tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40140052771535556222024-02-21T09:56:37.173-06:00SpiritcreekStories from the tall grass prairie in the Kansas Flint Hills.Jackiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15461386564339879940noreply@blogger.comBlogger711125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4014005277153555622.post-20080317126215244412024-01-05T20:35:00.007-06:002024-01-06T18:50:37.053-06:00My Corner of the Earth<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Sometimes I forget exactly what it is I have to be thankful for, what I appreciate in my life. Sometimes I forget what an extraordinary experience it is to live on this earth, even just an ordinary life.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I do not live in an area that is considered dramatic or spectacular, though the Flint Hills are quietly beautiful in their final dying gasp as the last of the tall grass prairie. To quote a prairie aficionado, Willa Cather, "Anybody can love the mountains. It takes a soul to love the prairie."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Enjoy these few photos of the hundreds I have taken over the 25 years I have lived in my quiet little corner of Earth. They were mostly taken within a couple of miles or less from my front door.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><b><span style="color: red;">Peace on Earth and Good Will to (some) men. From the old lady, the supreme beings, and the goddamn German Shepherds of Spiritcreek.</span></b></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEilzniDcsBqZCmufT8VMr1RMIcWt7JZQDvYNRqhii_QdRRmPwQTOe0E6b3YOwtImE2h_CIkrio9dT2spdsRbOkT0cAD9pd4Bji5D1eWGyMaL1JYN9OrbqDw-MVmFJTSLldZFgPowq25QA3zKuvrDzdJYQ3by4SvHG1HjZ8Stbwl-Qbv-ZBOL8gaOIebgnxi" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2566" data-original-width="3836" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEilzniDcsBqZCmufT8VMr1RMIcWt7JZQDvYNRqhii_QdRRmPwQTOe0E6b3YOwtImE2h_CIkrio9dT2spdsRbOkT0cAD9pd4Bji5D1eWGyMaL1JYN9OrbqDw-MVmFJTSLldZFgPowq25QA3zKuvrDzdJYQ3by4SvHG1HjZ8Stbwl-Qbv-ZBOL8gaOIebgnxi=w640-h428" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Early summer when everything is green and it is easy to believe in a heaven.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgKv04-5Q1VVlsTnsUyBOJYE5rqO8TXs-TXz4XYB-XVufTBT8723_icVG2OptF0H81EGpXgsHJQ4xTQQgujXl_jNmCN8inOb1NcOnrn2jle8o-oBFMjHtiZdFnkpyDUz-yJ2hE5HTdtZfNqYLhYI-WVj9cTxAbMTX3G2Ot59j_TQbtBEolM9p6jnFp3qlRQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2848" data-original-width="4272" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgKv04-5Q1VVlsTnsUyBOJYE5rqO8TXs-TXz4XYB-XVufTBT8723_icVG2OptF0H81EGpXgsHJQ4xTQQgujXl_jNmCN8inOb1NcOnrn2jle8o-oBFMjHtiZdFnkpyDUz-yJ2hE5HTdtZfNqYLhYI-WVj9cTxAbMTX3G2Ot59j_TQbtBEolM9p6jnFp3qlRQ=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A genuine waterfall. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhyzsaCn5qTu6MDjXqf-TUK9Smo6z8WRldAfrq9eLMfLEDJxB2JagpEwsySMR-HSOG1Nqy1tQiD_2Gpg7Ue0UdogFhp665h94KqwZlfMbLa_FvDEWDp8Y39NfIOIZEmI56szp7nfTlbKYUE3_p2WjBOGuHLe8EuHsayESdIDU6EubHF7DRuuSVzJSnRCrhQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4272" data-original-width="2848" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhyzsaCn5qTu6MDjXqf-TUK9Smo6z8WRldAfrq9eLMfLEDJxB2JagpEwsySMR-HSOG1Nqy1tQiD_2Gpg7Ue0UdogFhp665h94KqwZlfMbLa_FvDEWDp8Y39NfIOIZEmI56szp7nfTlbKYUE3_p2WjBOGuHLe8EuHsayESdIDU6EubHF7DRuuSVzJSnRCrhQ=w427-h640" width="427" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">When every single thing you see on the prairie is green, a splash of color is exciting!</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgZJeONNzvmfqJ-tul9U7VuykIRu17DJ2rvMIHWhnl2Zb2FRPtHfNdQ8VjXc7Wp8L3Y6hJGomqg3XDcNIu-B_QbwswDP7LuGS_kjx0jMtItmL66oeVa4VJemp-vBAyBKKzc6ASjIHDEG_CsCVj6H1Kzlm0_yCKuLPhRvXA-nRwC1rEyeUc5H3xkvNLwfyCB" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2848" data-original-width="4272" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgZJeONNzvmfqJ-tul9U7VuykIRu17DJ2rvMIHWhnl2Zb2FRPtHfNdQ8VjXc7Wp8L3Y6hJGomqg3XDcNIu-B_QbwswDP7LuGS_kjx0jMtItmL66oeVa4VJemp-vBAyBKKzc6ASjIHDEG_CsCVj6H1Kzlm0_yCKuLPhRvXA-nRwC1rEyeUc5H3xkvNLwfyCB=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">No one knows why these are called <i>Missouri</i> Primroses. Unfortunate, indeed, but one of my favorite wild flowers. I do not see them at roadside now in the spring - I assume from the herbicides dumped and sprayed, another act of killing the prairie. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhJP5tLjmxZb9sSJzqIFZLTDBWukaO7LENXlCQQDzdhdtdACMuA9OG5vS1rdy4J978UXltcaQ3QAue-ftRHd6j3Cac7FAF4YCqxgAJBg8UTBhykLKzz8U3C2N9Nb4leWroGKfJJdc3mi3Troz82tCn0wNwp-d12_8xFlqFM0Kv6DYLM7r9fpyFTnWT2_JZQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2848" data-original-width="4272" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhJP5tLjmxZb9sSJzqIFZLTDBWukaO7LENXlCQQDzdhdtdACMuA9OG5vS1rdy4J978UXltcaQ3QAue-ftRHd6j3Cac7FAF4YCqxgAJBg8UTBhykLKzz8U3C2N9Nb4leWroGKfJJdc3mi3Troz82tCn0wNwp-d12_8xFlqFM0Kv6DYLM7r9fpyFTnWT2_JZQ=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The Lesser Supreme Being, Wally, when he was younger - before he became the old white horse he is now.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgUclLN8-D_2wDnXb2feR7MxhFuT_90AWPghKoD1X5PSqR49rx2yNcC7KFmCIKrEa1g_tQ0Revp_oYsA8DWx8MtuTUzjTAFnaDFmMUdDZD2T2TJFhfgtPjJG1HqczSxffcJJ5fFqxl_afuYnSNBqmCTEY7FpZFQXBBHcjtjiEiksfL3QE-o-24vkDH0pubp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2848" data-original-width="4272" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgUclLN8-D_2wDnXb2feR7MxhFuT_90AWPghKoD1X5PSqR49rx2yNcC7KFmCIKrEa1g_tQ0Revp_oYsA8DWx8MtuTUzjTAFnaDFmMUdDZD2T2TJFhfgtPjJG1HqczSxffcJJ5fFqxl_afuYnSNBqmCTEY7FpZFQXBBHcjtjiEiksfL3QE-o-24vkDH0pubp=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It would not be Kansas without the remnants of the stone fences. This was taken a few miles from home.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjod8Ddu3DRMlA5JGVVJ54P4dNkNMyTX7BeYLxhuXvTEIExfYCTd21pvFfJwWwTRCXK5AYd84hNRbK04b22JeYwQB1eDwUuaeXmnESuopuOxQbcvmp7IwAU7Qts64ED242KkNVLh8hpGuinLEUvUyzDeGKwITSoyxNm4iLhLeqwnGJCzJi_7YdJ54YO4ulh" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2848" data-original-width="4272" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjod8Ddu3DRMlA5JGVVJ54P4dNkNMyTX7BeYLxhuXvTEIExfYCTd21pvFfJwWwTRCXK5AYd84hNRbK04b22JeYwQB1eDwUuaeXmnESuopuOxQbcvmp7IwAU7Qts64ED242KkNVLh8hpGuinLEUvUyzDeGKwITSoyxNm4iLhLeqwnGJCzJi_7YdJ54YO4ulh=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Wild swans I happened upon a while ago, just up the road. They are so large that they made the pond appear small. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhApk9lBWFoytdaFNuyPrxeynrgTGyEhAmpG3jkZutMKhVzxFJ2iJLgPDmzXqxLW4YtT5rvGasbfLHmIQJF3mann9cZ9_HZIJE_aq6xh7wc-FGGpAJ0yThHx25LAw0dDmqiSPnoZDzk35gjxcq198aV1BIbiFvDCv0gXXvlYnxjWwLqUy-PU5wkbweqRHiy" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4272" data-original-width="2848" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhApk9lBWFoytdaFNuyPrxeynrgTGyEhAmpG3jkZutMKhVzxFJ2iJLgPDmzXqxLW4YtT5rvGasbfLHmIQJF3mann9cZ9_HZIJE_aq6xh7wc-FGGpAJ0yThHx25LAw0dDmqiSPnoZDzk35gjxcq198aV1BIbiFvDCv0gXXvlYnxjWwLqUy-PU5wkbweqRHiy=w427-h640" width="427" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The summer shade over Snokomo Creek</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgeizMxCDCtoYaFKx1WUjwRkM99a39njjInyjqd0IyMK7sT1-bFpsp1IR8raa_4g31J5qWhU3srr2U6sNe8o8Gm1K2NKCQQyWX2AWfyuB041-cV3QfJhT9c0ky9BOp3PcZTYXxgqa_DxezktNaMf9TN65nO00ui3eGo5leZBP3E2I7Dn57kpj_DCZfAn2dC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2848" data-original-width="4272" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgeizMxCDCtoYaFKx1WUjwRkM99a39njjInyjqd0IyMK7sT1-bFpsp1IR8raa_4g31J5qWhU3srr2U6sNe8o8Gm1K2NKCQQyWX2AWfyuB041-cV3QfJhT9c0ky9BOp3PcZTYXxgqa_DxezktNaMf9TN65nO00ui3eGo5leZBP3E2I7Dn57kpj_DCZfAn2dC=w640-h426" width="640" /></a>I do not know the secret of taking a photo of distance. This is an expanse of Wabaunsee County where you can see for likely 20 miles, at least. If heaven is this simply beautiful - assuming I end up there - I will be happy, and count myself as blessed.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiDw3iP2v5qL6sjFyM9LRpjjnlEwBnAufHDp5kM6NssbaE8c2p9tIOSvmdr51-tQB2F_bykbeADO3CbdaC9A9Pvdu2u79wOtol_BnZ2csuadxT-k0kjQNIpldSMK8rXMDlSLwANYp55DgEWZtLKMQ28Nj6jmt6pkuNnCSlENMZ-hybBMYbucHd98y4dO0Cm" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2848" data-original-width="4272" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiDw3iP2v5qL6sjFyM9LRpjjnlEwBnAufHDp5kM6NssbaE8c2p9tIOSvmdr51-tQB2F_bykbeADO3CbdaC9A9Pvdu2u79wOtol_BnZ2csuadxT-k0kjQNIpldSMK8rXMDlSLwANYp55DgEWZtLKMQ28Nj6jmt6pkuNnCSlENMZ-hybBMYbucHd98y4dO0Cm=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">No photo montage of Kansas can be complete without the State Art Forms - bullet holes, barbed wire and horse shoes.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhElyxt30x1Rk4mYrViW6MQgKug3ANxF_ZrQF-w6gIxIIxArsFRFe3OzvSLjk9QAZfcCjMWe6LGYeq4caOF7f_mxQizMnrx9JMF54lNsFshNTMVrF7dbY6xDSNlghPuDom1q2lbqwUTctmtO6vPzt7-FaLcFiBWjZp9TFUp6guFFb1wyrExXcGxvusCnH7x" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2848" data-original-width="4272" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhElyxt30x1Rk4mYrViW6MQgKug3ANxF_ZrQF-w6gIxIIxArsFRFe3OzvSLjk9QAZfcCjMWe6LGYeq4caOF7f_mxQizMnrx9JMF54lNsFshNTMVrF7dbY6xDSNlghPuDom1q2lbqwUTctmtO6vPzt7-FaLcFiBWjZp9TFUp6guFFb1wyrExXcGxvusCnH7x=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Snow has to be very, very deep to cover the tall grass. Luckily for me, I have not had to endure a winter when the snow is deeper than the grass is tall.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEibcds1xq1VdH5X_EnqqE1H117y_opg3ju3uDlMgqt6scTdunMwDIV71SQDCxdeDRx8LjNFByGAMKy702rN79Q_2dxv4RD1sK1g1dAQ08Nc5couybKlr2ZWVohyuXjyiugex2iXMjRzA_xzHItHkwmIOVUzw_AJwMHXPhSzQEZ6FfI0kGHwFWNzW9KQ3XNN" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2700" data-original-width="1815" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEibcds1xq1VdH5X_EnqqE1H117y_opg3ju3uDlMgqt6scTdunMwDIV71SQDCxdeDRx8LjNFByGAMKy702rN79Q_2dxv4RD1sK1g1dAQ08Nc5couybKlr2ZWVohyuXjyiugex2iXMjRzA_xzHItHkwmIOVUzw_AJwMHXPhSzQEZ6FfI0kGHwFWNzW9KQ3XNN=w429-h640" width="429" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Upland Plover, also known as a large sandpiper.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg2CqXlJpbPgRJ21ueQoHX_Oq5yLNf8serbg6nquHIRJt9K-qdYGSi2-bmViKFVFaqcPawa9r9U6cng0SJy4XGQbYzjdcfa29Xhr9UyVdRnkEsgFCa4ONZtCB80Mwtd6Fff82jJ-S8bMMr7-_AaieVrUc47NSjO3MfMZZp_TCQ-7uhDz5AAo5rjg-48N4SL" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2848" data-original-width="4272" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg2CqXlJpbPgRJ21ueQoHX_Oq5yLNf8serbg6nquHIRJt9K-qdYGSi2-bmViKFVFaqcPawa9r9U6cng0SJy4XGQbYzjdcfa29Xhr9UyVdRnkEsgFCa4ONZtCB80Mwtd6Fff82jJ-S8bMMr7-_AaieVrUc47NSjO3MfMZZp_TCQ-7uhDz5AAo5rjg-48N4SL=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I cannot tell what birds these are but who cares? They were so cute together on these twigs.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgfhTL8KDuXqdHH-nMA4jMWbkd8K1f5nGkU_O2hlwEq1I-Q1dpxf_rLwMLeUNB23y95ZyPE-SL5IA51-C15wAxnbSFkiVWoFWZFHRmUVEq3fyV8lEqICmXuHyc-pYGAW79rA0lPKIwK4Y40dZMWDZ2OYsNmdLFraMOfcdS71CaHod1QOlnIeF9AP2NvQceW" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1809" data-original-width="4272" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgfhTL8KDuXqdHH-nMA4jMWbkd8K1f5nGkU_O2hlwEq1I-Q1dpxf_rLwMLeUNB23y95ZyPE-SL5IA51-C15wAxnbSFkiVWoFWZFHRmUVEq3fyV8lEqICmXuHyc-pYGAW79rA0lPKIwK4Y40dZMWDZ2OYsNmdLFraMOfcdS71CaHod1QOlnIeF9AP2NvQceW=w640-h272" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A typical Kansas sunset. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjy7VkdLs5ME9EXLdYjA3haJL1BI949uk6K7xzdkhNacBh0om5aVBxmq_vtMNingxULL2PAsIC7KG5IxvM-OqYa2Nc-LN-vFirx7iOnYg3-pbkTPHtPTm14MVvktwEfQ6OLXezxQe_90t4RbzEQSnBRRc4YhOhpEkJg7Q-TZ8PVu5TZt4uNZVFGJIqfpKqE" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2848" data-original-width="4272" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjy7VkdLs5ME9EXLdYjA3haJL1BI949uk6K7xzdkhNacBh0om5aVBxmq_vtMNingxULL2PAsIC7KG5IxvM-OqYa2Nc-LN-vFirx7iOnYg3-pbkTPHtPTm14MVvktwEfQ6OLXezxQe_90t4RbzEQSnBRRc4YhOhpEkJg7Q-TZ8PVu5TZt4uNZVFGJIqfpKqE=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The main gate to my little pasture the morning after the ice storm.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEio8lb2Y550eTfGdtktIdr3MJZ1sDE3Op74-f4yJwl5s9QyDdnAoH_iz3q6tfnyVhvpVSZIAvEHla_WJTEf13D20q3NVzcNe2vkxVIXjryqgMLIGHo0JsYSgqO_6XMHTqub2xYzH3UaQj-hJ1nGFtvlCgdWfbpYmQHkQTiavAabk_ehWC0A5x4Yq1DSzguV" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2848" data-original-width="4272" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEio8lb2Y550eTfGdtktIdr3MJZ1sDE3Op74-f4yJwl5s9QyDdnAoH_iz3q6tfnyVhvpVSZIAvEHla_WJTEf13D20q3NVzcNe2vkxVIXjryqgMLIGHo0JsYSgqO_6XMHTqub2xYzH3UaQj-hJ1nGFtvlCgdWfbpYmQHkQTiavAabk_ehWC0A5x4Yq1DSzguV=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My new house was not yet built but this is a typical Kansas sunrise.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgNYKb5oFmC2lPnmU21cFlVSk6_wEkjsC8Z_aBjqieKTwtZG6no5WsVxJyI7G0PcZQTFsMzsR0bkqQcxnXpfcHVjD24LZCI0KIW4nWs82wTmvQEHDgSMQilAIzdZUugMQksMZvxZdARzXpWB9TA3fDO0IqyCG3trUtcvR6I38_Fn9IQFjoaaq-XGDgRBVwg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2848" data-original-width="4272" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgNYKb5oFmC2lPnmU21cFlVSk6_wEkjsC8Z_aBjqieKTwtZG6no5WsVxJyI7G0PcZQTFsMzsR0bkqQcxnXpfcHVjD24LZCI0KIW4nWs82wTmvQEHDgSMQilAIzdZUugMQksMZvxZdARzXpWB9TA3fDO0IqyCG3trUtcvR6I38_Fn9IQFjoaaq-XGDgRBVwg=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The wild strawberries that grow on the top of the little hill where the barn is. Even after the horses' hooves have chopped up the soil and churned the mud all winter, these little plants grow every spring. I see them every single day but in 25 years I have yet to harvest a single wild strawberry. Other strawberry lovers get to them first.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh_qIgcl0Y2z8PBRUTd3mODWImc-X60miD60gl_50fKMnj8hGmYNEDhAFAXcDCqO2l5PCzybSIae3Ds_avIqCF-SPZDa5nt80jpqooz91BXKHZ1vAOMarg3Ebb0m--V1EM2Uk8bVdk6dzUZGZjCdFHYO43AHCw7zS2u4dB9yIKajw8wsNdck_TGKA-D_t4F" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2848" data-original-width="4272" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh_qIgcl0Y2z8PBRUTd3mODWImc-X60miD60gl_50fKMnj8hGmYNEDhAFAXcDCqO2l5PCzybSIae3Ds_avIqCF-SPZDa5nt80jpqooz91BXKHZ1vAOMarg3Ebb0m--V1EM2Uk8bVdk6dzUZGZjCdFHYO43AHCw7zS2u4dB9yIKajw8wsNdck_TGKA-D_t4F=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Sometimes fall is a spectacle of brilliance in the Flint Hills!</div></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg3PdD5FPzMU0gljlSxr2X8-a2uo-O5-z-r__ykLTooyQkpro7lec_05t8Ahk3b6dKdJiAz7iBWf5z6_LF61LmNPDe3T6Ou6rqJ-m9hHvOsVjZYRxj0HN31EcL3AHOkehwl06P6DZyy162o2ub6gU5d2on_6sgKiQu01AApiu4rko6v3z87C5slvGODEnUC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1719" data-original-width="4272" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg3PdD5FPzMU0gljlSxr2X8-a2uo-O5-z-r__ykLTooyQkpro7lec_05t8Ahk3b6dKdJiAz7iBWf5z6_LF61LmNPDe3T6Ou6rqJ-m9hHvOsVjZYRxj0HN31EcL3AHOkehwl06P6DZyy162o2ub6gU5d2on_6sgKiQu01AApiu4rko6v3z87C5slvGODEnUC=w640-h258" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This is the pond that I secretly call the sacred pond. It is on the corner from my house. Coming home from work day after day after, I welcomed the beautiful sight of this little pool of water reflecting the general splendor of the Kansas sunsets. For many years there was a heron who lived in this pond. I assume the fish and frogs kept it there. A terrible draught caused the pond to dry entirely up and since then there has been no heron.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjwcQVNAEZt3zPnzpa1ooociUsGq9coE1GHdm7q6XEtnMcp-qxu0YtoPPHT5XVo-miECUMk-WyOWrYHNtxl5MwFICpczanrI9HJBHJadS3P4Z5SFTl-t52RwTHNyZOtIN5o3hfDSK_CG6M1f7Aupntkz6zwDvcK4q-tBB4Z7tRrl2J407-7zjhfJ7S7gVe4" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2848" data-original-width="4272" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjwcQVNAEZt3zPnzpa1ooociUsGq9coE1GHdm7q6XEtnMcp-qxu0YtoPPHT5XVo-miECUMk-WyOWrYHNtxl5MwFICpczanrI9HJBHJadS3P4Z5SFTl-t52RwTHNyZOtIN5o3hfDSK_CG6M1f7Aupntkz6zwDvcK4q-tBB4Z7tRrl2J407-7zjhfJ7S7gVe4=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Permian Sea fossils found in the gravel of my little creek and a very large feather - all gifts.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgmuPXtExKVgphTwJu0ayPU9f0L3HeCp5TT8utLyqCYw8eUdXoCUffY5zpOofmnBl5RlbcIMM0qOFLAUwkO_vSCRbwjvfDAkC-AG6U9c_QBf5c56NWwLqw2JLKwlmw-4GB1aTbgwncIsFU1gaxXcP0gjA9ngQcVO28uYlLDveDfOMnv9CVYviADKVRisYu8" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2848" data-original-width="4272" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgmuPXtExKVgphTwJu0ayPU9f0L3HeCp5TT8utLyqCYw8eUdXoCUffY5zpOofmnBl5RlbcIMM0qOFLAUwkO_vSCRbwjvfDAkC-AG6U9c_QBf5c56NWwLqw2JLKwlmw-4GB1aTbgwncIsFU1gaxXcP0gjA9ngQcVO28uYlLDveDfOMnv9CVYviADKVRisYu8=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The russet color of the big blue stem gives the prairie life even in the dead of winter. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh1rafiV3oQ3JkSIfzGoYZwZxWo5-CJGA_NRV19H1jADE9TosJGtJVKf98eAjW_GZH989_9HhxfOmWrSsL7zGwZhAUeS6uW4DTaOZrlX5IX0mcd8M2zxFM98h3uwl6vZb-HNnoMsS1hF1-MGds83v_xS9XKY97B4JE8I-dnATYQDV_-OCTYTxa1kKCdVzDY" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2848" data-original-width="4272" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh1rafiV3oQ3JkSIfzGoYZwZxWo5-CJGA_NRV19H1jADE9TosJGtJVKf98eAjW_GZH989_9HhxfOmWrSsL7zGwZhAUeS6uW4DTaOZrlX5IX0mcd8M2zxFM98h3uwl6vZb-HNnoMsS1hF1-MGds83v_xS9XKY97B4JE8I-dnATYQDV_-OCTYTxa1kKCdVzDY=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">More color from the prairie plants and grasses.</div> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjSIjYIMYzFQqaoHEh0XQ8jl0B-oC96D0MgoGsViIc5jkHAb-eT1Gf96bL4SSbR0Ve_gLGf-LkZFV4llV9__4eVfhATRVMEFrR3kKgLQLw02LUxocEiYm7b5YerajFabOKIBp1deotXw6aKkbSFiDZlL-84G4eLvRdH28zDxdzuafcpO7vPDPNMutFPf_Q2" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2848" data-original-width="4272" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjSIjYIMYzFQqaoHEh0XQ8jl0B-oC96D0MgoGsViIc5jkHAb-eT1Gf96bL4SSbR0Ve_gLGf-LkZFV4llV9__4eVfhATRVMEFrR3kKgLQLw02LUxocEiYm7b5YerajFabOKIBp1deotXw6aKkbSFiDZlL-84G4eLvRdH28zDxdzuafcpO7vPDPNMutFPf_Q2=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The sacred pond frozen in winter. My house is tucked down in the creek, out of sight, at the far right end of the trees. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEicq3LmjyxJg-l2NWVp3AjwkVLCD_eOZfohpIBD5zsYSQmxT-IuRK76b9y8FEL0pLJzcX9X2gTKklpU3NCYHW_91eaxj3npt3pMgbIR4tQ1VwM0GyHCfFQUabN0Azt1R8MNGO_nQ8H1smwA_dJj2so4N8ce1MPAmGgbKlsNvDqOv8Ne9XZkQQ8JKIEWarsf" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2848" data-original-width="4272" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEicq3LmjyxJg-l2NWVp3AjwkVLCD_eOZfohpIBD5zsYSQmxT-IuRK76b9y8FEL0pLJzcX9X2gTKklpU3NCYHW_91eaxj3npt3pMgbIR4tQ1VwM0GyHCfFQUabN0Azt1R8MNGO_nQ8H1smwA_dJj2so4N8ce1MPAmGgbKlsNvDqOv8Ne9XZkQQ8JKIEWarsf=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Kansas, Cattle and Thunderstorms. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjo1hadadJngRzrYU6O46UDUUk3HRzbZ9MCydBzZF5rpDbi_dwXMCXek1B4wxDld9hynN1z7Ce9Y0HCaVtf41l1WTwoRMFC-csh2Myo-ALZ3JjOv1nK9Y9wgNH2D7YDy3dMBvl8ifuftqY1Kk9pjE_At6Np9Dy4me1mqHsByZdz_ZUoM-Ymqw0VL78YDX9A" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjo1hadadJngRzrYU6O46UDUUk3HRzbZ9MCydBzZF5rpDbi_dwXMCXek1B4wxDld9hynN1z7Ce9Y0HCaVtf41l1WTwoRMFC-csh2Myo-ALZ3JjOv1nK9Y9wgNH2D7YDy3dMBvl8ifuftqY1Kk9pjE_At6Np9Dy4me1mqHsByZdz_ZUoM-Ymqw0VL78YDX9A=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">When it rains hard. This is draining into the deep ravine next to my drive.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjxC5JJ-XEnJ64phFug5CFXf3vHPxvQb43Z6Vp8sZVbjnUoogrFPI3uhwmygjT8nGXWXVlxMA-3AuAClajovWaLP3utdsHLkW2hyJjPL4GrqhsXyaGSPHbTDnuDLew-CTo_HswMKpeGn7lpdrzUgswYXoS0YxJxqB4pUi3kDKDYXk0wiR7SlWarRYMAi52R" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjxC5JJ-XEnJ64phFug5CFXf3vHPxvQb43Z6Vp8sZVbjnUoogrFPI3uhwmygjT8nGXWXVlxMA-3AuAClajovWaLP3utdsHLkW2hyJjPL4GrqhsXyaGSPHbTDnuDLew-CTo_HswMKpeGn7lpdrzUgswYXoS0YxJxqB4pUi3kDKDYXk0wiR7SlWarRYMAi52R=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div>A beautiful thunderstorm building in the southeast, taken from my pasture.<br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhwJVhQpmhLc2-2g_AvXC1Gjsj_6sqjlmc0lXzj9G678Am-JVjRUG9M1cxwJj6aJDa8hEP9CTBMfEDy5_gkGAhb5iOqoPJcEc9BNZNCv3xVNKTZRjckKIMWLlryz-jeR6N3VQyOBj87m4tppbWOnV5GGoQngJ6SnkQxmHOTYJyCI6gOwblEqVDaudeW69ib" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhwJVhQpmhLc2-2g_AvXC1Gjsj_6sqjlmc0lXzj9G678Am-JVjRUG9M1cxwJj6aJDa8hEP9CTBMfEDy5_gkGAhb5iOqoPJcEc9BNZNCv3xVNKTZRjckKIMWLlryz-jeR6N3VQyOBj87m4tppbWOnV5GGoQngJ6SnkQxmHOTYJyCI6gOwblEqVDaudeW69ib=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It would not be Kansas without a rainbow!