Cruel & Unusual Punishment

We went to Geronimo's grave site a few years ago. He died February 17, 1909. This coming February will be the 100 year anniversary of his death.For us, it was a spiritual journey. When we went to Geronimo's grave, we went out of respect. We went to honor him and his memory. While he made many request to return to his homeland, the U.S. Government never allowed him to do so, despite what promises had been made to him.He remained a prisoner of war for the rest of his life. The following quote was when he addressed President Theodore Roosevelt regarding his request to return to Arizona. "that land which the Almighty created for the Apaches. It is my land, my home, my father's land, to which I now ask to be allowed to return. I want to spend my last days there and be buried among those mountains. If this could be I might die in peace, feeling that my people, placed in their native homes would increase in numbers rather than diminish as at present, and that our name would not become extinct." I referred to Geronimo in my blog post of 6-24-2008 titled "Where The Trees Know My Name" to express how connected I feel to that particular piece of land. When My Honey and I visited Geronimo's grave we found that many others had made the same journey to leave an offering and to show that even a century later Geronimo has not been forgotten. We were the only people present at that time but we did not feel alone. The wind blowing through the trees seemed to speak to us. While we stood near the grave site at the Cache River we each said our own silent prayer for those who came before as well as those who will come long after we are gone. We left feeling that that our spirits had been enriched from the experience. I personally believe that it was cruel and unusual punishment to not allow Geronimo to return to his homeland during his lifetime and even more so to have him buried where the trees do not know his name. I do not know the Apache tribes' opinion or his descendants wishes regarding the subject. I do not pretend to be an expert on the subject of Geronimo by merely studying history books, though I've read extensively on the subject of Native American Tribes. I do have a definite opinion on the subject. It seems to me that it would be appropriate to have his grave site relocated back to Arizona in 2009. A little too late but a little justice even 100 years late would be better than nothing.

Another Victim Of Human Irresponsibility

This is the face of another victim of human irresponsibility. I just met him this morning but I'm sitting at the library's computer with tears running down my face. I have named him UnLucky Boy. As I type these words he is a mile down the road at a vet's office being executed by lethal injection. He has done nothing wrong. He has committed no crime. He is, or was young, friendly and healthy except for being very,very skinny. He showed up at our place a few days ago. My Honey told me that this stray dog was hanging around outback of the barn. Our place is surrounded by a wildlife management area and people from town dump out their unwanted pets on the dirt road that leads to our house. Over the past nine years that My Honey & I have rescued 15 dogs and puppies. We were able to find homes for all of them except for Maggi (that's another story for another day). But this UnLucky Boy came to us at a very unfortunate time. Our resources are limited. The recent burglary has been very taxing on us, mentally as well as financially. We have many "rescue" animals and could not see anyway possible to keep this UnLucky Boy. We tried so hard to find a place for him. We even tried to get him into a rescue organization in a neighboring state. Every where we looked the answer was the same. They all say, we are all full up. They say we have currently 75 dogs in kennels and have euthanized 25 this week alone. They say that the