Tuesday, March 12, 2019

I’ve always admired this breed. Wolfhounds are sight hounds, fast, very tough hunters, and gorgeous. These dogs might be fairly common in the eastern U.S. but here in the west are rare. Long ago, I lived in the midwest and knew a fellow who had a pair of Wolfhounds. Since then, I’ve seen this breed only televised in all-breed competitions.

Many years ago, while researching the work of an Oregon artist, Richard Murry, whose portraits of animals interested me, I discovered prints of his painting of a Russian Wolfhound. I purchased one, had it framed, and enjoyed it. A number of years later, I contacted the artist who said his original Wolfhound painting was available. Since then, it’s been hanging in my home.

Here in the west folks, including me, generally prefer herding style dogs. I’ve rescued several in the past and recently. They’re essential to me. And my secret self that’s touched by the power of art has me loving and sharing life with a dreamy, majestic Wolfhound.

Yesterday, I handed out food samples at Costco. When a lady paused with a big bag of dog food in her cart, I asked what kind of dog she has. She replied with a slight accent, “I have two Russian Wolfhounds here, and also, two others still in Russia.” That got a conversation going!

It amazes me when obscure dots stumble into connecting. Her Wolfhounds run on her 40 acres in Central Oregon, and also with her horses. She explained that her dogs still in Russia are champions and also public figures. I described Richard’s painting and will send her a photo. Meanwhile, maybe ahead, I’ll have an opportunity to see and photograph her dogs. Sighting live and active Wolfhounds in a natural setting would be a gift.

Dear Readers, The powers of the Universe may ultimately connect us all. Diana

Monday, March 11, 2019

Yesterday, another freezing-fog-day and very cold. I mostly stayed inside and near a blazing pellet stove, reading (The Secret History of Wonder Woman, Jill Lepore) and occasionally dozing. Several times, while forced outside to care for large animals and top-off bird feeders, I took a camera to capture images with eye appeal. Weeks of standing snow force creativity to spot photo ops.

I found myself in a couple inches of new snow. This time its texture and appearance seemed different. Soft mounds created a whipped cream environment, and like a little kid I kicked through, watching softness fly. Against the mounding whites of varying shades, other natural colors popped.

Small birds were busy on feeders.

Usually, while walking downhill, I assess the Cascades, stretched out beyond the barn, for a read on the weather. Sometimes the mountains are clear and beautiful, other times partly hidden by rain, or like yesterday, submerged in a freezing fog that hides their existence.

The birds sharing my property perch on and drink from the horses’ troughs. In this weather, they fluff-up to keep warm.

The uphill path from the barn to my house makes me grateful for snowblowers!

Once inside the house and trying to capture dog portraits, but mostly failing. Miles avoids a camera in his face, Ranger tries to climb into my lap, Louie is in a “raised-lip” growling mode, and so, as usual, here’s who loves cameras and always photographs perfectly.

Dear Friends, Wishing you a lovely day. Diana

Sunday, March 10, 2019

It’s exciting when our local Ravens emerge, becoming more visible and grabbing attention. These last few days, while outside refilling bird feeders and knocking down icicles, I’ve seen Ravens overhead flying rapidly in pairs or as singles. They’ll become more apparent after summer returns, and especially, when pairs begin teaching their fledglings. The young’uns will attend my horses’ water troughs, drinking from and dunking in eats to soften. Until the young birds are independently capable of catching prey, they’re often left to wait, perched on, or near, my horses’ troughs, while the parents hunt. One of the mature pair stays nearby watching over the youngsters while the other disappears to hunt over larger territory.

Juveniles beside water troughs are wonderful photo ops. In sunlight, Ravens glow majestically, appearing bold and confident. By moving carefully and very slowly, I can get close enough for good pictures. But there’s an invisible line that a watching parent won’t let me cross. In a heartbeat, the birds can be gone, although not too far, so the hunting parent easily finds them.

Ravens, with thousands of sounds are noisy, effective communicators over large distances. Yesterday, atop a tall juniper, a Raven was intent on making sure its mate heard and knew its location. Before each squawk, its body retracted and swelled mightily with air before creating the sounds that elongated and hollowed.

These Ravens, “my locals”, teach that Ravens with young aren’t to be messed with. Some pairs of Red Tailed Hawks reside in this neighborhood and often glide overhead while hunting. Sometimes, directly overhead, Ravens are chasing, threatening, and nearly cornering a terrified Red Tailed Hawk! Yesterday’s Raven, noticing my attentiveness and my pointing camera, paused in its screaming.

