A Fire Sign

The sign posts all around me have been pointing to infinite potential, endless possibilities, getting acquainted with the heart mind.

Having come through the other side of a major life transition, my eyes are open and my ears are perked.  Where does my path want to lead me?  What does that next stone under my well-danced feet feel like? I am wildly curious and tickled pink.

Lately, I have taken note of just how much I gaze up into the sky.  It is fascinating.  It is inspiring.  It is magical and mystical.  I used to dream of rainbows and shooting stars.  My dreams have come true.

The Full Cold Moon energy of this month has my body tingling.  I wake up in the wee hours and go look outside.  With the snow and the moonlight, everything is glowing, the hour uncertain.  Last night the sky cleared.  This morning at sunrise, I walked to the west door and greeted the day with a sleepy grin.

Invigorated by the crisp winter air, I spent a good part of the day outdoors.  Alibi and I took a walk to the mailbox at the end of the road to pick up a package I have been expecting.  It was just us on the road.  My boots crunching in the cold snow and his hooves steadily keeping pace.  Our hearts are in rhythm.

When I finally came in, the moon was just rising in the east.  I completely relish being able to see both the east and the west from my windows.    As the December moon rose up over the pasture in front, I put my tarot cards and their pretty purple brocade box on the sill to be cleansed by the full moon energy.

The poodles and I needed to get to the feed store before it closed.  I am breaking down and buying a heater for the water trough.  Although I revel in the increasing daylight hours, I cannot be fooled by the calendar.  It tells me I may be breaking ice in the water for quite some time to come.

Before taking another step toward departing, I knew I had to look to the west.  The Cascades always perform.  The three Sisters were crystal clear, snow covered and basking in the setting sun.

As we were driving home from Big R, I stole a glance up toward the clear winter night sky and there it was!  A shooting star.  It was as if it came from behind my reliable winter transport, over my head, hooked on to my front grill and coaxed us forward chasing its fiery tail.  It said, "this way."

Look.  Look up.  Look forward.  Look inward.  There lies your path.

If Not Now, When?

When will we make decisions for the better of the greater good?  When will we step back from our stubborn and fantastic belief in our notion of freedom and realize how we are being held hostage by our own self-centered demands.

Are we so caught up in ourselves that we cannot sacrifice when the risk to the greater good is at stake?

I do not refer just to guns.  I ask about healthcare, about care for returning military with PTS, about assessing our well-being through social programs, prayer, meditation, schools, work, church, the grocery store.  I ask about opening our eyes and slowing down long enough to notice.

We must be the advocates of those struggling.  We must take care of our children and preserve their innocence, curiosity and their dreams.

Our job on this earth is not working alone.  Despite our own troubles, our job is to reach out, to act, think and speak on behalf of the greater good.  When we all show up for work, no one will be left for dead.

Saturday Bliss

Last month's question of "For what are you grateful?" is still on the front burner.  As there are generally two front burners, this month's question, "What brings you joy?" is right beside it.

It's a classic December Saturday: a little late sleep in,

sunshine and occasional clouds, brisk air, possibility of some snow but not looking like it, nothing on the must-do agenda, spending lots of time outdoors with the animals, a friendly visit from April, anticipating the arrival of Jacqueline next week and then Laurie and Lucas the following, and just doing what strikes my fancy.

And that is my joy!   



Joy to the World.

New Strategy

Unpacking is just a big fat time waster in my book.  I don't seem to find the fun in it.  I find it akin to emptying the dishwasher or folding laundry.

My method, which has been working just great for me, is to take out the plates and glasses as I need them.  Then the dishwasher got full.  That required a washing, which led back to that unpleasant task of emptying the dishwasher  So, I resumed my one-at-a-time unpacking.  I like this!

Then I got news that Jacqueline was coming for a visit.  And the day after she leaves, my sister Laurie and Lucas are coming.  Well, that put a hitch in my exaggerated emptying of boxes.  A new strategy was implemented.

I shall take this moment to brag that I have unpacked all but one box in the kitchen: the box of tupper.  Where do you store that stuff?

Maybe They Aren't All Supposed to Go With You

Those were some harsh words to hear when Eileen Lock, a clairvoyant astrologer, said them to me during a reading.  "Such nonsense!" I replied.

We were talking about my then impending move to a new home.  I was thinking through the move of all of my animals, including my feral cats.

During the week of my move, I set out the trap in hopes of catching Graysin and Lynxie, my two cats who live in the hay shed.  Lynxie just stopped coming for breakfast and dinner--at least not when I was there.  And we had just got to the point of my being able to pet him and scratch his ears.

So one balmy fall night, I was sitting below Graysin as she looked down on me from her grass perch.  We were just talking.  Easy going cat and human conversation.  She was relaxed, calm and interested.  Then I asked her, "Graysin, do you want to come live with me in my new home?"  Her response was unmistakable.  A categorical no.  I almost felt embarrassed to have asked her such a question.

