Double Barrel Ranch

Death of a Cactus

2011-05-28T21:37:00.004-07:00

Due to the march of time, natural forces, I am sad to report that the taller of my two Barrel Cactus pictured on the title page of my blog is gradually dying. It started as a small hole on the side. Then I began to smell the unmistakable odor of death. I thought it might be an unfortunate Jackrabbit or bird. But day after day it got stronger. Finally I noticed the cactus was weeping black sooty crud, with worms in it. Yuck. Today it is leaning precipitously, a wide black gash in its side with putrefaction proceeding rapidly. It is not a pretty sight.

I will keep my photo of the Double Barrels in their prime here, until I get a new picture of a couple others growing together. Barrels seem to like company.

I know one Barrel who will have to go on alone ...

Horses Best Part of Royal Wedding

2011-04-29T22:04:00.003-07:00

Somehow I woke up at 3:00 this morning and turned on the TV to see what I could of the Royal Wedding of Prince William and Kate. I never expected to see the best part!

The newly hitched couple proceeded down the red carpet and out of Westminster Abbey and into the ornate open carriage. Below is a postcard picture I have showing William's parents, Charles and Diana, in the same carriage in 1981.

Four grey horses pulled their carriage but there were dozens of shiny black horses being ridden by the Household Cavalry in procession too. They rode at a lively trot. Then my bleary eyes perceived a riderless horse flashing by. What?

Evidently the new Duchess of Cambridge was startled by the loose horse galloping by her and worried about this flaw in her perfect day, but the new Duke reassured her. She must not have any experience with horses. I even heard that Kate has an allergy to horses. What? A Royal without a horse?

This would be as outrageous as our President having an allergy to teleprompters. But come to think of it, that wouldn't be such a bad thing for us.

Oh, the unscathed horse made its way home to its stable without any assistance. The embarrassed rider was okay too but he will surely never live down this incident.

The sharp-eyed reporters covering the event were totally silent about the wayward horse incident. I began to doubt it was real, until this evening I watched a TV show recapping the major parts of the ridiculously expensive wedding day. Again I saw the riderless horse, and yet again the reporters remained mum.

To me, the horses are the best part! Well, I guess everyone has their priorities!

Deported?

2011-03-23T21:13:00.002-07:00

(I don't often make political statements in my blog. But I do live in Arizona. And recently this state has become central in the illegal immigration debate. A current event sparked my post today.)

Immigration in the US and other countries is a thorny issue. Recently a touching story made headlines when a 4 year old girl was sent to Guatemala where she has relatives, despite “Emily” being a US citizen. Her parents, who live in Brentwood on Long Island, are not legal immigrants. She and her grandfather were intercepted by authorities in a Washington DC airport on their way back home to NY after a vacation trip to Guatemala. The grandfather’s immigration papers had an irregularity and he was detained.

According to the NY Daily News: “Emily could be held at a juvenile facility in Virginia or return to Guatemala with her grandfather. Worried she would be put up for adoption, (the father) chose the latter option and has been trying to get her back ever since. A Customs and Border Protection spokesman confirmed Emily was sent back but would not comment on her case further.
He said agents are instructed to tell parents in similar cases they can pick up their child, have the child turned over to child protective services, or have the kid sent back to the country they left. "We take every effort to reunite minors with their parents," said Steve Sapp. "The parents need to make the decision." But he conceded undocumented parents like Emily's risk being detained if they show up. "They do have to face consequences," he said.”

The media has been playing this up with big headlines saying that the child was deported. But you can’t be deported from your own country. It seems obvious that the parents and the grandfather took the responsibility of sending this child to Guatemala. It is perfectly legal for anyone in America to send their child to live outside the US. It happens every day. Usually a parent is with them though.

The two choices here seem to be: find a legal guardian in the US for the child, or one or both parents should move back to Guatemala. One response I received about her legal guardians is that she has two parents who are her legal guardians. Yes, they are. In Guatemala. But they do not have legal permission to live in the US.

An analogy would be to imagine a university in Rock Lick, West Virginia. One day a couple people come and sit in a professor’s class. They listen and take notes. But their names are not on the class roster. At the end of the semester they demand to receive a grade and credit for the class. After all, they had done the work, didn’t they? So the professor explains that they did not apply to be admitted to the university, did not pass the admissions test, did not pay tuition and fees, so they would not be getting credit. The two students protest. It was not fair. Maybe the professor was prejudiced because he was a West Virginian and they were from Pennsylvania. -Huh?

I realize immigration is more complicated than my classroom crasher example. It is full of unequal economic opportunity factors, family tie issues, language barriers, and history. Not to mention the citizen minor child of non-legal entrant parents, or children who have been residents of the US since they were a babe in arms and know no other culture or country. The answer is not going to satisfy all Americans or all immigrants, legal or otherwise. But the answer should not be blanket forgiveness for every person who has broken US law.

I am not an expert at these tangled knots. I am only a citizen who sees increasing lawlessness and inequitable costs infuriating my fellow Arizonans at the same time it unfairly stains the character of Latinos and others.

People who are living in the US without legal documents ought not be demanding. Like those two students who did not follow the rules, they cannot expect credit for their work, no matter how much they insist. If you lay a poor foundation, you only have yourself to blame when your building washes away or your child is sent to Guatemala.

Chiricahua National Monument

2011-02-15T22:26:00.005-07:00

The Apache Indian people called the area of Chiricahua National Monument the Land of the Standing Up Rocks. The experts say these pinnacles, spires, and balanced rocks had their origin as volcanic ash spewed from the Turkey Creek Volcano 27 million years ago. The melted ash formed a gray rock called Ryolite. Eventually ice, wind and water have sculpted the formations we see today. Whatever the science is, it is a delight to visit as we three did on January 27. Unfortunately dogs were not allowed on the trails we walked, but Keesha behaved admirably as a guardian at our truck camper.

The dead end road into the Monument begins at the grassland elevation of 5124 feet or 1562 meters. About 2 miles or 3 km beyond the entrance is the Visitor Center where a short film is shown, displays are exhibited and books and t-shirts are sold. This was the Oak-Juniper tree elevation.

We drove up Bonita Canyon and observed the amazing formations which practically grew straight up from the road. The elevation continued to increase until we stopped at Echo Canyon to go on a short hike. A cold wind blew in this exposed spot at 6780 feet or 2066 m, but we bundled up and strolled down the trail to snap photos and eventually reach the Echo Canyon Grotto. The grotto is a large site, a natural jumble of huge Ryolite boulders forming a playful spot for people. We had the place to ourselves on this raw winter weekday. The wind howled through there, a natural air-conditioning which was not needed
on a day that had us navigating on packed snow on shady parts of the trail. But it was still a delightful place.

Snow on a section of the Echo canyon trail:

After lunch in the camper and hot coffee to warm up, we continued to the end of the road at Massai Point. Not named after an African tribe - those are the Maasai- Massai was an Apache Scout who worked for the US Cavalry in the days of the Indian Wars.

A short but scenic and educational nature trail at this highest elevation point (6870 ft, 2094 m) explains more details about this wild land. The vast majority of the Monument since 1976 is designated as Wilderness Area, which is protected by federal law for non-motorized recreation such as backpacking and horseback riding. The law prohibits logging, roads, and mechanized vehicles including bicycles.

The only place to spend the night in the Monument is in the Bonita Canyon campground. So hikers on the Heart of the Rocks trail, which is 9.5 miles or 15.4 km long, are expected to be out by the end of the day, but it is really the best and most scenic trip among the rocks. I’d love to do it someday.

We backtracked down to the Visitors Center where I bought a bunch of postcards for my postcard swapping hobby.

Then our last stop in the Park before heading home was the 1888 homestead of the Swedish immigrant Erickson family. It was a working cattle ranch, then a Guest Ranch. It is named The Faraway Ranch:

Finally it was sold per the family’s wishes to the National Park Service in 1979. The home itself has many original antique furnishings and the tour by a helpful volunteer gave us a real taste of what such a frontier life must have been like.

Sadly we packed up and headed for home, a mere 75 miles or 120 km distant, believing we’d arrive before nightfall. Unfortunately an old front right tire decided to come apart and we had to pull over and change it. Things were progressing as well as could be expected until we had to hoist the tire onto the lugs. Fortunately a young man stopped right at the crucial time and he helped us finish the dirty job. At least it was still light out. But the road, Arizona 186, was practically deserted. In the 30 to 45 minutes we were there, only 4 vehicles passed by us. That’s life in the boonies! Yet we still had help. Contrast that to a more populated area where 100 vehicles might go by and nobody stops to aid a motorist.

So we hit the road again, hoping that was the only and the last hiccup. As we drove through the tiny, mostly abandoned town of Dos Cabezas, a herd of mule deer doe crossed the road. Four passed in front of us, and four waited for their turn to cross after we passed. Dos Cabezas isn’t a ghost town - it has resident deer!

We got home later than expected, but in one piece and with a lot of fond memories.

Me in The Grotto:

Trip to Pinery Canyon

2011-02-10T22:34:00.004-07:00

On sunny but cool January 26th, my husband, our dog Keesha, and I drove south for a couple days of recreation in the Chiricahua Mountains. We traveled Interstate 10 east for 27 miles (43 km) and exited at San Simon. This small farm community of less than 1000 is the last population center before reaching the New Mexico state line. Then we headed south on the Paradise Road, which crosses fairly barren terrain held by the state and the federal BLM (Bureau of Land Management.) It is scrubland with some Mesquite trees.

Eventually the land rises in elevation. Evidences remote residences are seen: mailboxes. About 24 miles (38 km) from San Simon, Paradise is reached. The most remarkable thing about this lovely village was the two doe deer we saw laying in a side yard. In plain view. Just resting in the speckled shade. Maybe they thought we couldn’t see them?

A deer in Paradise -

Beyond Paradise, we drove up higher and higher into the forested mountains. The road turned snow covered in the shaded northern exposures. We passed a large road grader machine plowing snow. After we crossed the Onion Saddle at 7600 feet (2300 meters) above sea level, the road headed downhill in Pinery Canyon.
Pinery Canyon Road:

From the truck I glimpsed a Coues Whitetail buck deer with a trophy rack of antlers. He was still carrying this obvious symbol of his sex even though the mating season has passed.

When we got down to 5740 ft (1750 meters) there were several primitive campsites on each side of the road, so we picked a scenic spot under Oak and Juniper trees to spend the night. After setting up, we went for a hike uphill to enjoy the warm sunshine. See photo.

Later I got out my handgun and shot a few rounds to practice. Then we gathered firewood and I cooked supper, a venison stew over rice.

The campfire was delightful, both for its warmth and the unmistakable sweet scent of Juniper wood. We sat in the night and enjoyed the dancing flames. Keesha charmingly dragged sticks of firewood aside to make a pile of “her” sticks. The stars showed ferociously intense. We were so very far from any artificial light. It was beautiful.

Went to sleep in the camper to the sound of absolutely nothing. Incredible quiet. Even the heater made no noise.

That little fan-less heater kept the camper quite warm. Morning temperature was 25°F (-4°C) when I took the dog for a walk at dawn. Not one vehicle had passed our campsite for nearly 16 hours. Did the world end and nobody told us? Soon we packed up and headed down the road for the Chiricahua National Monument. That is the subject of my next post.

It's a Prop

2011-02-08T15:33:00.004-07:00

There are probably a hundred more important subjects to write about today, but I am compelled to share these thoughts.

I am an unabashed believer in representative democracy. It is not perfect. No system run by mere men will ever be without blemish. There are aspects to other forms of government that are attractive. Perhaps they work well in other countries. But the US is a unique culture. Socialism has admirers but I can’t see it being viable in the land of Washington and Jefferson and Lincoln.

On a vastly different note, there is an erectile dysfunction drug called Cialis. In case you had not noticed, the word “cialis” is buried within the word “socialism.”

Thanks to a man named Chip I now have this thought -

“Cialis and Socialism: both propping up a good time by artificial means.”

I warned you this posting was not going to be very important!

Bowhunting Success

2011-01-14T19:12:00.003-07:00

Despite nearly taking a bullet to his head courtesy of a December rifle hunter (see previous post: Close Call Coues Caper), the husband unit returned to Mt Graham to archery hunt in 2011. 99% of the time, he does not see another hunter in the woods.
Now in January he had a glimpse of a Coues deer with a large antler rack. Quite thrilling to see and an accomplishment to harvest. But as the saying goes: “you can’t eat antlers.”
So when a spike buck came walking straight at him last Friday, while he was eating lunch, there was no hesitation. He put his plate in his lap, lifted his bow, and when the deer turned to present a perfect broadside view, he killed it with one arrow at 32 yards (29 meters.) Needless to say, he has never killed a deer with a plate of food in his lap. Very bizarre.
He phoned me and I zipped up to his location in about 15 minutes. We spoke words of thanksgiving for the food the deer will provide us. I helped with the field dressing. Then I took pictures. This young animal was living at about the 6000 foot (1828 meter) elevation in the oak-juniper woodland. His fatal mistake was thinking the hunting season was finished, as well as recklessly strolling near highway 366 late on a sunny morning within range of old dead-eye!

That night I prepared the heart for dinner as the organ meats are the fastest to spoil. And I love venison heart. It was excellent.
Over the following days I wrapped and froze the rest of the animal. And every night since we ate more venison, until tonight. I finally wearied of it and grilled chicken instead.
Archery hunter success rates in Unit 31 are in the single digit percentile. My husband hasn’t taken a buck here since 2005. Mt Graham is extraordinarily rough hunting. Everything is either straight up or straight down. The air is thin. He was hunting in a “low” elevation at 6000 feet (1828 m) and under. But if a person is willing to test their mettle, Mt Graham will reward. Maybe not with meat every year, but with beauty and freedom.

Dried Out Days

2011-01-01T19:56:00.004-07:00

What has been happening at the Double Barrel Ranch for the last couple months? Darned if I know.

Actually, the weather grew cooler, days grew shorter. Horses grew their hair longer. African Aloe and Cassia bushes began to bloom about 10 weeks too early. (Due to unseasonable warmth.) Palo Verde trees got pruned because visitors had to duck to reach the front door. Even now visitors over 6 feet (1.82 meters) must watch their scalps. I like the “bower” or arboreal shelter effect.

A pack rat nest located along the driveway was dismantled and burned. The residents having been foreclosed on, or moved away for greener pastures. The summer overgrowth of vegetation totally dried out and since no rain fell for 11 weeks, it stood in brown skeletons, shin high. See photo above.

An impressive new 4 line clothesline was built beyond the pool fence. It is a longer walk to hang the laundry; however, the wood-burning stove smoke won’t be able to “scent” the clothes.

The vegetable garden was inoculated with manure. Wonder where that came from?

Deer hunting, as well as the Black Bear pursuit came up empty. It looks like the spare freezer will be empty soon and can be decommissioned. Although the husband unit has returned to the mountain for the January archery deer hunt, so there is still hope for fresh venison. The Double Barrel Ranch prefers wild game due to the purity and leanness of the meat.

And so a new year begins. And with a very fun numerical date: 1-1-11.

Close Call Coues Caper

2010-12-31T20:00:00.002-07:00

In late December there is a simultaneous archery and rifle Coues Deer buck hunt in Unit 31 in Arizona. This area is commonly known as Mt Graham, my neighboring mountain range. (Photo above is an example of a Coues buck deer.) Yesterday my husband unit had a close call.

After many days of angling around to get a good clean killing shot with an arrow, my bow hunting spouse finally crept within 50 yards (45 meters) of the small but beautiful buck. He vaguely heard a pick-up truck slow and stop behind him. Suddenly a bullet whizzed by his head, and he saw his buck fall. The shooter, who could clearly see my hunter and his prey, very recklessly, illegally and ungentlemanly had fired from the road. My husband unit was terribly shook up but the unsporting and rude young man basically said: “Tough Luck!” He picked up the deer, tossed it in his truck and sped away without even tagging it. (Attaching the permit to the dead animal to prove a legal taking.) Due to disability (my man often bow hunts with one crutch), he was not able to make his way down the snow covered slope to the road to record the rude offenders vehicle license number.

To add insult to injury, the Sheriff arrived a short time later to inform him that the mountain was being evacuated due to the snow storm. Swift Trail, US 366, is a steep, narrow road of extreme twists and turns. The 6 or 8 inches (15 to 20 cm) of snow at this elevation was becoming dangerous, not to mention what might have been accumulating 2000 to 3000 feet (600 to 900 meters) above.

So his December hunt was over.

The boorish road hunter who could have easily put his bullet into my husband unit was undoubtedly boasting about his great stalking skill to his goon friends. We hope he chokes on the venison

Nostagic Foal Photo

2010-10-29T14:28:00.002-07:00

Double Barrel Storm
Purebred Arabian filly born 1991.
(The only foal I have raised.)
She's an elegant girl.
She's my Stormy!

Rabbit Brush

2010-10-22T15:20:00.002-07:00

Rabbit Brush in bloom.
In black soil of the San Francisco volcanic field.
Taken at entrance to Wupatki National Monument,
28 September 2010.
Rabbit Brush is an important food for rabbits, deer, and antelope.
One can extract yellow dye from the flowers and green dye from the inner bark.
Also known as Chamisa. Very common throughout Arizona.

Walnut Canyon National Monument, Arizona

2010-10-22T15:06:00.002-07:00

Cliff dwelling.
A south-facing shelter built into a shallow cave, dating between 1125-1250 AD.
Limestone rocks were roughly shaped and mortared with clay to form walls.
This photo shows a doorway and above it a smoke hole.
Reflecting sunlight causes the blue to orange colors.
29 September 2010.

Big Horn Sheep

2010-10-22T14:25:00.002-07:00

Here is a well-fed specimen of our local eastern Arizona wild mountain sheep.
I'm uncertain if it is a ram or ewe because both sexes grow horns.
Taken 30 September 2010, near Morenci, Arizona.

Morning at the Grand Canyon

2010-10-22T14:17:00.002-07:00

28 September 2010 on the South Rim of the Grand Canyon.
This is The Canyon by which all other canyons on earth are judged.
UNESCO World Heritage Site.

My Birthday Camping Trip, 2010

2010-10-09T14:59:00.005-07:00

Trip to Northern & Central Arizona, 26 - 30 September 2010

On Sunday afternoon, 26 September 2010, I left in my SUV and headed to the mountains. About an hour from home I realized my cell phone battery was low. I attempted to charge it and the charging cord fell apart. I made a brief call to my husband to tell him I would not be able to call him very often during my trip. He was originally going to go with me but his health forced him to remain at home.