current status of the economy has increased the number of pets needing homes and reduced the donations received to help these unlucky animals. In our part of rural America, people don't seem to be able to make ends meet financially. I often wonder how people who can't afford this or that for their animals or even their children CAN AFFORD to smoke cigarettes and drink beer and gamble at casinos. After many, many phone calls it became clear that the future of this UnLucky Boy was not looking good. Starving to death is a long process of slow misery. We couldn't just ignore his plight and let him continue the starvation process. A employee of the nearest humane society agreed to "bend the rules" to let us take UnLucky Boy to the vet that they use for "putting down" animals at their expense for the lethal injection if we would agree to pay $25. for the disposal of his body. It wasn't a good solution but after much discussion we couldn't find a better alternative. We caught UnLucky Boy and locked him in our horse trailer. We gave him plenty of dog food and fresh water. We spoke to him kindly and petted him gently. We made him a big breakfast for his last meal. He thoroughly enjoyed a giant serving of thick, juicy country ham and soft scrambled eggs. Normally, with a starving animal you would give them only limited amounts of food at a time, but his time was running out and I wanted him to enjoy a feast like he'd never known before. I was supposed to be a the vet's office at noon so on the way I stopped at a house where I'd heard that they'd adopted a dog from another vet in town. I knocked on the door but no one came to answer it. I stopped by the library and talked to anyone who would listen about this UnLucky Boy. One person even went outside to the truck to look at him. She said she wanted him but she wasn't able to adopt him. I made every last ditch effort to find someone to take him and started to cry when I saw that the time was nearing for his appointment with the vet. I know that many people would have been embarrassed to cry in front of strangers over a dog that they'd just met this morning but I was not embarrassed. I was upset and feeling defeated that despite our best efforts and good intentions that this UnLucky Boy who was only a half grown and half starved pup was going to die in a matter of minutes. I tried to talk these two ladies in the parking lot of the vet's office into giving him a home or to at least take a look at him. I pleaded "Don't you know anyone anywhere and assured them that I'd drive as far as necessary to deliver him to some good hearted soul that could provide him a good home. By time I entered the vet's office at the appointed time it would have been impossible to hide my tears and red, irritated eyes. They again, assured me that I was doing the right thing. That this poor creature was going to spend his last moments with a full belly and the gentle touch of his "executioners" instead of being hit by a car, tortured by cruel people or slowly starving to death out in the woods during the heat of the summer. I'd never taken an animal, mine or anyone else's animal to be killed by lethal injection. If this UnLucky Boy had been old or sick or mortally wounded, this might make some sense to me. I took his photo while he was enjoying his breakfast. I made myself photograph him, to remember, when I'd really rather forget. But I know that I won't forget and can't forget. We work very hard to save any helpless animal from becoming just another victim of human irresponsibility. We advocate the spaying and neutering of pets to reduce the number of animals that will meet a similar fate as this very sweet and loving UnLucky Boy. If this is how you feel when you "DO THE RIGHT THING......let me tell you, at this exact moment, I'd like to give up on the whole idea of doing the right thing. Let me ask you, HOW COULD THIS BE RIGHT ????