After catching the neighbor bully cat, Jorge caught Graysin and confusing her with the neighbor bully cat, released her.  Then another cat, one I have never seen before checked in to the cat hotel.  Another catch and release.

Just as I was thinking I would disassemble the crate I had set up, Jorge called me to say he had another cat.  This time, he checked the right ear to see that it had been tipped by Bend Spay and Neuter when I brought him in for a feral fixing.  And Rayito arrived.

I was so happy to see him.  I had held him twice when he was a baby because he had fallen out of the eaves where Momma Twin kept her little ones safe.  As he grew, he would come out whenever I was feeding.  He was so intrigued by the goats.  As they browsed, he would follow them.  Unlike the other cats, he was half white, so I would catch his feline movements out of the corner of my eye.  When I called his name, he would stop and sit.

Rayito was here for four days.  It was almost immediately apparent that he did not belong here.  I thought bringing him here and taking care of him was in his best interest; I would keep him safe.  It didn't feel right.  Rayito would be safer and happier back on his 40 acres where he grew up, where his mother and brother, uncle and grandmother live.  Safer where he had established hiding places from nocturnal predators and the chase of the dogs.  He would be safer where he was confident.  I accepted on Saturday that this is not Rayito's home.

Today, he went back to his stomping grounds.  I wished him well, expressed my apologies for the misjudgment on my part, and sent him off with a piece of my heart.  That was probably the hardest thing I've done recently.  I may never see him or my other kitties again.  As sad as that is, I accept that maybe Eileen was right.

Three of Pentacles

Walking to the barn tonight, I inhaled deeply.  My chest expanded, bursting with the crisp autumn night air.  Accompanied by Bodie, I relaxed my shoulders, slowed my gait, extended my clenched digits, and breathed in again.  Rather than scan the horizon, I scanned the night sky.

There is a noticeable shift in energy on the ranch.  A heavy, sad presence has lifted.  The air is swirling in a different direction now.

High above our heads, the stars and planets are alive and dancing.  The Milky Way, unobscured by the long-standing smoke of the Pole Creek fire, dashes across the ebon canvas.  The Pleiades have reappeared, calling to mind a Native American story of the Seven Sisters.

Such peace.  Such beauty.  The possibilities are infinite.

This morning I drew the Three of Pentacles.

Pages In The Journey

Charley Miller and me, Swinging with the Stars 2012

People's Choice and Dameon Award winners

Free of injury, illness and obstacles.  Thank you Universe.  Thank you Ganesh.

Thank you to all who supported us during these past few months.  Thank you to all who were able to come to the show.  Thank you for the emails and messages last night and today.  Thank you Charley, my friend.

With entire sincerity, I can tell you how proud I am of this moment.  Charley is the most respectful, punctual, dedicated, and protective partner.  He made this win happen.  There is no feigning modesty here.

We were paired at a time when staying present was impossible for me.  My plate was spilling over.  Adding just one pea more had me on the brink.  And when that pea was counting on me to make room on my plate, I resented it.  Couldn't this morsel understand that the only space I had was beside my plate?

I went back and forth on my decision to participate in the competition this year.  At the time I said yes, it made sense.  A few things shifted and suddenly I found myself in a position I was not capable of handling to the best of my abilities.

And so life's journey goes.  It is said that when we are ready for the lesson, the teacher appears.

Once I settled the inner conflict and restated to myself my decision to be Charley's partner, I then had to develop my strategy.  How was I going to do this when my brain was overtaxed and my heart was closed for business?

All the while as the chatter of my inside voices got louder and louder, I would meet Charley twice a week to practice.  He was there, ready, willing, vulnerable and extremely devoted to the commitment he made to the charity and to his supporters.

In a rare moment, when the voices drowned each other out into a silence, I saw this. 

I sought refuge in my yoga room, under a soothing dim light, enveloped in rich Indian incense, grounded on my mat, calling on my Angels, Spirit Guides, Masters and Gurus for guidance, for clarity, for confidence.  I reached out to family and friends and divulged my fears.  I listened to Pema Chodron over and over grasping at the concept of Shenpa.

I embraced an empowering daily affirmation.  I repeated one of my favorite mantras, "I choose love." 

The fog began to lift.  My path illumined.  My trust in my journey reinforced.  Numbers started to appear. 

With each practice, Charley's steadiness demanded I reach deep down inside and pull out what I knew I had.  He deserved that.

Over the months that we met to develop a routine that was fitting to both of us, my plate was clearing.  It didn't get bigger.  It tilted.  The things that no longer served my highest good slipped right off into oblivion.  The more it tilted, the more space I had for that pea to jump on, roll around in comfort, unrestricted by what was. 

When we are allowed space, when we give ourselves and each other space, extraordinary things happen.

