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.

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?

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.

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!







 

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?

Celestial Wardrobe

Tonight's moonless sky

 like a rhinestone-studded

soft

black satin dress

 adorned

with a blazing sash

of the spiral Milky Way

no beginning

and

no end.

Embrace Your Path

Something on Wednesday told me to confirm the 8pm Line Dance class I was hired to teach for a bachelorette party last night.  The first email from the owner said "Yes, see you then."  Then I received another email saying, "Let me call them to confirm."  Then the third email, "No."

It was a strange occurrence.  His "organizer" went "outside the box" and hired another gal to teach.  Apparently she didn't realize that the owner had already contracted me and that I, another instructor, even existed and was on his contact list.  He mentioned not wanting to "cause ripples."

It was strange indeed.  I thought about it throughout the day, because it was fewer than 24 hour notice and why wouldn't the owner's agreement supersede the organizer's?  Why, if he had contracted me almost two weeks ago, was that null and void?

It just bugged me.

So around 7:45pm last night when, had plans gone according to the schedule of the morning,  I would have been doing a final review of my dance choices and getting ready to start the lesson with the squealing, giggling, jumpy bachelorette and her gal pals, I said my prayer of thanks over the meal we were sitting down to eat instead.

I said to the universe, "Okay, so today's events were a little strange and I don't get it, it's not that obvious to me.  For some reason, I am meant to be here and not there.  I trust in my path lined with daisies, satin, soft rounded stones and filled with flowing water.  Thank you for looking out for me."

A few bites into our take and bake pizza and salad filled with gems from our garden and hard-boiled pearls from our hens, I heard the goats crying.  It was filled with panic, with urgency and it was so loud, it seemed to be right outside the window.  We jumped up from the table, jumped into the golf cart and raced over to the barn.

Shadow came out to the gate crying for help.  There was Pippin with his head stuck in the metal hay feeder, screaming for help.  And he was screaming.  It was the kind of scream that bypassed your ears and went straight to your gut.

Fortunately, he is just tall enough that he didn't strangle himself; however, he was on his tippy toes avoiding such an ill-fate.  I lifted him up and Larry maneuvered his head out from between the bars.

The bars on the feeder are wider on top and narrower to the bottom.  I am sure he was standing on his hind legs to get to the hay and slipped in and when he went down, he was then between the narrow bars.  When the feeder is full of hay, his feet rest against the pack of forage.  They had eaten almost all of the hay, so there was nothing to push him back.

We returned to the house and sat back down.  My appetite was interrupted.  I looked up at the clock and it was 8:12pm. 

I once again looked up, but toward the sky, closed my eyes, and once again thanked the universe for lighting my path.

Three Wise Men

Joy, Trauma Life, Three Wise Men, Release, Valor, Clarity, Inner Child, Higher Potential, these are all essential oil blends I have been dousing myself with since last Thursday.

Calming, Kava Stress Relief, Women's Energy, Breathe Easy, and these are teas I have been downing daily.

Nightly yoga, added meditations, a couple of phone rants and email vents, add those to the new ritual.

I went to have my hair trimmed on Thursday and she cut off 5". My hair, that I have been working hard to grow out to one length for almost 5 years, is now up to the back of my skull.

Surely the words, "I'm not ready for short hair." "Let's keep it all one length." "I don't want hair like hers or yours, I don't want it that short." "Just clean it up." would have been fine clues as to just how short I did not want my hair.

She had a notion of some wispy things in the back. I didn't understand her concept so reiterated, not short, one length.

Several minutes into the haircut, I caught a glimpse of what looked like a fairly long clip falling to the floor. I asked, "How much are you cutting off?!" It was too late. She had already cut quite a bit off in the back.

Oh, it was not pretty. When I asked her what on earth possessed her to do such a thing, she told me, "I was listening to your hair." She then proceeded to tell me how she did the same thing to her sister who yelled and swore at her but who called her three days later to say thank you. I assured her we would not be having the same experience.

