And Yet Another Christmas...

 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!  

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.

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.  

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.   

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. 

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.  

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. 

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.   

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.  

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!  

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.  

My next door neighbors came the minute I called for something I could not do myself outside.  

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.

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.

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. 

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

The best photo of them side by side.  Too bad it's through a dog-smeared storm window!

How wonderful life is when you're with your best friend and all the world is green.

  

The End Days of Autumn

I can never capture the true colors.  The tops of the hills and the trees "catch fire" as the sun sets.  It is beautiful.

A terrible photo taken with my phone.  It was beautiful to see Venus and the moon together.

A spectacular chance for a fantastic photo wasted because I was too lazy to take the camera.  

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.

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.

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.

In every season, I fall more in love with the earth.

 

Crows

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.   

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.  

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. 

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.   

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.  

Photo: Paul Powers/Great Backyard Bird Count
Follow this Audubon link for more information
American Crow Audubon Page

I have never seen baby American Crows before!  

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! 

Follow this link to the:   Slater Musuem of Natural History

Scenes from My Road During the Pandemic of 2020

A Beautiful Dawn from Vera Road

A Storm Somewhere Over Missouri

Moonrise on Vera Road

Snokomo Road - Something made her show herself like this but I do not know what.

Me and the Pandemic, with alcohol sanitizer from the local winery located a few miles from my house.

 

Happy Easter

The 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.

Can you spot the Easter Bunny emerging from the clouds?

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.

Looking east

The view above the barn

Looking west

The shades of purple and blue were very beautiful in the strange light

Beautiful

The rainbow.  It was much easier to see than this photo suggests.

Christmas Present

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?

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.

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?

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!

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.)

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!

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:

Loving Kindness - heartfelt yearning and vision for oneself and others to experience happiness and the causes of happiness

Compassion - heartfelt yearning that all be free of suffering and its causes

Empathic Joy - Delight in other people's virtues, successes and joys

Equanimity - Even heartedness, even mindedness and impartiality

The Christ came to teach us these truths, as well as the Buddha and countless others, known and unknown.

In the spirit of Christmas:  

Wishing peace on earth and goodwill toward (some) men 

 from the Crazy Woman, the Supreme Beings, and the Constantly Barking Dogs of Spiritcreek.

A Few Summer Scenes from Snokomo Road

It has been a beautiful year. I did not take a single serious photograph but I took quick photos with my phone. Such poor photos of the beautiful views in my neighborhood but I am sharing them anyway.

From left to right:  Saturn, Jupiter and Venus as seen from Snokomo Road, November, 2019

A quarter moon sets close behind the sun.

As many times as I have seen a full moon in my lifetime, its magic transcends everything.

Above the west trees at the farm.

Moonrise above the abundance of summer.

Moonrise, thunderheads and the Belt of Venus over amber waves of grain.

Amazing August and Post Script

August is unusually verdant and sweet.  It is most often hot and dry and brown.   This was an uncommonly beautiful evening.

From my favorite sunset viewing spot on Snokomo

The colors in the sky were glowing jewels.

Photography Consultant for the evening.

Retirement is wonderful. There is suddenly time for everything - calling old friends and relatives just to say "hi" - taking a guilt-free nap - spending a little money sometimes without feeling guilty - taking a few classes - simply sitting outdoors with the dogs lazing at my feet. The biggest indulgence has been the new corral fence between the house and the barn, which allows the horses to come close to the house. Sometimes all of us are in contented companionship within a few feet of one another - horses, dogs and old lady. It is awesome.

The horses make several trips a day to the new gate to see if I might have an apple or a pear or other treat. Maybe I am willing to groom them. Wally was far up by the barn the other evening. Sometimes, just seeing my horses fills me with a wave of mighty affection. I called, "What's up, Wally?!" He answered but did not bother to look my way. It was his version of "I'm busy right now, thank you very much." He is a character!

A pair of little barn swallows built a nest on the front porch this summer. It took them a few days and a lot of mud to build their nest. Each time I left the house, both birds flew to the same spot on the electrical line. They were agitated and would not return to nest building for some time. The male would then fly around broadcasting a warning. I was sorry to disturb them but I thought they would soon learn that I was no threat. I was 100% wrong about that. Once the eggs were laid, I tried to be quiet and peaceful leaving the house. I would not look at the nest, hoping the little hen would not fly off but it made no difference. I doubted they would be able to hatch their eggs due to their panic each time I opened the door.