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgvgHUkVbYU4IhHzngFTt1hVF_AZI3-pbS1Ezz7A6Bw4zeRrXWy3fhdgOelCQicIJC2ydaeCtfr0gwUUe22Agj6Pm_Eh7829xIJDy1zaS2xKuhovvmMJgcprlf89O5zDNG1icPrNBucHtW9KkNru3iaBudfLf1SpuERDxlfTEKtyL3KCOU4iFkDClt-GGZa" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgvgHUkVbYU4IhHzngFTt1hVF_AZI3-pbS1Ezz7A6Bw4zeRrXWy3fhdgOelCQicIJC2ydaeCtfr0gwUUe22Agj6Pm_Eh7829xIJDy1zaS2xKuhovvmMJgcprlf89O5zDNG1icPrNBucHtW9KkNru3iaBudfLf1SpuERDxlfTEKtyL3KCOU4iFkDClt-GGZa=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A sight that I never though I would see in Kansas in my lifetime, but this was taken less than a mile from my house! </div></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgm-nSguSSXUNEgVaVMNOtLpRujm3dm0Djriqoi0xCauFTqfqkTB7tIpEqhU31nwTQsfeLC3UqovTRJgZbCCks86A7tV7nycXma1apb4Jdm5Qktr6fERKST--SsaG7UxLCguPLWK339l8aSDIRb_FMc3UdsRv4Z5h_LQS0w3T6kIjqqEL53MGELQ3i7F_A1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1209" data-original-width="1052" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgm-nSguSSXUNEgVaVMNOtLpRujm3dm0Djriqoi0xCauFTqfqkTB7tIpEqhU31nwTQsfeLC3UqovTRJgZbCCks86A7tV7nycXma1apb4Jdm5Qktr6fERKST--SsaG7UxLCguPLWK339l8aSDIRb_FMc3UdsRv4Z5h_LQS0w3T6kIjqqEL53MGELQ3i7F_A1=w557-h640" width="557" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">You did not think I would forget to include sunflowers!</div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjd8OxGDwNFJ9-0ViGa_bcuuOsbPTtfxvVp8uQ0I-4JLFiPdXEjUFiGm76eBK2cDIfuVcp893wL-jQlRz_oPPc-0X6RvyTEsSAY-UVZg2fjHzMREMbd8slkfAr02R49Cwi7gAts2BNNkae0eTlHE4i6nXr_ObQ4zJZ1cIr5v2R1CcEAXhNaYpT0xzbrB-1z" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjd8OxGDwNFJ9-0ViGa_bcuuOsbPTtfxvVp8uQ0I-4JLFiPdXEjUFiGm76eBK2cDIfuVcp893wL-jQlRz_oPPc-0X6RvyTEsSAY-UVZg2fjHzMREMbd8slkfAr02R49Cwi7gAts2BNNkae0eTlHE4i6nXr_ObQ4zJZ1cIr5v2R1CcEAXhNaYpT0xzbrB-1z=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Good prairie management includes spring burning.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgQ5dFYKhCcKQ6ZpMKPFAMEJ3NFNf8X1slDz1AXrDsAwbhPRJHUpLer1I3-jtHxY33RjK6uizxFHypBWVY9xr_bMsJPq--eiuG2VL17Rd143J2YS-IaWNKFZn_TKVaoMuALxQis3QSmoYw60I5uoOt5ZhjlxR3wFK_fUkMj_DwU3sj8rjxsigNlWJ3qRmhS" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2585" data-original-width="2702" height="612" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgQ5dFYKhCcKQ6ZpMKPFAMEJ3NFNf8X1slDz1AXrDsAwbhPRJHUpLer1I3-jtHxY33RjK6uizxFHypBWVY9xr_bMsJPq--eiuG2VL17Rd143J2YS-IaWNKFZn_TKVaoMuALxQis3QSmoYw60I5uoOt5ZhjlxR3wFK_fUkMj_DwU3sj8rjxsigNlWJ3qRmhS=w640-h612" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The Supreme Being, Ginger, the beautiful little red Quarter Horse, a bossy mare. I love her so!</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiAaAVJDAOVwa7dMd_gFWAIDSlkOkJISFzC1LuqzOIK6eC3PZAN8gLiyPLl3kiM3Xf6smCDsS19I93CrdWux_d4gpmq_EvKfDX27-1UmwfLExc-gxxvqX7f_YqVxRlcMEAj8hdDjUxiSHPsz_7Tak4uuqbTAOPnJDwS8N3cRm_59xn94_JX2tYDdx-S1ArK" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiAaAVJDAOVwa7dMd_gFWAIDSlkOkJISFzC1LuqzOIK6eC3PZAN8gLiyPLl3kiM3Xf6smCDsS19I93CrdWux_d4gpmq_EvKfDX27-1UmwfLExc-gxxvqX7f_YqVxRlcMEAj8hdDjUxiSHPsz_7Tak4uuqbTAOPnJDwS8N3cRm_59xn94_JX2tYDdx-S1ArK=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">In the spring, the redbuds light up my front door.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj9IRw_7iBVr2hAEwh8jc9xF6VVvXEeW1XUiSCTfvsOm6HT2UfLhpmwjq7dFxEQGMdzghor4i9Hp7djU7BKdhAfnzsBOgDWySxPFSb4rpaqlGK1M8DME4YgVHfgeVIsEFJl8rPr0lpF1Nks5dxm_AcPC8AJvzlMQSX4fQZi3s3jTxm4M4Z9vGJdGBF9zo70" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2639" data-original-width="1932" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj9IRw_7iBVr2hAEwh8jc9xF6VVvXEeW1XUiSCTfvsOm6HT2UfLhpmwjq7dFxEQGMdzghor4i9Hp7djU7BKdhAfnzsBOgDWySxPFSb4rpaqlGK1M8DME4YgVHfgeVIsEFJl8rPr0lpF1Nks5dxm_AcPC8AJvzlMQSX4fQZi3s3jTxm4M4Z9vGJdGBF9zo70=w469-h640" width="469" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The sweetest dog, my Mattie. She sits like this, so proper!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgaSE17LlV4L_12sYkxFXF4TJf_O8fTl422SOsZNINxq56kRz3OgCsttjKUSGr9BDAxC-HF5rOgnMO3HOXZ67ORv_mHtNEjUBgYBEJ7SZgbbZFjslQGw0Hpzp5zBeqF2fgkl5UEGYlanDO02cwS2a9TJbL7WCl_nL2tW-DufExUUdad7yDxtSCDdFq8Va_w" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgaSE17LlV4L_12sYkxFXF4TJf_O8fTl422SOsZNINxq56kRz3OgCsttjKUSGr9BDAxC-HF5rOgnMO3HOXZ67ORv_mHtNEjUBgYBEJ7SZgbbZFjslQGw0Hpzp5zBeqF2fgkl5UEGYlanDO02cwS2a9TJbL7WCl_nL2tW-DufExUUdad7yDxtSCDdFq8Va_w=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The brattiest German Shepherd I have ever had in my life! She can be sweet but she assumes she is the supreme being around here. Neither Ginger nor I agree. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiIaHBCGZbIpBTqlPu2NZLlm_ou3Kn_5nNkoz3_Z_86QwBEUO2bconHB30gHpxtwveJOlb8Drx1em3I8RfDuWJBQCvFaTNJi4WWfxX2OvcMvtbIwXQM3vEx0EfjWFVuf4e1P_b46ZKq0ypf8oH8ACZcB7b4BM7FPDxYCXnAj1q4DYMJ2clPKFSbPyCqPbHW" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4272" data-original-width="2848" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiIaHBCGZbIpBTqlPu2NZLlm_ou3Kn_5nNkoz3_Z_86QwBEUO2bconHB30gHpxtwveJOlb8Drx1em3I8RfDuWJBQCvFaTNJi4WWfxX2OvcMvtbIwXQM3vEx0EfjWFVuf4e1P_b46ZKq0ypf8oH8ACZcB7b4BM7FPDxYCXnAj1q4DYMJ2clPKFSbPyCqPbHW=w427-h640" width="427" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The beginning of the end of the prairies, the symbol of the destruction of the bison and the old buffalo hunters' way of life. It is a deadly device that ushered in a new world view, one of dominion, individual ownership, and subjugation of the natural world. I count myself lucky to be here for the finale. </div><p></p>Jackiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15461386564339879940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4014005277153555622.post-52409893762631301862023-10-15T18:55:00.003-05:002023-10-17T12:23:45.316-05:00Fairy In the Garden<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwRD9jwnVHb0Vg_zQwb0LJmdEEEP8kGef9fKctbgPNokaW5CW73sLpfu-hTHO9SABt0dd3okBEOuIU_2sOPvL5NEndV3oP9DYs3CSVzmUq2FCZfbMPEdY-F78m8ha2Tu7-U41YDJlD-GmtBHHqrL_YbpofuB872PgeO3p8lFp9ROPqyHuioDJHCZzAy8T9/s2007/20231006_124303.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2007" data-original-width="1352" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwRD9jwnVHb0Vg_zQwb0LJmdEEEP8kGef9fKctbgPNokaW5CW73sLpfu-hTHO9SABt0dd3okBEOuIU_2sOPvL5NEndV3oP9DYs3CSVzmUq2FCZfbMPEdY-F78m8ha2Tu7-U41YDJlD-GmtBHHqrL_YbpofuB872PgeO3p8lFp9ROPqyHuioDJHCZzAy8T9/w432-h640/20231006_124303.jpg" width="432" /></a></div><br /> I was talking on the phone to an old and dear friend, someone from long ago and far away. He was telling me that he is catching glimpses of animals and other spirits from the corner of his eye as he is working in his garden these days. <p></p><p>The last few years have been a series of one medical emergency after another for him, including a dream or a vision wherein he spoke with someone exceedingly dear to him who has already crossed over. The veil is thin for him now and he does not have to be in medical crises to perceive these secretive inhabitants of this world, (or those of the next). He and I have always believed in mysterious experiences, in those precious few times when the truly sacred reveals itself. It is partly why we remain friends six decades on.</p><p>As we were talking, I was looking through the window where I spend an amount of time every single morning watching the sunrise, watching the birds and rabbits, greeting my day. This strange plant, one I do not recognize, had became noticeable just a day or so before this photo. It was brown, apparently dying, unlike all the plants around it, and it caught my eye. </p><p>Our conversation turned from my friend's new-found perception of animals or energetic entities to Findhorn, Perelandra and other sources of serious discussion regarding fairies and elves and nature spirits. The very unusual multicolored plant began to gently wave and sway in the breeze, but not in unison with the other vegetation surrounding it. It seemed to take on a life of its own. Of course, I knew it was a plant, though an odd one. As I watched, it transformed and appeared to be motioning to me. I acknowledged my Westernized scepticism but also refrained from any judgement as to what I was experiencing because it was delightful.</p><p>As soon I hung up, I took this photo through the screen. I put the phone directly up to the screen hoping to get a clearer photo but the phone would not focus at all then. I was a bit shocked when I looked at this photo close up. I can see a distinct face, clearly an elven ear, and a crown with a bright "light" above her face. She is bent forward with her right arm and hand forward, and appears to be wearing a gown or at least a long, full skirt. I see a pair of wings behind her, and I see a silhouette of a smaller figure behind her.</p><p>I sat watching through the window for a while - until the plant became just a dying plant, waving in the breeze like the other plants you see in the photo. The next day the yellowed leaves had all fallen. </p><p>I do believe I was visited by a fairy. </p>Jackiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15461386564339879940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4014005277153555622.post-77988259883267002062023-10-12T10:15:00.037-05:002023-10-12T10:42:33.391-05:00An Email to a Bookseller<p><i>This sort of thing embarrasses the crap out of my children! I can't help myself.</i><span style="color: #1f1f1f; font-family: inherit; font-size: 1.375rem; font-style: inherit; font-variant-caps: inherit; font-variant-ligatures: no-contextual;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="color: #1f1f1f; font-family: inherit; font-size: 1.375rem; font-style: inherit; font-variant-caps: inherit; font-variant-ligatures: no-contextual;">A Quick Note</span></p><div class="nH aHU" style="color: #202124; font-family: "Google Sans", Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; position: relative;"><div class="nH hx" style="color: #222222; min-width: 502px; padding: 0px;"><div class="nH" jslog="20686; u014N:xr6bB; 1:WyIjdGhyZWFkLWE6ci01NDEzNzU4MzI2OTc4Mzg5NzIyIixudWxsLG51bGwsbnVsbCxudWxsLG51bGwsbnVsbCxudWxsLG51bGwsbnVsbCxudWxsLG51bGwsbnVsbCxbXV0." role="list"><div aria-expanded="true" class="h7 ie nH oy8Mbf" role="listitem" style="clear: both; max-width: 100000px; outline: none; padding-bottom: 0px;" tabindex="-1"><div class="Bk" style="border-bottom-color: initial; border-bottom-style: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-color: initial; border-left-style: initial; border-radius: 0px; border-right-color: initial; border-right-style: initial; border-top-color: rgb(239, 239, 239); border-top-style: solid; border-width: 0px; float: left; margin-bottom: 0px; position: relative; width: 1256px;"><div class="G3 G2" style="border-bottom: 0px rgba(100, 121, 143, 0.12); border-image: initial; border-left: 0px; border-radius: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: none; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><div id=":eu"><div class="adn ads" data-legacy-message-id="18b2471a4c4046fe" data-message-id="#msg-a:r8417663912274204014" style="border-left: none; display: flex; padding: 0px;"><div class="gs" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 20px; width: 1184px;"><div><div class="ii gt" id=":h7" jslog="20277; u014N:xr6bB; 1:WyIjdGhyZWFkLWE6ci01NDEzNzU4MzI2OTc4Mzg5NzIyIixudWxsLG51bGwsbnVsbCxudWxsLG51bGwsbnVsbCxudWxsLG51bGwsbnVsbCxudWxsLG51bGwsbnVsbCxbXV0.; 4:WyIjbXNnLWE6cjg0MTc2NjM5MTIyNzQyMDQwMTQiLG51bGwsW10sbnVsbCxudWxsLG51bGwsbnVsbCxudWxsLG51bGwsbnVsbCxudWxsLG51bGwsbnVsbCxudWxsLG51bGwsW10sW10sW11d" style="direction: ltr; font-size: 0.875rem; margin: 8px 0px 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"><div class="a3s aiL" id=":es" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: small; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: 1.5; overflow: hidden;"><div dir="ltr">I received a used book (that is like new), ordered from Half Price Books via Amazon. Thank you for dealing in</div><div dir="ltr">used books, for having a business that trades in books, new and used, and for making them available to anyone</div><div dir="ltr">anywhere.<div><br /></div><div>I am soon to be 71 years old, and I have read thousands of books in my life so far. I love books even though</div><div>there are audible recordings, digital editions, and other access to the stories that first came to earth as books</div><div>(movies/plays/paintings/<wbr></wbr>sculpture etc). Nothing is as wonderful as a book - one you can hold in your hand,</div><div>tote around for days, make notes in, put on a shelf, take down years later to look for a particular passage. </div><div><br /></div><div>I do not know how many people work for your business but please tell them all "thank you" from an old woman -</div><div>from the janitor to the manager to the owner and everyone in between. They may be young folks who take the digital</div><div>world for granted, or think they are wasting their time working in an "unimportant" job, being of the opinion that printed</div><div>books are not important. If they only knew how important books are to human beings, to the greater good for this</div><div>world, they would come to work with pride, as they should anyway. People willing to work and make their own way</div><div>are the true treasure of any civilization. People trading in real books are providing a genuine service to the rest</div><div>of the world, and me in particular.</div><div><br /></div><div>I have read books that are considered great works of literature and I have read books that are considered trashy</div><div>by some, but regardless, I learned something from every book I have ever read. Now, in America, we have people</div><div>censoring books, as if they can stop the truths contained in books! One damned good thing about the internet:</div><div>burn the books in my school, I will read them online!!!</div><div><br /></div><div>I started working at age 14 for 65 cents an hour, worked minimum wage jobs until I finally got through school,</div><div>then I worked for 39 years. I know how easy it is to view a job as a soulless grind, or a low paying waste</div><div>of time, and everything in between. Maybe you can share my sincere appreciation for the employees of your</div><div>business and thank them for a wonderfully valuable service.</div><div><br /></div><div>Most sincerely,</div><div><br /></div><div>An old woman</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Jackiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15461386564339879940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4014005277153555622.post-24174644915098019562023-04-04T10:01:00.004-05:002023-04-04T10:01:54.323-05:00Not the Queen of England<p> Long-time readers may well recall the dismal customer service routinely experienced at a Topeka farm store over the years. In fact, employees who exhibited cheerful, helpful attitudes never lasted more than a few weeks - ever. I always thought the employees must have worked for a bastard of a manager. No one worked there for very long. There was never anyone who seemed to last even a full year- not even the most disinterested, surly employees who seemed to be the favorite hires.</p><p>Some things in life simply <i>are</i>, and because that particular farm store was so conveniently located, I continued to take my business there. The employees were only borderline rude and if I genuinely needed help, it only took about ten minutes to track down someone. Since I am not the Queen of England, after all, it was tolerable. At least I always knew what to expect.</p><p>Saturday I needed salt and mineral blocks, dog food, and equine fly spray. (I also knew they would have baby chicks, my favorite time of the year!) The place was hopping! I only recently started going into stores again, so all the hustle and bustle is almost overwhelming. There were so many customers that all the flat bed carts were in use. I had to use a deep, grocery-type cart.</p><p>I trundled along, getting my supplies by rote, especially after they only had ducklings left - very disappointing. (Ducks are cute little critters, but they are not chicks!) The American Stockman mineral blocks weigh 50 pounds apiece. I can still easily pick them up but lifting them above my waist is a struggle. I slid one block under the cart, trying to figure out if the second one would also fit under there, when a nice woman happened by, only a few things on her flatbed cart. She saw me shuffling the blocks and asked if I would like to trade carts with her! I readily agreed, thanking her very sincerely. </p><p>I no longer walk with a cane, but I must appear to be around 100 years old, or something, because often people offer unsolicited help. This kindness happened in the long depressed, surly atmosphere of the farm store! A minor miracle that simply made my day. </p><p>But, it gets better!</p><p>Only one cashier when I got to the front of the store but I am patient. Suddenly, out of nowhere, farm store employees appeared. A young gal looked specifically at me, calling me to her register. What's this new devilry?! She was so pleasant, speedy, knowledgeable - and apparently a manager as she also directed several other employees while I was paying. She asked if I wanted to sign up for an award card since they are now a different company. I did not catch the name but it was news to me. </p><p>And, even better!</p><p>I was making my way out of the store, threading through incoming customers when the heavily laden cart smashed into the edge of the door! I was horrified that I had broken the door but there was an employee right behind me, and I apologized. He assured me that it was not the first time that day people had crashed into the door. When I saw that it was not broken, I quickly got out of the way of all the folks coming and going.</p><p>I made it to my car, and was debating whether to put my purse inside first before I unloaded the cart when a man's arm appeared reaching over my purse. Oh my god, I was getting mugged at the farm store!! I spun around into the smiling face of the employee who had fixed the door. He had followed me to help load my car, scaring the bejeezus out of me! I started laughing, mainly happy that I was not a mugging victim - but help to load my car that I did not have to ask for? Witchcraft! Are you kidding me? Happy, helpful, energetic employees?! An Easter miracle!</p>Jackiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15461386564339879940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4014005277153555622.post-74594455202926199392022-12-20T03:57:00.001-06:002022-12-20T13:07:47.832-06:00That Time of Year Again<p>I am hitting a milestone birthday this month. It is a big one. I am officially entering "the last part of the day", as Bob Dylan terms it. Each passing year it is apparent that I have much to be thankful for, including good health, and good relationships, and good friends, and good neighbors. There is a steadily rising tide of news regarding people I have known for decades, already gone or soon to be leaving. I know I am old but I still wonder who is the old woman in the mirror, though I have had more than enough time to acclimate to being an old human being. </p><p>I have noticed many changes in the world at large. Young people cannot read my cursive writing, and they are not children but adults. A person's handwriting is as distinctive as their personality, instantly recognizable. I lament an art that was lost in so few years! </p><p>Young people cannot pronounce my given name. It stumps them. They erroneously try to pronounce the first syllable with a soft "C". It was once a very easy name for people to recognize and say correctly. It is remarkable that our language changed so in such a short time.</p><p>Often I am surprised by the kindness of young strangers willing to help me carry a large bag of dog food, or load heavy items into my car. I graciously turn down their offers because if it is something I can still do, it is a small victory against the inevitable decline. It is always such a pleasant experience when someone offers to help, though. I am grateful for their kindness and concern.</p><p>On Thanksgiving this year, I knew beyond a shadow of doubt that the tide has turned irrevocably for me. I was opening a container of gravy when it somehow slipped out of my hands. It spilled that precious golden nectar down the cupboard and onto the floor, much to everyone's dismay! Before I could even think what to do, both of my adult children immediately set to cleaning up the mess. I am no longer the de facto supreme ruler of this family. I am no longer The Mom. My children quite naturally cooperated, managing the minor crisis, male and female. I felt it quite deeply, minor as it was. I do not have to take care of everything all the time now. My family is in capable hands.