I decided after 5 hours to stop for the night at Clint’s Well and slept under the stars among Ponderosa Pines in a Coconino National Forest campground. All night I heard elk bugle, or call. It is the rut, or mating season for the Wapiti, large relatives of deer. Large male specimens can reach 500 kg or 1100 pounds, and 1.5 m or 6 feet at the shoulder.

I got up before dawn and as I ate breakfast I watched the temperature drop from +1° to -1°C or 33°F to 31°F. Hmmm! Elevation 2133 meters or 7000 feet above sea level.

Soon I was on the road to the Grand Canyon and in 2 hours arrived there and set up my tent in site 226 in Mather Campground. Junipers, oaks and Pinyon pine surrounded me. Noisy ravens flew overhead and a pretty blue jay flitted by. Daytime temperatures during the trip averaged 33° or 91°F.

I toured the Rim at various look-out points. I bought postcards. I attended a talk on the colorful Art of the National Parks. I took over 100 photos. Elevation along the rim averages 2210 to 2280 meters, 7160 to 7460 feet. The Colorado River at Phantom Ranch (the goal of hikers down into the canyon) is at 777 meters 2550 feet which is 1400 meters, 4600 feet below the south rim starting point. Access to Phantom Ranch is by foot or mule or rafting in from up-river. There is a long wait for reservations for the rustic experience. Hiking down and up is for only the very fit and well-prepared. The Park Service is mightily tired of removing human remains from the Canyon of overly optimistic and ignorant hikers. Warnings are everywhere and permits are required for back-country hiking. (So they know who your next-of-kin are.) The Grand Canyon is in a very arid and unforgiving climate. I used up my small 500 mL bottle of water on a 3 hour shuttle tour (that was twice as long as expected) and even though I was only briefly walking around at viewpoints and riding a bus, I got powerfully thirsty.

I cooked a light supper at my campsite and as I reached for a water bottle, a bee stung my thumb. It swelled, but thank goodness I am not allergic. The presence of annoying bees made me decide to spend only a single night at the campground. I was much safer in remote areas!

Campers next to me invited me over to their campfire for the evening. Dimitry and his girlfriend were from Toronto but were Russian (or Ukrainian - I’m unsure) immigrants. We discussed the differences in camping in the US, Canada and the Ukraine. They shared food and a bedtime cup of tea. Nice folks!

Next morning found me at the Rim taking sunrise photos. I left the Park driving east and then south again. I visited the Wupatki Ruins which were inhabited by Pueblo people for a few generations after the year 1100 AD. It is at 2030 m or 5500 feet above sea level in arid grassland but in those olden days it was better watered.

29 km or 18 miles south I drove past the elegant Sunset Crater, a volcano that erupted around 1080 AD. The name comes from the reddish cinders left at the cone. A grotesque lava flow field parallels the road for awhile, looking like it just froze in chaos last week. Pine trees and wildflowers sprout in the fertile volcanic soil. It is at 2450 m or 8240 feet above sea level.

I continued on toward another National Park but got there near closing. So I back-tracked to camp out in the Coconino National Forest again. I chose a level site off a 4 wheel drive “path.” Built a fire, ate supper, read a book and fell asleep under the stars again. A good night’s rest at 2040 m or 6690 ft above sea level.

At 8 AM I was again at the gate of Walnut Canyon National Monument to tour the cliff dwellings there. People lived there about 150 years starting about 1100 AD. Very steep, narrow canyon but safe, dry homes.

From there I headed toward home again. I stopped in Payson and Show Low, AZ shopping for a new wood-burning stove. The basic stove costs twice what we paid in 1988 for our current stove. This did not please me.

My slow progress found me still 4 hours from home near nightfall, so I found a pay phone and called my husband to let him know I would spend another night out camping. I traveled far out Augur Canyon Road, west of Nutrioso in the Apache National Forest. I had driven past 3325 meter, 10912 ft high Escudilla Mountain (means “bowl” in Spanish) which already had fall leaves turned yellow on its slopes. I camped at 2590 m or 8500 feet elevation in a mature spruce-pine forest on a dead end trail/road. After supper I sat to read my murder mystery by my campfire and began to feel a little spooked. After all, the fictional serial killer murdered his victims in rural Arizona! Not the smartest novel to be reading alone in rural Arizona! (Rattlesnake Crossing, by J.A. Jance) Next time I’ll bring lighter reading.

At 7:00 next morning as I drank my coffee I heard a diesel engine growing steadily louder. To my utter surprise, since I was tucked away in such a “remote” spot, a bulldozer arrived! A National Forest employee was building a new road to connect to another minor forest road below us. I guess to allow easier access in case of wildfire. So he passed above me and began to knock down trees while I broke camp. How bizarre! I thought I was so remote.

I resumed my leisurely travel through magnificent forest scenery. I stopped to wash in the pristine and icy cold East Fork of the Black River. I went for a short hike (photo above) among the aspens and spruce at the nosebleed elevation of 2773 m or 9100 ft near Hannagan’s Meadow.

After slowly driving 4 hours down the famed twisting Coronado Trail, I arrived home at 3 PM after a 1490 km or 926 mile trip. Spending only about $100 on gasoline and one campsite fee (the other 3 nights under the stars were free.) I did get my husband a Grand Canyon souvenir coffee cup and I did buy a pile of postcards. How could I resist?

I saw elk (3 cows, 2 calves and one magnificent bull with a huge antler rack), 2 deer (one doe and one buck with a great set of polished antlers), and a flock of Rocky Mountain Bighorn Sheep (several young rams and ewes and a couple half-grown lambs.)

Overnight lows rose from -1°, to +7°, 8°, and finally 9°C. Or 31°, 45°. 45° to 46° Fahrenheit. I was never cold. In fact record daytime high temperatures were set during my entire trip.

It was a quick but nice little adventure. Happy Birthday to me.

from: Deutschland Ein Wintermärchen

2010-09-10T12:16:00.003-07:00

Ich bin kein Schaf, ich bin kein Hund,
Kein Hofrat und kein Schellfisch --
Ich bin ein Wolf geblieben, mein Herz
Und meine Zähne sind wölfisch.

I do love poetry. Even in other languages. This fragment is courtesy of Heinrich Heine, from 1844.

I am 50% German heritage and 50% Polish (Only know bits of each language, unfortunately.)

My Mother, Child Criminal

2010-08-03T20:24:00.002-07:00

Zealous Americans who hoped to see a more sober nation passed the 18th Amendment to the US Constitution. Popularly known as “Prohibition,” it banned the sale or manufacture of alcohol in the United States beginning in 1920. It was repealed in 1933 after it became obvious that it did more harm than good.

Sometimes I ponder events in recent decades relating to the sale, and use of Marijuana. I see many similarities. But that is whole other subject.

The word bootleg refers to the part of the boot above the instep. Presumably this was a handy place to carry illicit alcohol in days gone by. From this we get the colorful American slang term: bootlegger, one who smuggles that booze. (Today the term is also applied to bootleg music recordings, video, etc.)

From my family stories it seems that alcohol was easily obtainable if you knew the right people. And apparently most people who wanted to know, knew the right people. Spirits, wine, and beer were flooding across the border from Canada and Mexico without any customs tariff or duty being paid. Law enforcement had to be vigorous to try to stem this tide of imports.

My (long-deceased) family members lived on a major route coming into the US from Canada. For some reason (!) they were carrying a case of bootleg booze in their car. My dear sweet mother, at that time a small child, was told not to tell about the box she was sitting on in the back of the old Ford Model-T. If interrogated she was to tell the police that “I’m just playing with my doll.” Oh my! Innocence lost! She became a de facto criminal! Those were the days.
　
　

Mt Graham Red Squirrel

2010-07-31T17:22:00.004-07:00

The Arizona-Idaho Conservation Act of 1988 was signed by President Ronald Reagan. Forgive him: he knew not what he did.

Actually the law had many facets but the one that impacted me the most was Title VI that authorized the construction of telescopes on Mt Graham and created the Mt Graham Red Squirrel refuge. You say you have never heard of the Mt Graham Red Squirrel? Well, that seems to be the crux of the problem for many longtime residents who don't believe the rascally resident of the highest reaches of this southeastern Arizona mountain are any different from any other other red squirrel in the Rocky Mountain West of the US.

Regardless, we have acres and acres of the loveliest high elevation terrain totally off-limits to human use, any use, even walking, due to the need to preserve the estimated 200 or so Tamiasciurus. They are listed as an Endangered Species, which is a legal term, not just descriptive.

So now the years pass. The relentless drought takes its toll on the forests of the West, and a trio of bugdom: the Spruce Aphid, Spruce Beetle and Western Balsam Bark Beetle, do their worst. Trees are dying by the acre. The prime foodstuff of the Mt Graham Red Squirrel is in rapid decline.

I am as much an animal lover as the next person. I prefer to see abundant numbers of animals and species in places I visit. If the Mt Graham Red Squirrel goes extinct, it will be a loss. But at what cost has it been to try to delay the inevitable?

Millions of dollars.

For a fraction of that, wouldn't it be reasonable to re-stock the mountain with other red squirrels someday? I guess I am not a biologist who understands these things. I am just a lover of the thin air, the mountain cienegas, the peak of 10,720 foot Mt Graham that I cannot visit ... so that a dubious red squirrel species can survive another year or two.

Faces of the Wild Horse and Burro Issue

2010-06-06T15:49:00.006-07:00

On May 14, 2010 I went to see the (formerly wild or feral) animals brought here to be auctioned by the Bureau Of Land Management. This is a group of Jacks, or male burros. This was a group of Jennies, or female burros.

This was a lovely yearling buckskin filly. All the mustangs were very skiddish though. Not to be handled by the harsh hand, nor slow of foot.
The horses were all rounded up from Federal Lands in California and Nevada and all the burros were from northwestern Arizona.
I am a fool about equines but I managed to control my impulses so I did not adopt a wild horse or burro. Not because of a harsh hand, but slow feet.

My Ideas About LOST

2010-05-16T15:23:00.002-07:00

On May 23, 2010 on US TV, the final episode of LOST airs.

Starting in September 2004, I have been more or less following the survivors of Oceanic Flight 815 after they crashed on this mysterious island (it is filmed in Hawai’i: fabulous scenery.) For casual viewers, the show could have been an impossible tangle but to fans it has been a fascinating journey.

Part philosophy and part entertainment, this most expensive prime time drama has followed Jack and Kate, Locke and Sawyer, Hurley and Ben and a host of others through one amazing situation after another. A hydrogen bomb? Disappearing island? A man who never ages? The smoke monster? And all along the fans keep guessing what could that mean? What will happen next?

Many TV show finales have been disappointments. I was not happy with the end of the long-running medical drama “ER”. I hope with the big budget and the talented creators, that LOST will live up to the hype, deliver a great end and a few resolutions.

My guess is that we will see the characters realize that they can change themselves, become better people. The plane crash was a baptism by fire, the last 6 years a period of judgment, and the final episode should end with a water baptism when all things will be new again. After all, once you have survived a polar bear attack on a tropical island, one should see that life is full of possibilities.

8 Most Influential People in the World

2010-05-03T21:20:00.002-07:00

Time magazine has published a list of the 100 Most Influential People in the World. I would like to tell you about my Top 8 People.

They are divided into 4 categories: Leaders, Thinkers, Artists and Heroes. So here goes my list off the top of my head (this is not rocket science here…)

Leaders:
Sarah Palin. She has come out of nowhere (Alaska is not exactly mainstream America) to remind us of our more traditional values. Yet she is a strong woman who has a family, and works outside the home. This 46 year author and speaker is wildly popular and newsworthy despite having no political office or even a TV show!
Hillary Clinton. As Secretary of State, Mrs. Clinton is the face of America to other countries. Although I do not always agree with her, I think her power certainly puts this 62 year old woman at the top.

Thinkers:
Mark Zuckerberg. As founder of Facebook where nearly 400 million people bare their lives on often a daily basis, I think he thought up a great idea. This 26 year old has more hate mail when he tweaks his site than any man on the planet.
Jonas Salk and other medical researchers. In 1952 he found a vaccine for Polio. Before Salk parents worried about their child suffering many levels of paralysis or ending up in an Iron Lung. President Franklin Delano Roosevelt suffered from this disease and who knows how it affected his judgment in those critical years of the 1930’s and 1940’s. Today many safe vaccines and other life saving methods extend the life of our loved ones, giving us the gift of time.

Artists:
James Cameron. This 55 year old film producer is the genius behind Avatar. Need I say more?
Steve Jobs. You may love Apple products or find their closed corporate culture distasteful, but you cannot deny the impact this 54 year old man has had around the world. I want an iPad!

Heroes:
Robin Hood. Who could be more of a folk hero than one who robs from the rich and gives to the poor? Unless you are extraordinarily wealthy and never donate to the needy. Besides, my heart throb Russell Crowe is starring in the up-coming movie as Robin Hood. Do any women object?
Annie Oakley. She was an American sharpshooter who lived from 1860 to 1926. Her feats are unmatched even with today’s fine rifles. She helped her family pay their home mortgage while she was still a teen, by shooting game which was then sold. She advocated for women’s rights. Who was going to argue with an accurate rifle-toting lady? Her example has inspired many women to see themselves as equals to men when society was less enlightened. All the wealth she accumulated in her lifetime was given away to the less fortunate. A true hero.

So that is my quick list. Nothing earth shattering. Just doodling here.

Three Spring Garden Flowers

2010-04-24T14:27:00.006-07:00

These three flowering plants are all hardy, desert dwellers. It would be nice to have roses and tulips and begonias, but these are more practical on the Double Barrel Ranch.

There are many varieties and shades of color in the Verbena family, wild and domesticated. Last fall I bought this plant on a close-out special and it has delighted me with these vibrant deep purple blossoms.

African Aloe have interesting coral colored trumpet flowers that hummingbirds enjoy. But the plants spread fast and their rosettes of leaves intertwine to form mats that are rather unattractive.

Goldeneye is a wildflower I planted in my garden a few years ago. It has formed into a small bush. Every Spring it delights me with it's sunny disposition.

Mail Art

2010-03-27T16:59:00.003-07:00

I have been decorating envelopes on my personal out-going mail for awhile now. So imagine my surprise to find out that this activity has a name: mail art. I'm not very gifted but it is fun. So I will subscribe to the statement that if I say it is art, then it is art. Above is an envelope I did for my brother who is returning from vacation. There is a group on the Web for aficionados. I believe it is called IUOMA, International Union Of Mail Artists. They are all MUCH better artists than me.

Wishes Do Come True

2010-03-14T22:26:00.002-07:00

I heard that the actor Peter Graves died today. Although he was famous for his role in the comedy movie “Airplane!” and for the TV show “Mission: Impossible,” I remember him first from a Saturday morning kids TV show called “Fury.”

Fury was a black stallion owned by a widower (played by Graves). But the horse’s main companion was a boy named Joey. As I sat in my Eastern US city, how I wished I was living on a ranch with a black stallion like Joey!

Other Saturday shows I enjoyed, from which you may be able to guess my age, were: Lassie, Rin Tin Tin, Sky King, Roy Rogers, Cisco Kid, The Lone Ranger, and My Friend Flicka. All had something to do with life in the Western US, dogs or horses or all three.

Is it so remarkable that I live in the Western US, have a Rin Tin Tin dog and 2 horses?

Memories

2010-03-07T17:22:00.008-07:00

As a late winter storm approaches, I sit safely indoors and reminisce about horses who've gone before me.

Above is my first horse, Hobie, a buckskin Quarter Horse gelding. (1974 - 1989.)

Here in the snow of northern Pensylvania is Echo, a grey 3/4 Arabian mare. (1972 - 1987)

And finally is Padron's Sasha. An Arabian mare of the finest pure blood. Sasha left me too soon. (1987 - 2008.)

To all these, and Mike (Maika) of whom I have written before, I salute you, my big-hearted friends. Your loyalty will never be forgotten.

Ephemeral Lake

2010-01-30T21:35:00.002-07:00

Yesterday was just another trip to Tucson, a city about 2 hours distant from the Double Barrel Ranch. Nearly an hour into my drive I pass a roadside attraction called The Thing? Several billboards entice you to stop for gas or gifts. And to find out about the “Mystery of the Desert.” I’ve often stopped there to stretch my legs and enjoy the view of several mountain ranges from this prominent point.

Just beyond is Texas Canyon, not really a canyon but a mountain pass. In the Old West days the Butterfield Overland Stage Coach route passed through here among giant granite boulders. A State of Arizona run Rest Area is located here and many tourists stop to photograph the unusual, large rocks laced with evergreen oaks. At least the Rest Area is still open, unlike many others that have closed due to budget cuts in these days of fiscal amputation.

After my day in the city I headed home at dusk and as I drove across the Sonoran Desert I saw the full moon emerge from clouds to make my path much brighter. Over the Texas Canyon pass, passed the Thing? and then downhill. After a few turns in the road I could look out at the normally bone-dry 60 square mile Willcox Playa. Instead it was shining like quicksilver in the moonlight. Recent heavy rains had filled it! People who live near the sea or lakes are probably shrugging their shoulders and thinking, so what? But I live in a desert. The chance combination of the rain, the full moon and me actually being there at the right time of night was serendipitous. Even after living here for nearly 22 years, Arizona still surprises me.

Eating My Venison Steak With Abandon

2009-12-26T15:50:00.002-07:00

The United States is seeing new trends in where people are going to live.

Due to the general economic woes, the states of Florida and Nevada are seeing droves leave. Need real estate quick? Got a nice used Florida/Nevada model right here for you!

But the Top 5 states being abandoned are:
#1 California. The Golden Dream has, at least for now, gone dim.
#2 New York. You like taxes? This is the place for you!
#3 Michigan. Perhaps you thought cars where made in Michigan.
#4 Illinois. Geese are moving in, people and the Obamas moved out.
#5 Ohio. Best example of the Rust Belt. Expect next bridge collapse here.

I have been to all these states. The people are pleasant, the scenery charming. In a country this large, some movement of the populace is to be expected. But ECONOMICS is at the heart of all these shrinking states and the shrinking is not going to make it easier to turn things around.

The Top 2 states growing in 2009 were Texas and Wyoming, undoubtedly due to their jobs in energy.

Of course not all states have energy jobs to offer, so how do we grow? First and most obviously, is to make it easy to create a job. Then make it desirable to expand economic activity.