The male, absolutely fearless, flies directly at my head, veering away at the last possible second. After the first tiny, newly-hatched head appeared in the nest, the father's attacks escalated into Navy Seal ferocity. He will come close enough that the rush of air from his wings disturbs my hair. He has also flown directly toward my face a few times. I ignore him, hoping he does not miscalculate. I think it would genuinely hurt if he crashed into my head or face.

I am not the only one attacked. The male swallow will not tolerate the humming birds coming to the feeder on the front porch window. They are too close to his family. The humming birds are determined to feed so there are spectacular aerial fights in the front yard each day. I do not know how fast their flight speed is, but they fly so fast I cannot see details of either bird. I just know the swallow is the larger of the two speeding combatants. (I moved the feeder, but it does not seem to make a difference.)

Today new furniture was delivered. The two young delivery men made multiple trips with cushions, pillows and then large pieces of furniture, so the swallow parents were agitated more than usual. One guy was over six foot tall which meant his bald head was intolerably close to the nest of babies. The shorter man, not much taller than me, pulled his ball cap down over his face, crouched low and made a mad dash off the front porch. I had to laugh! Those two little swallow parents slam dunked on that city boy!

The dogs will have to be kept away from the fledglings, so I am paying close attention to the baby birds. So far, they just have that silly "hair" sticking off their heads but it will not be long before they have real feathers. I hope I get to see them leave the nest.

The swallows must be part of a larger extended family because every morning and evening about six or eight barn swallows spend time feeding. The more mosquitoes they eat, the less there are to bite me! The birds slice through the air in large arcs, avoiding each other with ease. Everything is peaceful,green, abundant and beautiful. Baby toads and little frogs are abundant this year and there are a billion insects. I do not think it has ever been more beautiful. I am lucky enough to be home every single day to enjoy it all. Retirement is wonderful.

Filled with tiny occupants

Horrifying post script: I took the camera to the door with me Sunday morning because the little birds had their new feathers and would be leaving the nest any moment. When I eagerly stepped onto the porch, it took me a few seconds to understand what the hell I was seeing. I took the broom to this evil serpent, but it had already consumed all four of the baby birds. I wanted to kill the snake in that moment but I did not. The poor little fierce parents were attacking the snake but it did no good. I do not know if the humming birds were attacking the snake, too, but they were in the air space, like the tiny warriors they are. I am still sick about this.

The Green Summer of '19

Evening from Snokomo Road

It has been a beautiful spring and summer so far. There was a week of 110 degree heat index days that caused everyone to move slowly. When I heard myself complaining too loudly, I thought of the people in Europe and India who were (are) suffering extreme heat without American air conditioning. I felt pangs of guilt knowing my energy consumption is contributing to global warming. I cannot be responsible for everything though it feels sometimes as if I am. Of course, we are each responsible for our own actions. To perhaps offset my air conditioning costs to the planet, I have slowed down 5 to 10 miles an hour on the highways, trading some of my time for less gasoline consumption. (Yes, it pisses people off when they are stuck behind me, but they are saving fuel, too. They should thank me instead of giving me the finger.)

Beginning with the snows in October of last year, it has been a time of abundant water here. The sound of flowing water has only recently ceased. The creek is still flowing but it is silent to my human ears. The agony of the bizarre winter floods in Nebraska, South Dakota and Iowa was frightening, the angry waters made even more devastating with huge boulders of ice. Livestock drowned trapped in their pens and pastures. It seems particularly cruel when the innocent suffer for our arrogance. We have known burning coal releases greenhouse gases to the atmosphere since the 18th century. Joseph Fourier, (Mar 21, 1768 - May 16, 1830) is credited with the discovery of the greenhouse effect. Our best minds have known about this problem for quite some time now. You can be certain that every modern scientist and engineer on the planet since the mid-20th century has intimately understood the greenhouse effect - every engineer employed by the big coal and gas conglomerates - every engineer employed by every large and small utility company across the planet - every automobile engineer. "We" have known it would be an enormous problem. For any politician on the planet to deny the science and ignore the threat we are facing is unconscionable.