Where The Trees Know My Name

This is where the trees know my name. I borrowed the phrase from Geronimo. When he requested to be allowed to return to his homeland he expressed the need to return to where the trees know his name. I plan to post a blog regarding that specific subject but for now let me tell you about the place where the trees know my name. This cabin sits on a mountaintop and when you are there you feel like you are in another place,in another time, somewhat separate, even elevated from the rest of the world. Sitting on the front porch you have a million dollar view. I will post a photo of that a tad bit later. This cabin and the ten acres on which it sits are very special to me. Nine years ago, while reading the classifieds my Dad and I read about this place for sale. It was very private and only accessible by four wheel drive. We went to look at it. It wasn't completely finished and would require lots of work. But it was an awesome place. When I left Dad's headed back out of state there really wasn't a specific plan of action in mind. Really, I didn't spend much time thinking about it after that. And as usual, my Dad surprised me when he called to say that he'd bought it to make it his deer hunting lodge. The next time he called, he indicated that he'd actually bought it for me. The deal was that I'd have to pay the taxes and related expenses for completion as well as upkeep. WOW....thinking at the time....my Dad bought me a what? Where? Why? As a true daddy's girl, I gratefully accepted and didn't question the issue to any great length. Within six months, the motive was slowly and surely revealed when my Dad asked My Honey, "what do you think of a girl who's daddy buys her a cabin on a mountain to get her to move back and she's still living in the city?" Well, as most of my Dad's well thought out plans as well as some of his "spur of the moment" plans do somehow seem to work out over the course of time. Two years after he bought "my" cabin, My Honey & I moved out of state to live there. As you may remember from my 4-21-08 post "!00 Random Things", #49 , I lived in a cabin on a mountain for two years without running water. HA ! My Dad worked on the cabin from the beginning. He finished the inside back room complete with cedar trim. During that process, much to my dismay, he had an accident with a saw and cut off one of his index fingers. I grieved for his lost finger. My Dad always had such nice hands. To this day, I look at that beautiful cedar trim and think of my Dad's big, beautiful, hardworking hands. He built wood steps off front and back porch. The cabin has such sentimental value to me. It is the place that you feel like you are sitting on the top of the world. It is a place of beauty, peace and solitude. It is a place where you retreat to when the real world becomes to much to bear. The grave of my constant companion of 13 years is on that mountain. Maximiliano, a German Shepard loved the cabin and running around the 100's of acres of timberland which belonged to a paper mill company. There is also, other meaning to this special place. My grandparents and great grandparents were country folk from those mountain ridges. There are letters telling of how it took their people 8 days to come to this area from Wolfe City, Texas in a covered wagon. The road that runs in front of the property has memories galore from my childhood. Back then it was a dirt road with lots of hills and curves. We went on picnics. We swam in the creek. We explored the woods and an old lead mine. We took long drives on weekend through those lands. We were around there horseback riding. We even went on 20+ mile trail rides there. Often my grandfather, Pop led those expeditions. For more reasons than I can remember right now, that cabin on the mountain is my only way to ever go home again. For nine years, I've worked hard to hang on to it. I've worried about it whenever we haven't lived there. I remember sitting on the tailgate of the truck a few years back with Brother Bill (not a preacher or really my brother, but a close friend for 32 years)talking about how now we are living the future that we'd worried so much about as teenagers. We laughed and said, of all the things that we'd worried about that in reality very few of those things ever came to pass. Well, sometimes, what you worry about does come to pass. We haven't lived at the cabin for five years and even though we go to check on the place, we've always worried of "what could happen" to it in our absence. May 1, 2008, I arrived to find that a storm had taken off one section of the roof during a rainy week. There was damage inside from having it exposed to rain. The first box I tried to pick up in the attic fell apart in my hands. Suddenly I realized that I'd found our old home movies from the 1960's that I'd been looking for for years. They were wet and ruined. I'd been thinking a lot about those movies, especially since my Mom had died unexpectedly in 2007. I was heartbroken. This past Sunday, My heart was broken again when I arrived to find that the cabin had been burglarized. I arrived just before dark and was looking forward to sitting on the porch to enjoy the beautiful sunset. I noticed immediately that lights were on in rooms that shouldn't be. I carefully approached the cabin and was not sure if the people who'd invaded my unique, private and personal part of the universe were still inside. I've been lucky in life to never had experienced this before. I'm hurt in a way that many wouldn't understand. My next blog will tell the rest of the story but for now I feel too "traumatized" to go into it. I don't want to blog about it until I've had time to sort it out first in my head and my heart. I will tell you that I was armed and was angry and wanted to stay in the shadows of the woods to fire off a warning shot or two to see if I could flush out the people who'd broken into "my" cabin but I used the good sense that I was given to back off and call 911. Then I had to go back down five switchbacks to the bottom of the mountain to go pick up the sheriff's deputy whose patrol car wouldn't be able to make the trek up the mountain to the place where the trees know my name. Think about it, do you know the place where the trees know your name. If you do, enjoy it, honor it and somehow protect it.

Night Moves

I have always enjoyed dawn and twilight. The first light of the morning and the last light of the evening always seem so special to me. The Great Blue Heron flies out of the pond headed toward the east pasture. The bats begin to fly around the night light out in the yard. The armadillos begin their nightly assault on our garden and yard. The last rays of sunshine reflect off of the pond. Around our place, we've been watching moonrise a little bit after 9pm. Since I've only been back from the city for a week, I've been catching up on observing the night moves around our place. It's like when the curtain goes down between acts in a play. The horse herd moves along their trails to graze in the west pasture. The frog's, cricket's and owl's voices fill the darkness. You can hear the night birds call out. The whippoorwill and the dove serenade me. The cows that graze on the surrounding government land make noises that seem like something out of a horror movie and are so un-bovine like. In the distance the coyotes howl and laugh as they try to locate each other throughout the floor of "our" valley and the mountain ridges out back of the house. Here everything makes sense to me. Everything is as it should be. Everyone is doing what they were meant to do when it was meant to be done. The natural rhythm of things goes unchanged and unchallenged by the human race.

