With the horses, I’m heading over the mountains to Lebanon, and this time, will take a longer route by traveling through Scio. It’s been years since we’ve gone in that direction, but now, a friend is buying a home in Scio. This motivates me to look again at that lovely little town surrounded by covered bridges and large bee hives. I hope to capture some of its charm with a camera.
Otherwise of course, our purpose for this trip is to have a couple of sessions with our driving trainer. With Rosie hitched, we’ll practice driving on the streets, and with Sunni hitched, we’ll practice driving accurately and rapidly through a complex cones maze (without hitting a single cone).
A big show is coming up, at Inavale Farms (near Lebanon). I don’t feel ready to compete, but next summer Sunni and I will enter. Sunni is a solid-as-a-rock performer, she’s ready to go. But Rosie’s rehabilitation has captured too much attention and energy for me to focus on driving competitively. So, next year!
Dear Friends, What might have been–had I ignored that whim for a horse! Diana
I’ve written about the effort it’s taken to rehabilitate Rosie from an old leg injury that negatively had affected her gaits. Over the last months, her wellness and strength have improved and she’s taught me more about driving. Rosie has a mind of her own and handling her requires self-assurance. We assuaged her physical discomfort through medicine and regular exercise until she became strong enough to be hitched, and I could start driving her around in the dry lot. Rosie is a high-energy horse and until my driving confidence grew, I lacked the courage to drive her out onto the neighborhood’s paved streets.
We’ve come a long way, for these days Rosie pulls me through the streets without spooking or misbehaving. She needs a technically-strong driver, to keep her from looking around and moving the carriage as she would. I must focus on keeping her head in a forward position–not letting her look around and twist–and in keeping her direction straight, without repeated waverings from the street’s side, to its middle, or where she wants to trot.
As I drive Rosie, our trainer’s oft-repeated words sound in my head: “Thumbs up, hands parallel, elbows back, shoulders relaxed.” These technicalities work because Rosie notices and responds to my reins. But now, we’re ready for more help.
This week, when Rosie and I travel our trainer, in Lebanon, she’ll be our passenger on the streets and will coach my driving in real-time, helping me understand how to improve in our progress. I’ve learned through Rosie, that while a horse is essential in the driving experience, equally so is a driver’s handling skills.
I’m looking forward to this on-the-road session.
Dear Friends, It’s a dream-come-true, driving this interesting, talented Rosie. Diana
Often, while working at Costco and taking breaks, I’m at the books display. Weeks ago, I saw a recent translation of The Odyssy, by Emily Wilson, professor of classical studies at U Pa. If I could relive life as I wish, I’d have become immersed in a specific area of the literary world. Over time, I’ve done this casually by becoming an armchair expert on the poetry of Emily Dickinson, Jane Austin, and Edna St. Vincent Millay. I couldn’t resist bringing home Wilson’s Odyssey.
While working through her version of Homer’s poem, another recent book popped to my attention. It re-visualizes the mythological Odyssy character, Circe, by Madeline Miller, a classical scholar (who like Wilson) lives in PA.
In Homer’s poem, Circe, a daughter of the god Helios and the nymph Perse, grows into a beautiful goddess of magic who eventually has a complex affair with Odysseus. In Miller’s Circe, we follow, in first person narrative, the goddesses’ life from birth onward.
Most striking about Miller’s accomplishment is letting her reader sense the reality of Circe’s life and thoughts, and also recognizing that Circe is a dreamy, physically shapeless myth, like all else in that world–gods, goddesses, and landscapes. Miller forces a reader’s brain to shift from a character’s reality in thoughts, ambitions, and interactions–to its dreamlike, non-physicality. I’m astonished how well this narrative reflects typically common conflicts in human perceptions.
Of course, that’s why ancient mythology forever lives and captures imaginations. Regardless of what anyone perceives about today’s mishmosh of politics and sociology, this is a time of wonderful artistic creativity. Artists have the freedom and courage to look anew at things, and the modern rapid technology to share their visions with the world.
