Going for Supplies

Driving to town for groceries - for supplies, like Ma and Pa Ingalls - can be entertaining.  I had to pick up pre-ordered groceries, fill the gas tank, refill the drinking water jugs, and get a flat white at Starbucks.  Sometimes I have to go to the post office, just like the old-timey days.  I also have to make the heavy duty supply run for giant bags of dog food, 50 pound bags of horse feed, sometimes for salt block, and sometimes for bags of water softener salt (whenever I realize I haven't put salt in the bin for awhile).  That is a lot of running around all over Topeka, or sometimes Manhattan.  Going to town can be a little adventure, even a bit entertaining. 

Yesterday I noticed an old 90's Ford Ranger truck.  It was brightly painted metallic lime green - with a deep red junkyard replacement tailgate.  One end of the rear bumper was still bent and wonky.  The little-engine-that-could was smoking just a tad, and it sounded as if the exhaust system needed some work, but it was rolling on down the road like a brand new $75,000 Ford Truck, thank you very much!  

Those small Ford Rangers were GREAT trucks!  I had two, each driven off the lot with less than 50 miles on the odometer.  Both were still running when I sold them with very high mileage.  The second one had close to 275,000 miles on it, I think.  I hated to see the new owner drive it away.  Seeing the little green Ranger still chugging along, dutifully fulfilling its engineered destiny as reliable American transportation, made me smile.  I fondly recall my Rangers.  And, now that I have traded in the old car that doubled as a farm truck, I need a truck.

The Ranger's color scheme was the key to this little adventure.  It reminded me of another vehicle I once owned and loved - a Volkswagen Beetle.  Its red paint was deeply oxidized, and it had junkyard replacement lime green doors!  Someone had put a Native American beadwork design decal on the bottom of both doors.  It was the hippie mobile.  Seeing the same color scheme on the Ranger reminded me, and I was grinning like an idiot.  I resolved to say something to the driver if we came to a red light together. I wanted to know how long he'd had his truck and if he loved it.  I was even thinking of asking if he would sell it, but he eventually changed lanes ahead of me, ending that silly idea.  

Sometimes even the Universe is curious where such impulses might lead!  The truck pulled into a Subway drive-through.  Since the traffic was very light, and I was in no hurry, and yeah, I had been stalking the guy for several miles, I impulsively pulled into Subway, too.  There was room to pull up beside the little green Ranger.  The poor guy driving looked over at me, wondering what level of crazy might be grinning at him through the window.  I motioned for him to roll his window down.  He started to then shrugged his shoulders as if to say he couldn't.  (I know for a fact a big ol' guy like that could have easily reached to roll down the window because I could do that in my Rangers.)  We are teetering on total anarchy right now, so I do not blame him.  I just cupped my hands and yelled, "I love your truck!" 

I drove away, smiling to myself when I regretfully thought, what if he did not realize I was goddamned serious about that?  Then I thought, he owns a Ford Ranger.  He understands.

Later the same morning, I noticed a personalized license plate that read: BRATIT.  I am aware that my mind is not the tightly wound, well oiled thinking-machine it once was.  The wiring seems to have loosened a bit.  There is some play in the connections, allowing for thought processes that are not entirely reliable. I said out loud, to myself, "What a dumbass! Bra Tit?  Really, you adolescent boy?"  

Sad to say, I thought about this for more than a few miles on the drive home, being mildly scandalized by it.  (As if I have nothing better to worry about!) It finally came to me that they most likely meant "Brought It", as in "I brought the Heat!"  Also rather "adolescent boy", especially on a totally non-hot rod truck with Grandpa Farmer vibes, but still better and far more understandable than BRA TIT. 

What's for Dinner?

It is a difficult time for half of the voting country, and a Make-America-Great-Again kind of day for the other voting half.  I cannot speak for the MAGA crowd, but I can certainly sum up the general feelings on my side with this quote from Justin Halpern's Dad:

"We're having fish for dinner.  Fine, let's take a vote. Who wants fish for dinner? Yeah, democracy ain't so fun when it fucks you, huh?" 