Let’s say I want to open a Boarding Stable for horses, and a Kennel for dogs and cats. If I try this in California I run into numerous laws regarding disposal of manure, noise regulation, and benefits for staff. If I try this in New York I can be fined for my animal urine showing up in a pond a half mile away and have to pay for clean up. In Florida and Nevada my staff will be harassed by ICE because they look like undocumented residents. In Michigan I find that I must buy carbon offsets because horses emit sulfurous gases. In Illinois the only people who could afford horses have moved to Virginia. Etc.

In Texas and Wyoming, they greet me with open arms. They know that horses are equipped with tails because flies like them, they know that coyotes cause dogs to bark in the night, and the girlfriend of the football star needs a place for her kitty to stay while she travels with him to another whupping on a Rust Belt team.

This is just a fanciful depiction but I think I’ve painted the picture.

If you live in California and believe that deep environmental regulation is necessary then you must not complain when half your family moves to Houston for work.

If you live in New York, you must accept higher auto premiums for deer-auto collisions. Think of it as a tax due to the sensibilities of New Yorkers offended by sport hunting.

While out West here I enjoy a sizzling venison steak. Thank you. I left New York in 1978.

Let's Be Real

2009-11-22T23:10:00.004-07:00

I feel so confident about the mental health system in this country after reading this about the case of the Psychiatrist who killed 13 people in Fort Hood, Texas this month.

QUOTE: One of Hasan’s commanding officers at Walter Reed Army Medical Center, Lieutenant Colonel Melanie Guerrero, told investigators she had considered failing him as an intern but “decided to allow him to pass since he was going into psychiatry and would not be doing any real patient care.” UNQUOTE.

Evidently people with psychological problems do not have real problems and do not need real care.

That is odd, those victims seem to really be dead.

A Dozen Days in August

2009-10-06T15:51:00.002-07:00

Day 1 (16 August)

Soon after sunrise on a typical hot desert August morning, I drove away on a solo vacation through 8 western US states. My Toyota RAV4 was in good shape and I confidently set the cruise control mechanism at the speed limit: 55 miles per hour (88 kilometers per hour) and sat back to listen to the morning news. Suddenly police lights were in my rear view mirror. To my chagrin, I had entered a 45 MPH (72 KPH) speed zone and failed to adjust the cruise control. Oops. So within 5 minutes of home I was stopped by law enforcement but fortunately only received a warning.

An hour later I was crossing the somewhat bleak San Carlos Apache Indian Reservation. And I entered my first freeway 136 miles (218 Km) from home at the large Phoenix metro area. At 11:00 AM, I stopped at the University of Phoenix stadium in Glendale, AZ where the football team, the Arizona Cardinals play. Last year they went to the Super Bowl but lost by a small margin to Pittsburgh.

250 miles (400 Km) from home I began to see Joshua Trees in the desert. They are a type of Yucca, a plant with tough, sword-like leaves. The trees are difficult to grow in a home garden but the 20 to 30 foot tall (6 to 8 meter) trees dominate in the 4 state confluence area of California-Nevada-Arizona- and Utah.

At 1:30 PM (13:30) I briefly stopped to buy my first batch of postcards in the colorfully named hamlet of Wickieup. I collect postcards as well as send to friends and family and swap cards with new friends. A slightly different spelling: “Wickiup” is a rustic single room dwelling built by many southwestern native people, historically and even today.

After 9 hours I arrived at slow traffic crawling over Hoover Dam, a huge choke point due to the massive construction job on a bridge to carry the highway over the Colorado River and into Nevada. Ever since the September 11 terror attacks, public roads passing on top of critical dams have been steadily replaced for security reasons. It was a stifling hot afternoon among the dark rocks in the deep gorge, but hundreds of sight-seers were out with their digital cameras recording the chaos. The new bridge has been under development since 2001 and is scheduled to be completed in late 2010.

A short 30 miles (48 Km) later I arrived at the Wild Wild West Hotel/Casino, just off the famous Las Vegas “strip.” But I went downtown for dinner at the “Fitz” (the Fitzgerald Hotel/Casino)and discovered a lively street scene, complete with a live band and a huge arching video screen above my head that stretched several city blocks, creating a pedestrian mall. While having the Fremont Street Experience, I found a shop with the least expensive postcards I’ve ever seen: 10 for $1.00! On my way back to the hotel I stopped to photo the Stratosphere, the tallest observation tower in the US. But I demurred at going up to the deck or experiencing one of the three thrill rides in the clouds up there!

Day 2 - 5 (17 to 20 August)

I got out of bed at 4 AM, so excited about my trip. After sharing breakfast at Denny’s with a California woman who apparently found me more interesting than her murder mystery novel, I headed north. With Las Vegas in my rear view mirror, I passed the secretive “Area 51” - the center of UFO and conspiracy theories and great science fiction stories.

Nobody was stirring at 8:45 AM at the Shady Lady Ranch Brothel in Petticoat Junction (also known as Scotty’s Junction, Nevada), so I didn’t stop to solicit marriage advice.

After enduing 400 miles (643 km) of creosote bush desert, followed by sagebrush desert, it was refreshing to reach Fallon, NV, a verdant valley of corn, alfalfa, and cattle. I by-passed Reno and at 941 miles (1500 km) I crossed into the golden state of California. I skirted the Sierra Nevada range for over 50 miles (80 km). The Honey Lake Rest Area is probably the prettiest roadside stop I’ve ever used. Not just the mountains on my left and grassland on my right, but the flowering plants around the “necessary” building were so colorful and artistic. It justified taking a couple photos, of a bathroom stop!

I hit the Oregon state line at 5:44 PM (17:44) and stopped for a bite to eat at a café. I’d finally arrived for my first visit to the Beaver State.

A couple weeks earlier I’d written my pen pal in Bly, Oregon to expect me about 8 PM (20:00). She lives 10 miles (16 km) from town, up a mountain road. I drove up to her house after 1195 miles (1923 km), at 7:52 PM (19:52) and apologized for being 8 minutes early. Within 5 minutes of my arrival I was attacked by a squadron of mosquitoes. I haven’t seen mosquitoes like that in years. Welcome to Oregon!

For the next few days I enjoyed true hospitality. I was escorted around the area by various conveyances. I met her friends Cindy and Dave, who are horse lovers like us. We visited the memorial at the Mitchell Recreation area, site of the only fatalities on the mainland US due to enemy action in WWII. In May 1945 a Japanese balloon bomb detonated when a young Sunday School teacher and her class of 5 children accidentally exploded the curious device. Today, as it probably was in 1945, the site is a peaceful grove of majestic Ponderosa Pine in the Fremont National Forest.

The small town of Bly (population about 400) sits in a scenic valley surrounded by cattle ranches. Irrigation encourages the rich green alfalfa hay fields and pastures full of Black Angus graze contentedly in large numbers.

We explored part of the 100 mile (160 km) long rails-to-trails project, the OC & E State Trail. Rhonda has traveled the majority of this well-maintained path mainly used by hikers, cyclists and equestrians. I found an old railroad spike for a souvenir!

On Wednesday August 19, Rhonda packed a picnic lunch and we left at 9:20 AM for Crater Lake National Park. We stopped in Chiloquin for gas where I paid $2.99 a gallon, the most costly gas on my entire trip. I also learned that it is illegal to “pump your own” gas in Oregon. It seemed odd to have an attendant doing the honors when I have pumped my own fuel for 37 years.
After a scenic 150 miles (240 km) we arrived at the Park Visitor Center and took in the obligatory Park Video for orientation. Then we drove off in a clockwise fashion on the 33 mile (53 km) rim drive, circling the caldera.

About 7700 years ago Mount Mazama erupted and collapsed, then filled with rainwater and snowmelt. At 5 miles (8 km) across and ringed by cliffs nearly 2000 feet (610 m) high, we marveled at the awesome blue lake, the deepest in the US.

Rhonda found a handy fallen log so we sat to eat our picnic with a $10 million view. I slid on the log and heard a ripping sound --- the seat of my pants had torn! Fortunately they were beige pants and white underwear so not very noticeable!

At Kern Notch we hiked ¼ mile (0.4 km) to the Phantom Ship overlook. The “ship” being a small rocky outcrop. Everywhere we stopped to view the lake we were awed by that intense blue color, probably the deepest blue I’ve ever seen in nature.

The weather was a perfect sunny summer day at the 8000 feet (2438 m) level of Crater Lake, but back in the shadows of Gearheart Mountain in eastern Klamath County the daytime heat was oppressive. I had forgotten that even places that receive snow in winter measured in feet rather than inches, can have toasty summer days.

Despite the heat, it was sad to leave Rhonda’s. I so enjoyed her home, the gardens, the pine-studded acres, her horses, cats, dogs, but mostly Rhonda and her husband, down-to-earth folks, decent and unpretentious Americans.

Day 6 (21 August)

After driving west for only an hour, I pulled into one of the ubiquitous Towne Pump gas stations in Klamath Falls. Heading north I skirted the eastern shore of blue Upper Klamath Lake for 18 miles (29km). Another 20 miles (32 km) later I stopped at Collier State Park on the Williamson River. One of the largest displays of antique logging equipment in the world are collected here in the shade of mature Ponderosa and Lodgepole Pines. Also displayed were detailed life-sized wood log carvings of bears in realistic poses.

Still further north I lunched in a locally run La Pine, OR restaurant. A mushroom burger was garnished with homegrown lettuce and tomato. I eschew franchise burger joints for just this reason: local flavor!

Early in the afternoon I came to Newberry National Volcanic Monument, 10 miles (16 km) south of Bend, OR. I took my little LED flashlight and headed down the trail into the Lava River Cave. The temperature plummeted (to the constant 42° or 5°C) and daylight quickly vanished. My weak light barely illuminated the uneven path into the mile long lava tube. After a short time I carefully returned to the surface since my left knee began to loudly announce it was in distress. So I resolved that on my next visit here I would explore more of this geologically active preserve of cinder cones, and lava and obsidian flows.

At 3 PM (15:00) I stopped at the Peter Ogden Scenic Lookout to peer into the 300 foot (91 m) deep gorge of the Crooked River. From under the railroad bridge I noticed my first view of snowy mountain peaks.

The land became more desert-like again as I headed northwest on US 26 across the Warm Springs Indian Reservation. This sparsely settled 1000 square miles (2600 km²) is home to a confederation of 3 tribes: the Wasco, the Warm Springs and the Paiute people.

As I neared the far side of the reservation I arrived at a serious traffic accident. A truck had overturned and debris was scattered across both lanes of the 2 lane road. Fortunately the driver only suffered minor injuries. A couple US Navy sailors in uniform attended to him. But the road was totally blocked and would be for hours. Due to the remote and desolate landscape I was at a loss on how to proceed. Then a local man offered to lead me and a couple others around on a 46 mile detour. So after an extra hour, and a roller coaster trip across more of the Warm Springs Indian Reservation than I wanted to see, I continued on toward a scenic transverse of the Cascade Range.

After traveling 1733 miles (2788 km) from home I crossed the 45th parallel, the halfway point between the North Pole and the Equator.

Mt Hood grew larger and larger to my right. At 11293 feet (3442 meters), it is the highest point in Oregon and is graced by permanent snowfields. A plethora of ski areas crowded near Government Camp when I paused to visit a busy restroom, nowhere near as neat as the California rest area but much more heavily used.

Then I began a descent of a couple dozen miles toward the largest city in Oregon. After 1800 miles (2896 km) I joined the Friday night traffic in Portland, OR. The congestion eased as I drove the long I-205 bridge over the wide Columbia River into Washington State. The sun was setting as I stopped at the Vancouver Shopping Mall to replace my torn pants with a new pair of tough Lee jeans.

After a rendezvous with my stepson Adam and his new bride Rebecca, I was shown into one of the numerical neighborhoods of the city of Vancouver and to their neat and modern semi-detached home.

Their roommate Leah wore an Oregon university shirt and I sadly picked the wrong school when I assumed her mascot was the Ducks (Eugene, OR: University of Oregon). She rolled her eyes and I realized she was an Oregon State University “Beaver” (Corvallis, OR). Oops! This is similar to the Arizona situation of the ASU Sun Devils (Tempe - Phoenix, AZ) versus the University of Arizona Wildcats (Tucson, AZ). One must never confuse the two!

Day 7 (22 August)

I departed on Saturday morning after an enjoyable visit with family and fortified with a great breakfast, complete with outstanding Pacific Northwest coffee. “We’re somewhat particular over our coffee up here,” Adam said. I’m glad. It was mmmm good!

I backed out of their driveway then went left, right, left, right, … on 60th, 61st, 58th… I lost count as the numbers circled round and never added up, each neighborhood resembling the mathematically named previous one. Somehow I made it back to I-205 and re-crossed the Columbia River back into Oregon. From now on, I’d be traveling east.

Weekends mean large crowds so I skipped the popular Multnomah Falls. The 620 foot (189 m) tall cascade is the second tallest in the US.

Just before noon I stopped at Bonneville Dam. It’s a US Army Corps of Engineers project that encompasses a lock, hydroelectric dams and the Bradford Island Visitors Center where I viewed fish ladders from the top and underwater. Through thick viewing windows real wild Coho and Chinook Salmon and Steelhead Trout were making their way up river in the steps that by-pass the lock and dams. So thrilling to be close to these ancient sea creatures as they migrated far, far from the ocean.

The Interstate Highway continued to hug the river through the Columbia River Gorge National Scenic Area. I passed more dams and locks, more fish ladders. I saw tugboats pushing barges on the broad river. The surrounding land began to flatten and dry out. Finally at the John Day Dam, 216 miles (347 km) from the ocean, the “Scenic Area” ended and dozens of huge, white, green-energy producing windmills appeared on the brown hills.

Near where the great Columbia turns north and is fed by the Snake and Yakima Rivers, I also turned north and left the Beaver State and re-entered the Evergreen State in the tawny hills of the Walla Walla onion-growing region. The blue sky tinted a fine brown color. Could there be a wildfire? No. It was top soil, tossed aloft by agricultural activity.

Discolored skies are not unusual here as testified by a sign near tiny Lind, Washington. The traveler was invited to “Drop in! Mt St Helens did!” referring to the ash from the historic and deadly May 1980 eruption. Located far off in western Washington, the Mt St Helens volcano killed 57 people and sent ash spewing into 8 states.

As Interstate 90 approaches Spokane, the elevation increases and the evergreen trees proliferate again. Although I didn’t stop, the city of 200,000 looked attractive.

A mere dozen minutes later I crossed into the Gem State, now in Idaho after driving 2195 miles (3532 km).
After the inevitable commercial area of the city of Coeur d’Alene, the highway gave tantalizing views of a gem body of water: Lake Coeur d’Alene. Twenty-Two miles (35 km) into Idaho I finally found a tent site at the private Wolf Lodge Campground. The $22 fee for a square of grass and a picnic table took me aback, but it was getting dark and I prefer making camp in daylight. I cooked my can of Chef Boyardee Spaghetti and Meatballs, strolled the grounds passed a few dozen luxury diesel bus recreation vehicles, and turned in for the night inside my little dome tent.

Day 8 (23 August)

One advantage to a private campground are the amenities. In the pre-dawn darkness I enjoyed a hot shower! Then I cooked breakfast and broke camp. I dialed my sister in Rochester NY for a chat since the next part of my journey would take me into a remote National Park, clearly beyond cell phone towers.

I reentered I-90 heading for Montana and at (4725 feet or 1440m) Look Out Pass crossed into the Treasure State at 9:00 AM. Within half an hour I exited the 4 lane divided highway for a more leisurely 2 lane road at St. Regis. I stopped at a gift store for gas and postcards. I also bought a 16 ounce (.473 liter) jar of Wild Huckleberry Jelly produced in Hungry Horse, Montana. Huckleberries are a wild cousin of the blueberry that do not do well in cultivation. Wild bears are famous for eating them which explains the warning the jar label carries: “Caution - Be Careful Eating This Product In Bear Country.”

In traveling east through Lolo National Forest and then across the pleasant Flathead Indian Reservation, I spotted brown bison grazing the hillsides of the National Bison Range. Bison are colloquially known as “Buffalo.”

At the south end of beautiful Flathead Lake I slowly drove through the busy resort town of Polson. Boats, jet skis, modern condos, nice. This was most unlike the other desolate Indian Reservations I had seen. Up the western shore of this vacationland lake I drove in the delightful 75° (24°C) mid-day sun.

In Kalispell, a town that tourists swell beyond their usual 20,000 residents, I stocked up on food at a large Smith’s grocery store. Prices were similar to home which surprised me, way up here in Northwestern Montana. I hoped to spend 3 or 4 days in Glacier Park so I packed my ice chest, filled up with gas and headed up to the park’s West Entrance.

Glacier National Park is gorgeous! I arrived at campsite C141 in the Fish Creek Campground at 3:00PM (15:00). After pitching my tent among the thick fir trees, I went foraging for firewood up the Inside North Fork Road. A mile (1.6 km) beyond the campground a wildfire had been halted, so there lay acres and acres of potential campfire wood. I had a small hand ax. But after laboriously chopping one small log and attracting the neighborhood mosquitoes, I altered strategy and picked up only small fuel wood. Ferns, flowers and mosses grew abundantly as the ecosystem marched to recovery. Clambering over the fallen timber started to aggravate my knee so I took my paltry collection back to camp.

From camp I went exploring the Rocky Point Nature Trail of 1.5 miles (2.4 km) that followed the shore of Lake McDonald (elevation 3153 feet or 961 m). I met fishermen on the gravelly sand shore. I followed the trail uphill. My knee ached but I marched on, snapping pictures of flowers, fruiting berry bushes, glimpses of glaciers on peaks across the lake. Eventually my stroll headed downhill. Within a few steps I was gasping. My left knee pain was intense. Well, I was in a fine pickle! A half mile (0.8 km) from my campsite and each baby step like a knife blade jamming up my leg. After considerable time I hobbled to my tent, briefly rested, then made dinner.

The Evening Program at the campground amphitheater was at 7:00PM (19:00) and I determined not to miss it, so I drove there. The park Ranger led an enjoyable talk on geology but my leg did not stop throbbing.

That night I kindled a campfire and pondered my options. I’d just driven 2500 miles (4023 km) to visit this special place, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. But my mobility was now, inconveniently, compromised.

Day 9 (24 August)

Another beautiful day dawns as I strike my tent. I started east into the morning sun on the Going-To-The-Sun Road. A few minutes later traffic slowed and some cars had parked along a non-descript wooded road section. I followed suit and took my camera to the lakeshore. A lone moose swam a few yards offshore. Just when I anticipated she’d reach shore for an awesome photo… a couple clueless people spotted the animal and LOUDLY exclaimed: “Look! A Moose! There it is!” and the largest member of the deer family steered her swim further away. Oh well.

