horses, could my small self hold steadily three much bigger beings?

Like many fears that finally are put to test, the presence of deer now seems a non-issue. The horses and I have walked past properties on which deer are positioned, holding high their heads and staring at us. The horses amble along and Rosie doesn’t seem bothered.

The deer aside, I’m finding my horses easy to walk to that pasture and later back home. Except for Pimmy the donkey. She insists on moving at her own speed, or better said, at no-speed. As the horses walk slowly, I pull on a lead rope to keep Pimmy moving. She wears me out. During minimal vehicle traffic hours, I may let her follow loosely, figuring that drivers cautious of deer in the street will spot a donkey. But mostly, Pimmy is tugged.

Walking later by myself to gather the horses, I may pass deer, frozen and staring. I speak softly and walk straight-on without lifting a camera or appearing aggressive. They usually don’t move and after I pass resume grazing, still watching me. I try to avoid being obvious and continue watching, too. Those beautiful wild creatures.

If I consider what’s natural and beautiful about our community, the deer are essentials. Over time, our booming human population having interfered with the landscape has reduced the numbers of passing deer. Last night while in bed listening to dogs bark, I thought about the joys these winter months offer. They bring a kind quiet and stillness that keeps deer moving through.

Dear Friends: The horses and I disturb those deer, and incredibly, they adjust. Diana

Thursday, December 26, 2019

I grew up in a family that had no habit of sending greeting cards. Upon becoming a young adult I did send cards, spent hours looking for perfect ones. We co-workers enjoyed exchanging greetings by mail and in person during casual office parties. My selected cards needed visuals and messages that meshed with my moods and feelings during those complex stretches between the Thanksgivings and New Years. Some seasons, I created cards to send, and others didn’t send anything. In these later years, I’ve not sent cards.

Card-sending seems to have diminished because we have newer ways of communicating. Instant messaging and the internet have discouraged communicating via snail mail. Plus, there are costs associated to postage. Early on when I mailed in bulk, postage stamps cost maybe a dime, and since then have become astronomical.

Over the years, my mail has contained diminishing numbers of greeting cards. In these days, finding one card or more surprises, delights, even makes me feel special. I look at the envelope, “Gee, this has been through an entire process: selected, addressed (maybe an added handwritten note), stamped and mailed. Sweet!”

I collect the non-commercial envelopes to set aside, unopened, in a little box that over days may become a colorful collection of envelopes and tickles fantasies. And finally, on Christmas Day, in an atmosphere of wonderful seasonal music, and with my dogs lounging around, I settle into a comfortable rocker. I’ve cracked a beer (yes, a Coors lite), and have setting on my lap the box of cards.

The Handel chamber musicians, the sopranos, tenors, and baritones, soar in delight, joy, and wonder, as I open envelopes one by one. I take time to examine closely the artwork, read the messages. I think fondly of senders, friends reaching out to share joy and affection through time, and often, across miles.

Dear Friends: “Your presence” makes the season lovelier. Thank you so much! Diana

Wednesday, Christmas Day, 2019

Gorgeous day yesterday in many ways.

After meeting my friend Rachelle for coffee and for one of our occasional big catch-ups, I roamed into Costco and there exchanged hugs with long-time co-workers. On that pre-Christmas day, most people appeared relaxed and “loose”. Everybody was kind, not seriously shopping, and just filling-in before The Big Day.

Early on, I donned a headset and began listening to my favorite Christmas Oratorio, Handel’s Messiah. That piece, an all-day event, has absolutely gorgeous and well-known melodies and songs. Moreover, a neat thing was being able to turn the music on or off according to my mood and activities. Mostly, the sounds were on, lovely to my ears. Even that afternoon, I could listen while strolling with my equines (all three together) along the roadway toward a neighbor’s pasture.

Years ago, when I lived in Kansas City, Christmases introduced me to Handel’s Messiah. The City annually projected Christmas-oriented slides onto the windowless side of of a very tall building. Those giant images of famous paintings were arranged to tell a Christmas story and accompanied by the fabulous Messiah music.

I used to love pausing my car to study the slides and hear that music. Those annual experiences became imprinted in my brain, and ever since, periodically, I resurrect the Messiah. Its loveliness returns me to those long-ago evenings of sweet-seeing and hearing.

