A Glass of Prune Juice Please

Without consciously realizing it, a change of perspective is in order for today. 

When we have something of weight running around in our brain, we often lose sight of the information we can gather if we sat back and let the thought run its course but without haltering it.  Our fight or flight  mode kicks in and our greatest defense, being still, gets trampled.

As I was sitting at my table at the base of this cherished mountain view, I tipped my juice glass all the way up to get the last drops of my unsweetened prune juice.  Aha!  Just as the Ace of Swords card in the spot of my unconscious symbolized, Aha! 

Through the bottom of my glass I could still look out over my deck, above the trees and to the mountains, but with a completely different point of view.  The landscape may be the same, but how I view it, how I think about it, how I'll proceed is all a matter of perspective.

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.

The Duck Situation

The duck situation needs a little updating.

As you know, I picked up 2 eggs a few weeks back. After reading about federal law and that the Mallard doesn't sit on her eggs until she has laid her full clutch, it made sense to return the eggs to her nest. I checked on her nest every day as she added an additional egg. She was up to 6 eggs!

The next morning I went out to admire the arrival of number 7 and found that some critter had raided her nest and eaten the eggs! Just a mess of shells on the ground.

Calcium devastation: destruction of 6 precious eggs and the calcium she depletes herself of as she lays her clutch. Honestly, I'm not cut out for the occasional cruelty of nature.

She started another nest with one egg. I thought I was doing the right thing by trying protect the egg and I put a bucket over it at night. I ran out at 7am the next morning to remove it so she could add her next egg. She didn't.

I guess she wanted to lay before I got out there, so she has abandoned that nest. For a few days I searched for her new nest but couldn't find where she was laying. I thought maybe she had given up.

Then the other day, I was out looking around...surely there has to be another nest somewhere. There are at least 20 female Mallards and our 4 domestic females. Someone has to be laying!

I found two new nests in a thick of cut tree branches. As of this morning, one nest has 5 eggs and the other has 3. But here's the thing, 1 of those 3 looks white like a domestic duck egg. So, if this is the case, whose nest is it? Who will sit on the eggs? If it's the Mallard, will she accept the domestic duck?

Lesson learned: I must admire from afar. No touching. No protecting. But there is that 1 lone egg that still sits up by the pond in the once bucketed nest.

I think when her nest has at least 8 eggs, I'll add that loner. I do believe it's hers.

Oh, and we did get 1 white domestic egg sitting on the ground by the pond. Those we can eat.