I stopped to walk the (handicap accessible) 0.7 mile (1.1 km) Trail of the Cedars near Avalanche Creek campground. I felt refreshed, strolling among the Western Cedars, mostly on a comfortable boardwalk that protected the rare environment. Typical of the more humid Pacific Northwest, the cedars, ferns, club mosses, the water trickling down a rock wall fit one of the three ecological life zones that exist side by side in Glacier Park. The others being the northern forest/alpine region, and the American prairie. From a footbridge over Avalanche Creek I marveled at the blue-green waters rushing over Avalanche Falls.

Driving along McDonald Creek I glimpsed more treeless peaks with white icing. Heaven’s Peak, 8987 ft (2739 m). The road began to rise, up into cooler air. After a hairpin turn at the Loop, I was now headed southeast toward Logan Pass, and passed the Weeping Wall. Suddenly I was stopped in traffic. Road construction is a necessary evil. And in these high elevations, which close in winter due to impossible snow, the work must proceed simultaneously with thousands of visitors. I took advantage of the halt to get out of my car and snap photos of the McDonald Creek valley which look like aerial shots! Eventually I resumed crawling along the narrow but endlessly scenic road until around a bend, there was Logan Pass, 6642 feet (2025 m). I arrived early enough to get parking as summer mid-days can get very crowded on this renowned point on the Continental Divide. The only problem? My scrawled journal notes say: “Knee very bad.”

In embarrassment I parked in the handicapped reserved section, and limped up the steps to the Visitor’s Center. The view from the pleasantly heated building was incredible. I bought a boatload of postcards. Then I gingerly stepped out into the refreshing air to survey the 3 mile ( 4.8 km) round-trip trail to the glacier’s edge. It was so near. It’d be so easy. I could see a hundred people were already hiking out there. But no. They’d have to carry me back I thought. So sadly I remained there, snapping pictures. Despite not being able to go and do what I planned, it was so awesome that one could not be depressed. The green meadow, the alpine flowers, the soaring peaks, the white snow, the splashing creeks. This was the pinnacle of my park experience.

Next I drove down 2000 feet (609 m) in elevation, stopping at overlooks to gaze at rocky 9000 to 10000 feet (2700 to 3050 m) peaks holding Jackson Glacier, Blackfeet Glacier, Sperry Glacier. At Sunrift Gorge a small but powerful creek rushed a short shoot from Going-to-the-Sun Mountain (9642 ft, 2938 m), under the road and into Saint Mary Lake. The amazing water color, the rocks, the lush trees, made a simple stream a magnet for a steady flow of people seeking the nourishment of raw nature.

At 3:00PM (15:00) I reached the Rising Sun Campground on Saint Mary Lake and pitched my tent in site 30. When I finished I had to lay down and wait for the analgesic pill to work because I nearly fainted from knee pain. Later I went for a slow stroll. Saw a peacefully grazing mule deer doe. At the lakeshore I contemplated a cruise on the lake. The ticket agent seemed eternally bored as she monotoned “22 dollars” for the boat ride. It would not involve walking but being cramped in a small wooden boat might not be the best idea. Maybe next time.

Back at my tent I cooked supper. And inadvertently overheard the drama next door as Mary and Rusty from Seattle searched frantically for the keys to their Jeep vehicle. Raised voices: “How could you lose them? They are The Most Important Thing!” Poor folks.

I got in the car and headed up to a high scenic lookout point above the lake. I parked and began to write a few postcards as the day slowly ebbed. I heard a stone clatter off the cliff behind me. Turning I saw a very black Black Bear step under a tree and, how do I say this politely? - he had a bowel movement. I scrambled for my camera as he trotted away. For some people the birds sing; for me the bears crap. What can I say?

Back at camp I lit a fire, made a cup of tea. A Ranger came to inform the relieved couple that their keys had been found on the lake boat and turned in in town 5 miles (8 km) away. They were able to relax, light their campfire and he brought out his guitar and sang. “Your Momma Don’t Dance and Your Daddy Don’t Rock and Roll.” Then a song glorifying marijuana smoking. He was really quite good. Before bedtime the ranger returned with their lost keys. Peace fell over the Rising Sun Campground, which was very quiet, despite being full to capacity.

Day 10 (25 August)

After a great night’s sleep in my tent, I was able to strike camp and continue down the north side of the long slender glacier-carved St Mary Lake. I walked down a short path to the shore and spoke to a hopeful fisherman, took pictures of the triple divide and picked a handful of huckleberries. Triple Divide Peak is an 8020 foot (2444 m) peak where a single theoretical raindrop could split into thirds. Part shedding off to the Pacific, part spilling off to the Atlantic, and the cold hardy part sliding off to the Arctic Ocean. At the (east) St. Mary entrance to the park I purchased a last handful of postcards.

Ubiquitous on all sections of the Going-To-The-Sun Road were modern shuttle buses as well as the antique “red jammers.” These vintage motor coaches built in 1936- 1939 were recently retrofitted by Ford to run on propane. They are a wise ecological choice for people wishing to avoid driving the twisty road and wanting to give their whole attention to the scenery. Even the canvas top of the 17- passenger bright red vehicle rolls back for unfettered vistas.

At 2557 miles (4115 km) I left the Waterton-Glacier International Peace Park (although I failed to make it into Canada to see the contiguous International part of the park). I sped across the rolling hills decorated with oak trees and grazing cattle. This was the Blackfeet Indian Reservation. Beyond the reservation town of Browning the land became prairie. I turned east on a secondary road, Route 44 and passed through the agricultural town of Valior and then intersected with Interstate Highway 15.

At 75 MPH (120 KPH), the 22 miles (35 km) to Conrad MT flew by. I used a convenience store to rest and phone my pen pal Carol in nearby Brady MT. I left a message on her voice mail. Anxious I returned to the Interstate but was soon relieved to get a return call. Connection made!

I met my friend at the Mountain View Collins 110 Shuttle grain elevator. She was driving a big white Chevy C 60 truck loaded with wheat. Possibly 10 tons! It was tested, weighed and dumped and I rode along to the field where the men were combining. I was delighted to be offered a seat in a modern green JD combine for a few trips around the field. I got a close look at the process of cutting, threshing (separating the grain and the chaff), and expelling the residue (straw) of the wheat harvest.

Then Carol and I headed home to clean up. We went out to meet her impressive horse herd. In an amazing coincidence I discovered her home is at exactly the same elevation above sea level as my own home, 3170 feet (966 m). How unlikely is that?

The day had been hot so when I checked my food in the car, I found it warming up dangerously. And unexpectedly my stick of deodorant had liquefied! I needed ice.

So for dinner, Kevin, his father Ray, and we two gals headed the 50 miles (80 km) to Great Falls (a city of 56,000) for a lovely meal and lots of laughs. At the local superstore I picked up a block of ice for my ice chest and a new solid deodorant.

I had no trouble falling asleep in Carol’s comfortable air-conditioned home, although I did wake up once with my knee aching.

Day 11 (26 August)

After tea and cereal, pleasant conversation, photos and sad farewells, I hit the road. Only a bit over 1400 miles (2253 km) to home. I would make it in 2 days in order to see my doctor on Friday.

First stop was Great Falls again, for a coffee hit. Then I would head south on I-15 for a total of 777 miles (1250 km). One road. All day. Three states.

In Montana I passed through the Big Belt Mountains, over the Missouri River, I saw antelope. I stopped in the historic mining town of Butte for lunch. Chicken fried steak with peppered milk gravy. It is a western regional favorite and resembles Wiener Schnitzel.

I crossed the Idaho state line again. This time it was 3:40PM (15:40) and at 3080 total miles (4956 km). I saw volcanic rock again. And unique storage buildings covered by sod! Possibly potato storage as I saw the sign for the Potato Museum. Irrigation sprinklers shot sparkling water high over deep green alfalfa fields. I phoned my husband, my sister, my brother, my cousin, but got their voice mail. Nobody was home to help me pass the time. What luck! Then I drove over Molad Pass and into Utah, the Beehive State. It was 5:30 (17:30) and I’d driven 3197 miles (5145 km).

I could see an arm of the Great Salt Lake. Boats! I watched a V-shaped flock of birds winging toward the lake. Then, there was traffic. I inched through Salt Lake City. I overpaid for gas in Provo, UT. Finally I emerged from the congestion. Cities, yuck!

The sun set at 8 PM (20:00). The speed limit increased to 80 MPH (128 KPH) but I wasn’t planning to drive an unfamiliar rural highway at that high speed.

After 13 ½ hours I exited I-15. In the dark I drove slower and slower. Finally I stopped to rest at 10:34 (22:34) after logging 814 miles (1310 km) this day. The sign at the Rest Area said no overnight camping. But I wasn’t camping. I simply pulled out my pillow, reclined my seat and grabbed 6 hours of sleep.

Day 12 (27 August)

I awoke in the dark at 5:00AM (05:00), 44° (7°C) - cool at last! I drove 77 miles (124 km) to Bryce Canyon National Park where I set up a picnic breakfast to greet sunrise at Sunset Point! It was quite chilly at 8000 feet (2438 m) at that hour but as the morning sun illuminated the amphitheater, I warmed to the red rock scenery. Hoodoos, pillars of fantastic shapes went on row after row. It’s amazing what wind and water can sculpt. The Paiute Indians who lived here called the shapes the Legend People that Coyote had turned to stone.

Despite my knee that protested every step, I went to three overlooks and enjoyed the scenic points unexpectedly near a large group of German-speaking tourists. At the visitor center I bought more postcards and decided to prematurely leave after only getting a brief taste of the colorful geologic sights here. I left at 8:45AM (08:45), passing a small herd of deer snacking at the side of the road and stalling a handful of cars as we all gawked at the ruminants, rarely so near to observe.

At 11:30 AM (11:30) I crossed into Arizona and it became 10:30 because the Grand Canyon State does not participate in Daylight Savings Time.

I spent a half hour admiring the 583 foot (177m) tall, concrete arch Glen Canyon Dam that impounds 185 miles (297 km) of water called Lake Powell. I re-crossed the cold Colorado River and paused in Page, AZ to buy gas. Then as I climbed away from the river valley I entered the great Navajo Nation. The reservation is so big, that it takes 2 hours to cross it non-stop on its shortest side. It is 16 million acres or a bit bigger than the state of West Virginia.

In Flagstaff AZ I had to creep through road construction on Lake Mary Road that I kept calling Lake St Mary, confusing it with the Glacier Park lake. Though both lakes are long and narrow, Arizona’s Lake Mary is a shadow of a lake, the lower part is regularly dry, empty due to drought.

Finally I was wheeling across the White Mountains. Almost home although still over 4 hours distant. As I passed above Mormon Lake I looked down on a herd of 200 elk, more wildlife than I’d seen in 7 other states. I had a picnic lunch near Happy Jack, AZ. Although I was in Arizona’s cool high country, I remained in the shade of a Pine as even here the heat was penetrating.

My final gas was self-pumped (unlike in Oregon) in Globe, AZ for 2 cents more per gallon than I had paid at this same store 12 days earlier. Still the cheapest fuel of my trip.

I couldn’t help but smile when “my” mountain came into view, still an hour from home.

After 4115 miles (6622 km) I pulled into my driveway. It was 7 PM (19:00) and sunset. Another great adventure ended. Most of the trip I was battling the heat. It was August though. But now I was safely home, with one good knee. It would have been worse, of course, if I had never gone.
　

The Beatles and Me

2009-09-10T10:09:00.004-07:00

John, Paul, George, and Ringo shook the world.

In my youth I was an adoring fan of the Beatles. I bought singles, trading cards and a couple vinyl LP albums. It shouldn't surprise me that young people today are discovering the talented Fab Four. After all, I have a stepson who is an Elvis impersonator. But I never liked the old Standards music of my parents and grandparents so it seems astonishing that 40 year old music should be a hit again. They have just released The Beatles: Rock Band game and the digitally remastered song catalog of 16 CD's of Beatles music. And it is selling well.

I think the Beatles came at such a historic time that it was inevitable that they would move with lightning speed from I Wanna Hold Your Hand to I Am the Walrus. The youth of the world suddenly had a voice and it was screaming. At times, quiet revolutionaries must step aside for their more vocal brothers.

Myself, I moved like a tie-dyed butterfly from one potential solution to another, in politics, in religion. Over the years I circled back to the faith and politics of my forefathers. But it is a transformed spirituality and a progressive bureaucracy, manned by many children of the Beatles era, and we work toward that iconic Vision. You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one.

Dogs of August

2009-09-04T10:20:00.002-07:00

In August 2009 I went on a trip to Oregon, Washington State, and Montana. I left behind my canine family members: Keesha, Buddy and Cricket; but I got to meet several new pooches.

In Oregon I met an Australian Cattle Dog named Levi. He was protective of his master and did try to nip me, but (fortunately) he has no teeth due to his age, so Levi grudgingly accepted me. Then there was Dolly, a Chihuahua. I like all dogs, but little, yappy lap dogs are not my favorites. The cream-colored Dolly though was an exceptional pup. She has had extensive obedience training and never once barked or did anything annoying. I was astonished.

In Washington State I met happy, goofy Levi (yes, another Levi, how amazing is that?). He was an 80 pound Chocolate Labrador who lived in an immaculate duplex home. Due to his size, Levi was hard to ignore, but very gregarious.

Finally there was Napolean, a good-sized Weimaraner. This big, grey boy had many toys and when his owner showed me his dog-house area, he immediately fetched me the guts of a recently killed rabbit. He was so proud! The owner was mortified. Then Napoleon proceeded to barf at my feet. I found it all hilarious and so typical doggie.

Dogs are a colorful part of life for many people, including myself. As I found out when I got home to find my Keesha had been sprayed by a skunk a few days earlier. God bless our dogs.

Cold Camping, 16 to 18 April 2009

2009-05-03T13:49:00.002-07:00

With our dog Keesha, Fred and I left home at mile mark 114 (183 km mark) at 11 AM to drive up to our 40 acres in northern Arizona. We stopped in Clifton at the old Train Depot to look at the railroad stuff and then proceeded up hill to the Morenci copper mine. Stopped for a photo. The mine geography changes every time we visit, mounds of earth moved, relocated, new deep holes dug in this enormous open pit mine. Even the very road (US Highway 191) is moved over here or over there.

Finally we drove up into the evergreen trees of Apache National Forest (the White Mountains) and stopped at Cherry Lodge picnic site for lunch. The namesake Cherry trees were displaying their pink blooms. Little information is available to explain why there are these few domesticated fruit trees in this wilderness.

We continued driving up the very crooked Coronado Trail, scenic but one of the twistiest roads in the US. Over 400 switchbacks over the 123 mile (197 km.) route.

When we passed Rose Peak which is 8786 feet, (2678 meters), (and a peak we can see from our house), we began to note snow piles in the shady woods, remnants of winter. To our delight we stopped to watch a small herd of Mule Deer grazing near the road. After another 100+ curves in the road, we finally arrived above 9000 feet (2743 m.) at Blue Vista, a lookout point with nothing but wilderness to see. The road straightens a bit as it goes north in the high country of fir and Ponderosa Pine trees. Finally we traveled through the scenic mountain town of Alpine, then up across another mountain pass next to 10900 foot, 3322 m. Escudilla Mountain. Finally descending to grassland at Springerville and St. John’s. Near there we saw outcroppings along the road of the Chinle formation, which is the main soil type of the Painted Desert. It gives slim pickings for the cattle range that is the main use of the hundreds of square miles of this sparsely populated part of Eastern Arizona. Chinle has a remarkable variety of color, from grey, to blue, to red, and shades in between.

Elevation begins to rise as we continued north up on the Colorado Plateau. Junipers and cedar trees predominated. And at the 339 mile (545 km) mark on Highway 191 we reached the turn off to our wilderness retreat. It is a slow 5 miles (8 km.) of 4-wheel drive only to reach our acreage. But it is worth the trouble. A spectacular view to the north of ridge after ridge of treed wilderness, and nothing but wilderness in every other direction too. No houses, no roads, no man-made sounds. At night: no lights, just stars…

After driving up our “driveway” and I use that term very loosely, we set up camp where we always do, a level spot with a tremendous view. Quickly Fred got the fire going as the temperature was dropping precipitously. The forecast had warned it might dip below freezing and it sure felt like it. A hurried supper prepared on a gas stove that would not cooperate, and piling more wood on the fire as it got colder and colder, until finally I decided to go to bed to get cozy. I had no idea how cold it would get…

This was the dog’s first overnight camping experience and she tentatively crept into the tent. She started to make herself at home on Fred’s side of the sleeping bag so I had to teach her that she had to lay on the other side of me. Sadly she curled up outside the sleeping bag.

I slept right through, 8 hours and woke with the first light, before 6 AM. It felt cold, but I didn’t realize how cold until I got outside the tent. The tent fabric was iced, the car was coated in frost, the dog’s water dish was frozen solid. I checked the thermometer and it was 18° (-9°C) Whoooaaaaa cold! We quickly relit the campfire from the embers of the last night’s fire. Fred fixed the cranky camp stove and we had hot coffee and I had hot oatmeal as fast as possible. Fred put the dog’s plastic water bowl near the fire. I thought it was a bad idea, but it did start to thaw the water, and then the plastic began to melt… After that the dog had a sick looking bowl, but it still held water.

After breakfast the sky began to look threatening. Grey clouds were rolling in from the north. Then sure enough, it began to snow. Fortunately it was just a brief storm.

After the snowfall we decided to go on a hike. It is just over a mile (1.7 km) to a very old, but still working windmill that pumps water for the cattle and wildlife in the area. We walked due west according to our little Garmin GPS. The wind and cold continued so even walking didn’t warm us up too much. After photos and finding a pile of blue feathers, the remains of an unfortunate bird, we headed back and slogging through the sand made it feel like longer than that mile or so. Our warm sweet-smelling juniper wood campfire was a welcome sight.

The wind constantly blew at a strong rate. So I spent most of the day near the fire. In the afternoon I did some target shooting with our nice Italian-made Gamo .177 caliber air rifle. I’m a fair marksman if I do say so myself.

I spent the day collecting a few pottery shards from the prehistoric pueblo people that used to live in this area. Then I read a book about Søren Kierkegaard as I sat near the fire. And also did a few yoga poses on a blanket in the lee of the fire. Too cold to get far from the fire!