I still believe that as Americans, we basically all want the same things:  a safe place to raise our kids. A job that pays a livable wage.  Affordable health care (not interference from for-profit insurance companies). Safe schools.  Reasonable gun laws.  A working, humane, timely path to citizenship.  We all need protections from corporate greed and avarice, as consumers, tax payers, and employees.  We just disagree on which path to get to those things.

For the life of me, I cannot understand why it was the worst man in America that the MAGA crowd rallied behind.  When my brothers and cousins were enlisting in the military in order to have some small choice in light of the Vietnam draft - when my classmates and the boys from my hometown were either enlisting or being drafted, Trump's father paid for a bone spurs exemption, not once but a few times.  Trump then became a man who spent his entire adult life, among other things, stiffing the working contractors who built his big hotels and casinos and golf courses.  Small businesses that did not have the time or money to fight him in court.  It is information easily available online from scores of various sources, so it is not "biased  media".  

By chance or by election interference, he became President, this crass, fatuous, classless, pathological liar, cheat and confirmed lecher.  Somehow, all these enormous character flaws were dismissed by his followers, and that allowed him and his family to flagrantly enrich themselves via the office of the United States Presidency.  The same voting crowd tolerated the obvious, outrageous power-mongering and clearly illegal wheeling and dealing of the worst First Family in the entire history of the United States.  The Trumps did not even attempt to hide their lucrative personal gains made possible by their blatant disregard of the Constitutional clauses meant to protect the Office of the President from undue influence.  Not to mention the nepotism that turned the stomach of almost everyone.     

So, that was the first time.  This time?  A man who kept classified government documents in the bathroom of his night club estate, where anyone who wanted could access them.  The same crowd of voters who were almost dying of personal outrage that Hillary Clinton used the wrong hard drive for her emails apparently do not have the same concern for boxes and boxes of classified documents left out where anyone who might need a quick buck could copy and sell anything interesting.  This time they knew exactly what kind of guy they were voting for. A convicted felon.  An obviously guilty insurrectionist. A man on public record speaking 30,537 lies in four years.  And they are okay with it.

How in the world can any thinking person believe rounding up people for wholesale deportation is going to be good for anyone?  Just a quick look to our own history will remind us of the enormous tragedy and loss in the dealings with Native Americans, enslaved peoples, Japanese-Americans citizens during World War II. 

Imagine if the MAGA government put the enormous resources at its disposal to actually fix immigration, to work with the entire elected House and Senate to actually fix the problems at the border, instead of opposing every single attempt anyone has made in the last 50 years?  Rather than causing untold suffering, they could chose to be humane, helpful, and even kind. 

I hope the mass deportations are as successful as his "build a wall" efforts were - that is, an utter failure.  Trump has some very radicalized minions who are certainly capable and very willing to inflict enormous suffering on people who are as hardworking and honest as the rest of us.  The immigrants pay in to a system they cannot benefit from.  MAGA people are willing for this horrible act to happen while not being concerned that the same politicians are actively dismantling consumer protections, riding roughshod over civil liberties, inexorably squeezing the life from the USPS, Social Security, Education, Environmental Protections - the list is endless and tragic.  It is all out there, plainly documented but somehow the MAGA people cannot see it.  They overwhelmingly voted against their best interests. 

It is too late now.  The people have spoken.  They want fish for dinner.  I respectfully decline.  

Quote from the book "Sh*t My Dad Says" by Justin Halpern, published 2010

My Corner of the Earth

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.

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."

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.

Peace on Earth and Good Will to (some) men.  From the old lady, the supreme beings, and the goddamn German Shepherds of Spiritcreek.

Early summer when everything is green and it is easy to believe in a heaven.

A genuine waterfall.  

When every single thing you see on the prairie is green, a splash of color is exciting!