Without Charley and our time together, I very well might be sitting with a plate on the verge of cracking under the weight of impediments.  Charley won the Mirrorball trophy he so deserved and I won another stepping stone in this enthralling journey. 

Let It Rain

Rain.

May your moisture hydrate our desert-parched skin.

May your drops multiply to blanket our fires.

May your puddles seep to the roots of our trees.

Thank you for hearing our call.

Shall we dance again?

Safe Flight, My Hens

Jeff and Heather, Chris, Brittany and their two month old angel Luca came over this evening to take several of my hennies to their new home.

The upkeep of three hen houses and the care of 18 hens and one rooster is a challenge for one person.  Jorge, the ranch hand, has been instructed to no longer help me with any of the animal care.  How unfortunate.

A great part of Jorge's love for his job has been working with the animals.  He told me he is uncomfortable with this new directive as he recognizes the labor involved for one person.  He said he was sad about it because he misses the interaction with the animals and the variety in his day, making it anything but routine.

It does tug at my heart to see him drive by the animals and not stop and do some of the things he used to do.  He actually looks the other direction.  He is fighting his instinct as he is a natural caregiver.  The animals do not understand his distance.  They grew fond of him, his kindness and his gentle ways.  The goats used to get daily rides in the golf cart.  Now it's as if he shuns them, but I know it is not so.

The time has come to ease my load a bit.

Juliet, Ruby, Blanca, and Zorra, four of my new baby hens, were put in the poultry crate along with Dumpling and Black, two of my one year old hens.

Dumpling has been like a mother hen to the babies.  She has been showing them around the ranch and the places to find bugs, take a dirt bath and where there is protection and shade for a nap.   When they scratch up by the grasses at the canal, she is always with them.  Black is a very docile Black Australorp who ruffles no feathers.  They will be a harmonious flock.

Chris and Jeff are biologists for the Wildlife Services.  I met Jeff when he answered my call for help in investigating what was killing my ducks.  He's smart.

Jeff had mentioned he was setting up his new chicken coop.  As you may imagine, it is entirely secure and predator proof.  When I made the decision to re-home a few of my hens, he was the first person who came to mind.  Jeff had his flock established already but Chris was just beginning his.

As sad as it was to hand over my hand-raised babies and grown girls, there was a sense of relief.  A touch of relief in my daily chore load; a greater relief that my girls were alive when I said good bye.  It doesn't always work that way on the ranch.

The Death Card

In life there are cycles.  Two obvious ones: life and death.  And life, as I understand it, is not exclusive to the human form, or animal form for that matter, but to all living creatures, beings, matter, space.

The ranch seemed lifeless when we first arrived over two years ago.  The apple tree did not blossom, I didn't even know it was a lilac tree outside the kitchen door, the pastures were dried and yellowed, there were no visible creatures calling the ranch home, the air felt stale and still.

Then, the next spring, the apple tree had so many blossoms I wondered if the delicate branches would be able to support the fruit.  One crisp morning I got a faint scent of lilac and saw so many buds on the tree.  And look! A pear tree beside it.  Then the families of Mallards arrived.  The Canada Geese came. The feral cats started poking out here and there and then claimed the hay shed and the barn as their homes.  The wild birds sang and darted about.  This place was alive and so vibrant.

With any life, the next cycle has rolled in.

The negativity, anger and vindictive actions of late have permeated and choked the life energy here.

The apple tree had no blossoms this spring.  The lilac tree was bare.  The pear tree made a grand effort.

My little Negrita, my sweet sweet cat, was hit by a car.  I still cry when I look in her bed just hoping it wasn't her.  Her absence has forever altered the patterns of the cats.  I used to look out my bedroom window in the morning and see Negrita, Lynxie and Graysin stretched out on the hay soaking up the rising sun.  At night, I would turn on the light and catch them playing a literal cat and mouse game.  Now, I look out and all I see is hay.

Lynxie and Graysin stop in here and there, but the less than feral attitude has diminished.  I hardly see my Rayito, Little Grays and Twin who call the barn home.

The pond has taken on this incredible algae.  It has covered the pond surface like a bad color choice of carpet from the late 60s.  As it crept in, it pushed the Mallards out.  Now, the pond is surrounded by very tall prickly weeds, and topped with a chartreuse cushion.  Lifeless.

The Mallards used to follow me out to the pasture or up to the dry lot, "quack quack quack," they'd tell me.  Always saying they were ready for food.  It's remarkable to go from 50+ ducks throughout the day to none.  Not one. Not one true duck quack.

The pasture started drying up and browning because the water had been cut off.  Pickings were slimming down for the horses and goats.  The good blue grass was being overtaken by the noxious weeds.

The raised beds of the former vegetable garden became a garden of assorted weeds and undesirable grasses.

The round pen is Pippin's favorite place to escape to at night because his height falls just below that of the weeds and he can browse in stealth mode.  No horse activity in that pen.