The Dalai Lama said we did not know but now that we do, we must take care of our planet. When Kansas is as lush and green and fertile as it is this summer, how can we not look at it and marvel over the magnificent gift of this planet? How can we possibly ignore that it is our fault that thousands of species are going extinct - plants, insects, fish, animals of all kinds? Perhaps most egregious is the suffering of the whales, the greatest sentient beings in the solar system. As far as we know right now, whales are the largest sentient beings in the universe. With our pathetic wars, in our frail humanity, whales are continually hunted, poisoned, tortured. We cause them to become deaf with underseas radar, weapons, location systems, and with the frenetic search for more oil. Many whales are starving, either with bellies full of plastic or due to our over-fishing the oceans. How arrogant we are to think we could live on a planet devoid of the full web of life.

While I am deeply nourished by this green and golden year, I wonder just how many more times in my life the weather conditions will be favorable for such a beautiful season. Maybe never.

Winter!

Rare photos of a brutal ceremony to end winter.  

Oh, it is cold today at ye olde farmstead! Due to an unfortunate juncture of genes (knees) and a dismaying lack of will power (steak and gravy) and age (old) I have one speed when tending the horses: 1 CCTf. That is, 1 Chore Completion Timeframe. On a brutally cold day like today, with the wind blowing down the long slope to the north, I operate at maximum locomotive rate but even Jake gets tired of waiting for me. That rate is only minimally faster than normal - probably need an atomic clock to discern the difference. I dread going out but it has to be done. Once there, it is not so bad. It is invigorating, but that brutal wind takes my breath away. It is so cold that Ginger does not even pace or paw the ground in impatience. Trust me, that is cold.

I have insulated work boots and a pair of hunters socks I got at the farm store a few days ago. My work gloves were left at the barn when Ginger was ailing and only one glove was found, full of horse manure and mud. (Even gloves have a lifespan.) The new leather gloves dye my hands Caterpillar yellow. (Come on, China! Just try!) The piece de resistance is the Carhart ball cap with ear flaps. It is insulated. I look sooooooooo stupid, but I have to say, those hats are magnificently utilitarian! The bill keeps the sun out of my eyes. The flaps holds my hair over my ears and they do not freeze. When I take it off, my hair is not full of electricity. I have tried stocking caps and scarves over the years, but this hat is perfect. It is easy on, easy off. I just look as dumb as box of rocks. Animals are not given to making fun of human beings, so it all works out.

The new corral is great! The grain buckets are on the new fence, so I pour their grain first. That gives me plenty of time to get up the hill without horses jostling me, or Wally getting too close to Ginger causing a minor horse quarrel with me in the middle. By the time they are ready for hay, it is all served up south of the hay stack, mostly out of the wind. The very best part is that finally, after all of these years, there is a tank heater for their water. I do not have to chop ice every single day, twice a day. They have liquid water to drink 24 hours! I am sure I will swoon when I see the electricity bill but it will be worth every cent. I have chopped hundreds of gallons of ice out of the tanks over the years. One time I had to call my son for help because an icy snow glacier formed instead of simple ice. I could not break it apart with an axe nor a sledge. He was 26 or 27, and he had to work at it. Otherwise, I would have had to carry buckets of water up the hill. I cannot do that any more - not in cold weather. Probably not in any weather.

Even though it is difficult, I enjoy the winter for its clean, clear skies and the fresh winds. There will come a day in a few weeks when the wind will come out of the south and I will be able to smell the humidity of the warm ocean. I will know spring is on its way to Kansas then.

(Photos taken from the Chive who stole them from some other site.)

I Guess I Belong Here Now

Duke the Good Dog and King the Stray (who murdered my cat and tore up my son's 1987 Cadillac in a fit of blood rage)
Front porch of the old house.

