Bending

My husband is a perfectionist when it comes to shoeing a horse. You probably can't slip a horse hair between the shoe and the hoof on his latest shoeing job. And not because it is very tight, but because the hoof and shoe were so perfectly aligned. He works very slow because of this and because of his bad back. Mostly because of his back. I don't know how farriers do it, bending like that. Husband says it is all in the technique. Well, I sure don't know what it is.

My preferred exercise on these hot summer days is swimming. I don't even break a sweat! Although I do get a cardio workout. I never used to worry about things like that. Life on the Double Barrel Ranch had a lot of work to it. I never gained an ounce. Then something changed. In the Steppenwolf song "Monster" the lyrics say: "we grew fat and got lazy". I'm thinking that middle age has something to do with it too. I've gained more than an ounce or two. When I bend to check a horse hoof, there's something in the middle, making it more difficult. It must be my technique!

Broken Trail

I've never done a movie review. Here is my first.

Robert Duvall has done an outstanding acting job in another western film that was broadcast on the AMC network. Adapted from the book of the same name, Broken Trail was aptly named and expertly filmed. The horses and scenery were breath-taking. At times the actor's words were hard to follow, sort of like real life. After all, gruff old cowboys haven't normally been to oratory school. But there were some real gems in the language. Listen close and you'll be rewarded. In the end, true to any good western movie, the bad guys lose. And you feel like your team has just won a world championship. Very satisfying entertainment.

Tough

Even though the horses can get into the shade, they spend a lot of time in the full sun. Their hides get hot to the touch. But they are tough. As long as they have plenty of water.

I, on the other hand, am not tough. I do not particularly care for summer. Not in Arizona, not anywhere else. One exception: on top of a mountain without any insect pests. The other day I climbed up to a peak at 8780 feet. I sat on top, looked out over miles of Arizona and the edge of New Mexico. The air is thin at that elevation. My pale Caucasian skin was bombarded by radiation. The desert below was baking. On my lofty perch, with a slight breeze, it was 78 degrees. I could have stayed there for hours, alone. But just as I left a troop of 8 hikers who arrived in 4 SUV's arrived to check out the view themselves. I wondered if they were some kind of hiking club. When they returned from the peak trail, they all changed their shoes before driving home. They changed their shoes! I found this terribly amusing. Our society is so specialized that you can't hike and drive in the same footwear. I also thought that they went to a lot of trouble, hiking up the trail to that spectacular view, only to glimpse it briefly and go home. They were not local folks. Local folks would have car-pooled first of all. I don't know. Maybe I am strange. As long as I have plenty of water, I will soak up that sunshine.

Rain On Me

I have 117 posts on this blog. I think I've had at least one other person read every one I've wrote. But it has been months since anyone has left a comment. Ok, so I am not the most engaging writer on Blogger. I basically write for me. But secretly I hope that others find my words meaningful or entertaining.

I put small rocks inside an empty plastic jug and shook them at my horses. Immediately they thought the world was coming to an end and trotted off with their tails over their backs. I am going to call this jug my "photo aid".

Algae took over my pool about 3 days ago and I've been fighting the green ever since. Green is my favorite color, but not for my pool water.

A fire in the next state over, New Mexico, sent smoke into our valley yesterday, seriously degrading out air quality. Winds have shifted and today it is clear.

We are all waiting for the monsoon. There is a folk story that predicts it rains on the anniversary of St. John the Baptist, which is today June 24. I think it might have something to do with Baptism being a water thing. But there is a very small chance that it might rain today. Monsoon moisture comes from the Gulf of Mexico, to our east. So when we see the clouds building over New Mexico, we become cautiously optimistic. In this devastating drought we are in, we will take any drop of water that the Rain Gods deign to send us. Even if it carries algae seeds in it!

The Trees

the trees
Originally uploaded by edification.

View in a grove of Giant Sequoias.

Sequoia

One of the highlights of my visit to Sequoia and King's Canyon National Park was of course, Sequoiadendron giganteum, the Giant Sequoia. Some of the trees are believed to be 3500 years old. They are not known to die of old age. They have columnlike trunks, stout branches and fibrous, reddish bark. The tallest are up to 310 feet tall, and the fattest 40 feet in diameter. They are the largest living things. At one time sequoia species were more common around the world. The Petrified Forest in Arizona consists mainly of extinct sequoia trees. A citizen who lives on private land inside the park gave me a sequoia cone with seeds in it. (It is illegal to collect any material from a national park.) I plan to try to sprout them and maybe they will find their way to an appropriate niche on a mountain nearby. Wouldn't it be marvelous if 200 years from now, someone "discovered" a Giant Sequoia grove in eastern Arizona?