I had to go back the following day to have something done with the silliness she left on the front. I guess after my shock of how short the back was, she decided to leave the front longer to "frame my face." There was something else in need of framing I'll tell you. Her mother intervened and she took over and did her best to make something useful of what I had.

It was truly traumatic. It kind of still is. I went in for the usual trim, the same thing she's been doing for the last two years and I left with a cut that not only did I not ask for but had I wanted short hair, this would not be it.

The worst part was that she just could not say "sorry" and zip it. She had to keep going on about how it was a misunderstanding because she told me about the wispy things. She just couldn't own up to her very grave error and that was terribly frustrating.

So, I'm doing my best in accepting my hair as it is. As I venture out people are noticing and commenting on my new look. It's hard to say in a cheerful tone, "Thanks!" I just don't feel it.

But here's the thing...my comb is wide toothed to untangle longer fine hair. My hair drying brush is big for you know, hair. I have big clips and scrunchies. I have hair towels.

I discovered that I don't need a fraction of the shampoo I used to use, not even. Hairdryer? It's practically dry when I leave the shower. A hair towel? I have nothing to flip over and wrap up!

Yes, you could look at those and say those are the positives and that it will grow. And you know, I usually look for that silver lining in everything. I'm just not there yet. Just not.

When in doubt or when making a big change, confirm confirm confirm!

Lucas Rides a Wild Mustang

"The wind of heaven is that which blows between a horse's ears."

~~Arabian Proverb

After several weeks of preparations and minor remodeling, our guest house is ready for visitors. Our inaugural stay was had by my sister Laurie and her family. It was very exciting to share the fruits of our hard work with them. We were honored they came to spend some of their summer vacation with us.

Lucas had been quite excited to get here and meet all the animals. And for anyone who knows Lucas, you may not be surprised to hear that the animals found him very interesting.

Besides discovering a new best friend in Bodie and being chased by Peep Peep the rogue rooster, Lucas was enamored with the horses. At first, he didn't quite comprehend their magnitude and power. He approached them and pet them as he would a dog or cat.

I was nervous and kept a watchful eye at all times. Oh my! How will Hy Note respond to being "pet?" I should have known. The horses didn't respond to his actions but to his intentions and they welcomed his attention.

Perhaps the highlight of Lucas' stay was the ride he took on Cowboy Tim's wild Mustang, Burns. Yes, Burns is broke and well-trained. But the fact remains that given the chance, she would bolt and never look back.

Cowboy Tim gave Lucas a lesson in mounting a horse and then the subsequent important lesson in staying on and then the basics of riding. Lucas, once he became focused, took those words in and put them into immediate practice. My favorite part was when he reached forward, instinctively, and pet Burns on the neck for a good girl moment.

He rode Burns. We all stood by and watched, and as any respectable backseat driver would do, coached him in his riding. He didn't need our coaching.

Lucas thought he had had enough. With our encouragement--again, he stayed on and he rode more and had a grand time! You can't imagine the pride that was floating all around that round pen.

When he dismounted, perfectly, after a little adjustment and listening closely to Cowboy Tim's instructions, he got back on and off just to be sure he could.

Yes, our Little Creek Ranch still needs quite a bit more TLC. What we aren't short on are pleasant dreams come true.

Shipboard Reading

Written with Barb in mind.

Here we are on our first full day at sea heading south to Acapulco. The previous two weeks on land have been rather hectic and quite planned out. So today, I took advantage of a slow morning, sipping my tea, listening to the ocean as it pushed back from the ship's hull and reading one of the books I brought: How to Think Like a Horse.

In a paragraph titled The Spirit of the Horse, the author writes, "Horses have a special sense that allows them to detect our moods....Without physical contact, they can read and pick up very subtle signs from a human."

I stopped reading, closed my eyes and relived an experience I had a few weeks back that attests to this. I was out in the dry lot playing with the horses and had Lola in a halter. We had just gone for a walk and we were returning to our beginning point where I would release her. All of a sudden, from the ranch next door, I, we, heard this alarming call from Blue that said nothing short of "Wait! I don't want to go!"