In April 2019, I will have been a twenty-year resident of the Newbury Township in Wabaunsee County, Kansas. It is the longest I have ever lived in one place in my life. Five years was the longest stretch of time before, and usually it was far less. I had some initial doubt of the wisdom to move here. I bought the place on an impulse because it felt right in my heart. When there was no turning back, my brain begin to offer up second thoughts. I left behind a wonderful old two story house just a few blocks from my office. I moved into a small two-bedroom double-wide set on a foundation with a "real" roof. I was taking my son away from his friends in Topeka, most of whom he had known since day care. I was now committed to about a 56 mile round trip commute to work in all weather. Maybe it was a bad idea. My son certainly thought so.

Soon after we moved, our neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Merl Lietz dropped by for a visit. They welcomed us to the neighborhood, invited us to attend their church, and warned us to drive far to the right up any hill. Their friendliness was a godsend. I never suffered another moment of doubt again.

I try hard not to bother my neighbors but sometimes I have to ask for help. One bitterly cold morning I was changing a flat tire and discovered the spare was flat, too. I called Mr. Lietz to ask for a ride down to the gas station so I could air up the spare but he came with an air bubble instead and helped finish changing the tire. I was only a few minutes late to work thanks to him.

When my son and I went to Hawaii for ten glorious days, Mr. Lietz fed my dog and looked in on my cat. (Boy, those were the good old days - before chickens and horses!) When my son wrecked his car on our road, it was Mr. Lietz who called me to say everyone was safe. He diplomatically suggested calling a tow truck right away. The car was in a dangerous spot for anyone coming over the hill. When I came to collect my son and his friend, Mr. Lietz asked if I needed a hug, and you know what? I did need a hug.

Mr. Lietz owns a construction company with caterpillars and road graders and earth movers. He kept our township road clear of snow and terrible ruts in wet weather. He graded the snow from my drive without being asked and wanted no money for it. He was shocked when I offered. "Jackie! It's what neighbors do!" He would grade my drive after he had cleared the roads, apparently on his own time. Thanks to Mr. Lietz, I only missed work one time due to snow.  After he was retired and someone else was grading the road, he called me after a particularly deep snow and asked if I was snowed in. I said I was. One of his relatives with a big tractor (who passed by feeding his cattle every day) graded the drive the next morning. He did it in five minutes. I was so thankful that Mr. Lietz remembered me! I hate to bother the men around here because they have real jobs farming and ranching - not tending data in the cube farm. I probably would have been snowed in until it all melted rather than ask for help.

Mr. Lietz has done a lot of good things in the neighborhood. The winter before I bought the place, a terrible rainfall caused the little creek to come out of the banks. When it rains hard, the creek becomes a blasting, roaring monster, sweeping away anything in the terrible currents. It picked up an eight passenger station wagon from beside the garage and carried it about a mile downstream. My son and his friends would always trek down the creek to see it. I learned just last year that Mr. Lietz was responsible for finally pulling that car out of the creek. I am sure it was polluting the creek for all those years.

Any time I needed advice on who to hire for plumbing, construction, fencing or mechanical work, I would call Mr. Lietz. His recommendations have always proven to be excellent choices. Bill's Plumbing and Heating in Paxico - excellent work for a decent price. Dan Roth, Paxico, built my barn and later my house, and replaced the roof on my garage. All work well done, reasonably priced, and finished right away! Merl Lietz himself has done site work on my property. I was not sure if he would consider clearing the site for the hay shelter enough work to bother with. He grinned and said "It's what we do!"

Merl's recommendation for a mechanic was Don William in Maple Hill. He was a great person to do business with. He was honest and did excellent work. He was tragically killed in an accident on a terribly icy night while trying to tow a car from a deep ditch on I-70. Don was like Merl, both are men who take care of their neighbors. Don made a lot of repairs on my son's car when he could have simply replaced parts much faster and more easily for him, but far more expensive for me. He was a good man. So many folks attended Mr. William's funeral that the minister remarked on it. He said it was unusual for someone of Mr. William's age to have so many folks at the funeral. He said, "This is what happens when you take care of people."