</p><p>It might be difficult to see through the craziness in the world right now, but the young people coming up are going to be okay. They grew up in a world different than that of my baby boomer generation. A million things that are still fresh in my mind they did not experience and have no frame of reference. Of course the world changes. It changes every single moment. I try to stay up on things simply because I do not want to be left too far behind, but with each passing year it matters less. </p><p>The newest and best television and movies display an inclusive world. Each of the various Tolkien races in The Rings of Power contain human actors of every race. The Walking Dead, an apocalyptic science fiction series that aired for 11 seasons, showcased women warriors every bit as capable, heroic and brave as the men, sometimes even more than the men. In my lifetime, the first woman I saw on the screen that did not fall off her high heels was Princess Leah! Our entertainment has changed to be as inclusive as real life. A grand achievement!</p><p>Though climate change still engenders an enormous amount of angry deniers, the earth herself is delivering the message to each human personally. Quite soon there will be no argument left, no possible or plausible denial, It will be life and death for millions of people. Humans will either change or perish. It is simple. Other countries are far ahead of the USA, countries where humans make their decisions, not corporations. </p><p>Maybe we will wake up but maybe we will argue with ourselves until it is too late. After all the wonderful progressive science, education, industry and social advancement America achieved in my life, we have lately fallen into polarized hate, anger and ignorant denial, crazy conspiracy theories, and tragic domestic gun violence. It is shocking. It is heartbreaking. I think it is ultimately life as usual. There is always something on this earth that presents true challenge and requires courage and sacrifice. </p><p>For me personally, it is hardest to admit there are things that I can no longer physically do. (Well, I can probably do anything at least ONCE more!) I sometimes dream I am on the highway, riding my Harley effortlessly across all the miles. And when I wake up, I am happy. I cannot dance, but I can watch young people from all over the world dancing on TikTok - the next best thing! I can no longer walk up the front steps carrying five gallon water jugs, so I bought three gallon water jugs. Some day I will not be able to walk those up the steps, either. I will think of something when I get to that. </p><p>So, it will soon be my birthday and then Christmas, and the New Year and so on and so fourth. As my old confidant, Bob Dylan says: <span style="background-color: white; color: #1d1d1d; font-family: "Clarendon FS Light"; font-size: 16px; white-space: pre-line;">"I feel a change coming on, a</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d1d1d; font-family: "Clarendon FS Light"; font-size: 16px; white-space: pre-line;">nd the fourth part of the day is already gone." </span> </p><p>In time honored fashion: </p><h1 style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; margin: 0px; position: relative; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: red;">Wishing peace on earth and goodwill toward (some) men - <br />from the Crazy Woman, the Supreme Beings, and the wolf dogs of Spiritcreek Farm.</span></span></h1><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: red;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: red;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ1tzLorPMPeb6DmwqqIYzH3o8wA5QOMWazuw69Wg4OtgXCXW6y8STF3zfcIRPHXrFTu18JB0U2ssUZV_hj-T_LNDxn0MUTxW3w96cQmavVoJewHXe5YmNNTjgOxg1iG79MtcxV-EXj4Zo2zxOS1kILFrUqWiSzUUJvi5u4FRwMXhdO27hmDWUFe_uBA/s829/20191102_203349%20(3).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="548" data-original-width="829" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ1tzLorPMPeb6DmwqqIYzH3o8wA5QOMWazuw69Wg4OtgXCXW6y8STF3zfcIRPHXrFTu18JB0U2ssUZV_hj-T_LNDxn0MUTxW3w96cQmavVoJewHXe5YmNNTjgOxg1iG79MtcxV-EXj4Zo2zxOS1kILFrUqWiSzUUJvi5u4FRwMXhdO27hmDWUFe_uBA/w640-h424/20191102_203349%20(3).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My family (and son's Cane Corso)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrTX-Cnvbgia2f02glwefEsKTwfEJGwuoJdryXXZcg3nwgW1BjSlDr3ynQRq1BPh0CppztYRpbPdKl-RVZxFBtFWAWVNVQIFT7n4pR6A_m7D7jCXBdBSa-9i4OfX2N_wKSFffTCheYU8Ey8QTwPn_DTTp9CB9xHoq5lMLZ47o6znaJd5g2L1Xg-sFSrg/s1968/20200909_182223%20(3).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1743" data-original-width="1968" height="566" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrTX-Cnvbgia2f02glwefEsKTwfEJGwuoJdryXXZcg3nwgW1BjSlDr3ynQRq1BPh0CppztYRpbPdKl-RVZxFBtFWAWVNVQIFT7n4pR6A_m7D7jCXBdBSa-9i4OfX2N_wKSFffTCheYU8Ey8QTwPn_DTTp9CB9xHoq5lMLZ47o6znaJd5g2L1Xg-sFSrg/w640-h566/20200909_182223%20(3).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Daughter and her Red Heeler</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjXHqxaqUy-J7RCH1HIGrEIBfjiIf1L7D8K_2aheSTuDw6g5Yh4Yp3_FtLAIyaMRFU6fxUTBttdrQmXaIXY8Zl45CovlEcjDI_GUWA-qp-OOrNG6CveHDarp721tbn9LeaySz_z6Y_VRKVVTlFZDGS1CMQL1ieih9rgYQjQwOWLv-h8B0vOMGTCSDeQQ/s4032/20220210_061946.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjXHqxaqUy-J7RCH1HIGrEIBfjiIf1L7D8K_2aheSTuDw6g5Yh4Yp3_FtLAIyaMRFU6fxUTBttdrQmXaIXY8Zl45CovlEcjDI_GUWA-qp-OOrNG6CveHDarp721tbn9LeaySz_z6Y_VRKVVTlFZDGS1CMQL1ieih9rgYQjQwOWLv-h8B0vOMGTCSDeQQ/w480-h640/20220210_061946.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My Hell Hounds</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht2nnj5cUl7rUTXxRDGjCLH2ovTHCTNEKexOeL3gFyeznT4_E9anOkNMyLUsHkfGSO-wUTTB4Jg5M_fjTHlXisvZZ7SfClQvV8EYg85bSkPAuf-i8LIwO98arhQNh1dK0Dbtxi2CDYIgcLw6BqtrK8OZQ5xNBFXXi6RYyXOe7pEZAM6cSZP1AiQIGT1Q/s2702/20190203_091946%20(2).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2585" data-original-width="2702" height="612" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht2nnj5cUl7rUTXxRDGjCLH2ovTHCTNEKexOeL3gFyeznT4_E9anOkNMyLUsHkfGSO-wUTTB4Jg5M_fjTHlXisvZZ7SfClQvV8EYg85bSkPAuf-i8LIwO98arhQNh1dK0Dbtxi2CDYIgcLw6BqtrK8OZQ5xNBFXXi6RYyXOe7pEZAM6cSZP1AiQIGT1Q/w640-h612/20190203_091946%20(2).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Supreme Being</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1_SBetiPhZCzrmFSJ0wUZj54QJuRQZiTLwBcnkwzJpijMsPjYCp87cFcEZQmyaALVQbSTlj6tGToL-0r8pgXTeG8QwnVHzxiZRlL7ThHMQxtOnIH4jiVhn2vEM2m5VMSAdt-2UStivzmVpmGqSbuZlBd_e8GSAEqKcbcFTdajDsstPaX8eieZYLLk6Q/s1320/20191202_133525%20(2).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1320" data-original-width="1089" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1_SBetiPhZCzrmFSJ0wUZj54QJuRQZiTLwBcnkwzJpijMsPjYCp87cFcEZQmyaALVQbSTlj6tGToL-0r8pgXTeG8QwnVHzxiZRlL7ThHMQxtOnIH4jiVhn2vEM2m5VMSAdt-2UStivzmVpmGqSbuZlBd_e8GSAEqKcbcFTdajDsstPaX8eieZYLLk6Q/w528-h640/20191202_133525%20(2).jpg" width="528" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Wally Lama</div></span></div>Jackiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15461386564339879940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4014005277153555622.post-49456061148535277692022-11-14T19:07:00.005-06:002022-11-15T16:00:45.386-06:00All By Moonlight<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0a4ruPX_EFXvFRA3znQxj9cNVmncus6YvgLgO2tHNGPw3nyA2cvRKTWgIj7EfG0I296nYn6fRI5LVtRWNEeZkvAIAz6gzOYYBHs1Clz6CwEfDKQNyZHyepTRxH5RRrhP2R4lc7nzF92sa9Sp4NWP5lPugfrbFpa_pAcUv2UbqIiUUT7G-EHgihIOM-g/s4032/20221108_004014.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0a4ruPX_EFXvFRA3znQxj9cNVmncus6YvgLgO2tHNGPw3nyA2cvRKTWgIj7EfG0I296nYn6fRI5LVtRWNEeZkvAIAz6gzOYYBHs1Clz6CwEfDKQNyZHyepTRxH5RRrhP2R4lc7nzF92sa9Sp4NWP5lPugfrbFpa_pAcUv2UbqIiUUT7G-EHgihIOM-g/w640-h480/20221108_004014.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">The best my phone can do with the bright moonlight.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIN0HpCAjoZhtoNc-aG4ksFRg5EexNwxQGUaRwT0kEBlSFkFD5G_jdBQznj26IeCi9EpxR1QRr43jHosAjDb079gLtrPvhfZ6ggxVzfzvIFli15O7iQzJXYY1rfYlB048EvIluuReigVRQ8qpUeh50s-UAeT6ONxYoBk_qRcZl1Ge_pQ-mdfTMcUM94A/s2355/20221108_004053%20(2).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2355" data-original-width="1931" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIN0HpCAjoZhtoNc-aG4ksFRg5EexNwxQGUaRwT0kEBlSFkFD5G_jdBQznj26IeCi9EpxR1QRr43jHosAjDb079gLtrPvhfZ6ggxVzfzvIFli15O7iQzJXYY1rfYlB048EvIluuReigVRQ8qpUeh50s-UAeT6ONxYoBk_qRcZl1Ge_pQ-mdfTMcUM94A/w524-h640/20221108_004053%20(2).jpg" width="524" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Wally is always visible - even in starlight - but he glows in moonlight.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh639IUoDJmcVaPXnGeIXY9UNX1uGWDyRVb3QFNKRgQKhGdyYnGk7xcit4_fR5haTZrP4gLKmudd2D6wcEJ4c92xWatYRcXZpDFK64JxDpLRHyJ_a9pntPcIc7p5svTIKeSooIFYNUEBpDNkOO3xng9150grTZmRlTOwMyeowNmCCWhf1FZHiAeH67M1Q/s4032/20221108_001612.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh639IUoDJmcVaPXnGeIXY9UNX1uGWDyRVb3QFNKRgQKhGdyYnGk7xcit4_fR5haTZrP4gLKmudd2D6wcEJ4c92xWatYRcXZpDFK64JxDpLRHyJ_a9pntPcIc7p5svTIKeSooIFYNUEBpDNkOO3xng9150grTZmRlTOwMyeowNmCCWhf1FZHiAeH67M1Q/w640-h480/20221108_001612.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The little house on the prairie - alight beneath the moon.</div><br /> It has been uncommonly warm for October and November so far. It makes for good time to spend outdoors, especially beneath the waxing moon. I do not wander far from the house these days, or dare to hike the creek in the dark, or even follow the horse paths through the tall grass, day or night. But I remember, and the magic retains its potency.<p></p>Jackiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15461386564339879940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4014005277153555622.post-91588073807153784022022-10-09T18:59:00.003-05:002022-11-14T19:08:59.408-06:00Respect! Or not.<p> Mattie, the best and most perfect German Shepherd dog in all of Northeast Kansas and Southeast Nebraska, loves me. She recognizes my authority in all but one matter (chasing the horses). If she is sound asleep at my feet and I make the merest move, she is instantly on her feet and ready to follow. I try hard to not disturb her, because normally I am just going twenty feet or less away, but she gets to her feet every time.</p><p>Kenzie, the brattiest German Shepherd in all of the Central United States, parts of Canada and the northernmost edge of Mexico, does not give a rat's ass. Even if she is in my way, she will not move a muscle. Indeed, she will not even move her eyes in my direction. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGQBkSsFqDRWx1y53dsyMlNl1VHuiC8RsGXNqUOKah28wbesRwRwH2y927SjDgtmHkhfkoFv2Nt0Wz0M3OAlgVkps6X2qPtlIi78fwFdMd4hvw7SvkMJk_Jm8J5JcumN1MKQkZgOiDWg7dzdA-7HbcK_svdc81GlnxDabULS10z9jTR8OTOecC_h6q7A/s4032/20221005_144436.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGQBkSsFqDRWx1y53dsyMlNl1VHuiC8RsGXNqUOKah28wbesRwRwH2y927SjDgtmHkhfkoFv2Nt0Wz0M3OAlgVkps6X2qPtlIi78fwFdMd4hvw7SvkMJk_Jm8J5JcumN1MKQkZgOiDWg7dzdA-7HbcK_svdc81GlnxDabULS10z9jTR8OTOecC_h6q7A/w360-h640/20221005_144436.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I wish to pass between the table and the sofa. Kenzie is not even asleep.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixz7074UNAQVQu4FZKsk8bvgIDUrgkdNmwthJ5czo_q1buUn6Sr68VkipkUpRSTfnAwP1dfsNGSmPw_qpvHySztyAahvTCFcEO7gnyUecHSuty7rS8JXF2eUcWyyQbrfvkSYleeBGnJO-a_R9pSwWtqbWiMWbelH4AM1mLJUDuyKBDJr9wgutUixo46w/s4032/20221005_144425.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixz7074UNAQVQu4FZKsk8bvgIDUrgkdNmwthJ5czo_q1buUn6Sr68VkipkUpRSTfnAwP1dfsNGSmPw_qpvHySztyAahvTCFcEO7gnyUecHSuty7rS8JXF2eUcWyyQbrfvkSYleeBGnJO-a_R9pSwWtqbWiMWbelH4AM1mLJUDuyKBDJr9wgutUixo46w/w360-h640/20221005_144425.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I step closer, hoping she takes the hint that she is directly in my path.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqaP9Xaf_qtAshsQ5W21GIuBsezwbmzk06TRYmYXtbexLiP5DCUoeJHdBHoRif0DwIy0HFRkfnCYBHQor2PgUT1OfXFa1q5H-6M5BAPuEvh-qiye_f2bjHAnfYajgtZmapGe0lTIhIvmmTVQIQqc6ize2VgXIoJEqlvoiDQK4q-avMEEkSuPuB69kJWw/s4032/20221005_144414.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2268" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqaP9Xaf_qtAshsQ5W21GIuBsezwbmzk06TRYmYXtbexLiP5DCUoeJHdBHoRif0DwIy0HFRkfnCYBHQor2PgUT1OfXFa1q5H-6M5BAPuEvh-qiye_f2bjHAnfYajgtZmapGe0lTIhIvmmTVQIQqc6ize2VgXIoJEqlvoiDQK4q-avMEEkSuPuB69kJWw/w360-h640/20221005_144414.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I try another direction. Notice that there is no movement whatsoever, though she is conscious and alert.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5af8lkcgy-tIkaAgtVp4B1ay1dMiHfx7kX30ocLZbCb3-VMKsN8RiV6oEgTYnGkR9a8jROIS4zpyyz5cZBeXF1pvG_PftWMVyIKTAOUhqZ86PUGjftKUsetUxsTE81wsQTrnrlj5-kzcZnpHocsJEp9FPgJpcctn21_xo22bR_YoFrfGwWE0ioQM0GA/s1181/20221005_144414%20(2).jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1181" data-original-width="808" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5af8lkcgy-tIkaAgtVp4B1ay1dMiHfx7kX30ocLZbCb3-VMKsN8RiV6oEgTYnGkR9a8jROIS4zpyyz5cZBeXF1pvG_PftWMVyIKTAOUhqZ86PUGjftKUsetUxsTE81wsQTrnrlj5-kzcZnpHocsJEp9FPgJpcctn21_xo22bR_YoFrfGwWE0ioQM0GA/w438-h640/20221005_144414%20(2).jpg" width="438" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I do not even merit a side-eye.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9XbEAQpa7W7sQ31G2qTqHQH5BC4Lt0TFbCQHMVr4UZIDU4cRxhTzwMq6pG5c23NvFSvCx6k3PPz3pqJo8h-uK_wKMqQ8J4sQdJ3opWkzQdl3O8mQTW6Cj6roD1OLA7CoBXgzmDK7xv7TJLW8uPFo0CDBc2Z1GsQ9OU8HfpdDu7_MuvRcv1IsHIy6m2Q/s290/20221005_144414%20(3).jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="290" data-original-width="285" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9XbEAQpa7W7sQ31G2qTqHQH5BC4Lt0TFbCQHMVr4UZIDU4cRxhTzwMq6pG5c23NvFSvCx6k3PPz3pqJo8h-uK_wKMqQ8J4sQdJ3opWkzQdl3O8mQTW6Cj6roD1OLA7CoBXgzmDK7xv7TJLW8uPFo0CDBc2Z1GsQ9OU8HfpdDu7_MuvRcv1IsHIy6m2Q/w629-h640/20221005_144414%20(3).jpg" width="629" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I am a German Shepherd, not a mere human."</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div></div></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p><br /></p>Jackiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15461386564339879940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4014005277153555622.post-35786631472669317912022-08-16T18:06:00.008-05:002022-08-29T18:40:40.733-05:00We Need a Deterrent for Assholes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDziGSyKladkj6fSC_G75_Ofyb427DYcJeFbhs1EpoWXXHISrHQRVMcppchoAde0WrQuxtMJ5SyNv_bPkv0fcKQyQEenbTMuXzI96wpJjUhyZ12djZklMjn3HIvpg-7kguO9Xh-cnUBj0J/s246/Capture.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="121" data-original-width="246" height="121" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDziGSyKladkj6fSC_G75_Ofyb427DYcJeFbhs1EpoWXXHISrHQRVMcppchoAde0WrQuxtMJ5SyNv_bPkv0fcKQyQEenbTMuXzI96wpJjUhyZ12djZklMjn3HIvpg-7kguO9Xh-cnUBj0J/s0/Capture.JPG" width="246" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p> I want a magic gun that can be aimed at a person's mid-section. When the trigger is pulled, that person automatically and unavoidably shits his or her pants. That is the appropriate function of an asshole, isn't it?</p><p>I removed the flat front wheel on my lawn tractor and took it to Topeka to be repaired. Easy as pie. It was very straight forward: three washers, a keeper ring and the rubber hub. </p><p>I took it to PROFESSIONAL lawnmower people to repair the flat - because when the PROFESSIONALS "fixed" it at the automotive tire store, it was flat as a flitter the next morning. The auto tire guys fixed it for free because they felt guilty cheating me on the road hazard deduction for the ruined tire they would not fix. </p><p>After waiting two days I called the lawnmower shop to check if the tire was repaired. I made another trip to town to pick it up. I was so happy that I would finally mow again! A long string of unfortunate events had prevented me from mowing for over a month! And, I really love driving my little tractor and keeping the place mowed.</p><p>I came home with my newly patched tire and attempted to put it on the tractor straight away. I did not expect one hiccup. It is easier than changing bike tires, or car tires, or truck tires, or motorcycle tires - all of which I have changed. The problem came when I could not see where the keeper ring was supposed to go.</p><p>Long story short, the rim they returned was not the one I took to the shop. The hub through the middle was far too wide, covering up almost the entire axle, even without the 3 washers. It was too large in diameter to fit into the inner cup. No matter what I did - whether I put the wheel on with the valve stem side in or out - whether I double-checked that the jack was not in the way - whether I tried to force it or not, the wheel did not fit on that axle. </p><p> A smarter person would have figured out the problem far sooner than I did. After an embarrassing amount of time and sweat and enormous cussing, it finally dawned on me that it was the wrong rim. If I get any slower, I will be a human slug.</p><p>I knew it was going to be irritating to deal with the people in the shop. And it was. First, a woman helped me. She raised her eyebrows when I explained it was not the rim I brought in. She went in the back and "warned" the guy who repaired it. I would have liked to have shot her with the magic Intestinal Evacuation Gun, but I knew there were going to be bigger guts to shoot before it was all over. Besides, no need to escalate right off. </p><p>I explained to the professional guy that it could not possibly be the rim I brought in, so he returned to the back to look around. He came back and shrugged his shoulders. Nothing back there. He did not know what he could do for me.</p><p>I did NOT want to end up on TikTok "cussing and snortin' " as my mother would describe adults having tantrums in public. But my face was getting red.</p><p>I said, "Respectfully! This is NOT the rim that came off my tractor!" I am sure I was giving him the evil eye. He towered over me but I think I could take him. He certainly deserved the first shot to the gut. If only.....</p><p>Another guy quickly appeared, and asked for the photos he had requested over the phone. I handed him my phone but there was nothing that truly helped identify anything about the rim. Though I was able to determine for myself that it was probably the same tire. He then started asking the man questions: </p><p>"Sooooo, are these the photos of the other tire still on the tractor?"</p><p>[JESUS CHRIST!!! NO!!! I took all these photos of the wheel you are looking at on the counter right now!!! Sarcasm. I did not say it but I was thinking it.]</p><p>He gets the second shot, point blank, right in the ol' guts!</p><p>"And did you try putting it on from both sides of the rim?"</p><p>Since I did not have the magic gun, I said, "Listen, I rode my own Harley, and I could wrench on it. I am not a fucking idiot!"</p><p>I was getting close to potentially being a Karen on TikTok, so I calmed down. But, Jesus Christ!!! I would have shot him with the Gut Gun about ten times right then.</p><p>He changed his tone a little bit. </p><p>All that, and as I was driving home, I started to doubt myself. Did I miss something? Was that honestly my rim and I just missed something? But there is nothing to miss. Solid steel does not shapeshift in normal reality. The axle is a simple thing. I should have shot myself in the gut with the fantasy gun for letting men cause me to doubt myself. </p><p>So... no mowing. No tire. No rim. I already looked up replacements on the Sears Parts website and it is going to cost a small fortune to replace the hub, wheel and tube. Easily over $100, not including shipping and taxes. And, it is all on back order. I already paid $37 for the mower shop to repair the tire and lose the rim. </p><p>I should go ahead and order the parts because I have a feeling I will have them long before these assholes find the right rim. At least the one guy apologized but he was not sincere. He needed one more blast from the Gut Evacuation Gun as I left the shop, for good measure. </p><p><b>Addendum:</b> The shop where the wheel mix-up took place asked me to leave the tire/wheel with them when I took it back for not being the wheel that came off my tractor. I made them put a tag on it with my name. I said I have no collateral if I leave it here. (Yes, I have been ripped off a time or two by men in shops - Harley shops, lawn mower shops, car garages.)</p><p>After numerous texts and photos and one discussion to "trouble-shoot" because<i> </i><u><i>I could not possibly</i> <i>know whether a tire fit my tractor or not</i>,</u> I went back to get the wheel. The official judgement was there was a burr preventing the wheel from going on, though I said in text and in person that I had felt for a burr, or burrs, and there were none. It was as if he did not hear me say that.</p><p>I took the washers that came off my tractor and made a little measuring stick so I would know for sure that it was going to go back on my tractor before I brought it home. The second wheel that was returned to me was darker gray, smaller, had far more grease and dirt on it than the first one they sent with me. The washers fit and the stick measured appropriately, so I brought it home. It fit perfectly back on to my tractor the way I expected it to - easy as pie. I had the whole thing, greased, placed, keeper ring on and the new plastic hub on in less that 5 minutes. No burrs. No forcing the wheel. No cussing or sweat in my eyes because it went on as easily as it came off.