Thankfully, the water was turned on again a few days ago and I started watering vigorously.  It's impressive how the combination of a little water and the bright Central Oregon sunshine can make anything grow in no time.  The growing season may be short, but it grows!  The pasture is greening.  The goats are wandering more.

With the rotation of water, I noticed the algae is shifting.  You would be stretching it to say it is going away; however, there are a few open spaces of water on the surface.

This evening as I was out feeding, I saw one Mallard hen sitting on the plank to the duck house in the center of the pond.  She had no companion.  Just her.  I called to her but she didn't respond.  A decoy? Her mood rang nostalgic.  It was as if she came to visit her former home just one last time.  As if she couldn't comprehend the "Do Not Enter" vibe of the abundant green foam.

I put out some food for her, and the chickens who followed me in.  I never saw her swim to the shore.  I never saw her fly away.  I looked and she was gone.

Full Buck Moon

July is the Full Buck Moon.  It is said July is the month in which the new antlers of the bucks start to push out of their foreheads, velvety, anew.

The White-Tailed Bucks shed their antlers after rutting season, sometime in the early months of the year.  They can be without their antlers during these months because they are not fighting for territory or the affection of does.

I could be a buck. Ready to grow new antlers which emerge covered in what seems like velvet.  This "velvet" is full of blood vessels that feed the antlers the vitamins and minerals they need to grow strong and healthy.  I am a buck.

Just before walking to the barn tonight, my sister Laurie sent me a thoughtful pre-sleep text message.  In response, I told her I would catch a star and send it to her; it would light up her dreams.

The barn is east.  Walking east, I saw what is left of the Buck Moon rising.

It seemed to be exactly half of the moon, like a generous slice of watermelon.  It isn't coincidence that brought me out to see this momentary slice of wonder.  I am a buck.  This is my moon.

Why Not Baseball Blog?

There have been quite a few curve balls being pitched my way these past few months.  Some have been easier to swing at than others.  Some have been just too darned wild to gain focus to begin to grip.

Then there are the moments when the pitch comes right to me.  An easy, "here you go" kind of pitch.

I still cannot identify that constellation in the south sky.  Tonight one of the stars was really flickering red.  And then just above it, the Milky Way was streaming.  As I sat on the stoop at the barn letting the goodles out for a late night stadium-fare, Rayito, one of my feral cats, comes walking out from behind the barn.  I haven't seen him lately.  He comes in just close enough to catch his vibe, he looked over at me to let me know he was doing alright, and pitter-pattered over to crouch down and watch the goodles browse.

I nodded my head in appreciation of the moment.

As I was walking back to the house, admiring the sparkling red star in my unknown constellation, a shooting star pitched itself in my direction.  I laughed.  I put out my catcher's mitt and caught that star in flight.

June 3: Peace

Life has been full of unexpected, not entirely, and surprising turns these past few months.  You could say that what was my life six months ago is nothing like it is now.

Truthfully, I am grateful for the major shift; it needed to happen.  I am at peace with the concept of the shift.  The details, hitches, twists and turns; however, leave me feeling less than at peace.  In fact, I am probably the most ungrounded as I have been in a very long time.  It takes a lot to get air between my feet and the earth.

There have been so many posts related to peace, healing, love, moving forward, transition, on Facebook lately.  Each one makes it sound so simple and easy.  I read the post, smile, embrace the content, nod my head in full agreement and then click "share" so maybe someone else can experience that refreshing clarity--as fleeting as it may be.

And yet, no sooner do I share that post than do I return to that previous state of uncertainty.

Today, as I do in the mornings, I reached over to read the inspirational thought for the day from my book Spiritual Diary.  I share it with you here.

"Live each present moment completely and the future will take care of itself.  Fully enjoy the wonder and beauty of each instant.  Practice the presence of peace.  The more you do that, the more you will feel the presence of that power in your life."    ~~~ Paramahansa Yogananda, SRF Lessons

I have read this multiple times today.  A year ago, I completely resonated with this.  This is where I spent my days.  How did I wander off so far?  I am an eternal traveler, but how could I leave such a secure space?

We know "things happen for a reason."  I do believe this.  More than that, I believe everything that happens in our lives, every choice we make and the ensuing consequence, is a lesson.  We are here to learn those lessons and whether or not we learn them is our karma.

I am making the most concerted effort every day to open my heart and mind to this current life lesson.  There is something mighty big in there for me to learn because otherwise, it wouldn't be this difficult.

That little paragraph above that I shared with you is my key.  Now to find the matching keyhole in my soul.

Peace.





 

Tripper's Day

Tripper and Dad

Tripper is in spirit and he is 23 years old today, May 15.  We all celebrated him today, even the few who didn't know him on this earth.

He was a noble horse, so stoic, proud, full of horsepower and full of incredible love.  Tripper was my first horse.  He taught me to love in a fuller, richer and more open way.

I have said many times before and I most certainly will say it again, he was my friend.

