Wednesday, January 23, 2018

My imagination is stretched to write blogs with photographs. First, my photo library is mostly of animals and limits perspective. Second, I forget to carry a camera and miss blog-header photo ops. Third, and worst, many of my pictures are stored on an external hard drive that all my computers now find inaccessible.

I am opposed to being held hostage to these challenges and will eliminate frustration-causers by proactive planning. It’ll be slow-going because of my new method of creating to-do lists, by drawing pictures instead of writing bullets. The article that convinced me to do this reported that drawing a list forces one’s hand and brain to interact in many ways, making it easier to recall an entire list. This is working in my case, but now, I must figure out how to draw the necessity of carrying a camera, and how to illustrate geeking my way into an external hard drive.

One can’t quit the game and must never give up, for the goal is to keep growing. If I remember how many times I’ve wished to toss in a towel and ever had done so, I’d likely now be sitting before a television set while breathing through an oxygen mask.

That’s the thing about change, even the simplest will cause havoc, rattle one’s brain, and push one forward. We’ll get this fixed…stay tuned.

Dear Readers, have a great day pursuing your interests, Diana.

Tuesday, January 22, 2019

During a recent predawn, Peaches and I see through our window falling snow turning the known world into a hazy mystery. His head feathers react to the weather’s periodic rumblings and its shiftings of darkness to light. The storm’s strength and outside’s fuzzy beauty instill wonder and awe. Sitting inside, we’re warm and protected.

A day later Peaches and I go walking in what remains of the snow. We tread down the driveway and onto the street. His excitement is apparent in quick moves behind my neck that shift him from shoulder to shoulder. His screams begin as normal, but I look up in case he’s spotting a predatory bird. Nope, those reverberations simply scream sheer joy to a large world.

Peaches and the snow match as white-on-white, except for several bright feathers that pop-up and fall in sync to his attention and mood. He tries to step onto my head but when my hat slips he marches down from my shoulder to perch on a forearm. His claws dig into a thickly padded sleeve that sways, and Peaches slips–lands on the ground but quickly recovers, accepting an offered finger for a lift to my shoulder.

While he’s with me, I scan constantly for predators like the Red-Tailed Hawks and occasional eagles that drift over this neighborhood. Who knows if a big bird really would grab Peaches from off my shoulder? But some insist it’s highly possible and I don’t argue. Fun with Peaches means doing my best to keep him safe.

My steps kick at this snow. It’s surprisingly deep, not slippery, and this beautiful day, so far, without passing cars offers silence and solitude. Except for Peaches’ long screams that periodically shatter any sense of peace, and at other times, so do his series of shouts in human-speak, “Hello! Hello!”

Back inside our home, tired Peaches watches me drop a couple of peanuts into his bowl. His feathers, at once soft-and-hard, brush my face as he moves from my shoulder to enter his cage. He ruffles those feathers and says, “Pretty bird!”, before lifting a favorite food that he gets only occasionally.

“Good boy, Peaches.”

A shell pings onto a metal floor, “Hello, hello!”

Dear Readers, have a great day! Diana

Monday, January 21, 2019

On a cold, blustery evening two ladies walk into a bar, seat themselves, order a couple of beers and choose an appetizer to share. A tall bartender pauses long enough to hear their order. He acknowledges with an energetic nod that jiggles his stringy long hair and even some of his bushy beard. To these ladies, the bartender’s wild hair doesn’t make him seem unclean. But they also work in food service and briefly feel irritated because they and the men they work with must cover their hair.

The ladies leave unspoken any thoughts about hair and ignore other folks at or near the busy bar. Instead, they begin discussing a variety of current interests–some are common big issues, like the economy, environment, and politics. Others involve sharing their own experiences and hopes in a part of this exchange that to each tops all else in importance.

While some observations are moot, like the rights and wrongs related to hair and food-serving, others of the ladies’ inspire energy and exchanges that may encourage them to rethink certain ideas. Each understands that intelligent individuals may influence others. Each appreciates these safe moments to speak her thoughts, ideas, and perhaps re-weigh perceptions.

On this freezing evening, such warm moments generate for each lady new and refreshed thoughts to pursue while driving to their homes.