After taking several pictures, I began walking down the hill toward my barn. The Raven took off and flew–initially appearing on my right, before arching in a wide swoop to the left and then shifting west and heading away. I watched as the bird too quickly became a moving spot–off seeking prey or to link up with its mate.

Next week, when Central Oregon is supposed to warm up, I’ll be outside and on the lookout, eager to be entertained and enlightened by the Ravens. They’re amazing, intelligent, and always very noisy.

Dear Friends, Keep an eye on the sky, it offers so much to enjoy. Diana

Saturday, March 09, 2019

Way in the background of this photo Rosie stands beside her loafing shed, looking upward toward my car. I’ve just arrived, still am in the driver’s seat and photographing the “little story” that’s this statue. I’m captured often by snow’s beauty, its colors, textures, and forms. Now, I’ll add that snow is funny, like how it coats this donkey.

I had returned home from visiting my sister who at nearly 88 years of age and skinny as a rail remains alert, witty, and eccentric. We were discussing a shared experience from many years ago when she interrupted me and corrected my memory. I said she was wrong, and she denied it, sticking to her ground. It’s never made a lick of sense to argue with that stubborn woman, and she managed to make me doubt myself. I still wonder who’s version is accurate.

A couple of changes are noticeable. She’s less focused on the past, and for example, no longer determined to discover a way to get the heck out of Bend and back to her home in Arizona. She’s less compulsive about her appearance, no longer insisting on beauty creams and lipsticks, and unlike anytime in the past, has long hair. She always was, and despite the ravages of age, still is pretty.

I gather from her nurse and her social worker that my sister remains as manipulative as ever. She refuses examinations (aside from the briefest and most routine), medications (aside from the daily 5 pills that she understands and has accepted), and time-filling activities (videos, music recordings, books, writing materials), preferring for herself days and nights with Turner Classic Movies. Every person who’s ever come into contact with my sister has stories about her to tell, and I never hear anything new, that throughout my life, others haven’t already said about her.

As a sage would say, she is as she is.

BTW, early yesterday, I snapped a bird on a feeder through a screened window. A casual and potential throwaway, that became a cool little capture I like lots.

Dear Friends, Thanks for your interest and support for my sister and me. Diana

Friday, March 08, 201

The current Central Oregon winter breaks records for this calendar period over past years. We’ve experienced the most snow and coldest temperatures. One of this freezing winter’s many faces is sheer beauty. The photo above, which shows the west as viewed from my house on a hill, matches much, nearby and equally beautiful, that surrounds the house.

Deer have been coming through on the snow-blown paths I’ve created to walk through this property’s snow (average 24-30 inches deep). Yesterday, I improved wildlife’s opportunities to trespass, by snow-blowing a trail 150 feet long, from the barn to roadside. I needed it to pull a sled (its cargo, a large trash container) from the barn to a spot where the garbage company picks up refuse. Deer will use it to enter at the road and easily cross much of my property. I’ll see the tracks of animals that moved through overnight.

While snow requires work, it also has lovely-to-see long views and closer shapes that have tone and color. Its also dangerous, and to maintain our safety, snow requires alertness. Yesterday, a danger previously unrecognized by me became noticeable.

While pointing a camera, I heard a dull crash and looked around wondering what caused it. Suddenly, a big icicle broke loose, hit the ground noisily. I saw that icicles were leaking, some breaking off. The temperature, having reached the 40s, was too warm. I’ve not known previous winters to create huge icicles. Now, I moved away with new concerns about my dogs.

They exit and enter the house through a sliding door. Just outside it hangs a bank of large and sharp icicles. What if one or more broke off, to hit or stab an animal?

Multiple conditions of beauty and danger require work! No longer will I sit back and wait for freezing and potentially dangerous elements to disappear. Today, it’s supposed to snow more and freeze, but I’ll be outside swinging a long pole to break icicles!

Dear Friends, Winter, like toothache pain, forces us to “get into it”! Diana

Thursday, March 07, 2019

New snow fell yesterday, making me crazier, bringing unanticipated adventures, and renewing my sense of image richness.

After managing (again) to break my newest snowblower, a phone discussion with the repair guy helped me understand that it has a “broken drive belt”. Today he’ll bring a new belt, and cautioned me to avoid re-freezing my snowblower’s belt by removing all snow before setting aside the unit.

I turned to the “backup (barn) snowblower”, an older unit. I drove it uphill to re-establish a walkable path to my house, and then, on around to “do the driveway”. Finally, back at the barn and without hot water, I couldn’t remove snow sticking to the blower’s blades and its auger shaft. I needed a spot-heater, and so, departed to go shopping.