Foreign Invaders In The Heartland

No, it is not what you were thinking. But they are Canadian, so technically that makes them foreigners, right? Today, June 20, 2008 is an anniversary of sorts around our place. On this date, five years ago we moved to this piece of land that we value so highly. In the past five years we have spent all of our time, energy and money on "fixin-up" this place. In the past five years we have had to deal with a number of issues that we never expected. That is what brings us to the subject of foreign invaders. When we were dreaming of having a 100 acres of land, it never occurred to us that we would have to deal with invaders.We don't consider the coyotes,bobcats, hawks and owls that have killed our chickens, ducks and geese as invaders. They are doing what they were meant to do.We aren't talking about fire ants that weren't here when we arrived but now are everywhere.The howling of a lone wolf in the distance isn't a problem for us. My Dad even saw a bear a few miles down the road. If Mr. Bear is jut passing through and doesn't plan on making one of our animals his next meal, then he's also welcome and will not be put on the list of foreign invaders. We do realize that with the animals that WE are actually the invaders since most of them were there before we arrived and do have certain rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. We don't classify the herons and other water birds that hang out in our ponds. However other invaders have caused more problems than we anticipated. When we moved here, the cattle that graze the government land thought that our place was just an extension of their grazing lease. They made themselves at home in our pasture and came right on into the barn as if they owned that too. The cattle guard at our front gate has deteriorated somewhat and the cows think that it is just a moo-cow welcome mat. We began to keep the front gate closed after waking up one morning to find a dozen or so of them in our newly planted vegetable garden and fruit tree orchard. We've worked on finding and repairing the little weak spots in the fence that they cross through to get into our pasture. Since our place is surrounded by a wildlife management area, the river bottoms and a lake, the deer and turkey are a daily sight. Which brings me to the next point. It occurred to me that when someone invades your territory they are only considered invaders IF they are UNWELCOME. We welcome the deer and wild turkey, so I guess they won't be classified as foreign invaders. The pair of Canadian geese that have come to swim in our pond and graze on the sweet new grass every spring are also welcome. So I guess they aren't really invaders either. However, the people from town that dump off their unwanted pets are not welcome at our place. In five years we've had more than our fair share of that type of invaders. The "dumped" cats reek havoc by fighting with our cats. The "dumped" dogs have killed our pet goose and a few of our ducks and our guinea. We did learn a valuable lesson through that experience. The next time a "dumped" dog shows up we will not "run it off", we will speak kindly to it and feed it. We've learned that it is better to catch it and find it a new more suitable home, as we did with the last canine invader.

This past springtime flooding caused an invasion of a different sort. The river bottoms were underwater. The wild hogs ( feral pigs ) began living in our pastures, foraging for their meals by rooting around and tearing up the pasture. One morning we woke up to find more than twenty of the porkers just outside of our yard fence. There were big ones, little ones, dark ones, light ones and spotted ones. Now, if that wasn't bad enough, it got worse when the locals started hunting them by running them with a pack of dogs. What happens on the government land which I refer to as The Deliverance Zone (another story for another day), isn't actually any of our business. But when the pig hunters run their dogs onto our land, it does constitute an invasion. The dogs chasing the hogs through our pasture almost caused a serious accident in the blind horse habitat. The sound of the yapping dogs chasing the squealing pigs caused our two blind horses to freak out and run into the fences. Grace slammed into a T-post and bent it over. Fortunately, the damage was only a few minor scratches and a damaged fence. But as we see it, we moved all the way out here to be able to live in peace with our many animals without having to deal with other people and their issues. Now comes the part that really upset us. We were invaded by the most unacceptable foreign invaders of all. ROCK POACHERS.....the most dangerous, most destructive and the most unwelcome. Humans that cut our back fence lines and cut down trees to drive their truck and trailers onto our land to STEAL big flat mossy rocks. In this area, there are a number of stone companies that buy rock for landscaping purposes. With 17,000 acres of government land behind us,that they could steal rocks from, we thought that it was totally unacceptable to trespass and violate our private property. We had our first contact with the local sheriff's department. They came out, took photos and made a report. I think they thought we were being unreasonable to protest the deeds of the rock poachers. We on the other hand, took action of our own. We posted private property signs and added extra T-post to make them work much harder at stealing our rocks. We spent the winter months cutting trails along our property lines to be able to "ride the fence lines", either on horseback or with the 4-wheeler. "They" promptly blew holes in our signs with their shotguns, so we just post more. We make sure to ride the fence lines often, and unlike in the Old West, we ride with a cell phone on one hip and a holstered pistol on the other to keep a eye our for the the next invasion.

Tomato Time

There are home grown tomatoes on our kitchen windowsill again. Hooray !