Dear Readers, wishing you a great day with good conversations! Diana

Sunday, January 20, 2019

After a weeklong string of days with freezing temperatures and icy rain, the sun appeared and offered a new weather cycle, this time a captivating melt that glistened into highlights on tree branches and leaves. Everywhere, softening ice coatings began to drip. On heavy chains dangling from rooftops, melt streamed down still-frozen links.

“Spring feels near,” neighbors said to one another, nodding, “It’s still gloomy, yet much warmer.” An icy passage through which I lead my horses to and from a neighbor’s pasture began melting while a walkway nearest the pasture remained frozen, unsafe without cleats.

Last night, from my bed and through a window, I could see new snow falling. Its early drops were light suggesting snow that quickly disappears. Gradually, despite the warmer weather, and beyond my window, those drops thickened and began looking like they could stack and stick.

Before dawn I stepped outside to assess the situation. Some snow had accumulated and that which still fell appeared vigorous and strikingly beautiful. I breathed deeply the damp freshness and felt a sudden urge to go to my horses. They’d be in their loafing shed, and I wanted to be near them, warmed by their winter fuzziness, scenting their heat.

It’s a mystery that what’s very difficult, requiring large amounts of energy and effort, might have great drawing power. Big snows for example, at least, force strapping-on of cleats, and at worst need shoveling and snow-blowing. And horses! Aside from beauty and fun, they’re large, needy, expensive responsibilities.

Yet, I’m standing outside dreaming of walking forward, straight into a silent whiteness and clear out to where the horses (I like to think) await me. It’s as if a special purity and warmth draw me onward and perhaps toward genuine solace. Simply put, that’s how it is and I don’t know why.

Dear Readers, have a wonderful day, Diana.

Saturday, January 19, 2019

Last evening, I paused for a moment during dinner in order to capture my meal before it disappeared. This was a thoughtful dinner combining fresh salmon, rice and mixed veggies with naan bread. These foods were a perfect backdrop to several similar-minded folks sharing their personal experiences, observations, and opinions. Meanwhile outside, the weather did its own thing with an ongoing mix of drizzle and snow that didn’t diminish the blaze of a wood fire that heated our space.

This occurred at the home of nearby neighbors on one of those evenings when a weather pattern makes one pause and rethink the wisdom of venturing outside. But my travel distance would be short, and as it turned out, the event was fun and in an evening well-worth having drawn me out despite inclement weather.

To me, there’s little more satisfying than spending time with others and talking. I mean really talking. This happens among folks who are mature in their thinking and comfortably may exchange personal experiences and thoughts. A pièce de résistance is that they understand how to listen. The best exchanges occur when people exchanging ideas and opinions needn’t worry about someone becoming entrapped by a personal conflict that disrupts the balance and flow.

Last night, our kind and considerate hosts allowed themselves and their guests to really talk. We discussed who we are and how we became so, and some associated perceptions, for example, about the future of Bend, the progress of America, and how it seems that science and art go together hand-in-glove.

I arrived home with a gift from my neighbors, a ceramic mug filled with chocolates. Thankfully, my dogs (they’d waited inside the house!) were warm, happy, and hadn’t destroyed anything. I paused to enjoy a cup of coffee and some chocolates, managing by the way to catch an excellent PBS documentary on the life of American Playwright, Lorraine Hansberry.

The whole evening was pleasant and satisfying.

Dear Readers, enjoy your day, and learn something new and interesting, Diana.

Friday, January 18, 2019

A little-traveled road draws me into this photograph. If it were possible to stroll along and see where it goes, I’d move slowly. I’d pause frequently to observe rock formations and plant groupings. I’d move close to the trees to study their varieties, bark structures, branching arms, and leaf formations. Surely, a stroller making an effort to see and absorb much of what’s available would feel transported into the Heart of Nature.

This photograph perfectly reminds me of that inviting, meandering road that I found while pausing near a highway. I’d stepped from my car to breathe country air when the road caught my eye. Its attributes and curves invited a dream that’s ongoing and may someday become a reality. It this dream I leave my car and walk away toward the deliciousness of an off-road ramble. I’m filled with curiosity about what this path offers, eager for what’s within sight and beyond the curve ahead.