The trees are thrilling to see. As big as they are, they seemed to hide amid their pine and fir neighbors. At this time of year the Pacific dogwood is in bloom in the forests. Their large white blossoms were startling in themselves, but when viewed next to the red trunk of a sequoia, they were magical.

There aren't many sequoia left in the world. These in California are the only ones in the New World. Imagine if they had a consciousness and stand witnessing the host of human encounters with them after they stood so long in obscurity. Do they know we have changed from looking at them as number of board feet, to some kind of arbor royalty? Are we puny things, unimportant in the passing of centuries? I'd like to think so, for their sake.

Old South, New America

During the long hours on the road during my vacation, I amused myself with an audiobook. On four cassettes I listened to the voice of Jimmy Carter, 39th President of the U.S., read his book: An Hour Before Daylight: Memories of a Rural Boyhood. He grew up outside of Plains, Georgia on a farm with a powerful farmer father and a nurse mother. Parts of their farm were worked by sharecroppers. Many of his boyhood friends were negroes and it wasn't until he was about 11 that he realized they were not his equals. Carter explained how the segregated south operated in those years of the Depression, and leading up to WWII. It sounded like a hard, hard life, for white and black folks. (Harder for blacks.) But he has such fond feelings for the land that the Carters still live there today.

I've heard that many urban northern black Americans are returning to the south. But it is a much different south than their grandparents left. Oh, the peanuts still grow, and the rivers still give up their fish, but everyone is a sight more better off. You'd be hard pressed to find teen-age boys having to plow their Daddy's farm with mules. And machines do the cotton-picking. But most importantly, we all get soft toilet tissue from Wal-Mart now and don't have to use the pages of the Sears Catalog.

Anyone who has a romantic view of life on the farm in the olden days should listen to Carter's description of the ringworm, lice and plentiful rats that were part of everyday life then.

I was curious as to how he would explain how he could accept segregation and then be a champion of civil rights in his adult years. We all change. And I think he always felt the injustice of his having benefits his young black buddies did not.

I feel I grew up in an enlightened home as my mother often stressed the equality of all people. So I felt a natural closeness to the anti-segregationists. I voted for Jimmy Carter. I believed in the platform of the Democratic Party. (Until their platform became nothing more than opposing everything the Republicans stood for.)

Today the new "minority" (that is not a minority) that is discriminated against are the Hispanics. They are the ones out in the fruit and vegetable fields, hoping for a better life for their children. But they are also starring in music videos and on television shows. They run the gamut from mexican gang members to state governors. It is even more stupid today to have dreams of an America for only "white" Americans. The world has changed.

It is unbelievable to me that people intentionally segregated the races in the south within the memories of many people living today. I expect that the current difficulties between Latin and non-Latin Americans will soon be a bad memory too.

S'il vous plait

I listened to the fellow tourists atop Moro Rock in Sequoia National Park. They were most definitely speaking french. Praising the view, smiling for photographs. I wondered if they were from France or Canada. I wanted to reach out to them, tell them I was happy they were here, visiting this beautiful place with me. But it has been too long. The words failed me.

Father Marceau (college french teacher) would be so disappointed. I did well in his class. We even went to Quebec City during Carnivale. I could communicate in french then. Mostly I read in french. It was so beautiful to read. The sound of the accent moved from the page to my ears and it tasted like champagne.

I don't know what keeps me from studying french today. I guess it is a lack of Fr. Marceau. Also I no longer have a regular french speaking penpal to impress. I used to try hard to write parts of my letters to L.G. in french. I felt cultured. What am I now? Uncultured? A klutz in the foreign language department? I hardly ever put a non-English word in my blog anymore. And that is one of the things I intended to do regularly.

Ah, life. It rolls off the years like the "r" rolls off the tongue in french.

West of the Ranch

Ok, so I took a 16 day sabbatical from my blog. It isn't like a major terrorist was killed. Or the first named storm of the hurricane season arrived.

I went for a swim at sunset tonight and then watched the rich colors grow in the west. Vapor trails followed jets heading east out of Phoenix which is a world away from the Double Barrel Ranch and I like it that way. On my way home from my vacation, while doing 80 MPH on the freeway in Phoenix - it is called keeping up with traffic- a mattress flew out of the bed of a pick-up truck two lanes over and naturally came to rest right in front of me. I managed to hit it only with two wheels at a somewhat lower speed, but praised God it wasn't worse. I've never seen a mattress look so graceful as it arched through the air in my direction. My trip totalled 2068 miles and about 150 miles from home I have to confront bedroom furniture in my path.