Yesterday, I left the horses and started home just as a hawk flew over the pasture and landed in the very top of a nearby juniper. Having just taken photos of my horses and the camera still in my hand, I swung it up. The shutter captured that hawk a split-second before it lifted and began gliding in lovely smooth flight toward my house.

My photography doesn’t do justice to what in my heart seems good luck–enjoying that unexpected and beautiful visitor.

This morning as I write, Handel’s Messiah is my accompaniment and will be through this day. It has the strength to keep boosting dreams of joy and peace.

Dear Friends: Today, however and whether you celebrate, hope it’s a wonderful one. Diana

Tuesday, December 24, 2019

Last Christmas Eve morning dawned very cold. My house was freezing, the heat pump had quit working. I managed to find an independent contractor who showed up on that penultimate day of Christmas and handled the job. Everything since has worked perfectly, except for yesterday, and again just before Christmas, when the same danged furnace quit working. I was aghast to find the main thermostat reading only 50-degrees!

Outside the new snow, and inside the cold, shattered my plan to work at Costco. It was difficult calling in to self-cancel from work, forcing a supervisor to search for a last-minute replacement–difficult task near a major holiday. My own immediate, equally difficult task was to seek an emergency fixer.

The fellow who last year installed my heat pump returned my call promptly, but he’s in the hospital! He referred me to Bend Heating. Next, while on the phone with BH, a kind and understanding scheduling person promised somehow to work me in on that very day.

In the past, having been needy during household emergencies, let me emphasize how wonderful and almost soothing is someone sounding kind and understanding. There are times when on-phone emergency schedulers seem almost dismissive, leaving dim hopes for timely help.

Yesterday, awaiting the furnace person, I bundled-up and parked myself beside a blazing pellet stove. That stove doesn’t broadcast much heat but after a couple of hours did manage to improve the main thermometer reading: Wow, 52-degrees!

Around Noon, Joe called, was on his way. He examined my system, at first not finding a problem, and to my dismay suggesting I might need to call an electrician. Suddenly, he ran across a set of burnt wires. “Might be the cause!” After he stripped and renewed those wires, the system rumbled into life. My furnace began creating heat.

We live in complex structures and try to maintain faith in their attributes, but always are troubled with underlying questions: What’s going on within these walls? And outside, are the gutters, still capable? And that eternal roof, somewhere is it secretly starting to leak?

Just “Keep the faith, baby!” That’s what we do.

Dear Friends: May your Winter Holidays be worry free and wonderful. Diana

Monday, December 23, 2019

A good photo suggests ideas beyond its actualities, and a really-good one can set a mind on fire. This header photo is a favorite of mine.

First noticeable is the symmetry of the two animals, and perhaps next, questions about what’s captured their attention. Those are enough to make this photo interesting and maybe very good. But for me, the picture offers more.

It catches Rosie’s blaze–a facial white stripe from forehead to nose. This photo captures perfectly my brain’s image of her distinctive and well-defined blaze. It doesn’t spill over her face but is contained, as if pre-drawn to specifications. Her blaze is useful, for example, as a quick way of distinguishing Rosie from other horses, and especially from her little sister, Sunni, who’s sometimes clone-like.

I have many photos of Rosie’s blaze, but not the one on my mind and that I’d love to capture. It’s her “in-the-distance stripe”, singularly visible and high-white, through low-hanging and heavily-leafed tree limbs. That lone stripe is what I see, when she’s in a neighbor’s pasture and I’m a couple-tenths of a mile away and walking toward her. Rosie is alert, staring in my direction, holding high that white stripe.

Through the leaves and branches, the straight white stripe shows Rosie expecting and waiting. What’s in her mind? Little telling what a horse thinks, but for me it’s about a relationship, our mutual connection. This delights me and is real enough to hold a horse’s attention.

In my brain Rosie’s stripe symbolizes our mutual experience and connection. And it represents my personal learning and development vis a vis Rosie. She can teach bunches about how to get along, well-enough, with a quirky, bossy mare.

Then there’s that amazing Pimmy. To her, “getting along with Rosie” is a science. For example, Rosie will run Sunni away from whatever horses mutually enjoy, like a stack of new, sweet-smelling hay, but she will let Pimmy share food and space.

Just can’t say enough, that a good photo is worth more than a thousand words.

Dear Friends: Rosie’s stripe is a subject in some my poems. So interesting. Diana