Dear Friends, Humbly, “courage, freedom, technology” also includes blogging. Diana
My trio of African Dwarf Goats consists of a mom, Sego Lily, and her twins, Breeze and Poppy. The twins were born in 2009, and mom (a rescue from a goat herd) is of undetermined age and also now arthritic. They began living with me when the twins were six months old. Over the years, the three have participated in parades, and otherwise, shared a large pen with several hens. The goats protect and occasionally provide transportation for the hens, who in turn care for the goats by plucking bugs from their coats and cleaning the corners of their eyes.
This gentle group adores feeding times when grains arrive to supplement the less exciting rations. The goats clamor around a common feeding bucket–eating, head-butting, and pushing one another–while the hens keep wedging-in to grab grains.
Supposedly, goats like to eat grass but mine typically don’t have grasses available. A few years ago, my neighbor Frank opened his grassy field to my goats. They seemed uncomfortable about being free in an unaccustomed large space. They didn’t appear to know they were supposed to like grass. They simply followed me around, in what became a failed experiment, and eagerly returned to their own pen, where they’ve happily remained.
Hurrying home from Frank’s
This summer, unusually high rainfalls resulted in bunches of weeds–and worst of all, the despised Russian Thistle (a big tumbleweed with stickers). My grounds aren’t dry enough to spray weeds, so I’ve spent time riding a mower, which became troublesome and went to a repair shop. I worried about the remaining high weeds in a fenced quarter acre that’s reserved for my dogs. I decided to prevent the dogs entering that area, and instead, teach the goats to enter and rid it of weeds. I got the goats from their normal environment by rattling a bucket with grain, which they willingly followed, and in the dogs’ area, dived-in to eat and head-but. But upon finishing and finding themselves in a strange place. Uh Oh!
They tried to follow me by running along the fence, or appeal to me by huddling against the fence. Meanwhile, they eagerly were nibbling on weeds and giving me hopes for success.
I was scheduled to work for only a few hours, and so, left the goats to think and adjust to changes. When I arrived home, they were happy to see me and not noisily complaining. They were beyond delighted upon hearing rattles, and spotting a grain bucket that invited them to follow it home. They did, and in their pen eagerly chowed down.
That was a start, and today, we’ll repeat the process. This couldn’t have happened earlier, for the special area fencing only recently was installed. It’s proved a wonderful space for the dogs, and now at times, will provide a safe alternative place for the goats, where they can freely and really, “be goats”.
Dear Friends, I’m mowerless, and with a renewed appreciation & love for goats. Diana
I’ve been following the progress of a giant sunflower, that gratuitously appeared as a tiny sprout, just a couple of leafs, in a dirt plot beside my house. I’d have pulled the weed, but happened to be playing with a new phone app that identifies plants. It found this one to be, “common sunflower”. Well, I’ve an affinity for sunflowers, and so, let that one continue growing. I never expected to see evolving my most favorite variety, a giant sunflower! Finally now, it’s main, top flower is just opening. And wowza! The plant’s supporting heavy stem is producing more budding flowers.
Sighting sunflowers, and especially the giant ones, sends my thoughts back many years and triggering comforting memories, filled with light. Originally, I’m a country gal who grew up in the vicinity of Kansas. My memory fills that area with the lovely songs of Meadowlarks, and in my mind’s eye the place is covered with sunflowers. Now, here I am retired, living in Oregon’s high desert country, and find myself tossed back in time by the gift from a bird.
On July 4, my little city celebrated it’s 30-something, annual Pet March, a crowded, noisy, fun event that’s always enjoyable. I was walking toward the event, through a neighborhood and leading my donkey–all got up in a patriotic costume–when suddenly, we found ourselves moving through a giant sunflower garden!
Those tall happy plant faces waving above Pimmy and me instantly aroused an inner joy. I laughed, realizing that other folks love giant sunflowers, too! In that moment, I vowed that heretoforth a bit of my property will be set aside and seeded to grow beautiful giant sunflowers.
Dear Friends, Some special moments most pleasantly merge past and present. Diana
We didn’t win anything, but if cheers, complements, and lots of applause for Pimmy and her costume count, she was a Pet Parade champ. Everywhere, folks (adults and kids alike) wanted to photograph, touch her. After the parade, we strolled through Drake Park and excited kids got to sit on Pimmy for their picture-taking parents.