The weather was outstanding in the Sierra Nevadas. The Giant Sequoias were stately and beautiful. Snowmelt-fed rivers were in full-throat roaring down from their lofty 10,000 to 14,000 foot origins. Campgrounds weren't overly crowded. Firewood plentiful. (But still we saw neophytes buying wood for their campfires.) The horse rental folks weren't yet open for the season, so at home here I'll ride my own horses exclusively this summer. All-in-all it was a pretty good time to visit Sequoia and King's Canyon National Park.

What I could have done without was the air pollution. It was shocking. From a haze over any distant scenic view to a full blown brown cloud hanging over the central valley of California, it was an unwelcome constant companion. I now understand the strict emission standards for California cars. The bad air is slowly poisoning the forests. Although I did not learn any time-table, I can see a sense of urgency. Plus its' current effects are not healthy. A Park Ranger told us that the day before a woman had to be evacuated from the park because of respiratory problems due to the ozone or some other air pollutant. From the park!

I went to California to enjoy the outdoors. And I did admire the wonders of the National Park, but I came away with sadness. What is more basic than the air we breathe?

Leaving in a Toyota

Another multi-state trip is about to be embarked upon. This time going WNW westnorthwest. A peculiar manifestation of geography makes close neighbors of the lowest spot in the US and the tallest mountain peaks in the lower 48. I'm not planning to visit Death Valley. But I'll be nearby. Mainly I intend to visit the Giant Sequoias in the High Sierras of California. They are higher and wetter than the mountains I'm most familiar with. I hope to catch a stirrup and have a horseback ride to report to you about later.

My own horses will be languishing here when the hottest temperatures of the season will hit. Poor guys. I'd take them with me if I had a 4 horse trailer with living quarters and a pile of money for gas. But then they don't like dogs in National Parks so I'd still have to leave some animals behind. There is just no getting around it, when you have pets or livestock, you have to sometimes leave them in other hands if you want to travel very far. Where we are going, it is only about 15 hours away, but it'll feel like we are a continent apart.

Let's hope that this is not the time that California decides to have "the Big One" and fall into the sea. I've never felt an earthquake. Who knows, I might get lucky since I'm going to be sleeping in a tent on the ground. Can't get much closer to the earth.

So prepare yourself for my California Dreamin' posts coming to a blog near you in June.

Denial is a River in Egypt

Recently I fasted for 2 days. The bible is big on fasting. I must be a real wimp. I was hungry the whole time. Toward the end of the time I didn't even want to drink anymore, I just wanted something salty, like french fries. Guess I can cross off "nun" from my list of prospective occupations. The result of not eating for 48 hours? I gained two pounds.

I had expectations of how it would feel to fast. My mind would be clearer. My body quieter. Where did I get these fanciful ideas? All I could think of was food. I wanted meat. Where was this spiritual experience? My body screamed at me. I should have been able to concentrate on the meaning of life, on my Creator, on improving my actions in this world. Instead there was nothing but steaming vegetables and the smell of grilled chicken. I will meditate on a full stomach from now on.

My advice on fasting? Only do it if you've gone on a hike and forgotten the vittles.

Paper

When I was young, paper was expensive. Once a year, just before school started, my Mom bought me a pad of lined paper. It was meant to last the whole school year. I learned to write neatly, and only when I was sure. There would be no tearing up a sheet and re-writing something.

To say that I am paper parsimonious would be an understatement. I love paper. I've even tried making paper and burned out a food blender in the process, but it made some fascinating paper.

Now I've been introduced to scrapbooking. This is a natural progression in my worship of paper. Single sheets of premium scrapbooking paper can cost 89 cents or more. They are beautiful. Royal paper. One way to build an artistic page for a scrapbook is to tear paper. It's hard for me to rend paper. Even if it is to be artistic.

A friend who visited Egypt brought me a bookmark made of papyrus. It's pleasurable to the eye and to the touch.

I own a lot of paper, some of it is printed upon, some of it is pure, virgin. My thoughts may be ephemeral but the paper lives on after me.

Taste of the Desert

Due to the drought, there aren't as many insects pestering the horses as one would expect. Hey, one has to look for a silver lining in severe weather.

This last week I've picked and ate my homegrown cherry tomatoes. In the northeast, where I was raised, tender vegetables haven't even been planted out yet. Like my sister says, Arizona is a whole other world.