My Friend (and Jess the dog)

When I brought Shadow home, his eyes looked up at me and they were alive with old souls.  I could feel them and I could see them in his eyes.

On occasion when Shadow and I are walking, he will come beside me and put his nose in my hand, just as Tripper used to do. Aside from the 1,000 pound difference between them, I sense Tripper.  Tripper is so present and Shadow is the generous host.

Tripper and Alibi

Alibi and Tripper were good friends.  When Alibi became my horse, I moved him and Tripper to the same pasture.  It was anybody's guess who would be the dominant horse.  Tripper gave Alibi a good run for his money and hung in as the alpha as long as he could.  Eventually Alibi moved in, as he does.  But there always remained respect.  Today, Alibi sighed a birthday wish to Tripper.

In my bedside table drawer is a braided heart of Tripper's tail hair.  It's beautiful and lasting.  Fitting for my friend.

1,000 Words Does Not Make a Picture

It is my favorite time of the month: the waxing moon.  It will be full today, April 6.

This month it is the Pink Moon, named for the wild ground phlox that we see in early spring.  It might also be called the Full Sprouting Grass Moon, the Full Fish Moon or the Egg Moon.

When I drive around the ranch at night and see the snow white Cascades glow bright as day under the light of the moon, I wish my phone could take that picture.  Then I realize, that picture is priceless, impossible, not as it really is.

The horses are lit up, especially Hy Note, such that I can see their eyes looking right into mine.  The cats are especially cautious, being more visible as they scout the ranch for nocturnal nibbles.

The pasture is almost bright green.  I could walk out there easily avoiding the holes of the sage rats.  The crisp, defined shadows of the porch posts, the junipers and the towering Ponderosa Pines are quite theatrical.

This morning at 4:30am, I woke up to my heavenly night light, turning my previously darkened room into a reading room.  The moon hangs low enough directly outside my window so that I can see it from my bed as it drenches me and my dreamy pillows in its angelic energy.

The full moon symbolizes endings and completion.  The things we set out for ourselves at the new moon, we can celebrate at the full moon.

Maybe this Full Pink Moon is about Easter eggs, pretty bonnets and colorful Peeps?  After all, Easter is determined according to the full moon.  Did you know this?

This is why the date of Easter changes each year.  The Council of Nicaea, back in A.D. 325, determined Easter would fall on the first Sunday following the first full moon after the vernal equinox.

The Full Pink Moon.  What picture would you paint?

Cherry Rainbowfrost

My friend Jill posted a link on Facebook where you could get your fairy name.  Cute and silly, I thought at first.  Then I started liking the idea of a fairy name and wanted one of my own.

http://fairy.namegeneratorfun.com/F/noelle/haggerty

Click this link to read about the fairy me, Cherry Rainbowfrost.

From there, you can get your own fairy name.

It's fun to read these things.  They spark your imagination.  They break us of the habitual thinking.

She brings good fortune.  My farm fresh egg business is supplying many with a delicious breakfast while funding my need for hen feed.

She lives in fruit orchards and vineyards.  Certainly that explains my enjoyment of a good wine.

She can only be seen during the first snow of winter.  Well yes, because if it snows more than that, I'll hibernate with the bears.

She wears red, cerise and purple berry colors and has multicolored wings like a butterfly.  A true red is flattering as is a purple or blue.  My wings guide me around the ranch all day doling out little butterfly kisses to all my animals.  They lend air to my smooth glide across the dance floor.  They bring me back home safely so I may recharge my battery to glow like a firefly, a welcome beacon for living creatures.

So, as I bid adieu, I am lifting my satin satchel of prosperity upon my gentle wings of the rainbow.  I shall gradually empty my satchel of prismatic dust flakes on the shoulders of those with space to catch them.

Ahhhh, what a better frame of mind to have when leaving the house!







 

Put Some Spring in Your Step

It's funny how this one hour time change can really make you rethink your daily routine.  It seems a luxury and a burden at the same time.

Opting for the luxury and in light of sleeping in until 8:10am, now known as 9:10am, and the weather that is changing on the hour, I'm officially declaring today as my day off.

As much as one person who must feed and care for 2 dogs, 1 cockatiel, 4 horses, 2 goats, 12 hens, a rooster, 6 cats, 50+ Mallards, and countless wild birds, can take a day off, I am.

My day off began after the morning feed, putting rain sheets on the horses because the next few days call for on and off wet weather, washing out a hoof wound on Kenna (no easy feat,) defending my friend Duncan from my spring-bitten goats, selling another dozen of eggs, and cleaning Pooker's cage.

I came in the house, lit some calming Indian incense, and sat down to an enjoyable bowl of hot cereal with fruit and walnuts, a hard boiled egg, prune juice and delimateliciouslatte.  Pooker sat on my shoulder chirping to let me know when she wanted the next bite of her cereal.  I looked out onto the pasture, watching my animals pick at the greening grass under the changing sky. My breakfast was accompanied by the gurgling sound the hens make as they get comfortable in the sun under my window and by the songs of the Red Winged Blackbirds visiting the feeder.  Pleasant.  I am liking this concept of a day off.