Without any warning tears just started rolling full stream down my cheeks and I had goose bumps the size of golf balls. I was so caught off guard by this overwhelming emotion it took me a minute to figure out what was going on. Blue was being taken to his new home, not far up the road, but away from us. He did not want to go.

It was simultaneous: as my tears rolled, Greco, Blue's soul mate , was running back and forth calling out to him, his other pasture mates were whinnying to call attention to the fact that someone was taking their friend, and several horses who were gathered around me were calling back to Blue as he disappeared down the road. It was a symphony of heart-wrenching separation anxiety pleas. Ugh. Honestly, it felt like my core was being pummeled.

Next I knew, Lola, who had been standing beside me with her perfect manners and patience, had moved in closer, leaning in to me just enough to let me know she was there. She let her head relax down and she didn't move as I effortlessly cried and loved on her. Her body frame softened, her skin became lithe so my hand could sink deeper inward toward her tender beating heart. This kind, giving gesture just made me weep more.

It was a "clean" cry. No sobbing, just cleansing tears washing over my dusty face as I stood amongst the most beautiful beasts I have come to admire and understand. I felt that pang that they were feeling when one of them, one of us, was leaving. And Lola felt my pang. For that moment in time, I was one of them.

The Gift of Neighbors

Of course we can all take care of ourselves--haven't we just convinced ourselves of that?

But neighbors. Let me tell you about our neighbors out in Tumalo. We love our neighbors. We have learned oodles of tricks and tips from them. We have shared celebrations and holidays and lazy weekend days with them.

Larry and I have come to appreciate and enjoy fully the beauty and necessity of knowing your neighbors. A farm setting definitely lends itself to looking out for your neighbor.

Today, a day of extreme conditions, we were enormously grateful for all of our neighbors who despite dealing with their own extremes took time out to look after us.

Our plan was to wake up to our alarm at 5am to leave for the airport by 6am. At 4:55am my cell phone rang and it was Barb calling to be sure we were awake as the power had gone off overnight. Just minutes later, Steve was at the door knocking, "Are you awake? There's no power!"

So there we were, awake in a mighty cold house in -11 degrees! That is not a hyphen. The faucet water felt warm when I washed my face. Felon, who I've been letting sleep in the mudroom, took an unauthorized tour of the front of the house only to return to the mudroom because it was about 10 degrees warmer in there--everything is relative.

Leaving for the airport on time was easy. No showers, no breakfast, no clean-up. We made our way along the roads and noticed that Richard and April, our neighbors across the way, did have power. What a sigh of relief. Last night we dropped off Pooker to be in their loving care while we are away.

Leighsa texted to check to see if we got our flight okay. Barb and Randall checked that the chickens were still alive and Barb defrosted their water and refilled it. April called to let us know that despite the power outage for some of us, Pooker was doing fine and in fact, she made the room warmer for the little one. We got picked up at the airport, a little later arrival than scheduled, by Larry's office manager and when we arrived at the house in LB, the housekeeper and maintenance engineer met us in the garage with hugs and helping arms.

So to all of our neighbors, city slickers and Tumaloans alike, thank you for caring.

Put a holiday light strand on that and you've got yourself a fine present!

Meet Alibi

Alibi. He is a special horse. An Arabian, CMK, and looks just like the horse you find in your coloring books or a cartoon or a Hasbro play horse. Really.

I was introduced to Alibi last January as a remarkable endurance race horse: one who wins all of his races. Intense 100 mile races, in all conditions, dangerous courses, rider on board, and he wins every time. Everyone at the races knows Alibi. Impressive.

To catch Alibi to get him ready for a race generally required 2 people to corner him and halter him using snacks, ropes, whatever it took. Alibi did not come to the halter and definitely not to the person holding it. "Uncatchable."

Well, Alibi has recently retired from racing due to an injury. He is back on our ranch after spending a couple of months with the neighbors in hopes of rehabilitating him. He came back with just as much intensity, power and determination. Always ready to GO!

For the past 3 months, I have been working with Alibi with the intention of re-languaging people, approach and touch, and in particular people with halters.