While driving along the busy highway that borders my neighborhood, I saw ahead a loose German Shepherd. It paused and then crossed the highway. A driver coming from the opposite direction stopped for it, and me, too. I turned and followed the dog down a side street, before parking and inviting the animal into my back seat. The dog accommodated nicely and waited while I asked a man nearby about it. He said the dog “belonges to someone (waving broadly) over there”. I decided who he might mean, drove back across the highway and to my own street, managed to make it up an unplowed, long driveway, got out and pounded, seemingly endlessly, on a door. Thankfully, someone was home, and the dog belonged to her.

After shopping, I brought home a Mr. Buddy Heater with accessories, and a few bags of not-needed-but-wanted-items, like a coffeepot and bird feeders. Today, I’ll experiment with the heater, to melt stubborn ice from both snowblowers.

Yesterday, I learned more while out giving the horses their evening feed. On a whim, I carried my big Canon Camera, heavy and hanging from my neck, instead of a little one easy to carry. After snapping and downloading the random photos, I saw impressive differences from those taken with my little camera and cell phone.

Photos in this morning’s blog are from the Canon. The lead photo shows weeds in the snow; the second captures distant fog and sky colors; and another here looks uphill at snow-laden junipers.

I’ve thought much about photography after transitioning to Word Press and starting to associate images to my writings. Yesterday’s random shots are reminders of how a complex camera reveals subtle colors and beauty.

Alongside snow’s elements of truth and beauty are others of harsh reality.

T’was a good day. The dog got home safely; I have a capable spot heater; the fix-it guy is coming; my Canon is da bomb; and on Saturday night some of us will turn back clocks.

Dear Friends, Soon, this season’s cold and snows will be history. Diana

Wednesday, March 06, 2019

I removed myself from big city living nearly fifteen years ago by moving to a small community in Oregon’s heart. Coming from a metropolitan area, with hundreds of square miles and millions of people, to a small town in the middle of nowhere, seemed like transitioning to a tiny berg. I planned to make time to participate in community oriented activities, like book clubs, crafting ventures, meetings with new friends for coffees and lunches, and even launching my dream of writing a novel.

Life happens, doesn’t it. After finding a place on the east side of town, I learned that this small city has two distinctive sides. Its west, nearer the Cascade Mountains, has a major river running through, it has mature Ponderosa and Spruce trees. The west-side’s centerpiece is a former major lumber mill, now turned into a shopping and entertainment mecca. Its east side, away from the river, is desert-like with stringy Juniper trees that have managed to take root and survive in soil of sand and lava rock. To be fair about Junipers, many are hundreds of years old and with twisting bark, they’re beautiful and inspire imagination.

I came to prefer living beyond the city limits and rarely crossed to the town’s opposite side. I stayed aware of local diversity and growth through my part-time job serving samples in Central Oregon’s only Costco where everybody living in or visiting Central Oregon shops. I identified west-siders by their clothing, speech, and food sample choices for their kids. The east-siders, distinctive in country-like clothing and beaten-up cowboy boots, clearly preferred meat and potatoes. Over time, such distinctions have faded, as more folks new to the city are settling on its east side, as shoppers increasingly read labels and are more selective about foods and household items.

It’s often felt somewhat like my old life, in California, when the San Fernando Valley seemed light years away from West L.A., with folks entrenched in their areas. In Bend, I’ve become a country person, having maintained a few rocky acres, caring for horses, bringing from Costco some earnings and supplies, and visiting feed stores for other needs. What’s not horse-related, like book clubs, teas, and social groups, has escaped the picture.

Yet, my sense of this city has been changing. Maybe because of Costco’s customer mix, and increasingly, that people seem less identifiable to areas. Maybe because of shake-ups in local leadership, with a few new members on the City Council and a newly-elected City Mayor. What’s helping is that managers of the local newspaper have decided to re-publish fewer articles from national publications, and instead, focus on locally-reported and -written stories, creating a more interesting newspaper that helps the area seem less like separate pieces.

Small communities struggle because old timers don’t want many changes and newbies want lots of them. This conflict of perceptions has caused stumbles in Bend’s baby steps. Now, as a “new old-timer”, I feel protective of “my east side” and hope it keeps consisting of small acreages, allowing farm animals, appreciating personal independence, and fostering neighborly cooperation.