For supper I made hamburgers over the open fire. I timed the meal so it was finished before darkness fell because the previous night it was difficult to maneuver in the cold and by the light of the Coleman lantern.

We sat by the fire for a long time, as the wind had calmed and the stars were out, although it was still getting chilly. The dog had learned how to sit close to the warmth, overcoming her initial fearfulness of the flames.

After another long sleep I woke the next morning to a balmy 28° (-3°) The sun was bright and the temperature shot up fast so that by the time we left at 11 AM, it was shirt-sleeve weather.
After re-tracing our 5 mile (8 km.) route on the sand road, or road suggestion (!), we turned north on Highway 191 to Sanders, a small town of 500 in the southeast corner of the great Navajo Indian Reservation. Bought a tasty Navajo Taco at a lunch stand and then preceded west on Interstate 40. After 30 miles (42 km.) I exited the highway at the Painted Desert.

A semi-circular road takes one past the gift shop and one of two official visitor centers, then past eight overlooks. We stopped at Chinde Point for lunch on this beautiful afternoon. The colors of the chinle formations are so amazing. They change with the time of day and the cloud cover. I was most impressed by the variety of reds, a result of iron oxidation.

On down the road we went, driving over Interstate 40 again, then across a great grassland where we stopped to observe a herd of 11 pronghorn antelope. Animals are protected within the boundaries of a National Park, so these were lucky antelope indeed.

We drove over the Burlington Northern Santa Fe Railway line and then passed into the petrified logs section of the Petrified Forest National Park. We stopped at Newspaper Rock which gave an overview of several cliffside rocks containing 650 petroglyphs. There are eight places to stop and explore various fossils, an archeological site and many types of petrified logs. We didn’t tarry long as time was slipping away. But did stop to take each other’s picture next to a couple huge fossil logs.

When we entered the Park, a ranger bagged and tied a chunk of petrified wood that I had picked up on our land. Cars are subject to search if there is suspicion that a visitor is stealing pieces of petrified wood or other antiquities from the Park. With a million visitors to the Petrified Forest every year - if everyone just took one piece… it wouldn’t take long before there was no “Forest” left to see.

After buying a boatload of postcards and a couple books in the Petrified Forest Visitor Center, we left the Park and headed south. In St. John’s we called Fred’s son to go and feed our animals since we were still so far from home and it was 4 PM. While driving back up into the White Mountains we saw a small herd of Elk. Then we stopped in Alpine to eat supper at the Bear Wallow Café. From there I chose to drive the straighter route south through New Mexico, more miles, but easier, no hairpin bends. Just before full dark, we passed a handful of Javelina (or Collard Peccary) on the side of the road. And it was 10 PM when we finally turned into our driveway.

We had seen so many wild animals, beautiful vistas, petrified wood, mountains and grasslands, snow and sun. Once home, it was just nice to get a shower and clean off that smoky campfire smell. And find a jammed mailbox of letters and postcards for me!

Outback Adventure In My Backyard

2009-04-10T19:10:00.003-07:00

We had the whole day on April 6 to leisurely drive the 85 miles (136 km) or so around our 10,800 foot (3300 meter) “sky island” - so called because it is such a tall peak, set amid the usual Sonoran desert landscape. The experts say that traveling up to the top of Mt Graham is like moving from Mexico to Canada in biological life zones. But this day we intended to spend in the grassland zone at the highland base.

After picking up a couple Subway sandwiches and filling up with gas, the husband, the dog and I left town in our Toyota RAV4 for a day in very remote parts of Graham county. We turned south on unpaved Klondyke Road at Eden, Arizona and about 10 miles (16 km) out came to the site of the 1889 Wham paymaster robbery that netted thieves a half million in gold and silver coin. It was intended to be paid out at nearby Fort Thomas and at Fort Apache on the White River in the White Mountains. Three good Army mules died in the attack, but fortunately for the 12 Buffalo soldiers guarding the wagon train only 8 men sustained non-fatal wounds. Sadly Major Wham’s Army career suffered badly from this incident although it was hardly his fault. The road passed through a defile, or narrow rocky passage that was perfect for an ambush. The bandits had the advantage of higher ground, defensive works, repeating rifles, secrecy and surprise. However 7 “cowboys” were arrested and tried for the crime but all were found innocent by the jury. It was a great sensational trial and the embarrassment of the authorities at being unable to have safe passage in Graham County led to less than favorable opinions when it came to admitting Arizona to the Union as a state. Statehood was delayed for years as a direct result of this lawless incident, the ambush at Bloody Run.

We proceeded down Klondyke Road and explored up Cedar Springs Road. Ate lunch up in a jumble of giant Granite boulders that look as if a giant child was playing with rocks and got tired or bored and left everything a hodgepodge. Small caves and narrow passages create a marvelous place to play hide and seek.

Next we drove down into Aravaipa Canyon, causing a deer to stop and give us a look, which we repaid. But mostly we saw cattle. Brown cattle, red cattle, and lots of black cattle. Calves, cows, and several bulls - a couple who reluctantly moved off the road for us.

We explored up Forest Road 672 which would have been the route of the Army wagons took after leaving Fort Grant that May 11th 1889, nearly 120 years ago. Discovered a nicely built animal water tank with a constant flow of clean, clear mountain water. Snow is melting off Mt Graham so despite the drought in the lower elevations, plenty of refreshment can be channeled into catchments for cattle and wildlife. I went to wash my hands from eating an orange when my dog decided to honor her herding heritage and she went after a couple mama cows and calves. It is beyond me why a 500 pound (226 kg) cow runs for her life when pursued by a 50 pound (22 kg) dog.

We drove through the tiny old ranching settlement of Bonita, Arizona and then headed up on a paved road through Stockton Pass on the south side of Mt Graham. At a level area the Forest Service maintains a pleasant picnic and campsite at the 5700 foot (1740 meter) level where we stopped for a snack of strawberries and bananas. It’s grassy with mature Juniper and Oak trees and so scenic because it’s up close to the steep mountain flank that rises to 9,000 feet (2740 meters) right above you.

From there it is a downhill road back to our little rancho on the east side of Mt Graham. Back to civilization.

Quicksand

2009-02-22T08:47:00.002-07:00

The following account is a short fiction:

Quicksand

His words came back to me now, "Watch out for quicksand." I felt the tightening grip on my feet, my legs. So far from the trail I trotted off, to answer the call of nature. How ironic. Was this now nature's last word?

Vaguely I recalled I was supposed to swim, but with only my legs, well, now my knees?

I hoped this wasn't very deep as I struggled. I tried to recall which side of a creek was the deepest. Can't recall. Outside of the bend? Inside? I'm probably in the deepest part. It's my luck, or destiny.

Now at my waist, I can see the world rising higher above me. At a child's height this wilderness looks more ominous. The leaves whisper as I struggle. Can anything be more foreboding than the level reaching my chest?

Nobody around to witness me. I went hiking alone in this lovely lush Utah riparian area. And it is a deep creek bed, crowded with vegetation. All factors that absorb sound. Absorb breath. I yell anyway. It sounds...useless.

I live 50 years and this is it? No fanfare except the fanning of my arms as it reaches my neck.

Oh God, it's a vulture overhead! The sun is right in my eyes now as I look downstream. Mamas don't let your babies grow up to be hikers. Crazy thoughts like this race through my head. When was the last time someone died by quicksand in the US?

It feels like I've been stuck in this gooey, sticky mud for hours. I'm cold, cold and really, really stuck. Darkness is coming; I'm exhausted. They'll find me tomorrow. Just follow the vultures. I'll probably make the National news.

Is that the sky starting to lighten? Am I dead or alive? Strong hands have a hold of body parts I am not even sure are mine anymore. It was a trial of endurance. So thankful they found me.

Later I died of pneumonia, but much, much later. It had that same suffocating feeling. But without the vultures.

Blacksmith Competition

2009-02-02T21:26:00.003-07:00

Less than an hour away, in Willcox, Arizona, I went for 2 days to see the World Championship Blacksmith’s in action. They had about 40 iron hammering men from all over the USA competing at horseshoe making, and horse-shoeing. They had 10 semi-portable coal (or coke) burning forges running hot and the guys got the iron cherry red and hammered and hammered. Powerful biceps muscles were the norm. Are you listening single ladies?

I might add, my husband is a Blacksmith hobbyist. I bought him 2 bags of coke ( a processed coal product, not cocaine) - how romantic, huh?

One thing about handmade iron products. They don’t break, rip, tear, spoil, or rot. If kept in damp conditions they might rust away in couple or ten generations. Who cares by then?

The champion blacksmiths were judged by a panel of 4 or 5 men, one from Europe. I watched the British blacksmith demonstrating some forging techniques. But it was a man born in Alaska and now living in California who impressed me. He had iron bent into horse heads, birds, and flowers, as well as fine utility hammers and many other ornamental and useful items. What a master craftsman!

In the end, I think it was another California guy won the competition.

Strike while the iron is hot, has a solid foundational meaning.

Rain, Yoga, Oranges, and Fiction

2009-01-22T10:44:00.002-07:00

A light rain is falling this morning. It's so welcome because it has been achingly dry for weeks. In fact I was in Tucson yesterday and the high temperature was 80° (26°C) and even after the sun went down it stayed very nice. This was a record breaking heat. (It is January after all, mid-winter!)

This is my trip to Tucson--

At a craft store I bought paper items for the homemade Valentine's cards I am making for friends. At a discount store I got a second pair of yoga pants for my new avocation. On sale $13. I paid twice that for my first pair. But when I went to pay for it, the cashier rang it up for $15. I told her it was on sale and there was a big delay, much fumbling around, button pushing, cancelling, refunding, on and on. I apologized to the person behind me in line. Finally I was charged $13. Finally. It took them a while to get on "Target".

I discovered a new-to-me grocery (Sunflower) that carries organic food, bulk items, and wonderful fresh produce. The apples and oranges are things of beauty. Oranges are in season in Arizona but possibly these come from the Imperial Valley of California, which is only 5 hours away. The Imperial Valley is probably the most intensely farmed region in the US, especially in winter.

Since I have become interested in a lap top and an iPod (or an MP3/4 player), I window-shopped for them, checked out what is on sale. It is tough to decide what I will like, never having had these items. So I am soliciting opinions from friends.

My reckless, spur of the moment purchase is a book written by a Norwegian, Per Petterson. Out Stealing Horses was on my "wish list" for a year and when I saw it at a special price, I could not resist. I need another book like another hole in my head. But for a European author of this generation, who has horses in his novel, well, I have a soft spot.

So this is the humdrum day in my life. Rain, yoga, oranges and fiction.

Yoga

2009-01-14T11:02:00.002-07:00

I started my spring semester class in Hatha Yoga. Now I wonder why I waited so long to do it. First class was mainly about breathing and what yoga is/isn't. I have my own yoga mat and I bought a pair of stretchy pants so I was prepared. My class is a mix of ages, experience and even has one man in it. He rides mules so I will have to engage him in equine conversation sometime.

My goal is to learn to listen better to my body and become more flexible and fluid. I am not really interested in being able to twist myself into a pretzel. But it would be very cool if I could one day do a full lotus.

For years I have tried to learn yoga from books and magazines. Today people think the Internet has all the answers. But there is something to be said for a pair of real eyes to guide one in a new direction. Similar to horseback riding, where one can learn to ride by themselves, but an observer can correct sloppy form by telling you that your stirrups are too short or your reins are too tight or you are leaning. Bad riding form does not always lead to falling off but it can give the horse a pain in the back! As for yoga, bad form is still yoga, but one will get more satisfaction and results if a knowledgeable observer can sharpen your movement.

I think I will go practice savasana.

For Baby-Boomers

2009-01-11T20:40:00.003-07:00

When the moon is in the seventh house
And Jupiter aligns with Mars
Then peace will guide the planets
And Love will steer the stars

How simple life was when we were living in the age of Aquarius. But what the Water-Bearer brought was more of the same. From peasant blouses and flowers in our hair, to a ponzi scheme that financially wiped out millions of people. The full moon shines down tonight. We are all equally guilty as we were all so equally naive. The moon is not the source of light, it merely reflects the sun. We have landed several probes on Mars. After the flower, child, comes the cold hard winter. It is best that we come together; for surely we will die apart.

3 Months, Briefly

2008-12-16T16:58:00.004-07:00

It has been awhile since I posted. Nothing much has happened. Except:

My husband had to be hospitalized for his heart.

Went on a 9 day vacation to southern Colorado, camped in 3 National Parks, took 200 photos, bought pumpkins from a Navajo guy.

My best horse died suddenly. **cry**

Changed medicines.

Rode motorcycles.

My back "went out" on me for over a week.

My neck was a pain, in the neck (oddly enough), for 4 days.

Started the Christmas madness, including walking on the house roof. Certainly is helpful that I am not afraid of heights or get vertigo.

Other than that, not much in my life.

Personal

2008-09-08T01:19:00.004-07:00

I'm going to get personal now. Previously I have been very careful to not reveal the real Occam. After all, the Internet is full of weirdos, right? I have come to realize that I flatter myself that any weirdo would chose to harass me. So, here is the truth: I'm really a 5 year old beauty queen from Wasilla, Alaska. No? Okay, I'm really a retired sports hero in drag. No? If you really must know, I am a high school drop-out who won a lottery and my blog is ghost written.

I confess. Still not ready for those hordes of perverts I am sure will descend on my remote ranch, should my real identity be known. Actually it is for their own protection. My sweet, darling German Shepherd dog becomes curled lips, shiny teeth and low growls if anyone even thinks of coming down our driveway.

This will be a slight problem if I should have to be out of town for an emergency. Anyone engaged to come and feed the animals would have to stand 2 meters away from said darling, sweet fanged terror and throw food at her. I got her as an adult so I don't know what her previous owners did or didn't do to socialize her. But she's a pretty good guard dog, that's for sure.

Personally, I really love animals. I should have tried harder to go to Vet school. I like everything about them: when they are charming, when I have to clean up after them, when I have to groom them, administer shots, etc.

Possibly the only thing I dislike is when they die. I really hate that. That is something I am going to gripe to God about when I meet the Big Guy in the Sky. Why do pets have to die so young? Kids -and adults - have such a hard time with their passing, especially if violent. Maybe I should get one of those large birds; they have a long life span.

I will not accept the explanation that dealing with the death of animals prepares one for the death of people. I am really selfish. I want all my friends and family to live forever so I won't have to mourn them. I decided when I was age 11 that I was going to die young, so I wouldn't have to lose my parents. Well, that didn't work out. I had to bury them in 1993 and 2002. It's hard. No, no list of dead pet animals can prepare one for losing your dear parents. I am not even going to discuss losing a child. That is so contrary to the normal.

I guess I did get a little personal. Life and death is rather heavy though. No cute one liner to end this time.

Columbine

2008-08-21T21:18:00.002-07:00

Columbine, or Aquilegia, is a native wildflower in the rarefied air in the high elevations of the Mountain. This showy, spurred yellow-flowered variety is a treat to find along streams or in damp places. It grows up to 4 feet tall, with it's lacy leaves looking fragile but somehow this tough, hardy perennial has survived fire, drought, logging, etc. and continues to delight explorers of the Arizona high country.

Moon As My Witness

2008-08-20T00:07:00.004-07:00

The waning full moon is playing peek-a-boo with me in the scattered clouds tonight. The air is as still as glass. Moist, vegetal scents lay heavy in the warm atmosphere. I walk my dog and all is right with the world.

I was walking my dog in a deep dark night in early June when I twisted my knee so badly that I tore various elements inside my knee. Even though it was 2 AM and I couldn't walk, I knew I'd make it back to the house eventually.

Now I am 2 weeks post-op. That is, I had my knee surgery and I've been healing quickly over the past 14 days. You would have to closely observe me to detect any kind of favoring of my right knee. I've concentrated on walking as normally as possible. The doctor is rather astounded at my quick recovery. Even though at 253 years old, I am older than the Olympic US swimmer Dara Torres, her medal winning performance- in her early 40's - has inspired older women everywhere to believe that age really is just a number.

From the start I believed that I would recover completely and with minimal fuss. As the news got worse and worse: first just a little tear, then a large tear, then two tears, then there was severe arthritis - I steadfastly believed that I would not be overcome. I can do that with physical pain. I don't know how. It may be a gift. I don't think anyone would purposely want to be super-sensitive to pain but I know many people suffer immensely. I am fortunate.

I see the moon come out from behind the clouds. Coyotes howl and yip in the distance. A night hawk swoops by with it's crooked wings. I stand on 2 good legs. And smile.

Chew On Culture Snack, Then Digest

2008-07-30T00:10:00.004-07:00

I was going to post this HAIKU poem on a friend's Facebook page but the application was down. Facebook's loss is your gain. It is just for fun and somewhat homophonic. And that has nothing to do with sexual orientation- you will understand homophonic after you have read the poem.

Summer, cicadas

Sunning in a Sassafras

Soon succumbing: Ciao!

I don't know if everyone knows a Sassafras is a tree with a noticeable fragrance; or if everyone knows that Ciao (Chow) is Italian for Good-bye. But a poet always takes a chance that the readers are going to have a blank stare after consuming poetry. Sometimes it needs to be digested.

What 30000 US Dollars Buys

2008-07-26T20:49:00.003-07:00

Shortly after the last post I sustained an injury to my knee and was in a leg brace for a week. Then shortly after that, my better half climbed a tree up on the mountain and couldn't wait to come down the conventional way. The fall didn't hurt him; it was the sudden stop. He broke his hip. This necessitated the calling out of the Search & Rescue squad because he was in the forest, high up on a steep bank. They needed to use ropes to lower him down in a basket to get him to the road and the waiting ambulance. Then it took time to just drive down the mountain as this all occured at 8000 feet elevation. I met the ambulance and followed them into town to the hospital. He left leaves, needles, forest dirt everywhere he went. The trauma room looked like a campsite by the time he was taken to a regular patient room. They had to cut his good jeans off him and he was sad.

His hip was pinned back together in surgery a couple days later. Then he had a coronary event and scared everybody pretty badly. This resulted in a 24 hour stay in the Intensive Care Unit and delayed his recovery a bit. So when he was sent home from the hospital, he was quite helpless. People think I'm pretty helpless too, but I managed.

Now a little over a month since it happened, life is starting to resemble his Pre-flight. He is using crutches to go out to the garden to water his melons, etc. Yesterday we went swimming together. Tonight he put together a homemade spaghetti sauce. Oh I forgot to mention, he was so long without a smoke in the hospital, and he had so much trouble breathing, that he has quit smoking cigarettes. Yay!