</p><p>I do not choose to believe that the guy I dealt with was lying. He seemed very sincere. But someone in that shop found my tire and returned it without saying anything. No apologies for the mix up because there was none in that guy's mind. This is what women deal with all the time! </p><p>Though I am handicapped by being born with ovaries and by not being the smartest person on the planet, do you think, by looking at these photos, I should be able to readily tell if the wheel fit or not? </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeKsaXLI4uIQDIP6bOAm9gODlNx_5ViR3Fdsl_MRTqvrUpspplQYMiEu0-WVYVTNsmPtFrYR5sfFy-mLuN8Uoo9T8MFaZSLnieFIxpT1JwEyAcivn9RJMzQEINWNdmR7Yg48mg0N6xQ0rzESS_fvFcP_GWt1SuWKIh6unU-NwhSij2NQHxe3M09k6z4Q/s2319/20220817_114935.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1889" data-original-width="2319" height="522" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeKsaXLI4uIQDIP6bOAm9gODlNx_5ViR3Fdsl_MRTqvrUpspplQYMiEu0-WVYVTNsmPtFrYR5sfFy-mLuN8Uoo9T8MFaZSLnieFIxpT1JwEyAcivn9RJMzQEINWNdmR7Yg48mg0N6xQ0rzESS_fvFcP_GWt1SuWKIh6unU-NwhSij2NQHxe3M09k6z4Q/w640-h522/20220817_114935.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpBpQo-LFOQSd1BCIpfGdzwUpb8x7sx2titZ4sE65jbxHSKsCceDnt7CNcOF7Tan_leQCHOCENWH3eS3RsjcOJrg7Bj6xwmMbZNB--6TCjwLhq80NAhnMqoL9M2HePUxZGlCUUkRCo96ZRNkuobiRIkJKKqOxGU-WXUtAOztGFXoteS0L2AoyY_u03Mw/s3374/20220817_114906.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3374" data-original-width="2342" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpBpQo-LFOQSd1BCIpfGdzwUpb8x7sx2titZ4sE65jbxHSKsCceDnt7CNcOF7Tan_leQCHOCENWH3eS3RsjcOJrg7Bj6xwmMbZNB--6TCjwLhq80NAhnMqoL9M2HePUxZGlCUUkRCo96ZRNkuobiRIkJKKqOxGU-WXUtAOztGFXoteS0L2AoyY_u03Mw/w444-h640/20220817_114906.jpg" width="444" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Jackiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15461386564339879940noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4014005277153555622.post-69835764200133797902022-08-15T08:07:00.009-05:002022-08-15T08:16:04.011-05:00The Vera Road Wolves - Field Observations<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Field studies of the domesticated Vera Road wolf pack, currently consisting of two females. Wolf #1 is approximately 64 months of age, and wolf #2 is a juvenile, approximately 17 months. </span> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEnBWa_roVEEAqvSK52WYQMrx4DtX9LME-nbwes09Y3sXv8TqtsX43LUT6OiaNcKKHYiFur4I35qoa_ztxccOW_IX-Y3zgR6T1kn1S_rMnDHmSqJTYG22GLAMRvo_xww3-A7OaM0UdkE-sopsTMnTueRbwqAz83J8FcscVIgvEOdu9vkVQKhJgQZ83GA/s4032/20220812_074341.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEnBWa_roVEEAqvSK52WYQMrx4DtX9LME-nbwes09Y3sXv8TqtsX43LUT6OiaNcKKHYiFur4I35qoa_ztxccOW_IX-Y3zgR6T1kn1S_rMnDHmSqJTYG22GLAMRvo_xww3-A7OaM0UdkE-sopsTMnTueRbwqAz83J8FcscVIgvEOdu9vkVQKhJgQZ83GA/w480-h640/20220812_074341.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;">These are the headless carcasses of the <i>Stuffus Wieneratta</i>, the preferred prey of the semi-domesticated black wolf. Wolf #1 tends to leave the carcasses in an orderly arrangement, while # 2 never displays such preference.</span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXZhYo06x7yysui5XHEnwzjnC0wjbkBMuu8YnoqcNeg9NtTIJrRFhEGS8prMAgFgFdjH0wScw0hn1NoTERk4yd2EBc0joSHdjpMOYNLr5RAfv28X3GvjkVrvv2KvyT4lV8Kt3FRajLihi_B5lp02oaVHqZuyGRSoK9K7ksIZjkm0eEoU1Q0-W6C6lhZQ/s2518/20220812_074714.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="1913" data-original-width="2518" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXZhYo06x7yysui5XHEnwzjnC0wjbkBMuu8YnoqcNeg9NtTIJrRFhEGS8prMAgFgFdjH0wScw0hn1NoTERk4yd2EBc0joSHdjpMOYNLr5RAfv28X3GvjkVrvv2KvyT4lV8Kt3FRajLihi_B5lp02oaVHqZuyGRSoK9K7ksIZjkm0eEoU1Q0-W6C6lhZQ/s600/20220812_074714.jpg" width="600" /></a><span style="font-size: medium;">The wolves methodically decapitate the passive stuffed wieners, and with apparent great relish tear out the squeaker. The carcasses are carried about in the den until all entrails have been expelled and a mere empty hide remains. </span> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2_c5fUKzuR5xHWqCm0Wmvf3uV8Z2RQvUbQEOSo8DSIfV3GFLkI9mjI9OFLyRAYbTVySbbpiGFjuPLeEwlMpSykgGfzvGZMmr906sqbMiElPeIfPjvo88WEaT-y9P9mO95Nrf9HdRwZMwmBds1YJWhnWFoSxKosUAViKCeIjwSk062kNUVK2D7gEOrxA/s4032/20220812_080224.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2_c5fUKzuR5xHWqCm0Wmvf3uV8Z2RQvUbQEOSo8DSIfV3GFLkI9mjI9OFLyRAYbTVySbbpiGFjuPLeEwlMpSykgGfzvGZMmr906sqbMiElPeIfPjvo88WEaT-y9P9mO95Nrf9HdRwZMwmBds1YJWhnWFoSxKosUAViKCeIjwSk062kNUVK2D7gEOrxA/s600/20220812_080224.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Wolf #1 is shown inspecting the <i>Gigantic Stuffus Wieneratta</i>, not her preferred prey. After the population of small stuffed wieners is depleted, the giant wieners are then hunted by necessity. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqQj1GqELpGVUXYtZCZb4S1WB_wUmmWgF44ydXV0eaSKoCIpLIn8IoCbGLCuSEvXl-5dXTdDTiRSNOyCZIhaJAYdDrMWKKLQENGgqr1ns8Rraq7TcWsXj_iyxjvNNVsD_dmweDSwDgk0FARdJsy2QxNQ59HpKxnfyxC0zoRdFt1fY_k35xd4RJdiAv0w/s4032/20220812_081227.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqQj1GqELpGVUXYtZCZb4S1WB_wUmmWgF44ydXV0eaSKoCIpLIn8IoCbGLCuSEvXl-5dXTdDTiRSNOyCZIhaJAYdDrMWKKLQENGgqr1ns8Rraq7TcWsXj_iyxjvNNVsD_dmweDSwDgk0FARdJsy2QxNQ59HpKxnfyxC0zoRdFt1fY_k35xd4RJdiAv0w/s600/20220812_081227.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The giant stuffed wieners arranged side by side, with the much smaller stuffed wiener carcass shown for scale. This evidence indicates the observed preference for the pink or red wieners by both wolves. Note the mangled ear of the red giant wiener but the blue giant wiener is fully intact after the same amount of time in the wolf den (8 months). </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNGfIfcCnHC32W5Jm2uo3WRSvlDBwi9-_XVQwpjzSSPmUTriDn3hkt4yVU7n8kX8TdcWnAzy7M4biis72s1m6PgF4AxJUuQspjqC0yb-E57dLquQFcXHjp_9wn8XLR5hqH5WRlkBTZbRcNs7oWGXBcIAs8UzYVjQWGqY4jsf-5wv--E7TscrUgVNnx6g/s4032/20220815_062353.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNGfIfcCnHC32W5Jm2uo3WRSvlDBwi9-_XVQwpjzSSPmUTriDn3hkt4yVU7n8kX8TdcWnAzy7M4biis72s1m6PgF4AxJUuQspjqC0yb-E57dLquQFcXHjp_9wn8XLR5hqH5WRlkBTZbRcNs7oWGXBcIAs8UzYVjQWGqY4jsf-5wv--E7TscrUgVNnx6g/w640-h480/20220815_062353.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>The demise of the red </span><i>Gigantic Stuffus Wieneratta </i><span>observed in the field 5:30 am, August 15, 2022. While the head remains intact, the brains have been removed and spread about the den by wolf #2. Even for a dispassionate observer, the brave grin of the blue giant stuffed wiener is hard to bear.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0BNSoy40Tp5bO8CNPfU53L87LDN_p1YUI6AiVv9vf7tDcJ4haWmZUPNyPpk4NNxIF-4KLXtuwgL8dT5hKN_YAoHkNZK8ZW5iEuyHJxFhe5tk_eArQbQeUPolg0Vs9oMHh0H7cOHweVfiHrXoMhsSV3B3qzEV6sujepMeWqBbe33e-qLiOwu7fssiPAg/s4032/20220210_061946.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0BNSoy40Tp5bO8CNPfU53L87LDN_p1YUI6AiVv9vf7tDcJ4haWmZUPNyPpk4NNxIF-4KLXtuwgL8dT5hKN_YAoHkNZK8ZW5iEuyHJxFhe5tk_eArQbQeUPolg0Vs9oMHh0H7cOHweVfiHrXoMhsSV3B3qzEV6sujepMeWqBbe33e-qLiOwu7fssiPAg/w480-h640/20220210_061946.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Vera Road Wolves</span></div><div style="font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Wolf #2 on the left, wolf #1 on the right. Sleeping mattresses are not shared but no violence has ever been observed over food or possession of either the stuffed wieners or the gigantic stuffed wieners.</span><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>Jackiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15461386564339879940noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4014005277153555622.post-32446213140605023612022-07-06T08:51:00.008-05:002022-07-06T09:09:56.024-05:00Fourteen Years<p>Is it pathetic that I have been writing this blog for fourteen years? Well, to be clear, it was only thirteen years until today. I had not posted anything in the year 2022. It seems that writing a blog on a software that can change at any moment is a fool's endeavor. There is no way that I know of to easily save it to my own computer. Fourteen years of effort could all disappear like smoke.</p><p>At first I wrote to practice writing. It was difficult sharing anything I had written with others. Luckily for me, one person loved everything I wrote and was deeply supportive. Writing for an audience of even one person was a huge boost! After all, every writer hopes to find her audience. </p><p>Alas, my good friend and most ardent fan died many years ago. Sometimes when I write, I imagine that he is still reading, though not reading from the afterlife. It is utterly depressing to think that any afterlife would involve reading about an old woman's mundane life in Kansas. That might be a punishment in Lesser Hell. (Lesser Hell is for people who were an asshole only sometimes in life).</p><p>Then, I thought that maybe my kids would enjoy reading my blog after I am in Lesser Hell. They will be fine after I am gone, but everyone misses their mom at times. It might feel like a bit of home to "hear" my voice again. </p><p>I have two books that belonged to my father. He signed his name in them. Whenever I hold them in my hands, I know he also held those books. Decades after he died, I was given letters that my father had written as a 17 year old in the US Navy during WWII. He was gone so early in my life that I never had a chance to know him as a person, only as my parent. He was gone so early in his own life that those few letters are the extent of his personal, permanent record. I am leaving behind years of my personal record, for good or ill. My kids certainly understand why I will be in Lesser Hell, so leaving any record behind seems to be a bit of a moot point.</p><p>The blog has had its good uses. I have been able to get the general date of a past event. It would be better if I had the type of mind that would automatically recall at least the year when something happened but I do not. Sorting through 14 years of benign blog posts can be frustrating, but also a reminder of things I am already forgetting. It also serves to remind that I have led a very boring life. I could be the best writer on the planet but if I am writing about an excruciatingly boring life, well... what is the expectation? (Perhaps another reason a human being would go to Lesser Hell.)</p><p>Much has happened recently but I do not feel like writing about any of it right now. Too boring, even for me! But out in the world: wow! A world wide pandemic but an effective immunization developed within months. Political polarization across the world. War. Extreme weather. The US government publicly admitted UFOs exist and perhaps we should determine what they are? The first color photographs from the James Webb Telescope are set to be released this month. A universe full of exciting and amazing things occurring. </p><p>Also in 2022, a grown man pointed out "chemtrails" then told me with a straight face that they only appear just before a rain. A veterinarian told me that ivermectin would clear covid. Two highly educated men, awash in conspiracy theories. Today I read a headline stating 130 million Americans struggle with low literacy. No shit.</p><p>For good or ill, here is my first post for the year two thousand twenty two. Upon reflection, maybe it is a mighty blessing to live a boring life, and a rare thing to document it.</p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnZM441Z360m2QZjhgJvcDwBercjpT_YfVt_5DyHVnNT6nl8yZEeNe5Kx89IsOAyUTnOBambhqS_EZYL95VBWCpfEDbNQwA4Lb5r4KsHXWtkOn08ysITmUCIB-oFRePDV8iPvQy2PCphvpRP5liycukiBkQUv7w7BRGQhApLg_o7l8WSHBLd4StXUuBw/s4032/20220214_084740.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnZM441Z360m2QZjhgJvcDwBercjpT_YfVt_5DyHVnNT6nl8yZEeNe5Kx89IsOAyUTnOBambhqS_EZYL95VBWCpfEDbNQwA4Lb5r4KsHXWtkOn08ysITmUCIB-oFRePDV8iPvQy2PCphvpRP5liycukiBkQUv7w7BRGQhApLg_o7l8WSHBLd4StXUuBw/w480-h640/20220214_084740.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A Valentine gift in 2022, within a half mile of my house!</div><br /> <p></p>Jackiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15461386564339879940noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4014005277153555622.post-31846311652911550742021-12-28T11:53:00.009-06:002022-01-03T22:25:46.142-06:00And Yet Another Christmas...<p> Another Christmas arrives. All the gifts have been wrapped. Sometimes it is difficult to think of something I am excited to give my kids as gifts. They are grown, living their own lives with established households, but I still wish to find something that surprises them or makes them happy. Some years it has been an envelope of money with a couple of small gifts to unwrap - college years, post-divorce years, broke years (for them or me). Sometimes all of us are broke - together! </p><p>There have been years when none of us felt much like celebrating Christmas, but we always manage to do something together. December is a busy month for us - two birthdays, Christmas and New Year's Eve. When the kids were growing up, December would usher in about a six month cash deficit. It was always worth it.</p><p>As for the supreme beings, there are two red Christmas pears. They get apples, pears and carrots at other times of the year, but I like to make sure they have a little something for Christmas morning. The two wolf sisters are getting new stuffed wiener dog toys. Both dogs seem to greatly enjoy carrying the toys in their mouth, chewing (mauling) to make them squeak. The squeaker is eventually torn out of the wiener dog, along with all of the stuffing. Then the empty pelt, with head attached, is carried about until eventually the entire toy has been ripped into tiny pieces. This is the third set of stuffed wiener dogs in 2021. </p><p>This year has been both long and very short. I had surgery on both knees in March. I had no idea what difficulty and suffering that surgery would bring. I am genuinely glad that is all in the rapidly receding past. I am able to do everything I could do before the surgery, most of it without terrible pain, so I consider it a success. It was genuinely terrible there for awhile. I hope these bionic knees outlive me because I certainly will not be able to go through that again. </p><p>I have continued to wear a mask though I have had all three vaccinations for covid. My son, my sister in law, and my 98 year old stepfather have had covid. My son was not old enough for the vaccine yet when he contracted covid last year. Now he has had covid and two shots, so I hope that protects him through the winter and beyond. My daughter is careful to wear a mask, though both my son and my daughter are increasingly put at risk in their places of work by people not wearing masks, and countless others who are not vaccinated. That the issue of vaccination and masks has become politicized in this country defies basic common sense. To what end are so many folks being radicalized against their own best interests? It is tragic. </p><p>There has been a thousand awful things in the world this year. Sometimes it is hard to keep my balance. I have to remind myself of the million good things in my own life. I continue to be healthy and strong enough to live in the country. I am capable of tending to the horses though the older I am, the more creative I have to be when moving sacks of feed, or mineral blocks, or hay bales. I have two beautiful black German Shepherd companions that drive me crazy only some of the time. </p><p>I have never lived with two dogs inside the house before. They are very smart dogs and very honest dogs. They understand not to get in the trash or destroy the sofa. Most of the time I do not even have to say a word, just a gesture. I do not know if it is peculiar to Shepherds or if all dogs behave the same, but at every event throughout the day involving a doorway, these two silently glide around me. I am never 100% certain which dog is here or there as their movements are fluid and graceful and constant - weaving beside and behind me. They remind me of dolphins slipping through water with zero resistance and neutral gravity - graceful, circling and constant. Since they have to be wherever I am, this behavior occurs whenever I leave one room for another, or leave the house, or come into the house. They must have a common ancestor with dolphins somewhere far back in time. </p><p>Before the year is out, I must thank once again the people who helped me through those long weeks of recovery after the surgery, when I was all but bed-ridden. My neighbor, Kathyrne, who took care of the horses for week after long week. She came to sit with me every single day for a time, keeping me from going stir crazy or feeling too sorry for myself. </p><p>I am grateful to the people who looked after my dogs. Mattie was able to come home after about a month but poor baby Kenzie had to stay at boarding school for months. </p><p>I am grateful to Gary Bacon, who drove from Emporia to Topeka to my house to deliver a prescription for pain medication when I made a mistake in planning ahead! </p><p>I am grateful to my kids who came to see me in the hospital. My daughter was commuting 200 miles a day to work at the time and my son had to come from KCMO. My daughter stayed with me for several nights after I came home while still managing her full time job. </p><p>My next door neighbors came the minute I called for something I could not do myself outside. </p><p>I am grateful to all of those incredibly dedicated medical personnel, from the nurses to the housekeepers and the physical therapists. They work long hours and put up with all manner of behavior. It is also a very physically demanding job, helping other human beings in and out of bed, in and out of wheelchairs, in and out of the bathrooms. I could not do such work.</p><p>I am grateful to every friend who called or visited or kept me in their prayers. I had been in the hospital with the birth of my kids but I was not ill or helpless then. The knee surgery was the first time I had been "hospitalized". It was about as much fun as you would imagine if someone chopped out both of your knees and replaced them with metal and plastic, then left you half naked and helpless in the care of strangers. When they made me get out of bed or sit in chairs, ALL sized for much taller human beings than me, my feet would dangle in the air. It was so excruciatingly painful that I would have given ALL the nuclear launch codes to the Russians, had they asked. I had no idea of the capacity for physical suffering a human body contains. I understand that there are people who endure such pain and suffering for long stretches, and many with no hope of recovery. It was profoundly humbling. I am very grateful that there were no complications with the surgery and I can walk now without pain. I am grateful to a very talented surgeon.</p><p>So, another year passes in the peace and quiet of my humble little home here in the bend of the little prairie creek. My children are healthy and self-supporting, smart and funny. My companion animals are fine. I am fine. I had a wonderful Christmas with the two most favorite human beings of my entire life. I am greatly blessed. <br /><br /></p><h1 style="background-color: white; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Wishing peace on earth and goodwill toward (some) men - <br />from the Crazy Woman, the Supreme Beings, and the wolf dogs of Spiritcreek Farm.<br /><br /></span></h1><h1 style="background-color: white; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: transparent; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh0SwYFN7SZ-YFefh5j8877_0UxUabKEufIxp6BZCxtBSWrLrcE7Z12ZaoLNZWMyK5kS9Ys_9pIijKmyKZ0rD51upG1i30C0Unx4zCGQRvgOTx9q28XmQqeBP5RAwGf5Ht98vUAaB7cMfa5Gir8WHfSVDH4FRS7JzoyPSAppB4y7ph1zUz5idPQq465zQ=s930" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="819" data-original-width="930" height="564" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh0SwYFN7SZ-YFefh5j8877_0UxUabKEufIxp6BZCxtBSWrLrcE7Z12ZaoLNZWMyK5kS9Ys_9pIijKmyKZ0rD51upG1i30C0Unx4zCGQRvgOTx9q28XmQqeBP5RAwGf5Ht98vUAaB7cMfa5Gir8WHfSVDH4FRS7JzoyPSAppB4y7ph1zUz5idPQq465zQ=w640-h564" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h4><span style="font-size: x-small;">The best photo of them side by side. Too bad it's through a dog-smeared storm window</span>!</h4></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #6aa84f; font-size: large; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjgxGq4r_b3lZUAP_K6F_Y4G5b2ODY5-TXNqGTPvEsVPQdcfpgBE9na13eSY7jGlGOsvr73GpM5LmSb09gQ0p8yRlpZ7MwlnKyhWq3xhx1UxunrmWm_0ILjvP1sCuEToMF-sb7HN4PpHh6jb2KOCtpJWcxWV4hV_uWxcqhE0sz64dxSR_ARYl96f5qQlw=s1920" style="background-color: transparent; color: #6aa84f; font-size: large; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1080" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjgxGq4r_b3lZUAP_K6F_Y4G5b2ODY5-TXNqGTPvEsVPQdcfpgBE9na13eSY7jGlGOsvr73GpM5LmSb09gQ0p8yRlpZ7MwlnKyhWq3xhx1UxunrmWm_0ILjvP1sCuEToMF-sb7HN4PpHh6jb2KOCtpJWcxWV4hV_uWxcqhE0sz64dxSR_ARYl96f5qQlw=w360-h640" width="360" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">How wonderful life is when you're with your best friend and all the world is green.