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!