Mr. Lietz recommended Shawn Ebert from Paxico for installing the barbed wire fence around my restored pasture. Shawn has a full time job and a family so I figured it would take most of the summer to get the fence in. In an unbelievably short amount of time, Shawn had that fence in. All these years later, it is still straight and nice looking. Shawn also built the new corral and hung the John Deere gates. It looks so good! He also spent about 45 minutes under my lawn tractor, wrestling out the Kong toy that had lodged between the shroud and the mower blade, effectively stopping a 26 horsepower mower. I bought a floor jack so I could do this myself, but after seeing how hard Shawn had to work at it, there is NO WAY I could have done that myself. He saved me several hundreds of dollars and I did not have to tow the mower to Shawnee County. Shawn also set up the heater in the water tank for the horses. Who does such kind things for an old broken-down woman?

The farmer who sells hay for my horses came to check on me after the last terrible wind storm. Many big trees were down in the roads. The men in the county were out with their chainsaws clearing the roads. My hay supplier came by to make sure I had not blown away. It was comforting to know I was on someone's radar.

I have called my next-door neighbors to help load a couch into the back of my truck. The same neighbor helped push my lawn tractor when I got it high centered on the road and I simply could not push it out myself. They looked in on Mattie when I had to leave her in the big pen during a terribly hot summer day.

I called the only young man left in the entire neighborhood to help me change a tire one night not long ago. I tried to give him money but he insisted I take half of it back.

Years ago, after an ice storm, my repaired electrical generator was in the back of my truck. I backed the truck to the pole so I could use the generator. After 5 days without electricity I could not wait any longer to have heat in the house! That thing was sooooo heavy that there was no way I could possibly move it myself. I called the neighbors to the south and before long, two very strong young men showed up.

I do not know if people groan inwardly when I call to ask for help. I do not call unless I am 100% sure I can not do a thing myself. Without fail, they have come right away and cheerfully done whatever was needed. Often people do things without being asked. I am sure to have forgotten all the kind things people have done for me over 20 years. I try not bother other people but sometimes I do need a little help. I guess I have been here long enough that I am a genuine part of the neighborhood. It absolutely feels like home.

Miss Mattie on the new front porch, still a puppy.

Thinking About the New Corral

When I first purchased the adjoining 20 acres, just east of the original 6 acres and house, it was farmed land. Farming occurred on a small portion of the 6 acres, too. The land was mostly planted to milo. It is customary to give the farmer a year's notice if you do not intend for him to farm the land any longer, so I did. He prepared the land for a last crop by spraying all of the broken ground with herbicides prior to planting. Those herbicides are effective. Not a twig grew in that soil after it was sprayed. Unfortunately, the farmer became ill and was unable to plant that year, so that bare ground was at the mercy of at least two years of heavy rains. I helplessly watched topsoil being washed into the creek.

I signed up with the United States Department of Agriculture for aid in replanting the prairie. I ordered a mixture of native grasses and forbes and was to receive an 80% refund of all costs once the planting was accomplished. I rented the equipment needed to plant the seed from the County. I hired a farmer with a tractor. In order to get the reimbursement from the government, I had to follow their rules. I had to plant either corn or milo then leave the stalks in the ground after harvest to help stabilize the soil while the new seeds took root. Simple? Not really. And it took another two years.

Somehow, amazingly, all of the things that needed to happen occurred on time and eventually, I had a new prairie. The soil was still good in some areas, but where the soil had washed from the rocky ridges nothing much grew, not even weeds. I eagerly waited for the big bluestem to come in. It is the tall grass that gives the Flint Hills the beautiful russet color from fall to spring burn. Some of the wild flowers came up the first year, the Indian Blankets, a few sunflowers and some of the shorter grasses, but I could not find any big bluestem. It was slow going for three seasons. I was beginning to suspect that perhaps the expensive native seed mixture had been switched with a much cheaper mixture. I halfway suspected collusion between the co-op and the guy hired to drive the tractor. But on the fifth year, the big bluestem gloriously sprouted from the abused soil in a magnificent towering florescence. Though I had two horses grazing the emerging prairie, the big blue came in, almost filling the entire 20 plus acres and grew to be well over 7 feet tall!

It was what all the pastures in the Flint Hills would look like if they did not have cattle grazing them. It was why an old friend of mine made fun of me, not believing the bluestem was taller than the roof of my truck. He had never seen tall grass allowed to grow to maturity. Once, all of this area was a sea of tall grass, and reported by the first immigrant eye witnesses as grass taller than a man on horseback. I was ecstatic to see the beautiful grass even though I could not see the horses in the pasture.