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;"> </span></span></span><span face="Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: #444444; font-size: 13px; text-align: left;"> </span></div></span></span></h1>Jackiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15461386564339879940noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4014005277153555622.post-15961530401523536282021-12-14T10:18:00.002-06:002021-12-14T14:48:24.110-06:00Living With the Descendants of Wolves<p> My days are now spent in companionship with two black wolves. Well, they are not genuinely wolves but everyone knows that dogs are descended from wolves - and German Shepherds still resemble wolves - and likely still act somewhat like wolves. </p><p>Mattie is 4 years old and her half sister Kenzie is 1 year old. They are related by having the same incredible sire. German Shepherds all share some traits - the main one being high intelligence. Their genetics dictate that they work with their human being, checking in every little bit to make sure their work is progressing and acceptable to the human. So, even when endeavoring in an action not sanctioned - such as chasing the horses - German Shepherds turn to look to their human. Of course, I am yelling and cussing like a sailor. The dogs apparently assume I am exceedingly happy with their effort. </p><p>While so alike in countless ways, the sisters are very different in personality. In the house, Mattie is ladylike, careful, obedient, meticulous in her manners. She does not make a mess when she eats or drinks. She can be sound asleep by my feet but if I so much as move a muscle, she is instantly awake and on her feet, ready to travel to the kitchen or whatever adventure I have planned in my superior human wisdom. She is beautiful. Her face and ears are more foxy and more refined than her sister.</p><p>Kenzie is big, raw boned, and as gangly as a timber wolf. Her ears are absolutely German Shepherd ears - enormous. Kenzie eats noisily, and sloppily laps up water, leaving the floor wet in an enormous area around the bowl. Everything she does is head-on, nose first, matter of fact. Though she knows I am supposed to be the boss, in her estimation I am absolutely not qualified. She does acquiesce to me but never immediately. Everything is accomplished in her time and choosing. If I am slow to get up in the morning, she has no problem sticking her cold nose on my foot or arm or whatever body part she can reach. If I am ever inattentive, she will flat-out poke me with her nose and crowd into my space because, as a human, I am quite stupid and slow - maybe one of the slowest humans she has ever encountered. </p><p>If Kenzie is lying awake on the floor and I get up from my chair, she does not move. She will not turn her head. She will not even move her eyes toward me. It is perfectly acceptable to Kenzie for me to step over her long, sleek body. She simply lies there, entirely relaxed. When Mattie is asleep, I try to move quietly, try not to disturb her. But at the first movement, Mattie is on her feet and out of my way, ready to follow. </p><p>If they were allowed their freedom, they would wander far from home. Mattie has followed the creek westward several times, being away from home longer each time. I assumed she was exploring further each time. I would actively look for her, driving for miles, calling for her. Too many dangers for a black wolf dog! Chasing cattle could get her shot on sight. There are hunters who set traps for fur-bearing animals in this county. There are bob cats, and a remote possibility of a cougar. Traffic, coyotes, old barbed wire tangles everywhere along the creek and in the timber. She could not be allowed to wander. Sadly, it meant she had to be tied up if I could not be outside with her. This was very unfortunate and made me feel bad for her. Finally, this year, I had a five-foot chain link fence erected behind the house, 40 feet by 60 feet. It is enough room for the wolf sisters to run and play safely. It also prevents the dogs from herding the horses out of the corral and into the pasture.</p><p>Kenzie seems content to stay within sight of the house. She will follow Mattie if I let both of them out at the same time, but if Kenzie is alone, she stays close by. I was watching her from the front window the other day. She was a good forty yards away, following some intriguing scent she had found in the leaves. I wondered just how sensitive her hearing was. I spoke her name in a very quiet voice. A human in another room in the house would not have heard me. Kenzie heard and immediately stopped to give me the German Shepherd stare: body absolutely still - ears and eyes hyper-focused on me. I quietly said "Come, Kenzie." She heard, all that distance, through the glass, and came running. Amazing.</p><p>Mattie is convinced the two horses are dangerous killers that must be kept far away from the house and certainly away from the human. She will race along the corral, hackles up, teeth bared, ferociously barking. If the horses ignore this horrible warning, she will dip under the fence to chase the killer equines away. She goes right to their back hooves, snapping and snarling. I practically perish each time this happens. One kick and Mattie would be terribly damaged or dead. The horses are peace- loving creatures and apparently understand that the pain-in-the-ass dogs live here, too. They tolerate the dogs with remarkable good grace, but their ancient mustang genes certainly recognize the threat of wolves at their heels. They rush away from Mattie, tails high, manes flying. I do everything in my power to prevent this from happening but sometimes Mattie gets away.</p><p>Alone, Kenzie apparently wants to be friends with the horses, not chasing or barking at them. If Mattie is barking and threatening, then Kenzie will half-heartedly join in. I saw her hanging on Wally's tail the other day, and almost passed out. Wally amazingly accepted this foolishness as play and ignored the dog. Mattie thinks she is protecting me but Kenzie would not care if the horses kill me. Poor Mattie has to watch confined in the fence when I go into the corral to tend the supreme beings. Mattie paces and whines, and makes the most remarkable noises of distress as she watches horses and human walk toward the barn, side-by-side. To Mattie it must seem as if the human will be killed right before her very eyes while she is helplessly constrained by a mesh of wire and metal poles. </p><p>People say things, like, "I'll bet no one will give you any trouble with those two Shepherds here!" I do not know what would happen if someone actually tried to cause some harm. These are two gentle, loving beings who do not know yet that humans can be mean and dangerous. They are sensible dogs, not prone to dog hysteria or senseless barking. They rarely bark in the house and never in the car. If they bark at night, it is because there is some critter - probably a host of critters - moving about under the cover of darkness. I guess if a maniac tries to come uninvited into the house, we will all find out together what the Shepherds will do.</p><p>Otherwise, if I am at the computer, or painting, or watching tv, the dogs are asleep at my feet. Their quiet satisfaction in simply being fills my home with peace and tranquility. If I could still hike the creek and the prairie, we would go happily, as a small pack - they the descendants of wolves and me the descendant of hunters. As dogs, they retain the most valuable quality of wolves, that being their love and loyalty to their family.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi-W2NoytCPkhLU_-Am_hO7BUbGXc-xpGyhgNnpMXJ5UnFGzP3SAI-VZSbNE2m5vDaaXB-JPPVWUvMi1BIv9HDaG-4NFqFxzXIY1yxQENUVpCzmYdBttOzet8wUn3Ht843Fj4a8T1bVeVNMq6fJ2B3NFmfqwv5i0Zn8wFQuB_yWCkNvacQpXfu1iSaslg=s3318" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3318" data-original-width="2208" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi-W2NoytCPkhLU_-Am_hO7BUbGXc-xpGyhgNnpMXJ5UnFGzP3SAI-VZSbNE2m5vDaaXB-JPPVWUvMi1BIv9HDaG-4NFqFxzXIY1yxQENUVpCzmYdBttOzet8wUn3Ht843Fj4a8T1bVeVNMq6fJ2B3NFmfqwv5i0Zn8wFQuB_yWCkNvacQpXfu1iSaslg=w426-h640" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Mattie</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj-qX9Ex-GhxS4KiE0wKWEkaQ6lh-hXPTt4kUqVBzllZulO5m5-9agmkALWrWYUKO8yYUCiucbI4kLjJsMClrfxgwKKuYJvY2qfI_SJJKKsC4fmnv8yoj5YzX4xDLh9BIFzsrkCd9rTDfJBhm5jUN84gDRsSoXYL1BLaSwa3NYYQlhKkhPbUFPO_dU87w=s2847" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2847" data-original-width="2201" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj-qX9Ex-GhxS4KiE0wKWEkaQ6lh-hXPTt4kUqVBzllZulO5m5-9agmkALWrWYUKO8yYUCiucbI4kLjJsMClrfxgwKKuYJvY2qfI_SJJKKsC4fmnv8yoj5YzX4xDLh9BIFzsrkCd9rTDfJBhm5jUN84gDRsSoXYL1BLaSwa3NYYQlhKkhPbUFPO_dU87w=w494-h640" width="494" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Kenzie</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiCK-7FAai-NX2bS6QFF_tygbeVA5QvW4if8NOG3jwhmdYAK_LfAAe8D5NhDD4VSKU2obzTyHSviZKQ6oEARItnnUB7TROPMRxhuU1TlvOcqtnhMcE4DA24C5ennpetLRqpXDfXHEfHr7tDkogWAoKT69d3k5S9m1-9ytVSRoc7WdnV_VgZvr_MQ1zGWQ=s3213" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3213" data-original-width="2159" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiCK-7FAai-NX2bS6QFF_tygbeVA5QvW4if8NOG3jwhmdYAK_LfAAe8D5NhDD4VSKU2obzTyHSviZKQ6oEARItnnUB7TROPMRxhuU1TlvOcqtnhMcE4DA24C5ennpetLRqpXDfXHEfHr7tDkogWAoKT69d3k5S9m1-9ytVSRoc7WdnV_VgZvr_MQ1zGWQ=w430-h640" width="430" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Baby Mattie</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg8r3sTU_UfOi_DSqlTvvo31P3raL1Pc_peEZN_sq2RQ4f-hu3_7ce4Wc-y6lZb-8gmtRXFmyc15Pb6OAnqmq4w5Hb1HqDg_gdj_NcwtwBtFCDTSGegXZd8z3KFCNq580R99xxWC88jyySpi_94cO5ohhX3dSadUGPAB0_nsHAp9MpQKpI4z_n7IduX2Q=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg8r3sTU_UfOi_DSqlTvvo31P3raL1Pc_peEZN_sq2RQ4f-hu3_7ce4Wc-y6lZb-8gmtRXFmyc15Pb6OAnqmq4w5Hb1HqDg_gdj_NcwtwBtFCDTSGegXZd8z3KFCNq580R99xxWC88jyySpi_94cO5ohhX3dSadUGPAB0_nsHAp9MpQKpI4z_n7IduX2Q=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Baby Kenzie</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgOR7ylRzhKImUdZsWZzA_LNJeKZB2IUZLvzuaapD3o2fDo6kaGJRE2ZTF0uSmwlQxlSTTdVDKdnEzl8H9qnIvAUUEbSnq_PbkTxJZsZOk0d89EvO3pW_jMkdBzENoCvF03809El4Rr0Ogfdhw_QzuH5fIwZt1Sxl2m96j4o-VAvzXlIMByOFa5pVnCag=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgOR7ylRzhKImUdZsWZzA_LNJeKZB2IUZLvzuaapD3o2fDo6kaGJRE2ZTF0uSmwlQxlSTTdVDKdnEzl8H9qnIvAUUEbSnq_PbkTxJZsZOk0d89EvO3pW_jMkdBzENoCvF03809El4Rr0Ogfdhw_QzuH5fIwZt1Sxl2m96j4o-VAvzXlIMByOFa5pVnCag=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Wolf Sisters playing tug of war</div><br /><p><br /></p>Jackiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15461386564339879940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4014005277153555622.post-63820148480527691792021-11-16T08:08:00.003-06:002021-11-16T08:13:18.417-06:00The End Days of Autumn<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsbZxZt1-U3ZMwI4pfI9zfGaMQpiV9exFDAEvf6yKK5w0tDy_iNGEzlNJ0NkqVt-lbSNxoZjcdJvbYoOvRRcNkBI1AqZ5-abIcDWawStaXNRz5fgvTi-GIeTwB7i_i62QSuqvhmn98rvxn/s2048/20211024_181655.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsbZxZt1-U3ZMwI4pfI9zfGaMQpiV9exFDAEvf6yKK5w0tDy_iNGEzlNJ0NkqVt-lbSNxoZjcdJvbYoOvRRcNkBI1AqZ5-abIcDWawStaXNRz5fgvTi-GIeTwB7i_i62QSuqvhmn98rvxn/w640-h480/20211024_181655.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I can never capture the true colors. The tops of the hills and the trees "catch fire" as the sun sets. It is beautiful.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd9ZV7-ef4d7iOA70_fQ4Kv3_yT8nUwghKqP8DRAMDrZ_Jf2gxZ2tYNbwwudMLRH5Sd9NBGQaV63NTgpWgel8GYDkM2L4IuUvyZnMmOv6CbEieFICmSVm8dov0-G9TvNewxe8Cl_hb7lZq/s2048/20211107_180527.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd9ZV7-ef4d7iOA70_fQ4Kv3_yT8nUwghKqP8DRAMDrZ_Jf2gxZ2tYNbwwudMLRH5Sd9NBGQaV63NTgpWgel8GYDkM2L4IuUvyZnMmOv6CbEieFICmSVm8dov0-G9TvNewxe8Cl_hb7lZq/w480-h640/20211107_180527.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A terrible photo taken with my phone. It was beautiful to see Venus and the moon together.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaT2jvCVffHGFgFPnPzA5Xu2XERFPULwFI0_cj6TeMXMUBwpeNwWfxdXN-0fM0764q0xangXsiV4_kQeTdQ43g5tShJuzScrrC4flV9-dD5o-1QtLFGSXV-5oMFuRuDzu-gfNTMtCcUF7I/s2048/20211107_181125.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaT2jvCVffHGFgFPnPzA5Xu2XERFPULwFI0_cj6TeMXMUBwpeNwWfxdXN-0fM0764q0xangXsiV4_kQeTdQ43g5tShJuzScrrC4flV9-dD5o-1QtLFGSXV-5oMFuRuDzu-gfNTMtCcUF7I/w640-h480/20211107_181125.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A spectacular chance for a fantastic photo wasted because I was too lazy to take the camera. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHNwpmVZqFGByoTDPwM9mYOOM-1ktsU4Ylfk8zx7mfNZLiM8ZENDX-duJaiMF6lupkE_aqSz4vcvfWet5tXJPolI02auQmVNJW0tppIvzw_BPXdDJyt7e8X-cFMr8pmjoixclvrZ-Gi42U/s2048/20211110_171514+%25282%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1901" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHNwpmVZqFGByoTDPwM9mYOOM-1ktsU4Ylfk8zx7mfNZLiM8ZENDX-duJaiMF6lupkE_aqSz4vcvfWet5tXJPolI02auQmVNJW0tppIvzw_BPXdDJyt7e8X-cFMr8pmjoixclvrZ-Gi42U/w594-h640/20211110_171514+%25282%2529.jpg" width="594" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Taken at sunset on a cloudy day. It was as if the very air was red. The brilliant crimson shade on everything only lasted for a minute or so - it was the same at dawn and at dusk this day.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcUftOs3iVqWc45e2OcQMIWgKH4U5LpRByKEg8ZPPfFahmSeb5BdT2rDgoorxEDOrL_L_rDBD75hxHkinPaguqS-RJpX6ZjvgqNz1oI16nQOW_GVIyPps67JsHt-omlWcWRXABeAcyeASZ/s2048/20211111_145903.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcUftOs3iVqWc45e2OcQMIWgKH4U5LpRByKEg8ZPPfFahmSeb5BdT2rDgoorxEDOrL_L_rDBD75hxHkinPaguqS-RJpX6ZjvgqNz1oI16nQOW_GVIyPps67JsHt-omlWcWRXABeAcyeASZ/w640-h480/20211111_145903.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A large storm system came down off the Rockies, giving us wind and rain for a few days but ultimately turning the sky a brilliant blue with these scattering clouds.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaozhLaIa6QKE8vK6L1fvrH1py7loZ3A5Lu__fuRAtebGOSRaT0GVQAhsNkwgEX11KOfcCJElb2y5oRWn8ksp1qcZ092RiqqGaA7ksbodXAAE5eVdNSU9cwijjkzjoHq3kV_lLwpyVvDEE/s2048/20211112_070426.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaozhLaIa6QKE8vK6L1fvrH1py7loZ3A5Lu__fuRAtebGOSRaT0GVQAhsNkwgEX11KOfcCJElb2y5oRWn8ksp1qcZ092RiqqGaA7ksbodXAAE5eVdNSU9cwijjkzjoHq3kV_lLwpyVvDEE/w640-h480/20211112_070426.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The leaves along the creek are in their annual descent, gradually opening up the eastern horizon from my bed in the mornings. Of course, the horizon was blazing with deep oranges and reds - beyond my cell phone capabilities to record accurately. But you get the idea.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">In every season, I fall more in love with the earth.</div><br /> <p></p>Jackiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15461386564339879940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4014005277153555622.post-5269072358720369472021-09-04T08:27:00.015-05:002021-12-14T07:46:34.273-06:00As We Say In Kansas.....Welp!There is a wonderful little piece of magic that exists in the tiny remnants of a village known as Volland. It is a lingering dash of white settler history beside the railroad track in Wabaunsee County. The old brick general store building was saved, restored and repurposed. <div><br /></div><div>The Volland Store now offers a variety of activities - art shows, poetry reading, and activities like learning the function and history of such things as root cellars and big barns, then touring various locations. I have purchased locally harvested honey and hand-made soap there. It is a fine building, reimagined for the twenty-first century, located in a beautiful little hollow in the emerald green of the Kansas Flint Hills. <div><br /></div><div><div>While checking the Volland Store website to see what might be happening, I discovered a mystery called NuPenny. People were invited to: "Bring your lawn chair and a picnic –
Visit with neighbors and make new friends as you wait for sunset. Watch NuPenny emerge as light fades and darkness falls." </div><div><br /></div><div>I was intrigued! What did this mysterious contraption do? Play fantastical music? Offer a cosmic light show? I HAD to go see it for myself. </div><div><br /></div><div>Soooooooooooo...<div><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDPHmvEcSxmJ0hyeyiJTbvF9dYobE4ryD9QWRWNNLCxOI1kq4N0UKtXNhZ6ZeCyeuucjNs5aoE0r_owBozOApifluAPzLYxCvcqjn5TcLY_9nACwODLQBCwpfhcQKV38s6uObSWzSGV08l/s2048/20210903_194149.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDPHmvEcSxmJ0hyeyiJTbvF9dYobE4ryD9QWRWNNLCxOI1kq4N0UKtXNhZ6ZeCyeuucjNs5aoE0r_owBozOApifluAPzLYxCvcqjn5TcLY_9nACwODLQBCwpfhcQKV38s6uObSWzSGV08l/w480-h640/20210903_194149.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">I dragged my neighbor here...</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /> <p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0NwMBF-Ow_S-Avsbwmlp8xWQ2Qq5VcWlsCFFYiE1SdpnmQeMai1DOa8fbuj6RYxO-1T88YweJ5_Ov8GpKprwUQndfZ6iagzrjld7twpBgKl94GeMvYz7NdXUoENyPP1h3qUyIhkJGvx-O/s2048/20210903_194122.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0NwMBF-Ow_S-Avsbwmlp8xWQ2Qq5VcWlsCFFYiE1SdpnmQeMai1DOa8fbuj6RYxO-1T88YweJ5_Ov8GpKprwUQndfZ6iagzrjld7twpBgKl94GeMvYz7NdXUoENyPP1h3qUyIhkJGvx-O/w480-h640/20210903_194122.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">to see this.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcqvMDA1FN_AJ0hfbf5xnhpjPzW7DEIspC-S3hCr4Vej-qzq9Q0gcMvjOSEGYALFEJXliVNEZJQ5RBc-xPaUayG5IHOSIBL3-AFoKy6JAf5KFHrLwae566YW1GmasvQ92OHC5ZDOaEQrLx/s2048/20210903_200322.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcqvMDA1FN_AJ0hfbf5xnhpjPzW7DEIspC-S3hCr4Vej-qzq9Q0gcMvjOSEGYALFEJXliVNEZJQ5RBc-xPaUayG5IHOSIBL3-AFoKy6JAf5KFHrLwae566YW1GmasvQ92OHC5ZDOaEQrLx/w640-h480/20210903_200322.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> but NuPenny does only this.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtq6AX6-6KLPT0z3JPKOLI1R7WuLEYvzXpaoN8ueLGNbyjwISKlim8aU3weJqrJIRxALVjTR-uelwuXqMju-_unEuPX1E6iOl79MFXxSrrceRcjaz38_ix9Tnjf7SZfTqMFpZ_YWm_Y8Yp/s2048/20210903_200312.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtq6AX6-6KLPT0z3JPKOLI1R7WuLEYvzXpaoN8ueLGNbyjwISKlim8aU3weJqrJIRxALVjTR-uelwuXqMju-_unEuPX1E6iOl79MFXxSrrceRcjaz38_ix9Tnjf7SZfTqMFpZ_YWm_Y8Yp/w640-h480/20210903_200312.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Of course, the whole point was to be there for this - a lovely Kansas sunset, which both of us see every single evening - she from her horse barn and me from my front porch.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><span style="color: red; font-size: large;"> WELP!</span></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><span style="color: black; font-size: medium;">(</span><a href="http://thevollandstore.com/" style="font-size: medium;">The Volland Store</a><span style="color: black; font-size: medium;"> follow this link for more information.)</span></span></p></div></div></div></div>Jackiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15461386564339879940noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4014005277153555622.post-46387452556950323752021-08-12T10:50:00.005-05:002021-08-21T08:00:19.132-05:00For Christ's Sake, man!<p>If you live long enough, you begin to think nothing will surprise you. You tend to think you have seen or, at least, heard it all! There may be nothing new under the sun but an old woman can still be taken entirely off guard.</p><p>There was a huge jungle of sumac growing around the barns. A few plants are okay, but the few had, in one season, exploded into a seven feet tall forest crowding the barns. It was an eyesore. Should the prairie catch fire here, nothing would save the "barns" with so much vegetation almost smothering the structures. I decided to hire a man who advertised machinery and services needed. </p><p>I left a message on the business phone and was happy when my phone call was returned the next day. Even better, he came out later that day to take a look and discuss costs. I was thrilled when he actually arrived the day after that and made fast work of several problem areas. That level of customer service earns my sincere and appreciative loyalty to a company or service provider.</p><p>Our interactions had been friendly but polite and business appropriate, though he did ask quite a few personal questions. It was a bit awkward, but I did not think too much of it because he seemed like a very nice person and I was entirely comfortable doing business with him. He appeared to be my age. . </p><p>I had texted my address to him first so he could find my house. We exchanged a few lines to verify the time. We exchanged brief messages about the extreme heat and he asked how things looked after he was finished. I thought that it was nice of him to follow up.