Soon I plan to drive him back up the mountain so I can see the scene of the crime. What was he doing high up in a big old Pine tree? It is too complicated to explain. Doing a good deed. That will suffice. So much for good deeds. $30,000 USD later in medical expenses --

The Time Is Ripe

2008-06-02T00:20:00.004-07:00

I watched a short video today. Two men were driving a lunch truck out in a deserted landscape. The driver looked confident but the passenger was doubtful. He turned on a dirt road and came to a large barren flat, stopped and opened up his kitchen area. The passenger gazed into the emptiness and sat resigned to his fate with this idiot who is parked far, far from any potential customers. Suddenly a meteor steaks passed and impacts nearby. Next scene is of the two men beseiged by hungry people who have converged on the site.

Funny. We can all put ourselves in the place of the passenger. We go along for the ride. It seems pointless. We lack vision. Of course knowing the place a meteor will impact is beyond most of us. But if we spent more time with our mouths shut, and listened with openness and expectation, things greater than selling hot dogs at a meteor crater will come our way. So shut off the TV. Get outside in a garden or a park or other natural spot. Observe. Listen. Shut off your preconceived notions. Where are you now? State facts, not emotion-ladened laments such as "in a mess", "not in as good a place as my family expects," etc. Stay only briefly on this. Then look ahead at where you want to go. Others have been there. It is not impossible. Are you willing to be a person who can sacrifice for a better tomorrow? If not, go back and sit down in front of the TV. Your time is not yet ripe.

Occam Trolls the Web

2008-05-28T20:34:00.003-07:00

A while ago I added Carole's MS blog to my links. She's a Canadian woman dealing with a neurological pathology. Her writing makes you feel like you've been listening to your dear sister. And we become better, more compassionate people for it.

Another new blog is by Jiwan about his country Nepal. Jaw dropping photos and particulars right from the source can be seen on Nepal--Shangri-La.

I often troll about the web, looking for those individuals with unique things to teach us. So pop in to see my new friends. But please come back to the Double Barrel Ranch. You never know what I have up my sleeve for the next post.

Mother Nature Ends Fire

2008-05-26T20:10:00.003-07:00

The fire wrapped itself up on May 23 because of the wet weather. A rare cold, wet system moved across Arizona dropping temperatures to near historic lows. Snow fell in the mountains, including Mt Graham. Snow fell just above the fire line, and over an inch of rain fell on the fire area itself. Occam has lived here 20 years and she has never seen snow in May, especially late May. She quipped to someone: Global Warming? But she read in the paper this morning that lately temperatures are actually running cooler than normal all across the country. Maybe the world. Does this mean that we are warming in reverse? What? Today the visible snow melted off the peak in the warming breezes. The dirt road portion of Swift Trail, as the mountain road is called, was never reopened after the fire because of the snow. Perhaps it will open tomorrow, now that the Holiday Weekend is finished. Our thanks go to the firefighters who did the best they could in the very difficult terrain of the Frye Mesa fire. Officially they are calling it 3100 acres burned. I'm sure they are at another fire somewhere now, maybe California. Our disaster has been averted, other areas are less fortunate.

Frye Mesa Wildfire, Day Three

2008-05-22T23:14:00.004-07:00

Benefiting the fighting of the Frye Mesa Wildfire, the weather has turned remarkably cold and wet, and winds have decreased. This is a huge relief for the 321 personnel on site here in Graham County to aid in containing this combustion and a relief for anyone else who loves our Mountain. Evacuation of all the private cabins, public campgrounds and picnic areas was completed today. This situation has likely spoiled many a plan for the approaching big holiday weekend. Although they predict full containment by Sunday the 25th of May, it hard to say when recreation will be permitted to resume on Mt. Graham.

According to the Incident website, the fire sits at 3500 acres tonight. It is directly 5 miles west of me as the raven flies. There are no visible flames at this time. I'm unsure how much rain has fallen over there but we only got a wee bit. The temperatures have plummeted though. It is 49°F (9°C) at 11:30 PM. Incredibly chilly for late May. After all, it was 106° (41°C) just 2 days ago.

"Anonymous" has commented yesterday that the Frye Mesa Dam is "just fine". That is a relief. By analyzing the map, it looks as if the fire did burn mostly to the east, from Frye Canyon to Deadman Canyon. Both areas were burned in the 2004 Nuttal Fire also. Possibly the lack of taller, "higher story" fuels was an aid to holding this fire to the lower elevations. The higher story fuels being previously consumed by the 2004 conflagration.

According to the official sources, the fire began as a spot fire at 1:00 PM, that took off so fast in the high winds that by 1:15 PM they declared it out-of-control. Think of that the next time you are in a wildland setting and are a little careless with your campfire or smoking materials. Those prescribed burn folks were the "experts" and they could not control a spark, you'd have a much smaller chance and could possibly trap yourself or your loved ones. Nobody is beyond learning from this event, professional or casual tourist in the natural world. Fire is friend or foe. Do all you can to ensure it remains our servant.

Photos by David Peters, Bureau of Land Management.

Frye Mesa Wildfire, Day Two

2008-05-21T23:13:00.002-07:00

Frye Mesa Wildfire. I stand corrected. It was human caused like 88% of all "forest" fires. (The May 2000 Cerro Grande fire, New Mexico, also started as a prescribed burn. It damaged the Los Alamos National Laboratories.) So sadly, the rumor has been confirmed: a prescribed burn got away from the Forest Service.

You know it is fire season in Arizona if the first thing one hears early in the morning is the sound of helicopters taking fire retardant to a wildfire. At 10:30 AM today it was listed at 1000 acres burned.

Due to the sustained winds, it has vigorously burned in an easterly direction all day. Helicopters and air tankers have been grounded since mid-morning due to the winds. Gusts of 55 MPH have been recorded here today. The incident supervisors are securing local equipment and supplies for a prolonged battle. The fire laid low this morning but after the wind came, smoke rose high all day. Tonight the smell of wood burning, so welcome under the happy occasion of a campfire, is a constant reminder of the loss and devastation just a few miles to the west of me.

The ultimate culprit of the fire is a noxious weed called Sweet Resinbush that infects Frye Mesa. Various herbicides were tried to eradicate it. Most failed to work optimally due to the weather being dry, or they caused damage to such native species as Barrel Cactus or Prickly Pear Cactus. It was introduced as an erosion control plant some years ago. Instead, it became a monoculture, crowding out the natives and ironically leaving the land even more susceptible to erosion. "The best laid plans of men." In addition, cattle and wildlife would not eat it. How could this error be rectified? Burn it. Unfortunately, somebody authorized the burn on a day that a Red Flag Warning was issued. The Red Flag indicates critical fire weather conditons exist because of high wind, low humidity and warm temperatures. Danger indeed.

Mt. Graham has a 7000 foot drop in 7 miles, a dramatic change that paints a clear picture of the steep terrain. The fire is burning up and down various canyons now, perpendicular to the slope up toward the crown jewel, the lovely highest elevations so carefully tended by man. That is the good news for now but the progress depends so much on the weather, and the skill of the fire fighters.

I keep wondering what has happened to the Frye Mesa Dam. A 107 foot concrete arch dam built 79 years ago, the small reservoir is stocked with trout in the winter months for anglers. At 4639 feet (1413 m.) in elevation, the sparkling waters are likely spoiled for many years, perhaps permanently. Run off after a burn is boosted for 3 to 5 years. Blackened soil, rocks, wood debris all flow freely from steep burned slopes. The spillway is sure to be under tremendous pressure. I imagine the whole existence of the reservoir and dam is threatened.

I'm trying to not imagine the horror in those canyons and ridges. Animals fleeing. Scenic glades ravaged. The orange glow and sparks are clearly seen from here. It is altogether unhappy. Rain, come soon.

Frye Mesa Fire, Day One

2008-05-20T23:05:00.002-07:00

At first I thought it was a rain cloud on the mountain.

Then my better half spoke up and asked if I had seen the smoke. Smoke? It wasn't a weird rain cloud after all. Yellowish smoke was billowing off of Frye Mesa thousands of feet into the sky and obscuring the sun overhead. The temperature started to drop due to the shade. Frye Mesa is the site of a small dam and water collection area for the city of Safford, Arizona water utility. The city gets water from several sources but Frye Mesa has been contributing fresh mountain water for decades.

After nightfall the extent of this brand new fire, being driven by gusty winds, is quite terrifying. I estimate it has climbed up Frye Canyon or Ash Creek Canyon several miles. The sickly orange glow outlines it's destructive path.

Frye Canyon ends near the summit of Mt. Graham (above 10,700 feet elevation) at the multi-million dollar, world famous telescopes. Recently the newspaper USA Today characterized the Large Binocular Telescope there as superior to the Hubble; therefore, the best in the world today. Ash Creek Canyon ends at 9500 feet elevation at the Columbine Work Center of the US Forest Service. Also located there are dozens of summer cabins, a Forest Service visitors center, a summer camp, and a spruce-shaded campground I enjoy a lot. Obviously there is much at stake with this fire.

I have no idea yet on the source of the ignition. A rumor says it was a prescribed burn but a check of authorized burns does not verify this. Frye Mesa is home of an invasive weed that I know the forest service has been trying hard to eradicate, but I hardly think they would have been out there setting fires when there was a Red Flag Warning today with local wind gust of up to 55 miles per hour forecast.

I will up-date here as more information becomes available. In the meantime I have a front row seat to the terrorism of fire on a dry southeastern Arizona mountain forest.

Dog Fence

2008-04-29T22:19:00.003-07:00

Occam's friend was visiting the man-made geographic oddity of Australia where the states of South Australia, New South Wales, and Queensland come together, and here she found the "Dog Fence". It was built over a number of years, to contain the dingoes, or wild dogs of Australia to areas of less agricultural importance. Dingoes evidently have a nasty habit of killing livestock for the heck of it, not for food. Featured in this photo is her Australian Kelpie, a herding dog. I just thought it was ironic to see her standing there with that sign, and worth sharing. Plus to show everyone a spectacular empty desert. My locality is positively rain forest in comparison. The date taken is April 25, 2008.

Barbaro (2003-2007)

2008-04-28T22:37:00.006-07:00

I thought I would honor the late Kentucky Derby winner, Barbaro, today since the Run For the Roses this year is almost upon us. His struggle has enlightened the public to pressure for more research toward eliminating reasons for horses breaking down during races.
I've been to a dozen race meets in my life. I've never seen a horse break down during a race. I hope I never do. But it is bad enough to see on TV.
Barbaro won the 132nd running of the Kentucky Derby last year. Two weeks later, during the Preakness race he broke his leg in more than 20 places.
I don't know who took this spectacular photo. But to me, it combines the elements of the thrill of the race, the historic component with the Twin Spires of Churchill Downs, and the extreme popular interest with the jammed grandstand.
"To the victor go the spoils!"

Rest In Peace, Barbaro.

Brief Remarks

2008-04-17T17:01:00.003-07:00

It is springtime in Arizona and that means wind. When we moved here 20 years and 5 days ago, it was a calm evening when we pulled in. The next day it turned cold and windy and the wind seemed to blow for 2 weeks straight. When the wind stopped, it got hot. So I am not going to complain too much about the wind. I don't have long hair. I don't wear dresses. Let nature do her thing.

A neighbor's horse had to be put down. It was only a 4 year old. Cause of injury leading to death was hooking his hoof into a "V" in a pipe fence. Cause of rearing that high to catch his hoof: stray dogs harassing him in his small pen. Yes, someone's Fido. The whole scene makes me sick. I am still too close to the date of the death of my own horse. And I will get her picture up here as soon as I figure out the bugs in my photo software.

My famous brand clothes washing machine has broken. It has a 5 year warranty. I've owned it 5 years and 2 months. Naturally.

The Pope is in the USA for his first visit, and to speak at the United Nations. He's going to tell them we should all get along with each other. I'm psychic. We should though. If we have a disagreement, we should sit down and have a watermelon seed spitting contest. The one who can spit the farthest wins the argument. Dominus vobiscum, Amen.

Noon Creek Waterfalls

2008-03-22T14:39:00.002-07:00

Snow melt water running off Mt. Graham has enhanced this cold, clear, waterfalls on Noon Creek. As spring progresses, and the snows disappear from the high elevations, the creek will dwindle to a trickle. Then only run faster due to thunderstorms. No native fish are found here in this vicinity. Most pools dry up in summer. The water actually does continue to flow, but underground and invisible. In fact only a few miles from this cataract the water vanishes underground as it makes its' way east and north in the Gila River watershed. The desert mesquite trees tap it with their long deep roots. People too find it with water wells from 90 to 400 feet deep. As I read about the misery of people living near more robust streams and rivers who are suffering devastating floods, I contemplate Noon Creek. And I'm content with her nature.

Happy Easter

2008-03-22T14:26:00.002-07:00

This image was sent to me. I just love it. I thought the rabbit was appropriate for Easter and the others are just icing on the cake. The puppy dog seems real concerned about these other critters which in the wild might be considered his prey. All God's Creatures, Great and Small. Do you think heaven will be like this?

Hiatus

2008-03-13T15:00:00.002-07:00

Sorry for the long hiatus. It has been a troublesome few months. Keesha's health problems have improved but not resolved yet. Then on January 31 I held the head of one of my horses as she passed away. A sudden illness, not uncommon to horses, called colic, claimed her life at not quite 21 years young. Her name was Sasha and I'll post a photo of her soon.

Spring has sprung in Arizona though. New life everywhere. I am going to expect better days and better days will come.

Definitely I expect to write more regularly here.

On the National scene we are picking candidates to run for president and as someone described it to me, "it is great theatre" and so it is. Our method probably bewilders the outside world, as it generally bewilders most Americans too. But I wouldn't change a thing. Let the games continue!

My favorite US Football player has retired. Brett Favre will no longer be the quarterback of the Green Bay Packers. He was one of the most beloved football players in America. But the body, and mind can only take so much after so many years of top athletic performance. I wish him well. There will never be another Brett Favre.

I spent an entire hour paying 2 bills on-line because I had forgot my passwords. I finally finished the job, but I hope next month will be easier. That is what I get for having a mind like a sieve and not being able to read my own handwriting. Is that an "f" or a "t"? Hmmmm.

Well, I'll sift some more ideas around and see if I can't create more scribbles to amuse you, till next time, from the Double Barrel Ranch, Adios.

Keesha

2007-12-08T21:16:00.000-07:00

We adopted this partbred German Shepherd from the Humane Society Shelter. She was close to going to puppy heaven. I've never had such a loyal, sweet dog. She even likes the cat. Amazing. She's had some health problems but once she is over them, I hope she'll live a long, healthy life. Welcome to the Double Barrel Ranch, Keesha.

The Cloud

2007-12-01T14:29:00.000-07:00

A dark, ominous gray cloud sits to the south. Sunshine bathes us after a night of rain. The air is moving to the north. It is going to rain again. The birds are getting in their last songs. Rain is rare enough in the desert that I enjoy each facet of it. This will make digging in my garden tomorrow easier. The desert has many faces.

Green

2007-11-16T18:14:00.000-07:00

It looks like I have been slacking off in my blog posting lately. It is not because I have stopped thinking. I've been reading a lot. Then there is the news that Al Gore won the Nobel Prize for his work in advancing the cause of "Green." I also heard he is selling his enormous Viginia home because presumably he realizes how un-green it is.

My house was green before there was a green movement. I could list all the features: using grey water to irrigate vegetation, solar panels that produce electricity such as the power my computer is using right now, etc. but I only designed these feautures because I love nature. In my neighbor when a contractor comes in to build a house, the first thing they do is bull-doze the site, leveling all the vegetation, sawing down all the trees. I almost burst into tears when I see that. My contractor only bull-dozed a narrow spot, leaving vegetation within an arm span of the finished house. They probably thought I was nuts. This was 1988, before the green movement remember. The natural plants that are here are the ones which are going to survive drought, storm, animals. And today I have a healthy animal community and diverse plant species - that I don't have to water.

I keep on thinking. I have found great insight on the internet, and utter nonsense. The Yin and the Yang... I'm thinking..... I really am.

Organisms in the Water

2007-09-08T22:49:00.000-07:00

My annual battle with algae in the swimming pool has begun. The water is still clear but yellowish-green organisms are growing on the walls. Time to bring out the big chemical guns. Those expensive bottles of mysterious mixtures that do mortal harm to bad substances while being safe enough for your average fifth-grader to handle.

I didn't need any weapons to terminate the lives of 4 creatures who drowned in the pool overnight. I fished out a dead mouse, a dead toad, a dead tarantula, and a dead centipede. This is a highly unusual number of unfortunate non-swimming victims. Well, probably the mouse and the toad swam for awhile before succumbing. Maybe I should put little life preservers out in the water for them? After all, the ancient Buddhist saying is "May all sentient beings be free from suffering and the causes of suffering." Or perhaps I could place small warning signs: Beware! Large body of water ahead. Enter at own risk! Actually, that sounds about right to erect for human consumption. I might add something about yellow-green algae and E. coli, that should keep people out of my pool.

Odd

2007-09-07T21:40:00.000-07:00

I got the idea for today's blog from a gal in Tasmania. She had been asked to list six unusual things about herself. So I decided to do that also:

1. I am tall. This means I cannot find pants long enough, shoes big enough, and long sleeve tops with sleeves long enough to fit me. I am used to it by now though. I just assume clothes will not fit me.

2. I have never worn make-up. I tried it once as a young teen and I thought I looked so ridiculous, that I have never worn it again.

3.I'd rather drive a truck than a car.

4. I practice Yoga.

5.I've been baptized twice. Sprinkled as a baby and dunked as an adult.

5.I enjoy reading the dictionary.

6. And finally, I like the smell of vehicle exhaust fumes. But of course I know it's toxic, it's just that it doesn't repulse me.

Odd, eh?

I could actually continue on and on with these oddities but perhaps six is enough.

Memorial to R.O. (1937-2007)

2007-08-12T21:42:00.000-07:00

But listen to me: for one moment
quit being sad. Hear blessings
dropping their blossoms
around you. God.

-Rumi

On August 5th our community lost an eminent son. No, he never made the newspaper. He never had a medal pinned to his chest. But by his love, he moved many people to become more and better. He was a conduit of blessings from God to man. I can't help but be sad that he won't be among us anymore. But, God, I hear the petals falling around me.