If I stay in this moment of examining the photo, it’s a reminder of the pictures I’ve most enjoyed. An excellent photo by planning or a lucky capture shows, or implies, a path that the eye must follow. A scene’s strength is its ability to catch and move a viewer’s eye throughout several times. Its path satisfies and generates curiosity as to content and meaning. Excellent pictures make viewers wish for more and call upon their imaginations to comprehend more fully a scene’s possibilities.

A terrific photo like excellent movies and books remains in our thoughts and implies mysteries that keep us wondering. These are impressions both shareable and discussion-worthy, they gradually have elevated photography to an art form. Genuine art draws on and generates interactivity of visual and technical skills among creators and viewers alike.

It’s an emotional trip to discover among our photos captures that by planning or accident are unforgettable and powerful in their abilities to jolt memories and create dreams.

Dear Readers, have an excellent day, Diana.

Thursday, January 17, 2019

A wintery sun lowers over the Cascades as my donkey, Pimmy, approaches my horse, Rosie, and confidently leans toward the horse’s dinner. Rosie rarely objects to Pimmy, or if so its momentary, for Pimmy always eats with her. The donkey eventually ambles twenty-feet away toward a different pile of hay belonging to Rosie’s sister, Sunni. Pimmy eats awhile with Sunni before casually returning to Rosie’s hay. In other words, Pimmy does as she pleases.

The horses are full sisters who behave differently. Rosie the oldest has the temperament of a lead mare, she allows no interferences from Sunni. Herd rules give Rosie the first choice of hay piles. Sunni must stand back watching Rosie eat or go find her own pile. If Rosie decides she wants Sunni’s food and heads toward her, Sunni lets Rosie do as she wishes before heading for the hay that Rosie left behind. In feeding sessions, this is pile-switching. It may happen several times, Rosie taking from Sunni and making the younger mare seek food elsewhere.

Their behaviors reflect the social order among wild horses. Wild herds are ruled by stallions and lead mares. A herd consist mostly of mares and offspring too young to be on their own. Many horses prefer being in the middle or at the back of a herd. The lead mare is tough, for she must protect an entire herd if its stallion becomes distracted. The top mare must gather the herd, force it into a united group, and lead it from danger.

In Rosie’s little herd, she’s a bossy lead mare, while Sunni is happy as a middle-of-the-herd mare. Sunni keeps a distance from Rosie, but sometimes they’re physically close, like while grooming one another. At times I might be inconvenienced by their relationship, but can understand and work around it. What’s really cool is seeing Pimmy understanding herd mentality and working around it.

Pimmy succeeds because she knows her place. Her role is herd tag-along who neither challenges nor threatens the mares. They let Pimmy do as she pleases and tolerate her physical presence. They have limitations, however, for occasionally Pimmy manages to bug a horse. A faux kick directed at the donkey means, “Knock it off!”, and for awhile she does.

My equine trio demonstrates a social order in a fragmented herd. There’s a lead mare, a middle-of-the-herd mare, and a herd-follower. I never tire of watching the three interact with their roles lodged firmly. My biggest and most constant challenge is forever reminding Rosie, who’s pushy, that between us two, I’m the lead mare.

Long ago, someone said to me, “A horse is unlike any other pet.” It’s so true.

Dear Readers, have a great day, Diana

Good Morning, Wednesday, January 16, 2019

My house tops four acres sloping away in all directions. When I moved onto this property, except for having a house on its one level spot with a paved downhill driveway, the place was weedy, rocky, undeveloped. There was space for horses about 100-feet from the house. After fencing that area, I built a barn. To care for my horses, I had to drive a mile, circling the neighborhood and re-entering my property at the barn. Finally, I built a road from my house down to the barn–a mitzvah! No more circling the neighborhood. Since then, multiple times daily, I’ve traveled up and down my road on foot and in vehicles.

This convenient road while often lovely sometimes becomes mega-challenging. During early evenings in fall, incredibly bright, gorgeous moons peer down, greeting and drawing me toward them. Regardless of how tired I may feel, a yen to hug the glowing orb eases my upward mobilization. In contrast to such moonlit moments, Central Oregon also receives heavy snows that make navigating my road difficult.