</p><p>Entirely unexpectedly, I received a much later text saying that he had wanted to ask me something but had chickened out. He was sure I would laugh at him and just tell him no. </p><p>I have to admit that I was stunned. It has been many, many years since any man has shown even a glimmer of interest in me other than as a friend. I felt as if the worst thing possible had happened! He seemed like a very nice person and I certainly did not want to hurt his feelings but I held NO interest toward him. So, I did not respond. Chickenshit of me, but the easiest for everyone involved. He texted again, assuming I did not get the last text.</p><p>So... I considered. I realized he had asked enough questions of me when he was here that he knew I was not married, that I bought this place and have improved it all on my own, that my kids were adults and doing well for themselves. (I cannot help but brag about my kids having college educations and Master's degrees!) He had even found out that my ferocious German Shepherd is a big, hairy cupcake who wants nothing more than petting and attention from all human beings, strangers or not. </p><p>I thought about how unbelievably difficult it would be for me to ask someone out for a cup of coffee at my age. It would be painfully difficult and I would certainly feel as if that person would "laugh and just say no", too. If nothing else, I did not want to be rude to such a nice person.</p><p>First things first. I had to make sure he was not a crazy Trump supporter. There are thousands of them in Kansas. It would be a deal breaker right out of the gate. So, I finally texted "Well, if you were going to ask me if I was going to vote for Trump in 2024, I would have laughed and told you no."</p><p>He texted that no, he was not a Trump supporter either, and added that he chickened out asking me in person and he was sorry that he had not asked.</p><p>I was greatly relieved that he was not a Trumper but I was also thinking, "For Christ's sake, man. You need to buck up! We are not in junior high." I was not going to make it easy. He needed to ask. </p><p>After another few irritating texts from him assuring me that he was sorry he chickened out, that he was certain I wanted nothing to do with an old man like him, blah, blah, blah, he finally got the courage to ask. </p><p>No, he wasn't interested in having coffee with me, which is what I had assumed. He said he was not married and he thought my chest looked very good. He wanted to ask me if he could touch it.</p><p>Well. </p><p>Well...</p><p>Well.......I was not prepared for that. It took me a while to collect myself. I finally texted back that if he had asked me, I would have laughed and certainly told him no, and that there was nothing left to say at that point. Then I blocked his number.</p><p>For Christ's sake, man! </p><p>In the next few minutes, I realized how stupid I had been to answer his personal questions so casually. If there was something truly wrong with him, he now knew enough to cause me some trouble, including that he did not even have to worry about the dog.</p><p>In the days since this unfortunate exchange, I have decided that maybe he was just drunk texting or something. He did teach me a valuable lesson about not telling strangers anything personal. The next time someone asks me about my dog, I will say she is a vicious killer! They do not have to know she only kills stuffed toys. </p><p>A woman's vanity dies a hard death. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDr0sev01NVZW_5qd25SoV4fqmS1Vdxr-r1PS2zKHCGPaIKDoYrvZ4qY7oTA2V3pNuTWG9JSmbsg_ou3U9L8nh9Hou7T5zXy4CcWI-ZMHkEsbdJHOH2QjWsxg4DYqnaY8oUrZTnykkUoAS/s1754/20210428_104747+%25282%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1216" data-original-width="1754" height="444" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDr0sev01NVZW_5qd25SoV4fqmS1Vdxr-r1PS2zKHCGPaIKDoYrvZ4qY7oTA2V3pNuTWG9JSmbsg_ou3U9L8nh9Hou7T5zXy4CcWI-ZMHkEsbdJHOH2QjWsxg4DYqnaY8oUrZTnykkUoAS/w640-h444/20210428_104747+%25282%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vicious Killer protecting her owner.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p>Jackiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15461386564339879940noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4014005277153555622.post-13522112502875863462021-03-01T10:15:00.012-06:002021-08-26T05:05:58.386-05:00Crows<p>It is hard to realize just how large crows are until you are within a few feet of them. They are far larger than chickens and much more intelligent. I love hearing them, though theirs is not a musical calling. Documentaries proving their amazing intelligence impress me. I realized long ago that I had never seen a dead crow on the road. They are smart to fly away from the traffic. It warmed my heart to read a scientific article explaining their family groups and their social lives - that the young adults stay with their parents to help raise the youngsters for a year or two. </p><p>I was in a MacDonald's parking lot enjoying my senior coffee (75 cents, thank you so much) when a small flock of crows landed in the parking space next to me. I scrounged to find some treat for them. I carry a baggie of dog food for instant reward for good puppy behavior but there were only a few pieces left. I scattered the kibble out the window and, though they were all quick to try for a piece, there was no squabbling or fighting. I wished I had more so they each could have had some. </p><p>One of the crows had a broken leg permanently turned all the way inward. The crow seemed comfortable and capable despite this awful handicap. Another was missing most of its beak. How in the world did that happen, I wondered. I was shocked to see the rough condition of the little flock. I suppose city crows run afoul of humans and their unnatural technology all the time. Maybe, because they live in extended familial groups, injured members can survive at a higher rate than other birds who do not live in such groups. </p><p>There are many crows in Manhattan, Kansas. I see them everywhere diligently searching for food. How can birds their size possibly find enough to eat in the winter months? It is a mystery to me. </p><p>The wild crows that visit my property never come into the yard, even though it is several acres. They fly over my house and they visit along the creek. I hear them above the pasture, but they are never close enough for me to see if they have damaged members in their flock. I would love to feed them but I think they are better off making their own living far away from human beings. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF13POlK19Xs8JXA5PMfKgMpDwx4pKMu-XKPf8J2KIVIWi-OyER_XGKQ7YlLAwvr0t3psms84V7SexGQ1AlxvbYuOECmRFXTqzzakI8Xv_DwXoRsz8nEg8dpVHKBmyAuyrnrxCb7bBnnx3/s528/Capture.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="496" data-original-width="528" height="602" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF13POlK19Xs8JXA5PMfKgMpDwx4pKMu-XKPf8J2KIVIWi-OyER_XGKQ7YlLAwvr0t3psms84V7SexGQ1AlxvbYuOECmRFXTqzzakI8Xv_DwXoRsz8nEg8dpVHKBmyAuyrnrxCb7bBnnx3/w640-h602/Capture.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo: Paul Powers/Great Backyard Bird Count<br />Follow this Audubon link for more information<br /><a href="https://www.audubon.org/field-guide/bird/american-crow" target="_blank">American Crow Audubon Page</a><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkVoEiikbS7Zgcxm4NrQsLVGp8vtFHuefR_GJhb5q0IGvCO-7UXNQGYzBC9pX3QZNGh1lGR4zIA1PLMtaTfFwKktyAZWvF3mEoLaUK_ytT3xRKNVa5-nox7BTcpZzK3Ds98ixQ452GMK36/s1200/8+American+Crow+A6027.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="904" data-original-width="1200" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkVoEiikbS7Zgcxm4NrQsLVGp8vtFHuefR_GJhb5q0IGvCO-7UXNQGYzBC9pX3QZNGh1lGR4zIA1PLMtaTfFwKktyAZWvF3mEoLaUK_ytT3xRKNVa5-nox7BTcpZzK3Ds98ixQ452GMK36/w640-h482/8+American+Crow+A6027.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I have never seen baby American Crows before! <br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p>This photo is from a blog page on the Slater Museum of Natural History, Washington State. It is one in a series of photos of a nest over about a month's time. Something you are not likely to observe for yourself! </p><p>Follow this link to the: <a href="https://slatermuseum.blogspot.com/2010/07/crow-family.html?m=1&fbclid=IwAR1wKJARRHlKgkZ54QrrG9UM0lFY1ErLNgiiZnMT9d1RaGlVYbkNj9cdk6o" target="_blank">Slater Musuem of Natural History</a></p>Jackiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15461386564339879940noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4014005277153555622.post-74977397323481701792021-01-30T11:25:00.018-06:002021-01-31T10:18:45.498-06:00Fixin' to Get Ready<p>I celebrated another birthday last month. It is not a big (or even a little) deal at my age. Still, I always recall the birthday cakes my mother made for me. One year it was a pink birthday cake decorated with a ballerina, and the gift of a pink chenille bedspread with a ballerina on it, too. (This may have been inspired by an entirely unexpected, out-of-character but deadly serious imitation of a prima ballerina pirouetting through the living room for the benefit of my Aunt Mary.) </p><p>Another birthday is always a good time to stop for a minute and take stock. I paused long enough to consider I am old and living in a state filled with assholes who refuse to take the covid virus seriously or even wear a mask. ('Murica!) I am very careful but it is possible that despite my best precautions, that virus, carried by red necked, gun-totin', truck drivin', maskless "patriots", could be my abrupt and unexpected end. (I would sure hate it if the worst of red state Kansas finally got the best of me! I have been resisting them my entire life.) </p><p>After a brief search regarding a tiny local cemetery, I discovered some of my neighbors are the trustees. So, on the last day of 2020, I chose my final resting place a few miles from my house. I already have the deed! So, unless something improbable happens and I end up living in a cliffside cabin facing the mighty Pacific, I will most likely spend the rest of my days in good ol' Kansas, my ashes returned to the soil that once belonged to the old buffalo hunters. I have a Native American name and was told that when the time comes, they will see me coming and joyously welcome me to their fire. That is good enough for me. </p><p>In a few days I will be signing all the paperwork of my last will and testament. It is remarkably simple. As I read through it, I thought attorneys are the best snake oil salesmen to ever arise from the evil dust of this old earth. A score of pages to say my kids split everything 50/50 and whatever they decide is fine. Whatever. It feels good to have most of the big issues settled, and I did learn a few things. While you are alive, you can title a paid-off car to anyone you choose. At your demise, it automatically becomes the designated person's property with zero fuss. </p><p>I do not have a sense of foreboding or doom, or feel that the end might be near. Rather I just feel I should get things lined out and be done with it. On a typical bright and windy Kansas day, I selected my cemetery plot. It was the last day of 2020. When I woke up in 2021, I felt like a real adult. </p><p><br /></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz35KVAR7oFKYoRxD_AksStd6IbPzlX3mP-7kxpZyN_JUt0GmzNW7iWGkb4BHAGeFwCmPS3y9QOO30LyNqXOt4yGm175E0_5uA3thLhnTBt4L4IG5Z6WqrjqlWz8qTfDtLJGpWdAH1Y_WH/s2048/The+Way+Home.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz35KVAR7oFKYoRxD_AksStd6IbPzlX3mP-7kxpZyN_JUt0GmzNW7iWGkb4BHAGeFwCmPS3y9QOO30LyNqXOt4yGm175E0_5uA3thLhnTBt4L4IG5Z6WqrjqlWz8qTfDtLJGpWdAH1Y_WH/w640-h426/The+Way+Home.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My probable view of eternity. When I found this photo, I had already titled it "The Way Home". Cool.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /> <p></p>Jackiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15461386564339879940noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4014005277153555622.post-14930414430617208572021-01-26T11:41:00.008-06:002021-11-16T18:12:07.256-06:00Grave MistakesSpending almost all my time alone due to the pandemic allows me to reflect deeply on my ordinary life. A pitfall of not interacting in-person with others is that, as a human being, I begin to assume that I must be the brightest, most intelligent person - EVER! Fortunately, some natural law of equilibrium continues to operate on the ego, even in the pandemic isolation. The world has its ways to assure that no human becomes so self-aggrandizing as to ever again attempt a tower of Babel.<div><br /></div><div>After years of various desperate struggles to make certain my horses have enough water in the winter, I finally landed on a brilliant idea of a corral between the barn and house. It would be a permanent structure that would allow the horses to come down to a water tank within about 50 feet from a water faucet and electrical outlets. I would only need a 50 foot garden hose - not 350 feet. I was so proud of this solution. </div><div><br /></div><div>I thought the horses would simply wear a path through the tall grass that grew between the barn and yard. And that might have happened if the first winter had not been nothing but mud - all winter long. And if the second winter had not been nothing but mud - all winter long. The horses have almost entirely obliterated all vegetation in a wide swath. It took an enormous effort to get that ground planted back to prairie so I grieve the loss of all that beautiful big bluestem. It also meant that I have to slog through slippery and deep mud all the way from the gate to the barn where the hay is. I hate it.</div><div><br /></div><div>I also knew that rain run-off naturally drained from the pasture in the long low point running between the house and the barn. But when the sun was shining and the ground handily covered in restored thick, vibrant prairie, I arrogantly proclaimed: "Place the royal fence here, along the lowest level of drainage!" Well, actually, I wanted the fence closer to the house but the fence guy moved it to the low spot. Both of us are goddamned geniuses! If the fence had been moved just 6 feet further uphill, during the winters, the grass of the yard would have covered that long drainage slough. There would still be bare ground on the other side but not standing water and deep mud that sucks the boots off my feet. </div><div><br /></div><div>The denuded hill is also an eyesore this close to the house. I think one solution will be to fence the horses out of it from spring to fall this year and give the vegetation a chance to recover. It will mean more garden hose but in warm weather that is not a problem. We will see.</div><div><br /></div><div>In the cold dark days of January, 2020, I was perusing the website of the breeder where I got Mattie, my German Shepherd. I had two dogs then: Mattie and Jake. By the summer of 2020, I would have had knee surgery and have a new lease on life by the time my name came up on the list for a puppy. (The breeder has a long, long waiting list for puppies.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Living with three dogs was possible. I live on almost 30 acres. My neighbor has 4 dogs at any given time. She is roughly my age and they haven't turned on her like ravening wolves yet! Wouldn't another adorable German Shepherd puppy, just like my Good Dog Mattie, be wonderful? In the cold, windy, late-winter night, I succumbed to the siren call of puppies, filling out a contract and sending a sizable non-refundable deposit for a sister to Mattie.</div><div><br /></div><div>Then came the pandemic making elective surgery out of the question for me. I am too old to chance getting covid 19. I had almost forgotten about the puppy until I received a call late in November that I had first choice of the females in the litter. Oh. Oh, I say! It was not a good time for a puppy. I probably should have passed and opted for a later litter but it was awfully late to do that to the breeder. But, my poor ol' Jake had passed away during the summer. In keeping with his life of misfortune and injury, one of the horses stepped on his foot, crushing the bones. The vet kept him and tried to gently heal his foot without expensive surgery. While in the veterinarian hospital, Jake unexpectedly died. Even though my grief for Jake was still fresh, the idea of a puppy did not seem outrageous right then. So, enter Miss Kenzie.</div><div><br /></div><div>Yes, it was a brilliant idea for a crippled old woman to get an energetic German Shepherd puppy late in the year! Mattie was easily kennel trained but Kenzie is STILL not house trained. She had no problem soiling her kennel day one, so the effective aid a kennel can be in house training was rendered useless on the first day. In addition to these difficulties, I suffered through an extended period of time when the "misery was upon me". I do not know what causes this illness. I do not run a fever nor have a head or stomach ache. I simply feel terrible and need to stay in bed. It is all I can do to force myself to look after my horses when this hits me. I have learned to manage this suffering with scalding hot baths and long naps until it passes. With a puppy those long naps were out of the question. Getting up three or four times a night almost killed me. Literally. I was not depressed but during the worst of constantly cleaning up both puppy and kennel, I thought if I die right now, I will not be mad.</div><div><br /></div><div>It is in the contract that if for any reason I no longer wanted the puppy, I was to return her to the breeder. I seriously considered this option. But, I would be playing with Kenzie, teaching her new tricks, and watching her blast around on those impossibly big paws. Her comically enormous ears deployed, making her look like a fruit bat, and knew I could not give her up. She is so smart! She knows these commands already: sit, down, look at me, touch nice (instead of snapping food out of my hands) place, heel, and is learning wait and stay. I know that my inability to get around quickly enough has impeded the house breaking.</div><div><br /></div><div>So, right now my beautiful wood floors are covered in muddy paw prints from both dogs. I have to keep one outside and one inside because as soon as they are in the house together, they thunder through the small rooms, knocking stuff over or down. The only safe way for both of them to be in the house together is for Kenzie to be in the kennel. How awful it is going to be when Kenzie is full grown? Mattie weighed 6 pounds when I brought her home at 8 weeks - over three years later, she weighs 75. Kenzie weighed 13 and 1/2 at 8 weeks! Her paws are as big as the palms of my hands. She is going to be much larger than Mattie when full grown. Mattie by herself is quiet, obedient, careful in the house. Kenzie is not. So, looking into the near future, I see a fenced yard of some nature. I hate to fence in my house. I love the wide open spaces. But two German Shepherds who look exactly like black wolves running loose is a bad thing in cattle country.</div><div><br /></div><div>Stupid old woman! Not smart at all. If I had discussed the corral idea with a smart person - someone at least incrementally smarter than either myself or the fence guy, I might not be slogging through 6" deep mud and cussing myself blue in the face day and night on the way to and from the barn!</div><div><br /></div><div>If I had the benefit of serious adult feedback, I may have avoided the overpowering allure of a puppy at this time in my life!</div><div><br /></div><div>On the other hand... I have never taken anyone else's advice on something once I have made up my mind. I just pay the price for being stupidly stubborn. </div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh40J1q7seQXyySQG3ImpBT-g0UPnHrjwD1ZGQcjeJUgaJJeS4c2-WackP6X7M-iRzIL_OBJ48YNTKbCxSDs5n22EX_ZI9izz8ZBomBcmif-SGLIvNt991iRc1qMekGr1JHKbKyd0Voj-ct/s2048/20210126_105502.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh40J1q7seQXyySQG3ImpBT-g0UPnHrjwD1ZGQcjeJUgaJJeS4c2-WackP6X7M-iRzIL_OBJ48YNTKbCxSDs5n22EX_ZI9izz8ZBomBcmif-SGLIvNt991iRc1qMekGr1JHKbKyd0Voj-ct/w480-h640/20210126_105502.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With such large ears, you would think they could locate without turning their head. First left...</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzTGJ2q5PQwZlHuhgis0qUJ9a5D-O6v9UNiHv8mb75fHA3jCQ8zC8_OdOEk_sBKOHmLLIMtF-5tTbB-zu1YSCWC7VCO19JzzVPP-lGNYwJCN_U7_xYU9DTBf7yPTLnxjaBjEMzfR4HXash/s2048/20210126_105504.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzTGJ2q5PQwZlHuhgis0qUJ9a5D-O6v9UNiHv8mb75fHA3jCQ8zC8_OdOEk_sBKOHmLLIMtF-5tTbB-zu1YSCWC7VCO19JzzVPP-lGNYwJCN_U7_xYU9DTBf7yPTLnxjaBjEMzfR4HXash/w480-h640/20210126_105504.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Then far right, for good measure!</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQs0QfyJeijldqf5iB0CMk6RLDNwyTXxWTYtRtGyO5g1fq7XFcL0wG7tVpUKoODuqpchYwwXfTEJFrjquTBFTwbDOPS71lstfB3E6x-ZCxg3xQi9V2icCWWfM-sxvTr64yzQNafbXu4IBy/s2048/20210126_105443.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQs0QfyJeijldqf5iB0CMk6RLDNwyTXxWTYtRtGyO5g1fq7XFcL0wG7tVpUKoODuqpchYwwXfTEJFrjquTBFTwbDOPS71lstfB3E6x-ZCxg3xQi9V2icCWWfM-sxvTr64yzQNafbXu4IBy/w480-h640/20210126_105443.