I met a two foot long rattlesnake on a dirt road. Since it has been awhile since I've seen one of the little devils, I poked at it once with a long stick. Not unexpectedly, it responded with vigorous rattling. There is something primeval about that sound. My blood ran cold even though it was warm out. I almost felt I should apologize to the snake. But I didn't stick around long enough. Diamondbacks belong in the wilderness. Not on a baseball diamond or on the receiving end of stupid human teasing.

The heat is on for summer 2006. There have been at least two days of 100 degrees already. Though in May the temperature drops precipituously at night so that by dawn the next day it is nearly 40 degrees cooler. Mornings are exquisite. The clear blue sky, a riot of birdsong, and the scent of flowering trees. Miss the day before 6 AM, miss a lot. Or I should say: priceless!

Masses of Swirling Letters

As a result of harrassing the metro paper, I am still a subscriber to a print newspaper. But something, a tradition, is lost.

Satellite TV and the internet are really taking the lead as far as communicating current events. It is a sea change.

The network TV season is coming to an end. Lots of "Finales" being broadcast. Some of them are pretty good. I am too hooked on TV drama. It entertains me when I don't want to face real drama. But I don't think anyone can face real drama hour after hour, day after day, without a break. Medical doctors for instance have an unexpected high rate of suicide, maybe because of the real drama of their professions?

Books are being turned into movies before the books even drop off the best seller list. For instance: The DaVinci Code. The premise of this book/movie is so silly. There is no accounting for the taste of the masses.

And who goes to the symphony anymore? More people know that Paul McCartney has filed for divorce today than know how to spell Beethoven or can name one musical composition that he wrote.

The last time I stared into a bowl of Alphabet Soup I realized I was seeing a metaphor of the modern world. The letters swirled around, sideways, upside down. Nobody on this earth can make sense of it all. Although I tried, by reading every word on that newsprint. But it is not there, nor on the satellite, nor in cyberspace. I am not going to try anymore. I am going to pet my horses, contemplate the cacti enduring the drought, and let the winds of change blow.

Oh Beeping Paper

Sadly, print newspapers feel the pressure from the on-line competition. Traditionally I've subscribed to a daily paper for the bulk of my news. On a lark, being tired of throwing away newspapers, I pretended to go on vacation and stopped my daily paper for two weeks. At first it was hard. I felt I was missing so much. Soon I was doing a lot more outdoors. Getting exercise early in the morning instead of reading the obits. There are news channels on TV, the internet, and lastly, the network news! So I did keep up somewhat on the current events. Finally I called to have the paper re-started the next day. So I be-bop out to my newspaper box and, it isn't there. I call. "Oh we don't have a start order for you." What on earth happened to the order I called in the day before? "Oh we had some computer problems." But I really wanted the Sunday paper. You know, the paper with all the special sections, book reviews, color comics, etc? "Oh, we can send it with your Monday paper." Fine, so I be-bop out to my newspaper box to find: only the Monday paper. I call. "Oh we didn't get that order to add the Sunday paper with your Monday issue." Tomorrow is Tuesday. This 3rd person has promised that I will get the Sunday paper then. If it is not there, I will call. I will cancel my paper. I am a customer. I will only be toyed with to a point. I can form new paths to get my news.

No Complaint

Daylight today is one and a half minutes longer than yesterday. 45 days of increasing day length until summer arrives on the longest day. Although the weather is outstanding at the moment, we know the searing desert heat is almost here for 2006.

I am not really acclimated to Arizona's heat, but that is ok. Everyone needs to complain about the weather. It's: too hot, too cold, too wet, too dry, too snowy, too windy, too cloudy, too too whatever. Today there was no complaint.

Around 1912 I had an Aunt die of what our family always called "Summer Complaint". It was too early for the Pandemic of 1918. I've never heard this diagnosis made in modern times. In the past every family it seems had a child death. Just take a stroll through any old cemetery and read the baby tombstones. Offhand I can only think of two families who have lost a young child to disease. We have made progress in the last century. I was the first child in my family to get innoculated against polio. Before me, my parents had to worry over my older siblings. How many kids have you seen in Iron Lungs lately? Although it is sure our medicine is not optimal, it is the best in the world at this time. I have no complaint.

Immigrant Moon

Living in Arizona I notice the moon more than I did when I resided in cloudier climes. Tonight 68 % of the moon is illuminated. One can even navigate the desert in the night without walking into cactus. That should cheer the illegal immigrants sneaking into Arizona tonight. I don't know what kind of legal niceties my grandparents had to follow in order to immigrate to the US. They didn't speak English although they spoke 3 other languages. They immersed themselves into American culture. They didn't fly the flag of their homeland at their new American home. They learned English and never taught the old languages to their children. One of my uncles even "Americanized" his surname to make it easier for people to pronounce. They didn't send money back to the old country. They invested it here, in real estate, savings bonds, their children. There was no welfare, food stamps, or free medical care back then. They grew a garden, worked, saved for a rainy day, attended a church that was not being monitored for harboring terrorists. They took insults to their national origins and kept their mouths shut. They became US citizens. Sent their kids off to fight for Uncle Sam. There are similarities and differences with today's immigrants. My grandparents came here in the daylight, their heads held high. I am glad they came.