Stuck With It

2007-06-08T23:40:00.000-07:00

I've been doing a little study in comparative languages. (Did you know there is no future tense in Finnish?) Did you know that many languages have no spaces between words? As a native English speaker, I cannot fathom having a non-stop string of letters and being able to make sense of it.

Thinkoftheeatsshootsandleavesbooktoseehowenglishisvunerable.

Yes, I think labels are important. Words are important. Experience needs to be communicated.

Our thoughts can be brought from "out there" and felt in the gut. A good writer punches. A good writer slightly rustles the leaves and our nose picks up the scent. The sticky label is stuck to your skin and difficult to remove. A trace remains. You use a censored word synominous with animal reproduction. Other people laugh. They recall their own similar experience. It can be translated to all languages. We are moved, together.

Home of the Brave

2007-05-20T17:24:00.000-07:00

When I was ten, my country was at war in Vietnam.

When I was a teenager, my boyfriends were all certain they'd be drafted and sent off to die in a jungle. They were brave boys. But my country wasn't brave. From that experience we don't want to repeat the mistake of not honoring our troops again.

Now I am 52. My husband served in the US Navy on a ship taking troops to Vietnam. Today the brave boys volunteer for the military service. We send them off to far lands again. Some die. Not many. Not like Vietnam. On the home front we advertise our "support for the troops". But still, my country is not brave.

In World War II, on average, 280 US soldiers died EVERY DAY. America was brave. We wanted to free people from oppression. We were willing to pay the price. We supported our troops. We sacrificed on the home front for them. My father served in the Pacific theatre in WW II. During those awful years we buried our military dead, we buried millions of civilians in the war torn countries, but we who survived and we who were born to those who survived, we hesitate - as a nation- to sacrifice again.

Physical Arizona

2007-05-15T00:00:00.000-07:00

Arizona actually is quite varied in it's topography as can be seen on this physical map. My home is in the south east corner, between the mountain ranges. Phoenix is the capital and it is the most populous state capital in the US. It's located close to the dead center of the state. It is much hotter in Phoenix than where I live. Most of the lakes in Arizona are man-made, including all you can see on this map. Water is everything in an arid climate like this. Arizona is surrounded by Mexico, New Mexico, Colorado, Utah, Nevada, and California. The 200 mile long Grand Canyon was formed by the Colorado River cutting jaggedly across the northwest corner of the state. The wide-spread use of central air-conditioning in this sunny clime has made the state attractive to new residents and it is now the fastest growing state in the USA.

The Decision

2007-05-14T23:01:00.000-07:00

Recently I was faced with a chance to do something unethical which would profit me, I would profit financially from it and there was no chance that my action would be discovered. I didn't hesitate. I said "no". The vast majority of people may say I was stupid. I brought suffering upon myself because I wouldn't "cheat." It was a win-win situation if I said "yes." So why did I say "no"?

It is popular in today's world to believe that the ends justify the means. We are taught that we have "to play the game" to get ahead. One must have a positive mental attitude. Look at the bookstores, brimming with self-help tomes. You could fill your house with words on how to achieve success.

Unfortunately, when people get that success, they find it is hollow. An astonishing number of million dollar lottery winners are broke within a few years.

So, what can we do to make our lives meaningful? I am not going to tell you to volunteer to help Africa, get religion or join a 12 step program. Those are noble. But no. I am going to tell you to behave everyday with integrity. Be patient. Treat everyone as you want to be treated. (Where have you heard that before?) I may lose financially today. But I am at peace. I'll gain riches tomorrow.

Modern Behavior

2007-04-23T14:19:00.000-07:00

I admit it. I am a babyboomer. A product of the 60's. The motto was "Question Everything". The generation before me had another set of morals. Today they are considered old-fashioned maybe. Men opened doors for ladies. Those men did not seriously think that women could not open the door by themselves. It was done as a sign of respect. Women bore the children of the next generation. They were highly invested in bringing those new lives, the product of both man and woman, into the world.

Then the birth control pill caused a seismic shift. Children could become products. Abortion on demand fixed any irregularities. Morals became "relative". Not many doors were opened for ladies anymore.

Recently a talk radio host found it easy to refer to a group of educated and physically gifted athletes- of more than one race-, as some "nappy-headed hos." He is an idiot. He also should have known better as he is closer to that more respectful generation than I am. All have been polluted by the downward pull of modern American culture.

Then we hear of a sick young man ranting in a self-made video, just before he goes into a gun-free (read="safe") school and blows away some innocent people. Men, women, teachers, students. Nobody stopped him. His rampage only stopped when he committed suicide. There is probably somebody out there who thinks they can do more harm than he caused. People cause all their problems.

Basically I think people try to do good, to get along. But there is a hole where respect used to be. Society needs to fill this hole in our moral fiber with a goodness that can reach those who look at others as bullet targets, sex objects, products of conception or evil personified because of their religion, race, ethnic origins, or bank account.

I still question things. Why is this country not what I had hopes it would be when I sang of peace and love in the 1960's? They were naive songs. Dreams of a child. But I remind myself: that character that I want to see in others, it begins with me.

Night and Day

2007-03-19T21:49:00.000-07:00

There is darkness, there is light. I find it interesting that God first created the heavens and the earth, and then on the second day got around to creating light, separating the two and making day and night. So there is always darkness before light. Ignorance before enlightenment. Chaos before civility. In the womb our eyes are closed. I can think of one instance where there is light before darkness: when a camera flash goes off in your eyes. Very bright. Then you can't see straight. Gradually vision returns. One sees the heavens and the earth again. They didn't go anywhere.

Of course the 800 pound gorilla in the room on this topic is evil. When was there evil in the world? At first there was no law. All was natural. God saw that it was very good and rested on the seventh day.

I believe we have a propensity toward evil since those days in the Garden of Eden. We know what is right but we choose to do otherwise for a multitude of reasons. Eventually we don't even know what is right. What is right becomes what is expedient. Your actions follow your beliefs. Life becomes one narrow and selfish series of events. When things are all relative, then there is no vision. Without vision a person perishes. Darkness prevales.

After darkness is light though. It is a lie that one should abandon all hope when one enters the darkness. Here is a tiny candle for you, Dante Alighieri.

My Free Will

2007-03-10T20:17:00.000-07:00

There were waves made recently when a travelling minister came to our church and said that God was not all-knowing, not omniscient. He claimed God was moving through time with us, which is why we truly have free-will.

It's an interesting idea, but so outrageous that I have to comment on it.

The first thing that comes to mind is how we can have prophets if there is no known future to predict? Did Jesus just hope he would be raised from the dead on the third day?

More serious, studious students of scripture do not question the omnipotence of God, but rather that beings have free will.

If I am given two options A & B and God is all-knowing, God knows I will choose A, God cannot be wrong. So if I cannot choose B, how do I have free will?

This argument is true in that:

-I can freely choose between A & B

-God is all-knowing

-God knows I will choose A

-God cannot be wrong

But the next statement does not follow. Just because God has knowledge of something does not mean that He makes it so. For instance, I love horses. If I am travelling in a car and someone notices and comments that there is a horse out in a field, I have a choice to look or not look. It is my free will. But God knows and everyone else who knows me knows that I will snap my attention to try to see that horse.

Free will and omniscience are compatible.

By the way, God invented time, that He would lower himself to be limited by this construct does not follow.

Birds

2007-03-06T13:09:00.000-07:00

We spend too much money feeding wild birds, but they are so cute, we can't help ourselves. These are finches I think.

Found Poem

2007-03-05T23:20:00.000-07:00

Here, try this one:

The Unknown

As we know,
There are known knowns.
There are things we know we know.
We also know
There are known unknowns.
That is to say
We know there are some things
We do not know.
But there are also unknown unknowns,
The ones we don't know
We don't know.

Donald Rumsfeld, Feb. 12, 2002

I love this!

Hameln and Greenland

2007-02-11T13:52:00.000-07:00

I cannot emphasize how much fun it is to be a member of postcrossing.com. Yesterday I actually got a postcard from the home of the Pied Piper of Hameln. Now is that unique or what? Evidently after the children were led away, the adults got busy and had more children because the population there is now 60,000. (Just joking.)

If anyone wants to learn more about the people and places in this world, I can think of no easier way. Just make sure you have on hand a lot of postcards of your own area. Thankfully the whole project is devoid of politics. About the closest we get to politics is to complain about our various postal services.

I have a beef with my own post office. The substitute letter carrier, not the regular guy, delivered a book to me on Saturday and jammed it so hard into my mailbox to make it fit, that the wrapper and the cover of the book inside were ripped. All because they did not want to return it to the post office and leave me a card that I had an over sized package. My regular mailman just brings any big packages to my door. But that takes time and is above and beyond service. A "substitute" feels no such duty.

Postcrossing requires a lot of trust. You send out random postcards hoping that eventually you will get some in return. Sometimes the mail system is rough on cards and they never reach their destination. Sometimes people get lazy and do not mail what they have promised or even acknowledge that they have received this gift in the mail. But despite these pitfalls, hope springs eternal and everyday people join the postcrossing family, from around the world. Although everyone is hoping to get a postcard from Greenland, those residents seem reticent to join the family of postcard swappers. Do they have postcards in Greenland? I imagine they are pictures of glaciers, which I hear are melting. More land is being exposed and so the livable areas of Greenland are expanding. Maybe there is hope for more Greenlanders! The people of Hameln did it!

A.K.A. Woodchuck Day

2007-02-02T21:07:00.000-07:00

Today is the thrilling second day of February when the notorious ground hog (Marmota monax) crawls out of his burrow to check the weather. If he doesn't see his shadow, as I heard happened today, it is good news. It signals an early spring. Now I live in Arizona where spring is always early. And we don't have ground hogs either. But I did peek at the expected overnight low temperatures in places I have friends: -19, -9, -7. and -1. That is painful weather. Here we might get a frost. It is the full moon. It always seems colder on nights of a full moon. There I go sounding like the "Old Farmer's Almanac". Must be the superstitious farmer in me. I'm not superstitious though. I believe things happen in a grand design. For which there needs to be a Grand Designer. And that character has a great sense of humor, to invent a creature like the woodchuck, to whom all honor goes, today, Ground Hog Day 2007.

Lombardi Trophy is "Stolen"

2007-01-28T22:10:00.000-07:00

I am sorry to say that I don't have anything original to write today but I have another blog to comment on. Dr. Sanity. You can jump to her blog by clicking on the link I have here for her always interesting postings.

On January 26 she wrote:

"The Democrats lost the 2000 election. Therefore it must have been "stolen".

The Democrats lost the 2004 election. Therefore it must have been "stolen".

The Democrats won back some seats in the 2006 mid-term election to claim a majority in Congress. Obviously it was a completely fair election process overall.

Notice any sort of a pattern here?"

So, did you notice anyone protesting that the election was rigged? Did the media question any of the results? No? Hmm. What does this say about the civility of some political parties? I am not going to say who I voted for, but I've never questioned the results of the balloting. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. My team did not make it to the Super Bowl - where the Lombardi Trophy is awarded to the winners. I don't think that anyone "threw" any games. Maybe I'm naive?

Snow Party

2007-01-27T20:11:00.000-07:00

There is a columnist in the newspaper that I read and usually find annoying. His name is Garrison Keillor and writing has made him a rich man. On January 25th he started his column describing the postive aspects of winter, i.e. shoveling snow, feeling like you are freezing to death, etc. He said we "need winter to enjoy summer, just as your kids need to work lousy jobs for low pay in order to appreciate having a car and an apartment." On January 22 I woke up to find 9 inches of heavy wet snow carpeting my area. Branches were snapping left and right under the unnaturally heavy load. I disagree that the native acacia tree in my yard that split off 2/3's of it's being due to being too much a desert tree not built for snow needed that experience to enjoy summer. They say it has been 30+ years since this much snow fell here. I have been enjoying summer just fine without shovelling snow and freezing to death.

But what really toasted my bread was Keillor's comments about the poor. Somehow his column morphed into political commentary and he advised us about poor people and that their grooming is poor and how you would not want to attend a party in their home. I felt like vomiting. It must be nice to sit on his high horse and throw scraps to the rabble below. You know Keillor, when poor people have enough money to throw a party in their home, they actually tidy up as best they can, and one can have a really good time if you overlook the fact that your skinny butt is not sitting on real leather. I've been to gatherings with the high and mighty and with those who don't have much further to fall, and it is much more fun to sit among the warmth of real people than to sip champagne with the big wigs.

Miracle

2007-01-19T21:56:00.000-07:00

At exactly midnight this morning the first raindrops fell. All day it lightly rained off and on. Tonight the snow level is forecast to drop to 3500 feet which is just a hair above me. We haven't had snow in years. But maybe...tomorrow.

There has not been measurable rain here since I got home from my trip in October. The desert has been brown and getting browner. But this miracle will do a world of good.

My hometown is renown for rain and clouds which is probably the reason I moved to the desert. It has been a strange winter so far in many places. A jet stream driven wind blasted Europe, knocking trains off their tracks, felling huge trees, some fell on occupied cars and there have been dozens of fatalities. Ice has caused havoc in Texas and many other states. There was virtually no snow for Christmas in most places in the USA. But Colorado has endured unprecedented snowfall. Weather has always been a fascination for me. It ties in with my interest in plants and their cultivation. Last spring I planted my tomatoes outdoors in February. Other years we have had frosts as late as April 1. Drought has ravaged my orchard. What fruit the trees were able to produce was immediately ate by starving wild birds. I may plant nut trees this winter. Maybe they would be safer from birds.

In high school I studied Horticulture 3 years under a teacher who was nearing the end of his career. He retired and they discontinued the program. I was terribly offended. I was an "A" student.

After school I worked 5 years in a greenhouse growing every imaginable plant under glass. I had a green thumb. It has to this day remained my favorite job. And by far, my lowest paying. Every time the government raised the minimum wage, I got a raise. Then they had to give me a little bit more because I had experience.

I credited these experiences with my knowledge and interest in plant life, wild and domestic, and my refusal to give up on trying to grow green things in the desert. My choices have certainly been modified by the lack of regular rain miracles though!

Postcrossing.com

2007-01-10T21:04:00.000-07:00

For the past few months I've been participating in a postcard swapping site know as Postcrossing. In just the last few weeks I've received cards from Italy, Germany, Brazil, Portugal, Finland, Slovakia, Austria and Japan. Today I sent a card to Luxembourg. The county I live in is larger than that entire country. My county is not the biggest one in Arizona either. Things are much more compact in other parts of the world. There are pluses and minuses to that. But something much of the world has in common is that they are interested in Arizona. I guess we can thank Hollywood for advertising our wonders to the world. One postcard said she was fascinated by the desert but didn't want to live in one! I actually knew little about deserts when I moved here. I was more moved by the rugged mountains which contrast with the desert. They are some of the most difficult in North America. The mountain that looms over me is only the 3rd tallest in Arizona, but it is not uncommon to have to call out the search and rescue to find someone who has underestimated it. Of course there is no comparison here to the Colorado Rockies or the Alps. But that a person could get lost in a pine-fir forest in a state known for it's cactus, is not a well-known fact.

On the other hand, I've learned much about the rest of the world from the random postcards I've found in my mailbox. For example: they watch American TV shows, they write impeccable English, they complain about the weather too. Dogs are loved everywhere. But first and foremost: everyone loves mail!

Freedom of Expression

2007-01-05T12:24:00.000-07:00

With their way of life collapsing around them, the common folk of Nazi Germany still had a sense of humor, although at a cost. This was a joke circulating in 1944:

Hitler and Goering are standing on top of Berlin's radio tower. Hitler says he wants to do something to cheer up the people of Berlin. "Why don't you just jump?" suggests Goering.

Sadly, I read that a Berlin woman, who worked in a munitions factory, was executed for telling this joke in 1944. How different it is today in the USA where anyone can express their opposition to the government's involvement of troops in Iraq and this is seen as normal and acceptable. People at the execution of Saddam Hussein certainly had opinions. They were expressed at a socially inappropriate time, but they had the freedom to do so and I don't think they should be punished. Having bad timing like this should not be illegal.

Happy 2007

2006-12-31T18:15:00.000-07:00

I've been sadly absent from posting here this past month. So I resolved that I will do better in 2007. There is so much to comment on, to laugh at, to communicate. May all your wishes for the New Year come true.

1 of 20 Questions

2006-12-08T12:27:00.000-07:00

Recently I participated in a postcrossing game called 20 Questions. I sent a list of questions to a gal in the Netherlands and I answered questions sent to me by a gal in Norway. One of the Norwegian questions I think deserves some expansion.

What do you think the world will be like in 200 years?

The short answer I gave was that people will be more educated about each other's culture because we'll be more crowded. Except for the people on the moon.

NASA reports that they are planning on a base at the south pole of the moon by 2020. And this is only 14 years from now.

If we look back to 1806, we might get a perspective on 2206. Lewis and Clark had just finished their exploration of the future western United States. There were colonies all over the world, governed by European powers. Australia was just a penal colony. Asia was only of interest to Asians who did not reach out to the rest of the world.

Events are excellerating today crazy fast (as is the current fad to say.) Look at how the Internet grows on a monthly basis. One can find information on any subject that pops into your head, within seconds. The societies that keep their people in the dark about computers will be washed over and trampled by the technically elite. With such vast stores of knowledge readily available, people will be more enlightened. Cooperation will increase as we begin to look at people in other countries as people just like us, and not foreigners. Human misery such as Darfur will be impossible to sustain as we will all be effected faster.

It would be nice to be in a time capsule and awaken in 2206 to see what has happened. I believe it will be a better, although as I said, more crowded world.

Signs of the Season

2006-12-01T15:47:00.000-07:00

Finally winter has shown its face on the Double Barrel Ranch. By this I mean we went below the freezing mark overnight and so we have lit the woodburning stove.

Another sure sign is that I dragged out the Christmas card list and a few decorations. I think Christmas is a good thing, even if there were no baby in Bethlehem. Society needs a season for giving and in the Northern hemisphere, a season to string extra lights to bring sparkle to the darkest days of the year. Heaven knows the retail markets need a centerpiece to ensure they make a profit. And the non-profits need our meditation on our good fortune to spring cash from our pockets for their worthy causes. Not to mention the tax advantages if one is so well situated that one is worthy to deduct charitable giving.

But I digress. Christmas is the season of joy and the measure of that expands and contracts over the days leading up to the holiday: joy at seeing loved ones, sending & receiving gifts and cards, admiring lights and decorations; then there is the un-joy of long lines, trying to get the right gift before they are sold out, spending too much, and a long list of social niceties that you'd rather skip but are obligated to follow. Everyone should have to do things they find less than enjoyable. It is for the common good.