It started very slowly. Just standing beside him, not too close or he'd scoot away. The days progressed with touching while he ate to then touching his nose. Our encounters eventually evolved to him coming to me before I feed the horses. He approaches me. He initiates contact. I of course, reciprocate, lavishly so. Kisses and all.

Then we moved to my putting my arm over his neck, the start of putting on a halter. At first he pulled back a bit and then he settled in realizing there was nothing but a hug attached. So we did this for weeks: 15 seconds, 30 seconds, 45 seconds, even a minute of just holding him and him allowing me to do so.

I cannot put into words how significant this was. Not just because Alibi hasn't been known to do such things, except when in a halter, but that he came to me and allowed me to handle him in a very vulnerable way. I have gone to sleep at night with the biggest smile on my face, still smelling him on my cheek.

So, the day came when we both knew he was ready to put his head in the halter. A few weeks ago he actually put his nose in and out of the halter and I just let him play, without buckling it. But this day, it was different.

He came to me, and I had the halter in my hand, and he just looked at me with a definitive message that I was ready to receive. I said, "Alibi, I had a dream that you were in the halter. I think today is the day." There was acknowledgement in his eyes, he extended his neck toward me, twisted his head sideways as he does and breathed a relaxing sigh. I told him, "It's all okay. You will be safe." Alibi lowered his head, I put my arm over his neck, waited for him to slip his nose into the halter and I attached the buckle.

Wow. Tears in my eyes. An ear to ear smile on my face. And more of "good boy!" than one can say in a reasonable amount of time.

We walked around the dry lot where he calls home. Just a comfortable walk. We walked up to the high spot, looked down at the other horses who I just know where equally in awe, we enjoyed the view of the pastures, the blue sky, the mountains. We took it all in, together, trusting each other with our hearts.

We walked back to our departure point and I slowly unbuckled the halter and slipped it off his muzzle. I expected him to turn around and bolt--he didn't. Instead, he nuggled me, and then lowered his head again. Twice? Not only once in one day, but twice! This was such a blow me away moment that we had to call friends to tell them we'd be late to pick them up. There was no way I was passing up this date.

Since then, Alibi has come to me and played with the halter. We move in baby steps. And yesterday, I asked him if he was ready to do this again. And he was. This time we went up to the barn, had some grooming time, treats, and put a blanket on him. He hasn't been out of the dry lot since September. Imagine the excitement for both of us! And what a special time that was. Oh how we ga-ga'd over each other with praise and thanks and confident satisfaction.

One thing everyone who knows Alibi says is, "he's a trippy horse" or something else along those lines. "He's smart." "He anticipates your every move." "He knows what you're thinking before you even get to him." And I'll add, "He talks directly to you with his eyes, head and energy." He is no ordinary horse (as if there is one of those.)

I know what we started is just starting, but I am so excited about what has transpired. What happens tomorrow? Who knows. I know what happened this week.

My soul has been touched in an unfamiliar way. And I am giving thanks for that special gift that Alibi gave to me.

The Fine Art of Layering

A clear crisp 34 degree day in Central Oregon is sheer heaven. The snow covered Cascade range pops out like a 3-D image silhouetted by the most pure natural blue sky. The air is light, effortless. The winter sun at 3,500 feet is energizing and soothing at the same time.

Sure, it's 34 degrees. But it's a dry 34. There is no humidity, so no bone chilling effect of the east coast or the southern hemisphere or southern California for that matter. Dress appropriately and everything is just fine, my friends.

It's been years and years and years since I've layered my clothing much beyond a turtle neck under my polar or a tank top under a vee-neck sweater. While 34 degrees is refreshing, one must be smart in survival dressing.

My new favorite Paradox liner pants are worn under my Wrangler ranch jeans, a turtle neck under my cotton jacket under my down jacket, a darling ice blue soft thermal cap to top it all off. And sometimes with the sun, shedding a layer is more than necessary. With one layer, or all 3, I can stay outdoors for hours and be super comfortable.