We harvested our first tomato a few days ago. Yummmmmm.....
It made all the hard work worth while. It is just the beginning of our crop but the first one always seems to take so long. It was just a plain ole tomato to most folks but to us it is one of the simple pleasures that we so look forward to each year. Eating what we grew with our own two hands (four hands, between My Honey & I). I am looking forward to the heirloom tomatoes yet to come. The Black Krim, Green Zebra, Old German and Brandywine are just a few that will be ripening on the vine before long.

On Top Of The World

This is a photo of Sylvia and I which was taken a few years back during a trail ride. She has since "crossed over the rainbow bridge" and our lives were changed by the loss of her life. If there was some kind of commotion going on out in the barn, you could be assured that she was in the center of the action. She was smart, sassy and stubborn. I'm sure we will continue to miss her from now on. I try to always remember the phrase "that it is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all." Around our place we should post a large sign to remind us of that fact during the hard times.

Amazing Grace

This is our amazing Grace. Since I'd recently posted a blog about Lakota it seemed necessary to write something about Grace. She is now a 21 year old Appaloosa mare that is blind. We adopted her as a companion for our blind wild mustang, Lakota Woman. Gracie has lived with us since May 18, 2007. She was "given up on" by her previous owners and was delivered to a horse sanctuary about fifty miles from where we live. I was told that the previous owners didn't even look back or say good-bye to her. I had been communicating with the nice lady that runs the place. She said that she had been contacted by someone who wanted rid of this blind horse that was stumbling when their kids rode her. They said that she was causing problems around their place because she would get lost from the herd and end up in the woods all tangled up in the briers. The nice lady named Melanie offered us Grace as a companion for Lakota. We accepted and anxiously waited for her to be delivered. When Melanie drove up in the driveway I went out to meet her. She quickly went to the back of the horse trailer to open the door and unloaded Grace. She was a pretty Appaloosa except for her right eye, which was almost non-existent. The eye was shrunken into the eye socket, was badly deteriorated and infected and the eye lashes were curled into what was left of the eyeball. It looked terribly painful. Grace's face told a story of a horse left with a halter on until it wore into her nose. She was sweet natured and very tame. She and Lakota got along well from the beginning, which was something that we were concerned about. I began to contact veterinarians about what could or should be done for Grace's eye. Within about a month of when she arrived to our place Grace underwent an operation to remove the right eyeball. I had no idea of what we were all in for next. I found out that once the vet removed the eyeball that there was not a way to stop the bleeding. He sewed a gauze bandage to the front of her face to hold pressure and to collect the blood. We were told to keep the bandage clean and dry. That was a tall order. It was summertime when thunderstorms would brew up suddenly and I had to get Grace back to the stall before she got wet. It was hot weather which made it impossible to keep the flies away from Grace. And if anyone knows how to keep a horse from rubbing up against something, please let me know. Other than physically restraining her with a "horsey" straight-jacket, I don't know of a way. The wound oozed blood for almost three weeks. From the date of the surgery to completely healing, it took six weeks and three trips to the vet's office. Throughout it all, Grace was amazingly accepting of whatever we had to do to her. She showed grace and dignity as well as patience. Grace by nature is a sweetheart. She is calm and cooperative. I believe that if we had an riding arena with good even footing, that Grace would still be ride-able. From the beginning I tried to follow a pattern while dealing with her to make it routine for her to memorize our daily habits. We put the rubber feeder in the exact same position every day so that she can find it easily without bumping into the wall of the stall. We put her halter on only for a few minutes to move her from the stall to the blind horse habitat. We didn't even leave it on for the 30 minute trailer ride to the vet's office. It's been over a year and you can still see where the halter "wore into" her nose from the previous place she lived. We do everything in our power to make her at home and make sure that she is comfortable. She was a quick learner so I taught her two commands: #1 S T E P, to slowly pick her feet up higher than normal, to cross over obstacles and #2 F E E L to put her nose to whatever it is that I'm trying to show her. Unlike Lakota who is "spooky", Grace rarely gets too excited about much other than green grass or a bucket of grain. While Lakota is easily spooked, she is also very cautious.All of Lakota's moves are deliberate and well-planned. Grace on the other hand, throws caution to the wind and seems to injure herself more often. She is like the proverbial "bull in the china cabinet" slamming and banging her way sround. Nothing major, but she does seem to "bust" her head from time to time. This may just be a part of her personality (she may be like me, accident prone) and may have nothing to do with being blind. She has several "old scars" on her forehead under her bangs from before she came to live with us. As far as "pecking order" goes, over the past 13 months that they have been together, Lakota is higher in rank. Although Grace is the larger of the two, Grace seems content to let Lakota be the boss. And to think that we were concerned that Grace would hurt tiny little Lakota who as it turns out is quite a warrior when it comes to defending territory. When you hear a ruckus out back, it's just Lakota squealing and showing Grace how to get out of the way of her fast-flying hooves.