Our friend Janet, who (with her daughter Katherine) designed Pimmy’s costume, came early to help get Pimmy downtown for the event. After we found parking, Janet was organized and in almost no-time had Pimmy arrayed and ready to march.
The Parade route was packed with an estimated 10,000 watchers, crowded and noisy. Janet cleared the way, guiding us while promoting, “Pimmy for President!”
Through the long walk, Pimmy was sweet, cooperative, and gentle with people wishing to touch and photograph her.
Kids crowded around. Their folks took pictures.
After the Parade, Pimmy joined the throngs moving from downtown to Drake Park several blocks away, where the holiday celebration continued.
Some very excited children got to sit on Pimmy for pictures. An adult family member had to lift a kid on, standing beside and holding the child, while another adult took a photograph. Through all, adults and children were thrilled.
And there were folks wanting to take selfies with Pimmy.
Our little group came home totally worn out. But here’s the big thing about participating in an event like the Pet Parade, for everyone, it’s a real smile the whole way.
Dear Friends: Saw some of you there and thanks for cheering us on! Diana
My 18-year-old donkey, Pimmy, is happiest hanging out with her family of horses. Occasionally, when Pimmy must go to work, that’s a challenge–for she loves rolling in dirt, and her bear-hair of a coat traps everything. Well, she had to be readied for today’s Pet Parade through downtown Bend, and thankfully, we had the best imaginable help to save the day.
Yesterday, my very creative friends, Janet and her daughter Katherine, came and took over. They brought bits of red, white, and blue, with thread, cutters, hot glue, and whatever, and combined them with my gatherings from a craft store. They arrived just as I was readying Rosie for a workout on the streets. While Rosie and I were away, Janet and Katherine handled the big job of cleaning Pimmy (challenging without hot water at the barn and not wanting to cold-bathe). About 15 minutes later, when Rosie brought me back, they actually had managed to turn Pimmy shiny.
This experienced design team continued working by knitting together various pieces of costume. They managed to incorporate my vision for an outcome with theirs and created delightful eye-candy.
Costume in progress
Early today when Janet arrives, we’ll load the donkey and her finished costume before heading downtown and looking for parking. After Pimmy is adorned, she, Janet, and I will join the parade horses at their staging area. We’ll then march among a bunch of big equines, with Pimmy an adorable standout.
Dear Readers, if you attend the Parade and spot Pimmy, come march with us! Diana
I’ve written about my complicated 22-year-old mare, Rosie. She was bred and raised for nearly 10 years by a very experienced, capable horsewoman, who was mentally ill and sometimes lost control. Rosie’s somewhat headstrong and sometimes challenging behaviors probably originated early in experiences with that handler, who taught her to be a driving horse.
Rosie is a foundation Morgan and lovely representation of the breed–hard-working and a pretty-mover. She still resists being led into new situations and dislikes the confines of a horse trailer. These problems might stem from early unpleasant experiences. Fortunately, Rosie’s next owner was her first owner’s niece, another very experienced horsewoman, with a calm, steady manner. The years with this handler probably saved Rosie.
Rosie came to me six years ago. At that time and new to horses, I knew little about handling them. My previous horses had been easy to get along with, had taught me how to ride and were fun. Rosie was a new challenge. I wanted to cope because of my dream of driving a horse. Rosie knew that sport. Eventually, I learned some of her quirks, figured out how to get her into and out of a trailer, and felt comfortable riding her. When finally, my back began resisting in-saddle activities, I decided to learn to drive Rosie.
She loved being in harness, was fast, energetic, and too much horse for this new driver. So, I parked that idea for several years, and instead dealt with breast cancer, returning last year to the idea of driving. My solution to a fear of driving Rosie was first having her little sister, Sunni, trained to drive. I practiced driving Sunni, and when my confidence had grown, again hitched Rosie and began learning to drive an highly energetic, decision-making horse.