On a day off, one has so many options.  Where do I start?  Feed the hens some cantaloupe.

Then, as it is my day off to do decadent things, I would try out the DVD drive for my new MacBook Air so I can load the new Microsoft Office and transfer files from my ailing HP to the Mac.  As a result of this silly choice,  New Rules #43 started brewing.

The product key for Microsoft Office used to be on the box, remember this? 

Now, I must go on-line to Microsoft's "getkey" site and use the PIN code on the back of the box, cleverly hidden under a scratch off box, coin required, which after I enter a long series of letters and numbers brings me to a Windows Live window, which I only logged in to one other time long ago when it was required for something I can't remember, so then I have to go to my old email account and search for a Windows Live email which would have my password information, which I can't find so I must request a new password, wait for that email to come, then log in at Windows Live to change my password, but I must log out and log back in from the Microsoft window otherwise it does not bring up the product key that I have been trying to get for the past 10 minutes.

Whew.  Product key found.  Now to the Mac to enter the long code, a series of numbers and capital letters, using the top row of numbers because the wireless ten-key pad that I bought hasn't been installed yet. 

Time for a nap.

New Rules: #37

Companies must agree on a standard format for on-line log-ins and passwords.

Today, while attempting to recharge my Starbucks card on-line, I had to register.  Do you remember when registering used to be just entering your email address?

Now, registering requires your name, address, birth date, city of birth, a list of "click here if you don't want to receive" a variety of inbox fillers and then of course, a unique log-in and password.

Unique makes using your standard log-in impossible.  The Starbucks log-in has to be at least 6 characters and contain at least one digit.  (I'm holding back an urge.)  So, I create a new log-in different than my usual, hoping that I will remember it for the next recharge.

Now to the password.  Again, my standard password format, that I can remember, does not work.  It must be at least 6 characters, including a capital letter, and as you guessed it, at least one digit.  (I'm struggling to hold back the single digit urge.)

With a standard log-in format, we can still achieve the goal of not using the same password for all of our on-line accounts.  We will have a better chance of remembering our log-in and password without having to remember if this is the company that requires capital letters and a single digit.

And what if we do want to use the same password?

Calling Me Back

The snow covered mountains glowing under the moonlight on a clear crisp night is magical.  I witness this luminosity every turn of the calendar page as the moon waxes full.

I squint and stretch my neck forward, wondering if I'm really seeing

These rugged heaps of rock and earth

Light up like beacons

Guiding me back to the serenity of my animals.

Strengthening the Arab Voice

It's horse fever, I'm certain.

When you read the title of this post, what did you think?

I was perusing a back issue of my Mount Holyoke Alumnae Quarterly magazine and saw an article with this title.  I flipped directly to page three.  There I found a photograph of a man standing beside a horse in a web halter.

I looked at the horse's face first, naturally, and didn't see the typical Arab characteristics, such as the dish.  The nostrils and eyes didn't look very Arab like and the body seemed larger than most Arabs.

Curious, I proceeded to the text, after all this was an article.  The article was about Mohammed Jiyad, a senior lecturer in Arabic language and literature at MHC, and how he has seen the interest in Arabic studies change over the 25 years he has been at the college.

When he first started teaching, he had about six students in his class.  This past year he had 30.  He talks about the need for Arabic speakers in government, banking and business and mentions students studying overseas.

Mohammed grew up with horses in Iraq and has several Arab horses of his own.   Aside from this brief mention of his horses, no more than those few words, there was no discussion or question about horses in this article.

Here I am thinking the article was about strengthening the interest in Arabian horses somehow by showing a man with a Quarter Horse, when it was about the Arab language and its role in global affairs.

The piece was interesting.  I prefer my interpretation of the title.

Bend at its Finest

There is much I like about living in Bend.  I've been giving it a lot of thought lately.  Checking in, am I in the right place?

This morning, February 12, it is a superb Central Oregon winter morning.  Blue sky, crisp views of the snow covered Cascades, windless, warming sun, the smell of a morning wood stove burning, all makes 27 degrees thoroughly enjoyable.  I have not lived anywhere else where 27 degrees can feel warm.

Meeting people.  It's easy here.  People here are people people.  They like people.  They like to engage.  This is much different than anywhere else I have lived (well, Argentina was like that but I'm not sure it wasn't partly because I am con ojos claros.)  On a daily basis, when I leave the ranch, I have a conversation with someone I do not know.  Not just an exchange of pleasantries, but an actual dialogue.  They say that's good for warding off dementia.

In the last two days, two people have come over to me and introduced themselves and we had the most delightful conversation.  This is good stuff.