Annie and Ginger coming toward the barn through the first year of the Big Bluestem. (They have fly masks on.)

Since that first glorious year, the big blue has never grown that tall but it has often been taller than I am by a lot. It is grazed by the horses and possibly the weather conditions have not favored the towering growth. Some years my pasture looks very straggly and ugly but other years it looks like a prairie.

I paid to have encroaching trees removed last year, cedars and honey locust. Eastern red cedars are a terrible enemy to the prairie. They take over in a short time, entirely snuffing out all the grasses to become an impenetrable forest of cedars. They disrupt the water cycles, degrade the soil, and destroy habitat for birds and small mammals. The best way to control them is to burn the pasture each spring. The honey locust have evil thorns, even on the saplings, that can pierce leather. They are much more difficult to eradicate than the cedars. If they are cut down, they will grow back from the roots. The only way to kill them is to poison the stumps after cutting. The guy cut EVERYTHING down to the bare ground, which I was not expecting. I thought he would mow the pasture, not scalp it. There was not enough vegetation in the spring of 2018 to burn but this coming spring I should be able to burn. I have lined up some men with machines and knowledge of how to safely set the pasture on fire without burning down the entire county. If I do this every year, or at least every other year, I should not have to pay a fortune to have trees removed ever again.

Building the new house destroyed a big swath of some of the most beautiful restored prairie. It was allowed to exist undisturbed because it was never included as part of the pasture. It was the intended location of the new house. It was a beautiful little rise of almost 100% bluestem. It was the view from the old house as I sat at the computer. I hated to see it destroyed in the site work but there was no choice. A nice stand still existed between the house and the barn, left to re-establish itself as true prairie. I normally had to mow a path to the barn through it, but other than that, it was left alone. It often grew taller than me in wet years and I loved it. Every day I could walk in my own tiny restored piece of the prairie.

You can see how tall the grass grows when it is not grazed.  The big bluestem was about 6 feet tall when this was taken. You can see the trail I mowed through it to the barn.  This tall and this close to the house is a fire hazard.  You cannot imagine how this grass burns when it is this tall!

In an effort to make tending the horses easier for me in the winter, I decided to turn this last tiny parcel of restored prairie into a corral. This allowed me to move the water tank a mere 75 feet from the faucet and to have a tank heater. The horses think it is wonderful to be this close to the house. They get to keep an eye on any action, check out any visitors, and are just that much closer when they see me at the feed bins in the mornings. Ginger has been with me the longest and she actually loves me. Wally still remembers his first people, I think, so I am not too high on his list of valuable beings. He likes me, at least, and will take any opportunity to attempt to groom me. He will nibble the top of my head or take my shirt in his teeth so he can vigorously scrub his big rubbery horse lips on my shoulder or arm. This is a sure sign of affection. Ginger does the same. In all the years of this behavior from her, only once did she accidentally pinch a tiny fold of skin in her teeth. She realized it immediately but it still left a terrible bruise on my arm. It is amazing that they understand how careful they must be with a puny human being, but they know without being "trained" or taught.

Creating the corral and allowing the horses into it has maybe been a mistake.  The ground has been muddy for weeks and their hooves have deeply cut the ground.  Much of the grass will come back this spring, but where the ground is so torn up I am not sure if it will be grass or weeds.  I guess it is a small price to pay to better manage the water tank and to have horses so close to the house now. It is really fun for me and, I think, for them. Not to mention the best thing: two brand new, bright green John Deere gates! Almost like a real farm.

Not a good photo of one of the new gates but you get the idea!

Established bluestem just down the road.

What A Life I Have

I am late with my traditional season greetings from my little corner of the world!

It was quite a year.

This is going to meander around but it will eventually come to a point. Bear with me...

I lived most of my entire adult life in a constant state of work-related stress - getting ready for work - getting the kid(s) to bed so they could be pried out of bed in enough time for me to get to work on time the next morning - constantly rechecking the lists in my head whenever I had work-related travel:  a. kid related b. animal related c. home related d. work related e. repeat ad infinitum.