I finally gained the courage to drive Rosie on neighborhood streets. You’d think she’d never had been on a street, with her head held high, looking around and worried, her body weaving from one side of the road to another. I’ve been forced to learn how to keep her straight and on path. Yesterday, I realized that my confidence and skills have grown, for Rosie seemed easier to handle.
Today something different–no exercise to work off energy prior to hitching. Well, maybe just a little warming-up. The ultimate goal is for Rosie to be harnessed, hitched, and told “Go”, without first working off steam. Yahoo!
Dear Friends: For Rosie and me, these small steps represent a huge victory. Diana
If she’s going to march, she needs cleaning-up, I thought, picking up a shedding instrument and starting to work. My 18-year-old donkey, Pimmy, calmly chewed her hay dinner while I brushed. She doesn’t shed early as the horses, but does so a month or so later like now at the end of June or beginning of July.
She loves to roll in dirt and whatever else attracts her. Her longish tough-as-bear-hair coat captures everything. A pat on her back will release dust clouds that could make you sneeze. But she’s sweet and cute, you want to give her hugs. So, yesterday I brushed and combed, releasing dead coat enough to faux-build another donkey. As I expected, her shinier self slowly emerged.
Today, after another round of brushing, I’ll start arranging, on her, July 4th decorations and trying to put together “a look”. On Thursday, we will march in the annual Pet Parade, a mile-and-a-half through downtown’s major streets–along with many various animals (like horses, ponies, turtles, bunnies, snakes), and lining the route will be thousands of watching and cheering parents and kids. Last year, Pimmy marched in that parade for the first time and was a hit. This year, I want her better costumed.
Our artistic and talented friend Janet will participate. Her visions for costume-creations differ from mine. Janet goes all out. She’d sew for Pimmy something that reaches from head to tail and down her pasterns (ankles). Last Christmas, she created for Pimmy a spectacular outfit–a hit–that attracted attention and applause.
Janet costuming Pimmy
But I’m a simpleton decorator. My vision is to piece together items that look like July 4th, and logically affix them to Pimmy. Later today when Janet arrives and considers the patriotic look I’m creating, she might alter my efforts, but we’ll see.
I’d hoped this year to sit in a small cart while driving Pimmy through the streets, but didn’t get her trained. Driving remains the goal, but my work with horses gobbles up time and consumes energy. Meanwhile, a well-cared for donkey can live 40+ years, so there’s time. I’ll renew her training early next spring and in the next Pet Parade will be driving a well-turned-out donkey!
Dear Friends, There isn’t a cuter, sweeter, more fun pet than a domestic donkey. Diana
What a contrast lately between mornings to nights! Our days begin beautifully with clear blue skies, and about the right amount of warmth in the air. You’d think it’d go on forever. But in early evenings clouds quickly move in from the west, obliterating the mountains and bringing mixed inclement weather.
Toward the evenings, we’ve experienced extended periods of “dry storms”, of lightening and thunder followed by a mix of hail and heavy downpour. Late yesterday, the storm quieted and left my area encompassed by an odd and worrisome yellow-orange hue extending from sky to ground.
Leaving work, instead of coming directly home, I had shopped a couple of hours for 4th of July decorations–for a “Pimmy costume” while marching her in next week’s Pet Parade. Just as I arrived home, heavy and loud thunders began rocketing across the sky and sounding like lightening strikes were hitting nearby. My incredibly worried dogs on seeing me scratched and pawed mightily against the sliding door. Once inside they snuggled against me refusing to go outside for several hours, long after the storm had passed.
Their fright behavior is precursor to their responses to upcoming July 4th noises. This holiday stretch is hard on my pets. And last night, it drove my crazy dream of dogs, barking, chasing intruders, fighting, and finally, wreaking such havoc that my horses injured themselves. A terrible dream driven by weather and the upcoming holiday.
The current unusual weather pattern forces us to scan the sky often, for it tells a story. A closer connection to the sky reminds us of our primitive beginnings, when the sky acted as a newspaper that helped humanoids cope.
Dear Friends, As I write today’s sun rises beautifully, maybe tonight will be calm. Diana
Diana's Morning Blog 