The animals are certainly something I have not experienced elsewhere.  I do my best to take time every day, regardless of my schedule, to sit and listen to what is around me.  Fortunately for me, I hear a lot of animal sounds.  I can hear the neighbor's rooster, and turkey when he has one, his cows and sheep.  I can hear horses from two ranches over, alpaca when they alarm, dogs from down the road.  Of course, the most prominent of sounds are my own animals.  They all like to chat; someone always has something to say.  It is a joy to take a moment to be present with the life force around me.

Activities are abundant in this town.  I'm not sure there is an off-season.  The community is very active in putting events together and getting out to support one another.  There is much to choose from, sometimes more than one can take in in a day.  One can visit a different yoga studio each day of the week and still not have visited them all.

Shopping is quite different here in Bend.  For starters, parking spaces are much bigger than any other place I have lived.  They are meant to accommodate the larger ranch vehicles and trailers that are common and quite necessary modes of transportation.  It doesn't matter what time of day you go to Target; I really like that.  What I buy is very different.  Now, my shopping list consists of pine shavings, hen crack (I'm pretty sure the packable label says scratch,) horse supplements, cat toys, SWAT to keep the flies off the horses, work gloves, turtlenecks, pants and shorts with good pockets, Wrangler jeans and much more along those lines.  When looking at a new pair of shoes, some habits never die, I consider how much the grass or pine shavings will stick to the shoe before purchasing them.

Neighbors are necessary.  When you live in an environment where things change on a moment's notice and just about anything can happen, having neighbors is critical.  We all know this.  It's a give and take and for any of us to get by, it must be.

People wave when you pass them on the road.
From my house to town, there is a 2 mile section that has a speed limit of 55mph.  Slower ahead.
Coffee shops are plenty, and not just Starbucks.
Farmers' markets are anticipated and well-shopped.
Restaurants do their part in shopping and serving local.
Going to the feed store is a social outing, plan to stay a while. Oh, and dogs are welcome.
The air is fresh.
Resources are respected.
The Sheriff looks after animals as much as people.
The laws protect animals.
There is a sliding scale for many services.
Being in a small town makes you think twice about what you say. Oddly it curbs some negative habits.

This list can go on and on.  It's good to sit and write what brings you joy.  Yes, we must find our own true joy within as well.  That can be a difficult lock to pick depending on your life experiences.  So, when the external forces are positive and joyful, that sticky lock gets a good lube job.

What brings you joy?

Missing a Friend

It was a card on the windowsill that triggered the lump in my throat.  Memories, emotions and longing hit me at once.  A year and a half later, I miss my friend, Tripper.

I don't think you ever get over the loss of a good friend.  They were your friend because your heart had a place for them to begin with.  They help fill your heart.  They brighten your heart.  And they can break your heart.

Heartache is deep.  It's so deep that time or new memories can't reach it.  A cushion can be made around it, to soften it, but no aspirin is great enough to make it disappear.

Through tears and the pang of loss, we can appreciate having loved a friend so dearly and we can feel fortunate for having that love shared.  It is beautiful, after all.

It's okay to take time to grieve again.  Our relationship with our friend is certainly unique.  They may have other friends, but the bond and connection between two individuals is in fact, individual, only, singular, just one.  That is something that is our treasure, to hold and cherish.

And that is why I think we have eternal heartache.  If it is lost from us, it is truly lost.