Now, think back to layering as a child. If you think about it, it's really 3 layers of pants alone. Most of us are used to 2 layers: panties and trousers. So, after a while of drinking water and being outdoors, the call to pee does knock. Try breaking that age-old habit of just 2 layers. Not so easy! That third layer sure does come as a surprise when time is of the essence.

Thankfully, with winter just beginning in Central Oregon I believe I've got plenty of room to perfect the fine art of shedding layers. Now just to perfect my timing....

The Cows

For those of us who eat red meat, we may not give much thought as to how it arrives in that neat plastic wrapped package at the super. There is a comfortable distance between the beast and our table. At least it's been that way for me.

Remember those cows at the end of my driveway that I mentioned in a previous blog? They are gone.

So, one day I was pulling out of the driveway and noticed the cows were missing, the ranch gate was wide open and as I looked in my rearview mirror, this oversized, tall, narrow, white, almost unbalanced truck pulled out of the gate and was making it's way behind me. First of all, I caught a glimpse of the side of the truck as it was pulling out: 1-800-MEATsomethingorother. I gulped. Then as it was looming behind me, I could see its logo on the front of the massive white container: a steer's head!

As it turns out, my two cow friends were "collected" right there in the pasture. I have no idea what actually happens or how, but I know while it may be a truck for livestock, it is not for live stock.

I still grieve my cow friends as I pull out of the drive and see an empty pasture.

Today, Larry and I were heading to class and off in the distance, coming toward us, growing bigger and bigger by the second, was the daunting white truck with a steer head. I covered my eyes. Oh, that truck. Brrrrr.

Who Was Expecting That?!

Well, here it is October 4 and what a surprise we had this morning!

No one seemed prepared.

The horses and dogs have not grown in their winter coats, this is the first snow for the chickens and they have no idea what's going on, the quail are soaked and hiding under the eaves, the vegetables are hanging in there under the plastic tarps, the song birds went quiet while the snow fell, the trees still have so many leaves they are snapping off and falling where gravity takes them, the grass is bright green under the junipers where no snow has touched down, and I, I dug out my rubber boots, cap and rain jacket to head out to greet the morning.

It is a wet snow, not exactly one for snow angels.

The nice thing about Central Oregon is that it snows, it's a pleasing sight, and then it goes away. Especially if the temps return to the mid-60s as is predicted.

So, if having the irrigation canals turned dry for the season on Friday wasn't enough to convince us of a season change, I think this one did it!

The 2nd Cutting

We just watched our last neighbor cut, fluff, bale and stack the 2nd cutting of hay. This means something.

The irrigation companies turn on the water in late April. The ranches along the route wait as the water makes it way from the reservoirs down the irrigation ditches, filling irrigation ponds. When your neighbor up the ditch starts watering, you know your turn is next.

In preparation for the incoming supply of water, fields are often burned, turned, seeded, pipes are put out, equipment is emptied of the mice nests that built up over the winter, whatever is necessary to prepare.

Then for the next 2 - 2 1/2 months we monitor and adjust water flow, change the location of irrigation heads to be sure every blade is getting showered, we wait and watch as the hay grows under the sun of the long days here in Central Oregon. It grows by inches in a day. Each ranch shuts off the water when they are preparing to cut; this gives the hay time to dry. Then the first cutting comes, some time in late June/early July. The 1st cutting is a herald of summer--it's officially here. This is exciting! It's summer, it's hot, and everything is alive!

Once the hay is cut, baled and stacked, the watering begins again to grow the 2nd cutting. But then when the 2nd cutting comes, during the weeks of September, it means something else. The days are shorter, the hay of the 2nd cutting isn't as power-packed as the 1st, it doesn't grow as energetically as the 1st. And we all know it means fall is coming. There isn't a 3rd cutting.

The watering begins again, but this time just to keep the grass growing and green and give the horses pasture to eat before it goes dormant in the winter. The irrigation will be shut down at the beginning of October. No more "tick tick tick tick tick" of the water guns as they rotate around in a circle showering feet of green carpet. That is a summer sound.

Who would have thought that there was so much significance in cutting hay? It marks a definite season, for sure.