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kenzie "placing" on the towel. She does this without a towel, in the car, even outside...for a minute!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxu_bo6R_yiL1_mBsPCleHd6upNdIaPfUxp3tHGQ_ZC-njETGWiguB_-ICMXB566nNXgjgBsALwR0LDiY6PP3h7i9QUr1D31hYhPN4In0-cArWSXBtl6nOtQVfsIcBSyPZQwQcOE4YDyXU/s2048/20210126_104603.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxu_bo6R_yiL1_mBsPCleHd6upNdIaPfUxp3tHGQ_ZC-njETGWiguB_-ICMXB566nNXgjgBsALwR0LDiY6PP3h7i9QUr1D31hYhPN4In0-cArWSXBtl6nOtQVfsIcBSyPZQwQcOE4YDyXU/w480-h640/20210126_104603.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">3 months and 2 weeks old today. Look at the size of those paws!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><br /><div><br /></div>Jackiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15461386564339879940noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4014005277153555622.post-55932587642282728102020-12-27T12:33:00.004-06:002021-10-16T09:24:02.356-05:00The Fabulous Year 2020<p>Who would have guessed a year with such a fabulous numeric designation as 2020 would have been such a barn burner? Double twenties - even numbers - pleasing to the eye, and reduces to the sacred number 4! Also, it is the year of pause, just before a new decade. </p><p>This has been such a hard year for so many of my family and friends. It has been a very difficult year for the entire world. I admit I have not sought out news of countries in Africa, or smaller countries across the globe, the ones I likely cannot find on a map. I assume they might be doing a bit better than the United States because they are not populated by a huge demographic of selfish assholes, but maybe not! Americans may be the biggest assholes on earth. The world continues to turn, and life goes on, despite everything good and bad and all in between. It always does.</p><p>My son contracted the corona virus just before Christmas. He is over the worst of it but continues to have chest pains. His sister took an oxygen meter to him and his oxygen levels are 98%, so that is good, I think. He experienced a lot of muscle aches and pains. I know many people prayed for him, and I am so deeply grateful. Thank you, each and every one of you. I pray for my children all the time but when something awful happens to them, I cannot seem to focus to pray for them. Friends and family take up my slack in that department. Going forward, I will be even more mindful when people ask for prayers for their loved ones.</p><p>My son and his big dog, Primo, are doing well in the big city, living in the ultra-modern apartment with a kitchen I would die for! They have an enormous wall of windows facing north and a wonderful large balcony. He is living the kind of life I only dreamt of when I was his age! I am proud of my son. He graduated the University of Kansas and later earned a MBA. He is doing well for himself.</p><p>Jake my poor, long suffering crippled dog met with yet another major misfortune this year when one of the horses stepped on his foot, crushing the bones. In an effort to avoid expensive surgery, the vet looked after him, keeping the bandages changed and confined to a small space. One of the young veterinarian aides there took a personal liking to Jake and offered him a lot of love and attention. While there, Jake died unexpectedly of natural causes. I miss him on the way to the barn every day and miss his particularly outrageous howling when the coyotes sing as they travel past the house in the creek. Mattie still looks for him. He has been set free of being crippled in three of his four legs, hopefully chasing rabbits in dog heaven now. (I hope that doesn't mean dog heaven is rabbit hell?) Farewell, Jakie. Godspeed.</p><p>So... back in January of 2020, I thought it would be a splendid idea to have three dogs! Yes. It was pre-pandemic psychosis! I sent a non-refundable deposit for another German Shepherd puppy, hoping for a full sister to Mattie. At the time of the fateful check-writing incident, my rationale was this: almost 2 years to get Mattie after sending a deposit. My new knees would be healed by the time the new puppy arrived. I would greatly enjoy a puppy, especially since I would be home all the time to take care of her. </p><p>Well, well, well... things do not always work out as you expect them to work out. First, the pandemic put the kibosh on knee surgery. Secondly, the wait time was significantly shorter for this puppy - almost 14 months shorter! So, into the void left by Jake, a bratty little half-sister to Mattie is destroying my life! Mattie is a very smart dog, but little Kenzie is even faster at learning. Mattie is civilized, dainty, quiet and obedient (at least in the house). Kenzie is loud and NEVER shuts up. She learns at lightning speed but really does not give a rat's ass what I want. I am NOT the boss of Kenzie, who has tendencies remarkably akin to a certain snotty little red Quarter Horse mare I know very well. Three alpha females trying to run things at the farm - what could go wrong? I am at a terrible disadvantage with very, very, very bad knees. Wish me luck.</p><p>This year my daughter made a major life shift from cats to a dog. Amidst the pandemic pressures, she purchased a red heeler puppy. She named him Dingo. He is a very smart little fellow but heelers are serious dogs. They are working dogs and do not have time for anything unless it is serious business. I call him the sheriff. He is always on duty, protecting my daughter but also presenting several difficult behaviors that challenge her. I must say that my daughter has risen to the occasion. Dingo is a sturdy, fearless, athletic hiking partner. Another year and he will be a consistently well behaved dog. I can only hope that Kenzie turns out as well! </p><p>My daughter moved to Lawrence and is in the midst of earning another Master's degree at the University of Kansas. She has also completed training for three alternative emotional healing methodologies in the last two years. She will soon graduate the Cultivating Emotional Balance training developed at the Santa Barbara Institute for Consciousness Studies. The emotional balance research project arose from a dialogue between biobehavioral scientists and the Dalai Lama and Buddhist monks and scholars. After my daughter graduates with the second Masters, she will be working with people, teaching them to heal themselves. I am proud of my daughter. </p><p>Wally the white horse and Ginger the red horse are doing well. Wally puts up with Ginger's bossiness and sometimes I wish he would just kick the snot right out of her, but he never does. He loves her. I love her. We both know the easiest way to get through life is to let Ginger have her way in matters of treats, food and water. We all get along very well, thank you. (If horses are Supreme Beings, Ginger is the most supreme of them all.)</p><p>It is quiet down on the farm. All around me the world is going to hell in a handbasket it seems, but right this minute, the Supreme Beings are leisurely eating their hay in the warm sunlight. The two German Shepherds are sleeping, one at my feet and one in her kennel inches away. I am drinking my well-earned morning tea and watching the birds at the feeder. It is dry and dusty in Wabaunsee County but rain is on the way, expected by next Tuesday - maybe as much as two inches. That means I'll be slogging through deep mud to feed the horses but we certainly need the rain, so I'll try not to cuss too loudly.</p><p>I am sorry for people who lost beloved family members and/or friends this year. I am sorry for those people who are struggling financially and for people struggling in every other way. I am sorry for the strife and fear my country is experiencing. We are Americans - we should do much better! I am sorry for the whole world struggling with the pandemic and frightening climate change. We are human beings - we should do much better!</p><p>I count my many blessings and give humble thanks for every iota of good fortune that has blessed my life. I am grateful that my family is safe right this moment. I hope your family is safe right this moment, too. I pray for a far better 2021 for every living thing on this earth. </p><div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><span style="color: red;">Wishing peace on earth and goodwill toward (some) men -</span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><span style="color: red;"> from the Crazy Woman, the Supreme Beings, and the beautiful German Shepherds of Spiritcreek.</span></div><p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi82L2fyw8YVewMx7I_3HOpU34lpYxN5nsvRHKVQ2P4diVkb-Mw4l93W4P0jvuxg9V5IGPhkuPv5ePdVNCve986e8_adIdLTi4auY_NfSKLYJqD23QrKE9temsdIiBmkJyC1yhV7BEd1vyO/s206/Jake.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="206" data-original-width="206" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi82L2fyw8YVewMx7I_3HOpU34lpYxN5nsvRHKVQ2P4diVkb-Mw4l93W4P0jvuxg9V5IGPhkuPv5ePdVNCve986e8_adIdLTi4auY_NfSKLYJqD23QrKE9temsdIiBmkJyC1yhV7BEd1vyO/w640-h640/Jake.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jake Rest in Peace Good Boi</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0wrr0OzRN7IE4ff5nukQqmTMfVzWEePU8UuZ-zxpmXLhDYH9phpBKKez7qA83AofR-8USOpM_Kk4OyOG6tGjjIOUU7spAFOj9NVybvL9_0oPfgZ8mzulE6jF0DWFMRM7Q9NPRmXaH2KJa/s1440/Bratty+McBratface.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1413" data-original-width="1440" height="628" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0wrr0OzRN7IE4ff5nukQqmTMfVzWEePU8UuZ-zxpmXLhDYH9phpBKKez7qA83AofR-8USOpM_Kk4OyOG6tGjjIOUU7spAFOj9NVybvL9_0oPfgZ8mzulE6jF0DWFMRM7Q9NPRmXaH2KJa/w640-h628/Bratty+McBratface.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kenzie the Brat</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVbctD5YHy7xWcvNA6TDfVo8Oz7URWi3l-43EqKn-k_8hqUo7OMQInAD-2rauWA1IUPRyCdknKOSYjMzW5KG5Wbhp9wIBsYuH9xwrEOiargsStXfrmKZgZTRtgE4vEbd63F6C4_lqUGtIW/s1419/Man+and+Dog.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1419" data-original-width="1404" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVbctD5YHy7xWcvNA6TDfVo8Oz7URWi3l-43EqKn-k_8hqUo7OMQInAD-2rauWA1IUPRyCdknKOSYjMzW5KG5Wbhp9wIBsYuH9xwrEOiargsStXfrmKZgZTRtgE4vEbd63F6C4_lqUGtIW/w634-h640/Man+and+Dog.jpeg" width="634" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Big Guys</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvgkc-EHB846FAFMbi4ITv-Lw7lwtjgPuWT8qJ4VXPKT3BRgvbpP2hg-WPS5dWecagn_umDXVEGQhpCdqKy2g01k-ID7QoT3hTaAMgExYhsoaCqshl-LSvrB2rf6lH2TECZoOzKTjD82s0/s960/Anda+and+Dingo.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="695" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvgkc-EHB846FAFMbi4ITv-Lw7lwtjgPuWT8qJ4VXPKT3BRgvbpP2hg-WPS5dWecagn_umDXVEGQhpCdqKy2g01k-ID7QoT3hTaAMgExYhsoaCqshl-LSvrB2rf6lH2TECZoOzKTjD82s0/w464-h640/Anda+and+Dingo.jpg" width="464" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Woman and Baby Sheriff </td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeYrsP_YgIcvbkYmDgh7Jf0hfHzpoidRFB-N-Qrs-kpbGQ19U4QGQtrs0jflKOKCdhk-eknlMQwT5NQ95kpHLsBqwBZUbEwLB_KUjv-ONmhoRELZY922L14ZcVv94KOFAaxcdUrTeXkL0P/s2048/Mattie.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1152" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeYrsP_YgIcvbkYmDgh7Jf0hfHzpoidRFB-N-Qrs-kpbGQ19U4QGQtrs0jflKOKCdhk-eknlMQwT5NQ95kpHLsBqwBZUbEwLB_KUjv-ONmhoRELZY922L14ZcVv94KOFAaxcdUrTeXkL0P/w360-h640/Mattie.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful Mattie</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIyiUF-DDkZ5YMelnPgxiscInOlfk6519gGhyCNV7LHghrYXPkUx2wJqAe1hHQQODX7UvmEd_7qp18_cXByAFoWRknRjxq6PFJd-HSNX9qRKiRdvdpl58sFQ5MO7k89TDHBXgfXjc4U4X-/s2048/Ginger.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIyiUF-DDkZ5YMelnPgxiscInOlfk6519gGhyCNV7LHghrYXPkUx2wJqAe1hHQQODX7UvmEd_7qp18_cXByAFoWRknRjxq6PFJd-HSNX9qRKiRdvdpl58sFQ5MO7k89TDHBXgfXjc4U4X-/w640-h480/Ginger.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Supreme Being</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-3j_xArzMdJBDJC9bZ9u6a1RgQfXnDgaENQEs13OI8CzfqeDdeaPal5BP5XOmYsL_ZfGxKaqYD0LWKDXrnOIcGIDIEWBPL14nrb4UfOInDOJuiZROVZIOyiDRL58LN6q2O8WMMX737rZ5/s2048/Wally.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-3j_xArzMdJBDJC9bZ9u6a1RgQfXnDgaENQEs13OI8CzfqeDdeaPal5BP5XOmYsL_ZfGxKaqYD0LWKDXrnOIcGIDIEWBPL14nrb4UfOInDOJuiZROVZIOyiDRL58LN6q2O8WMMX737rZ5/w480-h640/Wally.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Wallai Lama</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKhtaM-df8ZXJEuLT_P-28aYOTBJMem6iRT7RUIqiPExhqrzZI35cPO5eZG2jFaskKUYOU5tqap9ViaR800FqaotMg8sx3Y2bowzAd1j5B2AJ-UsRToOnDJGu6WktFM9g6DCT96ZxU9jEF/s643/Pandemic.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="581" data-original-width="643" height="578" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKhtaM-df8ZXJEuLT_P-28aYOTBJMem6iRT7RUIqiPExhqrzZI35cPO5eZG2jFaskKUYOU5tqap9ViaR800FqaotMg8sx3Y2bowzAd1j5B2AJ-UsRToOnDJGu6WktFM9g6DCT96ZxU9jEF/w640-h578/Pandemic.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pandemic!</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYbtpKxdi_wAB_14dJB29lzqjt6rzFWlj6EkhCk92tFnu9ggqM0q542aDLz6wO-DHsDH3DoTMj2PF0gfkp3z9AgOpkUAxRTlzq55hK8U1dK2ZocrxBVWZ3tFhgooZWAfemFjWAoU2x7f6z/s2048/LivingSky.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1514" data-original-width="2048" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYbtpKxdi_wAB_14dJB29lzqjt6rzFWlj6EkhCk92tFnu9ggqM0q542aDLz6wO-DHsDH3DoTMj2PF0gfkp3z9AgOpkUAxRTlzq55hK8U1dK2ZocrxBVWZ3tFhgooZWAfemFjWAoU2x7f6z/w640-h474/LivingSky.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The 2020 Kansas Sky</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Jackiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15461386564339879940noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4014005277153555622.post-3364314997580380922020-11-04T14:52:00.006-06:002020-11-04T15:24:34.448-06:00Scenes from My Road During the Pandemic of 2020<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIMtKXD9PXnXA-zFkaIET9leYokhnIQDsiqC7bgH_FMlyanRLNzo5svE9R5CNaVITbN-iR0eYjwl20w8bfdtkoPQM5zlCEysqKLT9hMN_PerxnE4gGTCykfsgMypu_HhOeIKUSfZQaKx2k/s2048/20200716_050803.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIMtKXD9PXnXA-zFkaIET9leYokhnIQDsiqC7bgH_FMlyanRLNzo5svE9R5CNaVITbN-iR0eYjwl20w8bfdtkoPQM5zlCEysqKLT9hMN_PerxnE4gGTCykfsgMypu_HhOeIKUSfZQaKx2k/w480-h640/20200716_050803.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A Beautiful Dawn from Vera Road</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIqcuHTbxZ4kb7a0TSdLg70Z7wGg4vs8yJfFZYhSJVTevoZFOoINWsZs5bVdJe5mtl0LXVZbbcgYzfWi1Y2kWU6msuuLmleqUS_mYWaHuwHrwJMzKs63BX4AEspry4GZJCUMabEJ-OdeE1/s2048/20200809_201816.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIqcuHTbxZ4kb7a0TSdLg70Z7wGg4vs8yJfFZYhSJVTevoZFOoINWsZs5bVdJe5mtl0LXVZbbcgYzfWi1Y2kWU6msuuLmleqUS_mYWaHuwHrwJMzKs63BX4AEspry4GZJCUMabEJ-OdeE1/w640-h480/20200809_201816.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A Storm Somewhere Over Missouri</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcbSZqKABJjU_axCFM2TbFXitF5-Dy1W28mQcdVRAwIQMJSmEV6yLF1FODT-R3J1orbZ9e5sFPdjTezA6xJEDGhVrC5ez4q5FD5Eaw_ahBsIeVITy3HGgyOdELNTLZFrPDzSRO8Clp5iKt/s2048/20200917_072609.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1154" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcbSZqKABJjU_axCFM2TbFXitF5-Dy1W28mQcdVRAwIQMJSmEV6yLF1FODT-R3J1orbZ9e5sFPdjTezA6xJEDGhVrC5ez4q5FD5Eaw_ahBsIeVITy3HGgyOdELNTLZFrPDzSRO8Clp5iKt/w360-h640/20200917_072609.jpg" width="360" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Moonrise on Vera Road</div></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1V1Oi5Rnn0u5i9VIyzGWVl5zlPpssQtkvjmLwdx2RapnePKUdvaBBt9ebznrnGAXNQwvBO43W6XEsZPTVZ7uKxrWMu-pIMspgTlD7cY2u5Ak2W6SoyxJBtrvzIBof9CEvc4_aWQizDQIH/s1914/20200928_044244.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1914" data-original-width="1507" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1V1Oi5Rnn0u5i9VIyzGWVl5zlPpssQtkvjmLwdx2RapnePKUdvaBBt9ebznrnGAXNQwvBO43W6XEsZPTVZ7uKxrWMu-pIMspgTlD7cY2u5Ak2W6SoyxJBtrvzIBof9CEvc4_aWQizDQIH/w504-h640/20200928_044244.jpg" width="504" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Snokomo Road - Something made her show herself like this but I do not know what.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTJDutT2zIMQp0Hr91RMrWJ9fqA94-5MgqrP3Ov6YDJHeP9mIWQ7ZlaPJJGGTbrRm2P4u29CeiCDYZvG7I1-92VgunmBfjmOU7cMzU4qJDxZ4xB3bzcrGLLVUNxsIbDhY7UGu_hZjHcWg5/s342/Me.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="342" data-original-width="262" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTJDutT2zIMQp0Hr91RMrWJ9fqA94-5MgqrP3Ov6YDJHeP9mIWQ7ZlaPJJGGTbrRm2P4u29CeiCDYZvG7I1-92VgunmBfjmOU7cMzU4qJDxZ4xB3bzcrGLLVUNxsIbDhY7UGu_hZjHcWg5/w490-h640/Me.JPG" width="490" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Me and the Pandemic, with alcohol sanitizer from the local winery located a few miles from my house.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /> <p></p>Jackiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15461386564339879940noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4014005277153555622.post-7011307620257979532020-11-02T17:10:00.000-06:002020-11-02T17:10:14.767-06:00A Single White Horse<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSpr_I5Sq3G4UFRgTt9LOwiQ6pu_qG8Vt0EFskpUzLhNjHuGaImoJizCscJwOq-EH27BuDBCxKYnAL5sH55zqZQWj3j3Ka47JDHhl_Ac6Ro7NH_CIHqJUpRs8cVlojJV2JMyTLtGw8yhZF/s2048/IMG_2934.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSpr_I5Sq3G4UFRgTt9LOwiQ6pu_qG8Vt0EFskpUzLhNjHuGaImoJizCscJwOq-EH27BuDBCxKYnAL5sH55zqZQWj3j3Ka47JDHhl_Ac6Ro7NH_CIHqJUpRs8cVlojJV2JMyTLtGw8yhZF/w640-h426/IMG_2934.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"> Wally in 2013 with his black legs, dark mane and tail, and dappled hind end.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Sometimes you do not "see" someone or something you see every day. I realized that Wally, the resident rock star of the wild horse herd, has become a white horse. His dapples have been missing for awhile but I assumed it was because they faded in the sun. When I thought it through, though, it did not make sense. Before he came here, he lived in a lot with no shelter whatsoever from the sun or the weather. He would have been faded when he arrived if that was the problem. Then I wondered if he was ill with some obscure horse disease, or, at the very least, missing a vital nutrient in his diet. I finally admitted complete ignorance and googled for information. Lo and behold, gray horses gradually become white horses. Sometimes I call him Walter as a term of endearment. Now that I have noticed he is entirely white, well.... now I call him Walter White.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">My horses have no jobs or responsibilities. They are the supreme beings of this little faux ranch. They do not even have to behave except when Vince comes to trim their hooves or the vet comes to give them shots. Vince and the vet are both men. Men are of no particular concern to Ginger, the little mare. She has been owned and trained by women. Her dealings with men have always been under the watchful eye of women, so she has no idea of the abuse that men often inflict on horses. To Ginger, humans are but mere servants she must tolerate at times, like it or not. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Wally, on the other hand, has some respect for men. Not because I think he was ever abused but because men typically deal with horses in a different way. I gently ask for his cooperation but men demand his cooperation and are not opposed to a physical reminder. In the long absence of any men in Wally's life - save the few times a year he is attended by vet or farrier - he has come to think quite highly of himself. Occasionally, he politely refuses to stand still so I can put a halter on his head. Sometimes he lays his ears back at me simply because I have the audacity to serve hay or oats to Ginger first! Once in awhile, he thinks he can use me as a scratching post, scrubbing his big horse head against my arm or shoulder, almost knocking me down. He has long been a well behaved horse but there are times when he misbehaves, just to see what he can get away with... you know, sort of "breaking bad"... </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn2G427V4o6MuYomVArvrsCA1utjyoHXNjfbRsgo5Mw20unt3MEWi_84vZt12vbHIDgjfdv464_XWkrhQbej3pS7TbbiuAmO_Jo6FSuN3KPOeGl8DTbidsJxdUcaK0q1JJVWKWThQ6M1s4/s2048/20201030_170356.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn2G427V4o6MuYomVArvrsCA1utjyoHXNjfbRsgo5Mw20unt3MEWi_84vZt12vbHIDgjfdv464_XWkrhQbej3pS7TbbiuAmO_Jo6FSuN3KPOeGl8DTbidsJxdUcaK0q1JJVWKWThQ6M1s4/w640-h480/20201030_170356.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Disregard the dirt and the dust. Walter is White now...</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><p></p>Jackiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15461386564339879940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4014005277153555622.post-56689927517522902422020-04-26T11:47:00.005-05:002020-04-26T12:04:23.948-05:00A Product of Mud?All winter I looked forward to spring each time I waded through the six inches of mud in the corral. As I slogged along cussing every step of the way, I recalled that I complained just as much the winter it never fell below freezing. I complained when it was bitterly cold and I had to enter the Portal of Hell to turn on the heater. Every winter I complain about something. Just to change it up, mother nature served up two seasons of extreme mud. Mud on my clothes, mud on the sidewalk and both sets of steps into the house. Muddy paw prints. My car was caked inside and out with mud. There was mud all over the back of my legs and clothes when I exited the car. I tried mightily not to complain but alas, I could not help myself. Spring arrived despite all of my complaints but I guarantee that before long I will be whining over how damned hot it is. (It is a boring life when the weather puts you in a mood.)<br />