Vehicles that travel over my road during and soon after snows leave tire tracks. The snow covering these imprints in periods with varying temperatures melts and then re-freezes. The tracks become slippery and make my road dangerous for walking. I’ve learned to poke along the road’s less-trodden edges, wielding hiking sticks to identify the least slippery spots.

This blog’s header photograph shows an early evening and new snow covering my road. The sky is heavy and obscures the moon. Atop the hill from within my house, an inviting lit-up window seems moon-like. It suggests a ready fireplace and a mug of honeyed hot tea. I move toward it.

Some evenings I feel too tired for the trudge uphill and pause wishing I’d strung a rope to pull myself up all the way. In those moments, I try to rearrange my outlook and seek an inspiration that entices me upward. Certain visions inspire, like dinner ready in a crockpot, something I’m eager to watch on television, having to fulfill some kind of commitment, and above all, a source of light that draws me like a firefly.

Dear Readers, have a great day, Diana.

Long ears and sad eyes, hanging out with a couple of horses. People driving past my place know her. They look for her, often circling, returning, and if they spot me out at the barn, pull in to ask questions about my donkey, Pimmy.

“Do you enjoy her as a pet? What do the horses think of her? What does she eat? Is Pimmy available for adoption? Where could we get a donkey?”

Pimmy is a great pet and totally bonded to her constant companions, my two horses, Rosie and Sunni. When I’m hauling off with one horse, Pimmy baby-sits the other. If I’m loading both horses to go someplace, Pimmy comes along. Usually, while riding on trails, I’ll be on one horse and leading another while Pimmy follows us loyally. For years and hundreds of miles, she’s tagged along behind. If another rider approaches, I make it known that a loose donkey is behind me. Horses that never have seen a donkey might become frightened of or aggressive toward Pimmy. She quickly grasps moods and knows to be careful.

While driving past my own property and glancing over at Pimmy, she seems like a slightly lost creature with sad eyes and long ears that capture the imagination. She appears a little sleepy maybe or even stupid. Actually, Pimmy is highly alert, smart as a whip, and fully aware of everything happening around her. She’s a quick learner and much more so than she likes to let me know. A simple carrot wave that captures Pimmy’s attention turns her into an all-action, highly-focused creature.

I respond to inquiries about donkeys as pets by explaining what I’ve learned during years with Pimmy. If I could have only one large animal, I’d happily choose a donkey.

Dear Readers, have a wonderful day, Diana.

Blow on a dandelion puffball and watch as bits of fluff, floating upward and out, carry seeds into the distance. I’m superstitious and often pause to blow on fully-seeded, easy-to-reach dandelions. I first close my eyes to wish for something, and then like the plant’s airborne fluffs, words begin floating from deep inside me. Sometimes they seem random and other times suggest patterns. Those random words, from somewhere deep inside, are like dandelion seeds springing from plants with roots that extend fifteen feet underground.

We can’t plunge into our own depths to understand why various random thoughts pop up. Are they from ancient memories or recent experiences? People may satisfy a question with a symbolic act, like wishing on dandelions, a plant that’s existed for thousands of years. For most of that time, humans have grown, harvested, and eaten dandilions, and made wishes before blowing its puffballs apart.

The superstitious part of me that wishes on puffballs is rewarded by upward floating words that resemble the plant’s fluffy bits. I try to capture these words, maybe they’ll hint at a cohesive idea. I’ve learned to think quickly about my fluffy-like words and conjure stories. This begins by retaining the first word that pops into my mind and adding as many more pop-ups as possible. I jot into a notebook every recallable word to seek the possible nucleus of a story.

Several years ago, a friend gifted me with a small box containing 1,000 magnetized words. She said, “These will help you write poetry.” The instructions called for randomly placing words on a magnetic surface, like a refrigerator, and then, rearranging them into a sensible order. I’m no poet but got the drift and enjoyed playing with that word set. It’s akin to blowing on a puffball for words that may suggest patterns and strings of thoughts.

Making a wish helps to start me on a path toward logic.

Dear Readers, have a great day! Diana