How did I ever manage to do EVERYTHING? All the time? By myself? Wow. I lived with constant stress. It does not mean I never had fun or that I did not enjoy my life. I just had a lot of stuff to take care of by myself all of the time.

One particularly low point... the crazy neighbors had finally succeeded in sucking all the joy and sense of accomplishment I had in buying my first home - no co-signer needed. The neighbors to the north would not let their bratty grandchildren play with my son, though they were in the same class at school. The neighbor across the road, incredibly high on post-surgery drugs admitted he had been spying on me since I moved in, with his binoculars. The tenants in the apartment building to the south parked in my driveway and parked in spaces in my backyard, all without my permission.

I could not have cars towed from my property according the Topeka Police Department. I first had to send a registered letter to my neighbors instructing them to remove their property from my property - even though they never asked permission to park their junk cars there in the first place. And since I could technically still get out of my driveway, the TPD would not tow the offenders from there either. I backed across the neighbor's front lawn a few times and finally a hefty parking ticket put a stop to most of that.  It was awful to not get along with the neighbors.

My son had been diagnosed with ADHD and the school was pressuring me to medicate him, though he was only in 1st grade. He was a very busy child, for sure. My grown daughter was mixed up with a very bad guy - a thief, a manipulator, a liar, and a mooch. So, on top of everything in my family life, I was at war with my own neighborhood. As far as I knew, and as much as I could, I had tried to live in peace and mind my own business but I felt victimized in my own home. That was how I came to be steaming like a lobster in the awesome old clawfoot bathtub one day, about to the end of my rope all the way around. 

My son was having a fit on the other side of the door, screaming and banging on the door attempting to get the lock to spring. (He knew from experience if he pounded hard and long enough, it would eventually spring, god save me.) Normally, I never allowed myself the luxury of actually feeling the tremendous pressure of my life but for some reason, not even being able to take a ten minute break in the tub was the last straw. I prayed, desperately, right then. "What is your will for me, Creator?"

A voice spoke clearly into my left ear, "It is my will that you raise this child."

That would be the obnoxious little child throwing a spectacularly loud fit on the other side of the door, I assumed.

Not everyone hears from God when they are at the end of their rope, so believe me, I was grateful. Stunned, to be sure. It changed my life. Oh, the neighbors were still the neighbors from HELL - the old granny on the north poisoned both my cat and my dog, I found out after the fact. Raising my son alone was an enormous challenge because I did eventually medicate him, suffering guilt and doubt every single day!

I was insulted and treated badly by some of the "best" doctors at Menningers because I dared to question their professional opinion, I guess. Fuck them. I wish I had just saved my son and me the time and torture, and saved those arrogant professional dicks a lot of time by just telling them to fuck off right out of the box.

I wish I had told the teachers and principals to fuck off, too. Especially one particularly evil old bitch in USD 501 who taught fifth grade at the Science Magnet school. I thought she was going to succeed in giving my son a nervous breakdown. At semester, I took him out of that sham of a magnet school, away from the nastiest old bitch of a teacher on the planet, and took my son off the meds and put him back in the neighborhood school. He did fine. Thank God for those few wonderful teachers along the way. (Beth Edmonds, you are a bright, shining star, and my son was blessed to have you two different years, 1st and 4th!) 

We made it. Oh my god, it was hard sometimes to know what to do. I did the best I could even though I felt as if I were careening from one death-defying cliff to another. I often had dreams during those years that I was driving a truck at highway speeds but the steering required a tremendous force of will to actually turn the wheel, only narrowly escaping certain death... and to brake I had to stand on the brake pedal and apply pressure with all of my will and all of my strength. I was tired - ALL the time - for YEARS!

We made it. All of us made it. My daughter got her life lined out in fairly short order after she left the horrible guy in the rear view mirror. Both of my children have earned Masters Degrees. They are gainfully employed and living good lives. I admire both of them very much. I cannot believe that they grew into such a fine adults considering the unprofessional, hit and miss parenting they received.

So, all of that to get to today, this brand spanking new year, Two Thousand Nineteen. I finally came to the finish line of my working life the third week of January, 2018. I did not officially retire until March 1, but I stopped going to the office in January, using my last paid vacation to transition to a life of leisure.