Introspection

"It is usually more or less easy to analyze others and classify them according to personality.  It is often more difficult to turn the searchlight on one's self in strict honesty, but that is what you must do in order to find out what improvement or change is necessary.  One purpose in discovering your own personality is to know how you affect others.  Consciously, or unconsciously, people feel your personality, and their reaction is a clue."
~~~~Paramahansa Yogananda, SRF Lessons

Tick Tock, Have You Checked Your List Today?

We are well on our way into January 2012.  I keep telling myself that the days are passing quickly because each day is packed with wonder, fun and joy, so what's another tick on the calendar page?

Given the variety of animals that call this ranch home, there always is something going on.  I know, I've said this several times before, but no two days are alike. I cannot count on a quick run out to get something done because inevitably, one of the animals or an animal related topic has other plans for me.  I have learned to prioritize--a challenge for a Sagittarian. 

There is the short list, the immediate list, the "oh crap" list, the in-my-dreams list, the where is my list list and a few more as yet untitled lists.

Juanita, one of my two year old hens, has an infection of sorts and is seriously underweight.  We don't know why.  We thought perhaps she was egg-bound.  Dr. Brown saw her, gave an antibiotic shot for the infection and a calcium shot to move along any stuck egg and recommended continued antibiotics and house rest.

A little research was needed as to the antibiotic.  How many days does it last in her system as we eat our hen eggs.  It's 21 days.  Juanita hasn't laid an egg since Wednesday, so no worries there.  She has an appetite but won't eat her pellets, which is where she'll get her calories.  She eats a bit and then stops. 

Today, I gave her the antibiotic in a water mixture via syringe in her mouth.  I also went to Target and got some Pedialyte and have given her that too.  She's a very compliant Rhode Island Red. 

My newest theory, she either has sour crop or an impacted crop.  Internet research is very helpful.  I know what to look for tomorrow morning and we'll see if this is what it is.

Graysin, one of my feral cats, has been acting weird lately.  She eats, which is good.  She's been hanging out under the windows of the house at night and sometimes hiding out in the hay during feeding.  Does she want in?  I put a kitty bed on the porch under the living room window.  I have yet to find evidence of a kitty in it.

I woke up the other morning to find Kenna in the pasture.  She took herself on a self-guided tour, including breaking through the wire gate.  We now have two gates.  It seems to be working.

Bodie and Pinkie had their excitement of the New Year.  They got into a real dog fight in the house!  The new Christmas toy was the instigator; it rolled under the couch and how that led to the outbreak, I have no idea.  It was ugly.  They were both sent to their respective houses for a time out.  It took them about half a day to really get over it and carry on as usual.  Well, Bodie was ready when he woke up; Pinkie needed her time.

All of the horses tested negative for the latest fecal egg count!  This is good news by the way.  In order to gather the samples, I have to separate the horses and wait for each to poop, collect a chunk of steaming horse manure, label it and get it to the vet for analysis.  This determines whether or not they need to be wormed.  Negative there too.

The newest excitement is that I'm going to purchase my own microscope (why didn't I include that in my amazon order tonight?) so I can do my own testing for the horses and goats.  Well, and look at anything else around the ranch that strikes my fancy.  Dr. Cole, the equine and caprine vet, will show me how to prepare the slides and what to look for.  I can't wait!

I am allergic to hay.  Ah, positive thinking restatement, I was allergic to hay.  Last week I did an acupuncture allergy treatment for hay.  This means I cannot be around it for 24 hours.  I planned my day to have as much time off the ranch as possible and to sleep in the guest house so as to avoid the dogs  who roll in the hay, my coats with pockets filled with hay, my shoes also filled with hay, the mudroom with hay on the carpet, the SUV with hay on the floor mats.  I even had the Lexus washed and vacuumed while I was in my appointment so any misplaced hay would be removed.  I met my friend April for lunch.  My phone rang.  As I picked it up, I noticed the big twig of hay stuck in the phone cover.  Need I go on?

Pippin and Shadow are complete and total wethers now.  They were banded at the end of September and I had to wait for their little ballicles to fall off.  I found Shadow's on the floor of their stall one morning.  Pippin's fell off a week later in their playpen.   I did find it necessary to show the men working on the ranch the little dried up goat testicles dangling on a rubber band.

The joy of seeing my goats everyday is indescribable.  Shadow is an absolute love bug and is becoming more so as he gets older.  He just eats up affection and happily returns it.    Pippin, who usually gets chased off by Shadow, is warming to the idea and now gets what it's all about.  I try to separate them so I can love on each of them.  When I hug them and smell their coats, which at the moment are about 2" thick, their smells are very different.  I know which one is calling me just by their sound.  I know which one is in the barn by the sound of various things crashing down onto the floor.  And I know which one will get out of any gate, on top of anything climbable, and inside anything with an inside.  Shadow just wants to be a goat and browse and eat.  Pippin eats while pondering his thesis.

The biggest news of late is that Pinkie finally learned to play ball!  Really, this is big.  She just never got it before.  Bodie was born to chase balls.  Yesterday morning in the pasture, I focused on her with the ball and tossed it directly to her with the words "Get it!"  and while she was in front of me, I said "Bring me" and then praised her for pretty much going nowhere.  Then I tossed the ball just behind her, then a little further and a little further.  When she got it and brought it back I thought she was going to go pee-pee with excitement.  Come to think of it, she probably did, she does this.  Today we played again and she is completely into the game.  I love it!

Just to round out the ranch tales, we had 8 domestic ducks.  A band of raccoons came and one by one killed the ducks.  I worked with Wildlife Services and trapped four raccoons.  There was at least a fifth that I couldn't catch and that was the end of our ducks.  It was quite sad to find a dead duck by the pond each morning.  I try not to go too deep into the sadness of ranch life but look for what comes of it.  I now know how to trap a raccoon, what their tracks look like, how to spot their place in a tree, and what not to do with a raccoon once you trap it.

On a lighter note, the holidays were spent with good friends.  We had some delicious times together,  and we played many games of Mexican Train.  If you have not discovered this game yet, check it out.  Lots of fun for us gamers.  

And the weather has been delightful.  Days in the 50s and 60s in December and January?  Why not.  Of course, we really do need the precipitation so everyone can water their pastures and keep the price of hay down.  It's a real need.  I vote for a day of wet every week followed by more of this winter warmth. 

As I say each time I post a blog, I'm going to post more often.  It's on the short list.