Dear Readers, It’s worthwhile to pause and reflect on a sense of community. Diana

Tuesday, March 05, 2019

This month is breaking a century (since 1901) of record-keeping, with colder temperatures and more snow. Unfortunately, neither cold nor snow are letting up. I enjoy witnessing history but not in these worst winter months ever recorded. These days have become strings of being stuck in the house, watching television, dozing off, and fighting attacks of cabin fever.

My faithful dogs doze with me while keeping a paw in reality. The instant I think about going outside to do something with the horses, all dogs are on their feet and noisy to go. I’d invite them more often, but my property isn’t completely fenced and I don’t want a dog wandering near a busy road or a neighbor’s property.

Miles in many ways seems very contained, but in reality, he’s a fellow with a very strong herding instinct who lobbies noisily to go with me. He wants to help move horses into the barn for hay, and after they’ve eaten, help move them out.

Osix has high energy and a mind of her own. She’s fun and funny, springs up eager to go anywhere. Outside, she runs back and forth for reassurance that I’m coming along, too.

Louie’s herding instincts focus on retrieving balls. He loves a ball and insists that I repeatedly throw it for him. I watch to be sure he’s not stealing balls that belong to our neighbor’s dog.

My other “dogs” aren’t typical, but in some ways a little like canines.

Peaches’ cage is in the living room between ceiling-high picture windows. He can see west to the horses and north to the driveway. He spots all movements outside and barks at intruders. The more intensely Peaches’ screams, the more it’s certain he sees an unknown human, deer, or a stray dog.

Max was an outside-only boy, but over the years that’s changed, and now, he’s inside lots, and totally during this freezing weather while I’m feeding birds. Max watches them intently from windows, and having him inside keeps another species safe in this rough-weather, for wild bunnies are caring for babies.

Gill is a former racing pigeon, a rescue who lives with me, and among my house buddies, the sweetest, least demanding, and most quiet. He’s totally alert to all going on, he’s taught me to appreciate the wild pigeons that I used to take for granted.

Winters that confine like this one are easier to get through with pets to keep company and brighten days.

Dear Readers, Have a lovely day. Diana

Monday, March 04, 2019

Two weeks in and it’s still snowing. Okay, light snowing without much accumulating. The problem is nothing’s melting. All that which landed on the ground early remains and is deep. I’m still having to shovel snow.

Yesterday, I couldn’t get near enough to a faucet that lets water flow into the horses’ heated water troughs. The horses had kicked only one path through the snow, to a single spot far from the faucet where all three take turns to stand and drink. Curious, that they didn’t trample more paths up to and around the troughs. Maybe like me, they don’t enjoy pushing themselves through three or four feet of crusty snow.

Since refilling tanks isn’t a one-time job, I found a shovel, went to work and created a walkable path. I filled the water tanks and looked around, noticing a path I’d hurriedly dug earlier in order to lead horses into the barn. It was very narrow and that if something excited them, the horses might crowd me too much. I shrugged, there’s no telling when a melt might start, so repositioned my shovel and began digging.

Last night, a few more inches of snow accumulated here on the town’s “desert side”, and as is typical, maybe even more new inches landed on the town’s west side. So today, the beat goes on.

Dear Readers, With harsh weather almost everywhere, do take care. Diana

These days are cold and dim. A layer of stagnant air hovers above a couple feet of crunchy snow with intermittent, falling light snow. Our temperatures start in the high teens and don’t rise quite to freezing.

Some past winters have been colder and more bitter. We’ve known stretches of days that clung to single-digit temperatures with wind chills of way below zero. That much cold forces one to keep a blazing stove, stay wrapped in wool, and quickly-as-possible handle outside critical chores.

If horses are healthy and eating well, and have a nice layer of fat amassed on ribs, it’s not worrisome to see them covered in frost with icicles hanging off coats, manes, and tails. Healthy, fuzzy horses generate adequate body heat against most cold weather. They do need shelter against very high winds and heavy rains, elements challenging to all living beings.

This dawn, our outside temperature is 18 degrees F. I’m sipping hot coffee, having managed to pull myself from under heated blankets and away from the sleeping cat warming my feet. Very soon, I must go outside to feed large animals and refill bird feeders.

I’m firing up a pellet stove so that it’ll heat my return. Next, I’ll put a long woolen coat over my pajamas, add heavy head and neck gear, and step outside into the freezing garage. I’ll pull on knee-high Muck Boots with anti-slip cleats, and then head outside, into an icy morning.

It’ll be just another day of small ranch living.

Dear Readers, hoping your today offers loveliness and joy. Diana