I imagine God up in heaven with a large abacus. He slides a few counters to the good when we have the Christmas spirit, and subtracts a few counters when we moan and grouse. And we get a whole row slid to the good when we acknowledge the baby in the manger.

Meditate On This

2006-11-07T21:02:00.000-07:00

Millions of Americans say they practice meditation. Presumably these people have learned new techniques to avoid the emotional storms that others are battered with and that leave them in deep unhappiness. Modern mental health providers have provided treatment by various methods (talk therapy, psychoactive drugs, etc.) but not much has been done to get to the root of what is bugging America.

It is us.

We are suffering from a sensory overload. Distraction is everywhere: TV & radio, video games, cell phones, portable DVD players, MP3 players, computers, the internet, and on and on. No wonder people are breaking down left and right. The book "Future Shock" was right. Obviously we cannot regress to a more simple life. We battle negativity, pessimism, gloom and doom. These feelings flog us. However those who look at these emotions with less "emotion" believe that these are not facts, they are just thoughts. One can let go of thoughts and think of other (more constructive) thoughts. Meditation is a means to stabilize the mind. Some people have made this work for over 2,500 years. (Buddhists) Maybe it could be helpful for more Americans in 2006. It's something to think about.

Equestrian heaven, Ft. Robinson, Nebraska

2006-11-06T23:21:00.000-07:00

Equestrian heaven, Ft. Robinson, Nebraska
Originally uploaded by edification.

Rider "P.W." from Wyoming, on the trail near Ft. Robinson, Nebraska.

Ft. Robinson from the bluffs

2006-11-06T23:19:00.000-07:00

Ft. Robinson from the bluffs
Originally uploaded by edification.

Bird's eye view of Soldier Creek Valley and Ft. Robinson.

Ft. Robinson, Nebraska

2006-11-06T23:18:00.000-07:00

Ft. Robinson, Nebraska
Originally uploaded by edification.

Living Quarters of former military post is now used to house tourists. Spare, but unique, fitting.

The Sand Hills

2006-10-27T22:13:00.000-07:00

On September 25 I crossed the heart of Nebraska on State Route 2. This is a highway of full service gas stations and more cattle than people. Plowed fields gave way and I saw I was in a remarkable grassland. The mixed grass prairie of the Sand Hills cover a full quarter of the state. The dunes were formed around 10,000 years ago at the end of the last ice age when the loose sand blew off the newly exposed Rocky Mountains. The lonely green hills undulated on for mile after mile with only a rare ranch house huddled in a narrow basin along with a couple struggling cottonwood trees.

Running parallel to Route 2 for quite some time was a rail line. Long trains of dozens of coal cars from Wyoming passed by. Wyoming is the #1 coal producing state in America. And half the electricity in the US is generated by coal-fired power plants. I think I saw all the coal needed by a small city for a year in all the coal I saw rolling by, in just one afternoon on a sunny early autumn day.

And the treeless sand hills kept rolling by too. Once the home to bison, now producing beef for a hungry nation. Seemingly untouched. A bare land. But not barren.

Horse Philosopher

2006-10-27T11:22:00.000-07:00

horse philosopher
Originally uploaded by edification.

How I feel today.

Equine Affairs

2006-10-22T11:19:00.000-07:00

This morning I found one of the worst nightmares of any horseman. My sweet gelding "Jack" had a case of colic. This is a serious disorder in horses, not just a belly ache of inconsequence. It can be anything from a mild gas colic to sand impaction to a twisted gut. In 1989 I had my best buddy, a great strong buckskin Quarter Horse, die from colic. Jack has never had colic before. He is 20 years old, but this is not really old for an Arabian. It isn't his "time" yet. Right now he seems improved but I'll be watching him like a hawk for a couple days.

During the last days of my trip I stopped in Wyoming to visit a new friend who raises Arabians and Saddlebred horses. I thought I was interested in one of her grey Arabs. (Like Jack's color; I love greys!). Instead a big handsome palomino Saddlebred caught my eye. I've never ridden a Saddlebred before and know little about the breed. But I know a good horse when I see one. (At least that is my opinion.) And "Ed" is a good looker for sure. The only drawback is he is 1,111 miles north of me. Plus my husband would commit homicide if I didn't sell my Thoroughbred gelding before adding another mouth to feed to my herd. But that is an acceptable risk. I'm interested in bigger horses so I can find a saddle that fits both me and the horse. Right now I have a saddle that fits my small Arabian horses, but not me. And I have a big Australian Stock saddle that fits me, but not my small Arabians. Conundrum. Horses are great fun, but sometimes complicated.

During my trip I rode at Fort Robinson State Park in northwestern Nebraska, just south of the Black Hills of South Dakota. The countryside was open, with hills, scenic views, wildlife such as Rocky Mountain Big Horn Sheep, and tame critters like Longhorn Cattle. I rode a borrowed grey Arabian horse named "Buddy", on a borrowed saddle, with a borrowed bridle. Everything worked well on the horse, but do you think I could get the hang of putting on his bridle? It had more parts than my Toyota. I was all thumbs. Okay, I looked like an idiot putting on his bridle and finding the bit hanging under his chin. Oops, that was supposed to go into his mouth. Let's try again. Occassionally the horse's owner got impatient with me and bridled him herself. After another dozen tries I would have had it figured out. Yes, sometimes horses are complicated.

One of my grandchildren has become less enthused about our shared horse, the big Thoroughbred I mentioned above. He is tall. 16 hands. That is about 5 foot 4 inches high at the beginning of his back. She is 5 foot 3 inches tall. He doesn't pay attention to where he puts his feet. Her foot has been under his hoof a couple times. And it is a long, long trip down his side when dismounting him. I love his height, although he eats as much as two of my Arabs. But with everyone losing interest in him, I guess it is time he finds a new home. I've never sold a horse in my life. And it is complicated. There are 3 owners involved. I hate the "business end" of horse ownership. I just want horses to be happy, healthy friends for life. Unfortunately hay costs money and like most folks, money is finite. Selling a horse is upsetting, but at least it is not a nightmare.

Trip Distilled

2006-10-18T14:51:00.000-07:00

From September 17, 2006 to October 15, 2006 I drove 3900 miles and rode along in a truck hauling two horses another 1800 miles. I do believe my need for feeling asphalt under my butt is satiated for some time.

Travelling is great fun. Something new is always around the bend or over the hill. I saw wild turkeys, pronghorn antelope, cattle, and deer in abundance. Corn and soybeans were being harvested. Hay was drying in the fields.

I spent 22 hours on horseback in 3 different states.

Friends became better friends. New friends were made.

I paid for gasoline and paid and paid and paid. (Biggest expense.)

I felt good. My digital camera shutter snapped 301 times, the last time for a rainbow over the Apache Indian land near me. It is good to be home too.

Have Hooves, Will Travel

2006-09-16T21:52:00.000-07:00

Occam is going on another adventure and will be without internet access for 4 weeks. UGH! Will Occam survive? If so, there will be new stories to tell. I expect to travel only 4000 miles this time. But some of those miles will be with a friend and her two Arabian horses. I love to travel with horses. Since you are taking them out of their natural environment, you must become their slave in order to see to their comfort and health. When you stop and before you go, the last thing one does is check the horses.

I will be camping in the northern US and it will not be summer. If things go as they have in the past, that means I'll see snow. Hopefully not. I prefer to see only the autumn foliage coloring the landscape. But I'm not a wimp. It won't be the first time I've had to scrape frost off my whiskers in the morning. (I don't have whiskers. That was just a poetic expression.)

So please check back about the middle of October and see what news is coming from the ranch. See ya round the bend...

Orson Welles

2006-09-15T21:49:00.000-07:00

I've been to the movie theatre twice in the past 20 years. I saw "A Beautiful Mind" and "Passion of the Christ". With all due respect to Christ, the beautiful mind was better. Modern movies are in a terrible slump. Tonight I watched "Citizen Kane" which was made in 1940 when Orson Welles was 25 years old. He directed, wrote and starred in the film. It is absolutely riveting. Cameras don't film like that today. In 2006 there are no young people born in 1982 with a smidgen of the talent Welles demonstrates in "Citizen Kane". Today there are some actors who are producing movies that they are acting in, but they are established talents, not fresh faces. Movie-making is out of the reach of new filmmakers which probably explains the popularity of "You Tube" and other internet video outlets. Maybe this new medium will cultivate an Orson Welles of the 21st Century. I hope so. I am pretty tired of the fantasy & urban violence crap that Hollywood has been re-making over and over.

Orson Welles 1915-1985.

At a Loss

2006-09-09T22:22:00.000-07:00

Five days ago a life was tragically lost halfway around the world. I'd never met the man. I've never even been to his country, Australia. But I, like millions of his fans, mourn his death. Steve Irwin, better known on TV as The Crocodile Hunter, was a conservationist in your face. His exuberant voice and athletic adventures with crocodiles and numerous other species of animals drew young and old alike into knowledge and familiarity. We started to care about the animals. Even old grumpy crocs. There will never be another like Steve. And we aren't shedding crocodile tears.

September 26th

2006-09-08T23:08:00.000-07:00

All my life I have lamented the dearth of people also born on my birthday. I've never met a person who shares the same date with me. But thanks to the wonders of the Internet I have found some birthday twins:

1888 t.s.eliot -American writer
1889 Martin Heidegger -German philosopher (where I get my angst from?)
1981 Serena Williams -Tennis player.

The list of famous people who have died on my birthday also is singular:

1820 Daniel Boone -Frontiersman
1763 John Byron -English Poet
1952 George Santayana -Writer and Philosopher.

The list seems heavily weighted to writers and philosophers. Since I fancy myself a bit of an amateur writer and an even more amateurish philosopher, maybe there is something to this "birthdate as an influence" over one's life. The planets were aligned in such and such a manner. Ooops! Pluto is no longer a planet, have to re-write everyone's astrological predictions. Well, seriously I haven't any angst over astronomy. It's all fanciful.

A Melting Pot

2006-08-30T21:58:00.000-07:00

On occasion I have made statements in this blog about politics. No matter who you are and no matter how vehemently you deny that politics interest you, the management of public affairs concerns us all.

I recently patted myself on the back for being more "green" than Al Gore. I believe government does some things better than private enterprise. Aha! Occam is a Democrat you might guess.

I also think that the lure of making money inspires people to start businesses and work hard to make a legacy they can pass on to their heirs. And government has no business in taxing the results of that hard work a second time. I watch people depend upon government to save them from Hurricane Katrina and it doesn't work. People need to take more responsibility for their own well being. Aha! Occam is a Republican you deduce.

Sadly for the observer, my ideology is unreliably liberal and unreliably conservative. I have principles, they are just more colorful than staid. Oscar Wilde said: "Consistency is the last refuge of the unimaginative."

Addicted to Paper

2006-08-28T22:21:00.000-07:00

The mailman brought me a most extraordinary jackpot today: a letter from New Mexico, and postcards from Ohio, Finland, Hungary, Brasil and Australia. The stamps on this mail were wonderful too. A koala from Australia for instance. Just pure joy to this philatelist.

I also won a couple eBay auctions of stamps. Inexpensive lots. I think I was the only bidder. I like auctions like that.

In the meantime I have discovered "embossing". This is done with a brass stencil and a pen-like tool with a knob on the end. You simply tap the outline out and voila, your paper is embossed. Looks classy. I am inspired to make a homemade card now instead of paying money to Hallmark. When you care enought to send the very best, make it homemade!

Can you see a theme coming into focus here? Paper. Whether it is a letter, a postcard, a stamp, embossed cardstock... I also do scrapbooking, and rubberstamping, and stencils, and, well, I collect books, magazines, photographs, etc. Paper. Paper is king.

The internet is paper in electronic form. And it is easily transferred to paper by hitting using the Print command. I use this non-paper tool to expand my appetite for paper.

In the end, it can all be burned to provide warmth or as a cooking fire, so all is not lost.

Forecast

2006-08-25T16:47:00.000-07:00

Oh my interest in Meteorology! I love to watch the weatherman and see the weak limb they will crawl out on to give us a long range forecast. Scientifically, there is no way to predict the weather beyond four days in the future. Even then the accuracy is not that great. It is not even perfect quite closer in time. How many times can you remember being told it would be a certain temperature that day, say 75 degrees F, and late that afternoon your thermometer read 87 degrees? How could that forecast have been so wrong? Actually the question we should be asking more often is how was that forecast so close to being right? The atmosphere is a classic chaotic system. Being accurate is like finding a needle in a haystack.

Recently there has been great disorder in the weather of Arizona. Tremendous amounts of rain have fallen. Some areas have received more rain than has ever been recorded for August. Where 6 weeks ago was a whithering drought, is now a lush landscape. And the long range forecast for August 6 weeks ago? Normal rainfall, no relief from the drought.

Thunderstorms swirl around me today. I managed to get laundry out and dry on the clothesline before any rain fell. It hasn't yet rained today. No clever scientist, no churning computer can tell me, for sure, if it will rain. It is all chaos.

Watching Aachen

2006-08-21T21:09:00.000-07:00

I am an insignificant landholder with a few horses who lives far from the spotlight of world equestrian sports. But I can still follow it, and so I report that the World Equestrian Games (WEG) are underway in Aachen, Germany. Today was the endurance ride which covered 160 KM, or about 99 miles. The loops of the ride took each horse and rider through Germany, Belguim, the Netherlands, then finally to the stadium in Aachen where the victory went to a Spaniard who rode his 8 year old grey Arabian gelding, "Hungares" into history. The American team had a disappointing 10th place finish among the national teams. The USA used to dominate endurance riding. I think it is more that the rest of the world is getting better, rather than the Americans are slipping.

I had a dream of being an endurance rider. My first obstacle was that I owned a very heavy American Quarter Horse. I took him on a 25 mile distance ride but he went lame at the finish. Next I used an Arabian stallion, but he found the atmosphere of so many mares around so distracting, that he was held back by the Veterinary committee, the time spent standing around sniffing mares counting in his final time total. So that didn't pan out for me. And here I am today. Now my obstacle is a proper saddle.

My origins are thoroughly urban. There wasn't a horse for miles from my home. But that didn't stop my growing love for them. At age 26 I purchased my first horse, the previously mentioned Quarter Horse. He taught me a lot. Believe it was Teddy Roosevelt who said, "The outside of a horse is good for the inside of a man." This goes for women too, who today outnumber men as horse owners in the US.

The horses are galloping, jumping, and strutting their stuff in Aachen. And I'm watching.

Entomological Adventures

2006-08-18T20:48:00.000-07:00

I am not really interested in Entomology. Except when bugs intersect my life. It is not true, despite the urban myth circulating on the internet, that there are roach eggs in the glue on your envelopes.

It is not true that scorpions can swim up drains and that is why they appear in your sink or bathtub. I am not fan of scorpions. Been stung a couple times and it is like fire. But they don't swim. They simply enter your house by walking in and migrate to whatever moist place is nearby. Poisons are not very effective on scorpions. But luckily they are not good at climbing out of bathtubs and sinks. They keep sliding back as they try to escape, just before I sever their disgusting segmented body into disjoined pieces. Ick.

Yesterday I had an unfortunate introduction to fire ants. These small critters are not native to my area but are becoming more common. Our recent mild winter may have encouraged them to locate here. They are endemic to the southeastern US and Texas. Well, anyway, there I was, ignorantly putting my left hand into a nest of them and suddenly I was being swarmed. They bite and then sting and the sting is, well, it is like fire! I brushed them off as fast as I could but still suffered the normal localized reaction: swelling, burning, intense itching. I had my hand & arm on ice for 3 hours trying to calm the reaction to their venom. Today I have a few small pustules and residule itchiness. I would like to invite these immigrants to return to Texas forthwith.

My years in the desert have been happily with few incidents of the entomological kind. Mosquitoes for instance are quite rare on the ranch. There are no blackflies, no gnats. My dogs have never had a tick. My horses do attract flies however; but they prefer equine blood to human.

That brings me to my last entomology story. Names are omitted to protect the innocent. Recently I was invited to a picnic. I arrived late as I'd been out of town. Everyone had eaten and the leftover food was being attacked by flies. As it was getting on to be evening the decision was made to move indoors. A comment was made that this was a good plan because then the flies would head for the ceiling and could be vacuumed up. This was news to me. Now I'm not a snob. I understand that some folks have trouble keeping flies out of their house. But they go up to roost on the ceilings at night? In fact I witnessed this phenomenom after we moved indoors. But as this was being discussed a young lady asked me what the flies did in my house. I said I didn't have flies in my house. Why not? she inquired. I said I have screens on my windows and I close the door to my house. Finally a guy clarified it for her when he stated for all assembled to hear: she doesn't know about the flies because she's not a REDNECK.

Tourism Equestre

2006-08-13T14:39:00.000-07:00

A pen pal in Germany sent me a newspaper article about the horse rendevous in France that took place last month. Called "Equirando 2006 -Alsace-Saverne" it attracted 882 horses, donkeys and mules from all over Europe. People actually rode to the event, or drove in carts or carriages. And for 3 days the host region wined and dined and educated and promoted horse activities. The most interesting event I think must have been the Grand Procession of all the horses through the town. An event such as this could only happen in Europe. What fun this must be! Now this has become one of the 43 things I must do before I die. Of course I will have to borrow a horse or just be a spectator. I am such a romantic about horses; sentimental about the noble steed. Even while mucking horse manure.

Green

2006-08-12T11:30:00.000-07:00

Al Gore has a new movie called "An Inconvenient Truth" where he is rallying the planet to personal sacrifice to save us from ecological disaster. Some of the ways one can live "green" is to *switch to compact fluorescent light bulbs, *use a clothesline, and *use renewable energy. I have been doing all these things for years. I have solar panels on my roof that provide electricity to half of my house. I do not own a clothes dryer, I use a clothesline. And I only buy fluorescent light bulbs. Also I have a 960 square foot house, very compact. Good enough for two people. Meanwhile, the champion of "Green", Mr. Gore, lives in a 10,000 square foot home with 20 rooms, and 8 bathrooms in Nashville, Tennessee. Do you think his wife Tipper hangs his clothes on a clothesline in his exclusive neighborhood? Do you think has solar panels on his very nice roof? Is it green to have 20 rooms for two people? Also, he owns a 4,000 square foot house in Arlington, Virginia. I don't think they allow clotheslines in Arlington. It is a rather ritzy town.

Practice what you preach Mr. Gore. Because the way you live is an inconvenient truth.