I did not set any goals for the first year, except that if I did not want to do anything, I was not going to do it. I have rested. Napped. Slouched around in my bathrobe for days. (I can tend to the animals while wearing a bathrobe.) I have painted, drawn, slept, read, studied Buddhist books, meditated, visited old friends... but mostly I have stayed home, on my little "farm". 

I have enjoyed the sunrise from my bedroom window as the seasons changed gradually day by day. I have sat on the front porch in the delicious cool spring mornings with coffee and dogs, positively luxuriating in the absence of the need to go anywhere, let alone get there on time! I can sit in the hay at the barn and listen to my horses picking through their hay, absorbing their calm, contented energy for hours if I want. All they want to do in life is eat and hang out... maybe take a little nap. (I sooooooooo get horses!)

I am blessed. Mightily blessed. I have a nice little house, a car that is paid for though full of dust, oats and junk I am too lazy to throw away or put away. I have dogs and two horses.  I have everything a human person could possibly need in this lifetime - well, except for maybe a cat. (I can have a cat if ever have to move to town.) 

It all worked out. All those long years of grinding to work - all those times of kissing ass because I had to - all those years of honestly doing the best work I could do for my company but letting things go to hell at home.  All of it paid off and finally came to a pleasant ending. My mother and father are not here to see it. My mother was too ill to ever come to the farm. She would have loved my little house, I am sure of it.

I honestly do not know what happens to people after they die. Some believe in Heaven (and hell). Some believe they will live normal physical lives in a different dimension. Some believe in reincarnation and the balancing of karmic debt. The ancient Toltecs believed that our life force rises to the beak of a mighty eagle and is utterly consumed but only sorcerers, impeccable practitioners, escape this utter end. 

I believe I have memory from a past life when I was a young Native American man who was betrayed by his white friend in a tragic, heart-rending murder. I believe I remember being shot in the heart at almost point blank range, the betrayal crushing my spirit as my life force quickly bled from the gaping wound. I am not entirely certain if that is from a past life. It is a strange "memory" that does not fit with the rest of my memories or make any sense. But the emotion of it certainly feels real.

No one has ever come back from the dead to personally tell me not to worry. If I ever needed to hear from a dead person, it was after my father died when I was nine. I never heard from him. So, I do not know what happens when we die. Maybe no one knows. Maybe every single belief system is correct. The infinite universes are certainly big enough to contain an infinite number of possibilities.

Maybe nothing happens to us when we die. My paternal grandmother believed we simply cease to exist. I can respect that because it certainly appears that way from this side of the grave. However, on the day of her funeral, off to the side away from everyone, I noticed a clear shaft of light in the bright sunlight and knew it was my grandmother, taking her final leave of everyone she had loved so well for so long, before being swept into the ultimate mystery.

I think my mother and father know all about my life. I believe that Grandpa, that genuine old cowboy, comes to sit with me sometimes in the cold winter mornings to listen to the horses as they eat their grain. He must have loved the clean air of still winter mornings the same as I do. Never a man who said much in life, he is silent in death but yet I can feel him with me sometimes. 

And maybe my parents have visited me a time or two. I once stopped on the corner to watch the sunset over the "sacred pond".  I recalled fishing with my parents. It was not the fishing I was remembering but the feeling a child has when in the company of both parents. I had that feeling again - a fleeting few moments before it was gone. I think they were there with me, remembering fishing, too.

So, yes, I guess our dead family members must still check up on us, maybe even "drop by" for a little while. Sometimes the Creator answers our prayers. Sometimes we can slog along through life only to look up one day to realize that there was a light at the end of that long tunnel. In my case that light is a tiny little house in the bend of a nameless little creek at the bottom of a long sloping ridge. It is where Wally and Ginger live, the magic horse persons. And where Mattie and Jake live to bark and drive me crazy. It is home, and sometimes my children come here to see me, and it is wonderful. I am not a smart woman, but I know when I have a good life!

Many blessings to you and yours in this New Year.

Peace on earth and good will toward (some) men - from the critters and crazy woman at Spiritcreek!

We are all becoming enlightened down on the farm!!!