No one knows why these are called Missouri 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.   

The Lesser Supreme Being, Wally, when he was younger - before he became the old white horse he is now.

It would not be Kansas without the remnants of the stone fences.  This was taken a few miles from home.

Wild swans I happened upon a while ago, just up the road.  They are so large that they made the pond appear small. 

The summer shade over Snokomo Creek

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.

No photo montage of Kansas can be complete without the State Art Forms - bullet holes, barbed wire and horse shoes.

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.

Upland Plover, also known as a large sandpiper.

I cannot tell what birds these are but who cares?  They were so cute together on these twigs.

A typical Kansas sunset.  

The main gate to my little pasture the morning after the ice storm.

My new house was not yet built but this is a typical Kansas sunrise.

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.

Sometimes fall is a spectacle of brilliance in the Flint Hills!

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.

Permian Sea fossils found in the gravel of my little creek and a very large feather - all gifts.

The russet color of the big blue stem gives the prairie life even in the dead of winter. 

More color from the prairie plants and grasses.

 

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. 

Kansas, Cattle and Thunderstorms.   

When it rains hard.  This is draining into the deep ravine next to my drive.

A beautiful thunderstorm building in the southeast, taken from my pasture.

It would not be Kansas without a rainbow!

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! 

You did not think I would forget to include sunflowers!

Good prairie management includes spring burning.

The Supreme Being, Ginger, the beautiful little red Quarter Horse, a bossy mare.  I love her so!

In the spring, the redbuds light up my front door.

The sweetest dog, my Mattie.  She sits like this, so proper!

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. 

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.  

Fairy In the Garden

 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.  

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.

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. 

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.

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.

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.  

I do believe I was visited by a fairy.   

An Email to a Bookseller

This sort of thing embarrasses the crap out of my children! I can't help myself.

A Quick Note

I received a used book (that is like new), ordered from Half Price Books via Amazon.  Thank you for dealing in

used books, for having a business that trades in books, new and used, and for making them available to anyone

anywhere.

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

there are audible recordings, digital editions, and other access to the stories that first came to earth as books

(movies/plays/paintings/sculpture etc).  Nothing is as wonderful as a book - one you can hold in your hand,

tote around for days, make notes in, put on a shelf, take down years later to look for a particular passage.   

I do not know how many people work for your business but please tell them all "thank you" from an old woman -

from the janitor to the manager to the owner and everyone in between.  They may be young folks who take the digital

world for granted, or think they are wasting their time working in an "unimportant" job, being of the opinion that printed

books are not important.  If they only knew how important books are to human beings, to the greater good for this

world, they would come to work with pride, as they should anyway.  People willing to work and make their own way

are the true treasure of any civilization.  People trading in real books are providing a genuine service to the rest

of the world, and me in particular.

I have read books that are considered great works of literature and I have read books that are considered trashy

by some, but regardless, I learned something from every book I have ever read.  Now, in America, we have people

censoring books, as if they can stop the truths contained in books!  One damned good thing about the internet:

burn the books in my school, I will read them online!!!

I started working at age 14 for 65 cents an hour, worked minimum wage jobs until I finally got through school,

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

of time, and everything in between.  Maybe you can share my sincere appreciation for the employees of your

business and thank them for a wonderfully valuable  service.

Most sincerely,

An old woman

Not the Queen of England

 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.

Some things in life simply are, 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.

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.

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. 

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.  

But, it gets better!

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.  

And, even better!

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.

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!

That Time of Year Again

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. 

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!  

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.

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.

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.

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.  

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!

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. 

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. 

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. 

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: "I feel a change coming on, and the fourth part of the day is already gone."   

In time honored fashion: 

Wishing peace on earth and goodwill toward (some) men - 
from the Crazy Woman, the Supreme Beings, and the wolf dogs of Spiritcreek Farm.

My family (and son's Cane Corso)

Daughter and her Red Heeler

My Hell Hounds

Supreme Being

Wally Lama