<br />
When I am not complaining, I am considering - pondering the big (and small) mysteries of life. Big mystery: what the hell are we all doing here? Small mystery: looking at the pink crayon gave me a headache as a child. I do not know the answer to either mystery and I do not know who or what can provide definitive answers. I have sampled various philosophies and different spiritualities in my adult life and, honestly, no one has THE answers. There are millions of people who believe they have the answer. They think they are the only ones who know. So much suffering and death have resulted from that blind certainty! It just does not make sense to me, so out of necessity, I come up with my own explanation. Here is what I am sure of so far: humans have total free will. We can commit the most horrific crimes against one another, against animals, against the earth herself and no higher being will stop us. Maybe these physical lives are for us to learn to choose to be loving instead of hateful. Maybe.<br />
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I do not know WHY I am here, how I got here, who is responsible for me being here but I am undeniably here and aware. I do not think consciousness simply evolved out of the primordial mud, so when I pray, I pray to the highest, most sacred. Some thing is responsible for me being here. A "creator" of some sort placed me here in this physical body that mysteriously has a strange allergy to the color pink. It seems entirely unlikely to me that because a few molecules formed in muddy water at the dawn of time, consciousness evolved - something with no physical properties evolving out of physical substances? Nope. A brain is certainly not the source of consciousness. That is one thing the Buddhists have determined in their long centuries of contemplative discipline. <br />
<br />
This is as far as I have managed to get in my investigation. I am sorely limited by my IQ - and lack of education - and the small amount of spare time left over from complaining about the weather, eating, and fighting with people on the internet. Still, not bad for an evolved clump of mud. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrp9Cx7aI7mhd5mbgYHSGcFo4JEjgbG7U0qG9Ljjmoyz-gjlV0QT12OgNb8aeW1wHAfgdMCoTvhiZvppbqp5y-NIOhG2oWH3WiI2D_yaGDy53lPrn7bRVEtjV3URwkCd9-3oC3bi59FJo4/s1600/1185629_546989312015062_2116807534_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="372" data-original-width="582" height="409" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrp9Cx7aI7mhd5mbgYHSGcFo4JEjgbG7U0qG9Ljjmoyz-gjlV0QT12OgNb8aeW1wHAfgdMCoTvhiZvppbqp5y-NIOhG2oWH3WiI2D_yaGDy53lPrn7bRVEtjV3URwkCd9-3oC3bi59FJo4/s640/1185629_546989312015062_2116807534_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
Would mere mud have been able to invent the sacred machinery? <br />
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Jackiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15461386564339879940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4014005277153555622.post-73815848188159611752020-04-12T17:04:00.001-05:002020-04-12T21:30:04.389-05:00Happy EasterThe first thunderstorm blew through last night and it was beautiful. The sky was ablaze with a palette of pastels and pierced by lightning. I wish there was a camera that could capture the colors as perfectly as the human eye. These photographs are a sad reproduction of the living sky. Amazingly, I captured the evidence of Easter Bunny in the area. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5fdfdVJJiVN1fzqw6lNCZMB7BGHlvcRTkBxd4ySq4slyGbnr5goWADcIpFLH2QWjQ_VY00f3y_RUY7wBbAAjdDC6Pl1vT2tgQwW2JuSn8QmzrT3gshoBGLDPisnUEujyEArFeOObcOAXP/s1600/20200411_192401+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1115" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5fdfdVJJiVN1fzqw6lNCZMB7BGHlvcRTkBxd4ySq4slyGbnr5goWADcIpFLH2QWjQ_VY00f3y_RUY7wBbAAjdDC6Pl1vT2tgQwW2JuSn8QmzrT3gshoBGLDPisnUEujyEArFeOObcOAXP/s640/20200411_192401+%25282%2529.jpg" width="446" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can you spot the Easter Bunny emerging from the clouds?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2shzA3F2Ox-49FRF6NfGiFquWrlkLuyLU8uLVWKhpifd8V4TW6z_Mg4prQyejt_nKOnUbMVZNLdFhBfqUZzTLtq4HuQ3ZytH0_9dTUk27hKGeugX841hvsrnh1QEGAyF3ZKSmKGZnPBMc/s1600/20200411_193057+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1086" data-original-width="1600" height="434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2shzA3F2Ox-49FRF6NfGiFquWrlkLuyLU8uLVWKhpifd8V4TW6z_Mg4prQyejt_nKOnUbMVZNLdFhBfqUZzTLtq4HuQ3ZytH0_9dTUk27hKGeugX841hvsrnh1QEGAyF3ZKSmKGZnPBMc/s640/20200411_193057+%25282%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Of course, I cut off the top of the thunderhead, but nothing in the universe is as white as the tops of a Kansas thunderhead.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD4ykj5trXsSrkytSFG7kTfzxZksJcWYrSqyUmh6BJgjHR42mfA04R6yz2uCIrCiUjWotwFLy8E_lZqraTG0LVcKnfv7UNFBpsVRgN7vCSZJF-j1rH5U5mwHB0r-m6P52lb5YS2vYcOo5e/s1600/20200411_193454+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1033" data-original-width="1600" height="413" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD4ykj5trXsSrkytSFG7kTfzxZksJcWYrSqyUmh6BJgjHR42mfA04R6yz2uCIrCiUjWotwFLy8E_lZqraTG0LVcKnfv7UNFBpsVRgN7vCSZJF-j1rH5U5mwHB0r-m6P52lb5YS2vYcOo5e/s640/20200411_193454+%25282%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking east</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT6xR2aaW5us10AsgC4N7aTxCTPomzxhp2s7nSFVaBEKpNHBAokmUciLeTo0TJoglnw9rYtNiHqZhrFnN23K_cys_8EQN1VmXPJtuVD1VqBlAKslSfcXnd8sEDM7laul07z5maqB26B8zq/s1600/20200411_200033+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1111" data-original-width="1600" height="444" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT6xR2aaW5us10AsgC4N7aTxCTPomzxhp2s7nSFVaBEKpNHBAokmUciLeTo0TJoglnw9rYtNiHqZhrFnN23K_cys_8EQN1VmXPJtuVD1VqBlAKslSfcXnd8sEDM7laul07z5maqB26B8zq/s640/20200411_200033+%25282%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view above the barn</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4nPMgL8yiDpl9Fqy9hLtMwLclblcymGiOFYLGgLwkC7V6EPRMvwJbOQaOgW0WxPq6lSKl5F1iH3J_8lGJvkhHBw02wAmHgurRU1W78rLXYTqCT19IAJy93tDKGzMOzzXjOLRw3BcBtHh4/s1600/20200411_193748.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4nPMgL8yiDpl9Fqy9hLtMwLclblcymGiOFYLGgLwkC7V6EPRMvwJbOQaOgW0WxPq6lSKl5F1iH3J_8lGJvkhHBw02wAmHgurRU1W78rLXYTqCT19IAJy93tDKGzMOzzXjOLRw3BcBtHh4/s640/20200411_193748.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking west</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRQiiNSVgYUUnEnlr0DTS1DwWfOpHpsQU-uIqyL9CCCEuNNco8RjKKXNjvy-DA8WI0Je4hXGZM934LXwfpZHEL3p5TmWQyqFKRvGaSCLc2t_v4-FQYrjgN-CQugGlKDwkAhYoXvFFOPTw_/s1600/20200411_200044+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1089" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRQiiNSVgYUUnEnlr0DTS1DwWfOpHpsQU-uIqyL9CCCEuNNco8RjKKXNjvy-DA8WI0Je4hXGZM934LXwfpZHEL3p5TmWQyqFKRvGaSCLc2t_v4-FQYrjgN-CQugGlKDwkAhYoXvFFOPTw_/s640/20200411_200044+%25282%2529.jpg" width="436" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The shades of purple and blue were very beautiful in the strange light</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgot7DX-A8Km3JMiw-XgQnW3hHwSIulQQ3YPFzaxQ_eqFdJ21ItpgNj8Au6zilqw4onf8RTl0KrUMBuQIJLnKwqyVwZxOX3gPZe-Kd1zDIaQWOqhEtvni0QeGmJhEN0eiuj0ZEpkSZ4rIC7/s1600/20200411_200114.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgot7DX-A8Km3JMiw-XgQnW3hHwSIulQQ3YPFzaxQ_eqFdJ21ItpgNj8Au6zilqw4onf8RTl0KrUMBuQIJLnKwqyVwZxOX3gPZe-Kd1zDIaQWOqhEtvni0QeGmJhEN0eiuj0ZEpkSZ4rIC7/s640/20200411_200114.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWJs6R9_AAgg6JZHDaV57SWG8DEDa4NL12M41ODnvxXfxqgSBLcE9pAmR0eQFnw1B9bNZUImeOyPftzsmIFMwalRHiy9lVvXLXmXd5rx6RDQcUpItE8BIUhqRpKen56b5_d2J_1TbOmfdz/s1600/20200411_193557.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWJs6R9_AAgg6JZHDaV57SWG8DEDa4NL12M41ODnvxXfxqgSBLcE9pAmR0eQFnw1B9bNZUImeOyPftzsmIFMwalRHiy9lVvXLXmXd5rx6RDQcUpItE8BIUhqRpKen56b5_d2J_1TbOmfdz/s640/20200411_193557.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The rainbow. It was much easier to see than this photo suggests.</td></tr>
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Jackiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15461386564339879940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4014005277153555622.post-49256045278624278922020-04-05T22:41:00.000-05:002020-04-06T18:07:15.787-05:00The Still Point<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN6mISo3MXsuFg2Ze97g46hLTVqaKtgCbv4_7MMMP3kxPK1Tsf61r4WsxknIRSIdixugykOEWqhDml7ZWTWdQobQzejEmig7fiNhtH6DI-5J6mX11O9-nJGmBG-v9r0Wh5Q67DzLdthgag/s1600/Vera+Road.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1600" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN6mISo3MXsuFg2Ze97g46hLTVqaKtgCbv4_7MMMP3kxPK1Tsf61r4WsxknIRSIdixugykOEWqhDml7ZWTWdQobQzejEmig7fiNhtH6DI-5J6mX11O9-nJGmBG-v9r0Wh5Q67DzLdthgag/s640/Vera+Road.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
Impermanence. The emptiness of all things is what Buddhism speaks to. It is a very simple concept: nothing is permanent, so do not get too attached. <br />
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Buddhist philosophy offers very simple concepts but they are very difficult to truly grasp. My instructor says of these concepts, "Quite subtle." Understatement! I am slowly catching on to these subtle ideas. It takes awhile to shift the gears in a Westernized brain. When His Holiness the Dalai Lama speaks, the words he uses are simple, declarative, unadorned. To a Western mind, he sounds almost naive when he speaks of loving kindness as the solution to most ills in the world. Though he has often referred to himself as a simple Tibetan monk, which is true, he also possesses an amazing mind that understands and appreciates modern science, including quantum physics. The Tibetans, in their centuries of contemplative study of the nature of consciousness, long ago arrived at the same conclusions the Western theoretical physicists are coming to now regarding the nature of reality. In our Western arrogance and in our Western ignorance, this seems entirely impossible. Try to talk to a PhD about this and you will see what I mean. It is unthinkable to them that "simple" Buddhist monks could plumb the depth of reality and understand what our science is just now theorizing.<br />
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The more I meditate and the more I learn of the Buddhist conclusions regarding the nature of consciousness, the more excited I am, but there is as much dogma and mythology in Buddhism as there are in all other religions. Dogma and myth are antithesis to my sense of spirituality. I left Christianity behind when I recognized the vast, deep well of hypocrisy and judgemental horseshit that exists between the simple message Christ taught to "love others as you love yourself" and the way Christians use their religion to exclude and judge and harm other human beings for being gay, or fallible, or flawed, or simply human. I recently came upon this quote from Sister Joan Chittister, "Then we make our religions God and our God puny. Then we make religion dangerous." Amen. His Holiness the Dalai Lama himself has encouraged people to learn mediation apart from the Buddhist philosophy. He knows the human benefit of meditation for all physical, emotional, mental and spiritual aspects. It is helpful and sorely needed in these generally wretched times.<br />
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As I have learned meditation I have naturally grown interested in what these "simple" Buddhist monks have to say. I am particularly drawn to Tibetan Buddhism. I recently read a remarkable book written by a young Tibetan born in exile. <i>In Love with the World</i> by Yongey Mingur Rinpoche. It is a very simply written book, easily read in a couple of hours. Like all things concerning Tibetan Buddhism, that simplicity contains knowledge and ideas that shift the foundation of your world once you begin to consider. Mingur Rinpoche discusses the idea of pauses between one thing and the next, a continual stream of "becoming" throughout our entire lives and beyond. The Buddhists call it the "bardo of becoming", a state of becoming something else, a stage in-between this and that. He says we need not wait until we physically die to understand this. <br />
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"It can also be understood to mean "this very moment". The nowness of this moment is the continual suspension (or pause) in-between our transitory experiences, both temporal and spatial, such as the tiny halt that exists between this breath and the next; or the arising and fading of this thought and the next. The interval can also be experienced as the in-between of two objects: the gap between two trees or two cars—the space that provides definition; or we can understand this interval as the emptiness that allows us to see form. Actually, everything is in-between. However minuscule the interval might be, it always exists, and it is always bracketed. Everything in the whole world system exists in-between something else. From this perspective, the exclusive reference of intermediate to the state between death and rebirth emerges as the prototype for transitions that occur within this life cycle; the bardo stages then illuminate how these iconic death-to-life transitions emerge in everyday experience." (<span style="font-size: x-small;">Mingyur Rinpoche, Yongey. In Love with the World (pp. 50-51). Random House Publishing Group. Kindle Edition) </span><br />
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Every single thing we do in life is a lesson, a practice run, an exercise in the impermanence of everything - a day, a situation, a relationship, a flower, a breath, a dream, our physical lives. We can practice continually to be in the moment, to recognize the still point - that pause between the pendulum swing. I think often of this. Right now, in many lives around the world, we are forced into an extended still point as we wait for the covid-19 virus to pass us by. Thousands have passed into a different still point - whether they live or die. And many have already left this world.<br />
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The skies are almost silent without the never-ending drone of air traffic. The air is clearing of air pollution. The highways are empty of 80% of normal traffic. The schools are closed. The streets of many cities are quiet. It is a rather unique "war". Our infrastructure still stands. We will not have to rebuild homes or roads or repair utilities when this finally concludes. It is more a war of choices, of actions, of choosing to care for one another. There are many possibilities available in this still point, in this moment of quiet. The world has changed. We will not notice much right away. A twig is bent on a tree but the true extent is not evident until many years later when the limb has grown in an altogether different direction. I hope we choose wisely for ourselves and our planet.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy_a4_j5vALKHok3vU6gHAnmxdGftvAf6MfbNf6TTGAujjRkyqlZ3lZU6Sk26vulQv4U2kWzzk0eKHw5ADhtjvnxUSagsbnEtmXNLeX8zUAos8M5T781Pk2fFg0Xr5SqM3Lz-OdYTV38i7/s1600/20180915_130439.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy_a4_j5vALKHok3vU6gHAnmxdGftvAf6MfbNf6TTGAujjRkyqlZ3lZU6Sk26vulQv4U2kWzzk0eKHw5ADhtjvnxUSagsbnEtmXNLeX8zUAos8M5T781Pk2fFg0Xr5SqM3Lz-OdYTV38i7/s640/20180915_130439.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Jackiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15461386564339879940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4014005277153555622.post-35791001801945393032019-12-25T11:12:00.003-06:002019-12-26T09:34:25.591-06:00Christmas Present<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It is Christmas. The Christmas Spirit burns much lower in my heart as the years roll by, not because I have grown cynical but because there are no small children in my life brimming with the magic of Santa. If I had it to do over, I would never trick my children into believing in Santa Claus as a real person. I would explain the significance of Santa in terms of being selfless and loving. Once you know there is no Santa, the depression never quite leaves your psyche, does it?<br />
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I stepped out this morning into the unseasonably warm weather to hear geese overhead. I scanned the sky to catch sight of them. A nice sized flock came straight out of the west, not far above the trees. They seemed to pause in flight for a beat and I wondered if they were going to land in my yard! The most irritating dog right now is Mattie. True to her dedication to being the best giant pain-in-assorted-parts of my anatomy, she began barking at the horses - those killer herbivores who live here and who were dangerously waiting for their oats. At the first bark, the geese shifted just a wing beat and effortlessly coalesced into two formations, their natural flight expertise carrying them over my house as if by magic. I accepted their blessing as a very lovely Christmas present. <br />
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All is peaceful and calm down on the old farmstead. Ginger and Wally, the Supreme Beings, are fat and sassy. Ginger gets to boss Wally around every single day. Mattie and Jake are happy and healthy but both are worthless as farm dogs. Jake barks at human beings, friend and foe, but Mattie thinks everyone is her next new friend. Jake barks at unseen critters once in a great while but Mattie barks at every molecule and rustling atom, non stop. And if I am not careful to keep one or the other constrained, they actually leave the farm for expensive and dangerous adventures elsewhere. So... two "worthless" dogs. What are you going to do?<br />
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I am almost two years retired and it is wonderful. Now I can sleep through the night instead of hour long increments of fitful suffering. I get to stay home in the peace and quiet all day long. No more acid reflux and very few migraine headaches. No ass-burn at all. Well, that's a lie. I have ass-burn at Mattie every day! <br />
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I have started painting seriously. I have completed six acrylic paintings. I continue with small watercolors and there is also a set of oils waiting in the wings. Each time I learn a little more and finish better paintings. (Sorry to the people who have received the first clumsy attempts! My heart was in the right place even if the paintings kinda suck.) <br />
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My adult children are doing well, though both live complicated lives. They are healthy and happy and most importantly, they are not axe murderers. Mission accomplished!<br />
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I continue to meditate and study books written by Alan Wallace and Mingur Youngey Rinpoche. It required almost a lifetime of preparation to understand these Tibetan teachings even though they have been made simple for the Western mind. The Four Immeasurables or cultivating virtues of the heart:<br />
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Loving Kindness - heartfelt yearning and vision for oneself and others to experience happiness and the causes of happiness<br />
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Compassion - heartfelt yearning that all be free of suffering and its causes<br />
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Empathic Joy - Delight in other people's virtues, successes and joys<br />
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Equanimity - Even heartedness, even mindedness and impartiality <br />
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The Christ came to teach us these truths, as well as the Buddha and countless others, known and unknown. <br />
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<span style="color: #38761d;">In the spirit of Christmas</span>: <span style="color: red;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: red;">Wishing peace on earth and goodwill toward (some) men </span></div>
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<span style="color: red;"> from the Crazy Woman, the Supreme Beings, and the Constantly Barking Dogs of Spiritcreek.</span></div>
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Jackiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15461386564339879940noreply@blogger.com3