A Nip

Occam having daily life interrupt her writing. Too much social stuff interfering with this, my solitary pleasure. I've been writing since I was in grade 2. My first poem was about a cat pondering whether to climb a drapery or not. My housecat does not climb the drapes. I got him a cardboard claw scratcher which he loves. Especially when I sprinkle catnip on it. Writing is catnip to me. I get delirious over it. I dream about it. I don't care if it has no socially redeeming value. It would be nice if people read me. Occam's husband wants her to write that Great American Novel. It would be par for the course if I had it published posthumously. For now, I'll continue my blog, with its little poems, short stories, and comments on life here on the Double Barrel Ranch.

Had a hot day yesterday. Omen of things to come. The swimming pool is looking better and better.

Bought vaccine for West Nile Virus for the horses. Tiny vial, smaller than the size of an egg, came in the mail in a box as big as a Thanksgiving turkey. I hope it protects horses big time like that too. Everyone is getting crazy over avian flu and all other kinds of bugs. I am not exempt. I don't want a mosquito to bring down one of my horses.

This isn't as much as I hoped to write but that stubborn life is bothering me again.

Attached/Detached Portions

There is just too much in this world for me to even start to blog about. I learned tonight that when you bend uncooked spaghetti that it will never break into two pieces, it will always break into 3 or more pieces. They called it "fragmentation theory". Sounds like a good name. Then there is a place in Nebraska called Carhenge where people can visit cars and trucks stuck vertically into the ground in various positions. Quite the tourist spot it is. I can't wait to see it. Ahem. It snowed on our mountain last night. Last time I looked it was April and this is Arizona. It snowed. Next thing you know there will be an earthquake. Then I got a Customer Info booklet from my bank that said they will maintain appropriate records of my Account. That is a relief. I'd hate to have to figure up my own account balance! I am the product of the public school system. Give me a break. And they will by going to arbitration if I have a claim, counterclaim, cross claim, third party claim, interpleader or otherwise. I especially like the interpleader. Is that like a religious guy who stands in the gap? Anyway, I don't like the sound of arbitration. What comes to mind is a kangaroo court. My apologies to Australia. The alpha kangaroo wins. Not the one who is right. But the biggest, meanest kangaroo. Now if it is me in one corner and the Bank in the other, who is the more impressive boxer? Boxers or briefs? Forget the Boxer, I prefer looking at the Mini Cooper although a Toyota Corolla could run over it like a speed bump. Not sure I'd want to actually ride in one in traffic. I'd feel safer on my motorcycle. There is a motorcycle buried in an old graveyard near me. Not a motorcyle-henge. It is actually six feet under. I think because that is what the guy who owned it wanted. And there aren't many cemeteries that take motorcycles. At the moment I can't remember if the guy is buried with his machine or not. The human part escapes me. Is that what happens when someone kills another person on the spur of the moment? The human part takes a brief hiatus? In Alzheimer's your personality goes on permanent holiday. I think you need an interpleader then. Because there is going to be money involved and that attracts lawyers. I firmly believe that when it comes to the legal system, your past, present and future income will, should and shall become subject to fragmentation, in theory and in truth.

Abduction

Occam have a short story to tickle the insides of your craniums today. All original by yours truly and it was no dream:

There was a dream I had. I was a young boy living in the Mid-West, in farm country. The horizon stretched to infinity. One hot afternoon a massive storm approached. The dark gray clouds were more than ominous. Not the clouds one would see when there were tornado warnings. These were different. Mother was shutting the house windows and had already taken the laundry off the clothesline. The clouds built up to enormous heights. I felt I was under a tsunami about to break over my head. Nothing would be left of me when it struck down. Shapes swirled in the blackest clouds. Angry horses. I thought I must be dreaming but the cooling air on my arms felt real. Lightening flashed. I could faintly hear my mother called my name. Why were the horses so angry? I reached out to them. If I only could show them I was friendly and no threat to them. The wind gusted. My mother screamed for me. I never looked back. Nothing was left but those dark eyes piercing me, hooves flashing by my ear. Then I was taken. By the black, eternal sky.