The Hippies Were Right !

This is the T-shirt that I bought in honor of Earth Day, back in April. Supposedly, it was part of a campaign to help cotton farmers convert their conventional farms to an organic farming operation. I wore this shirt for the first time recently and was amazed how complete strangers would question the meaning of the message: The Hippies Were Right. While in the city, I received comments regarding the shirt and some disapproving looks as well. It's impossible to know what will get people stirred up these days !

Lakota: A Blind Wild Mustang

This is something that I wrote this past October. I plan to write an update to detail the fantastic progress that Lakota has made since she came to live with us in 2007. Lakota proves daily how little we humans know about trust, patience and life's struggles.

October 5, 2007
Lakota - the blind wild mustang

My mom died in Jan.2007. She left behind a couple of horses which we adopted.... Lakota is a seventeen year old wild mustang mare that was born free and wild in Nevada. She was captured by the BLM (Bureau of Land Management) adopted out and later sold to my mother. At the time, Lakota had a six month old daughter named Cheyenne. Both were wild and lived there on the property. After my mother's death, it became urgent to move them. Lakota had gone blind and moving her and Cheyenne became a monumental task...We set up a round pen (corral) and once Lakota was inside the corral, we began to remove panels to reduce the size of the corral...My husband roped Lakota and I injected her with tranquilizers from the vet. Even sedated she was terrified. After trapping, loading and transporting her to our house, we set up the corral in the yard, opened the horse trailer and attached it to the corral. It was a stormy night and Lakota unloaded herself in the middle of the night. Lakota was totally terrified by everything. I was told that being blind is hard enough for a horse and being wild and blind was an impossible combination, and that very likely we would have to have her euthanized. I looked on the Internet for expert advise....many had experience with wild horses or blind horses but to date I have not found anyone that claims to have experience with a blind wild horse.I was told that most likely I'd never get my hands on this horse, which if it weren't for medical reasons and the possibility of having to handle her for any number of reasons pertaining to her health and well-being, then I'd just as soon, let her stay wild. I started by just talking to her. The sound of my voice made her spook and move away from me. While feeding her, I tried to give her a carrot from my hand, which totally freaked her out and she wouldn't come near the feed bowl until I would leave the corral.. For the next three days she wouldn't eat until I would leave the area. Little by little, she allowed me to come near her again. I spent countless hours just talking to her. I continued to try to gain her trust and used the carrot to guide her to the rubber feeder that contained her grain. By tapping the carrot on the feeder bowl, she could find her way to the food. Little by little she began to tolerate my presence and be less spooky. Lakota has retained so much of her natural instinct, which is obvious by her reactions. She knows when a storm is brewing up, long before any of us or any of our many other animals. She notices any sound of movement long before any of the other horses. For months, we'd move the corral around to new grass for her to graze on. At first she was terrified of the sound made by the metal corral panels and would spook and bump into the panels.. After a while she would stand patiently in the center of the corral while we pushed it around,knowing that we were moving it to new grass and as soon as we would finish, she would have her head down searching for fresh grass. We began building our blind horse habitat and in the process, adopted Grace, a 20 yr.old Appaloosa mare, also blind but tame...Grace's right eye was deteriorated, infected and painful... The vet decided that it was medically necessary to have her eyeball surgically removed.. Within a month of adopting Grace as a companion to Lakota, she had the operation.. It was very much of a big deal ( for her as well as us ) to have an eyeball removed. After a tough month and a half, Grace finally was healed.After five months of living in the corral, Lakota and I had made progress. She now allows me to touch her face, neck and back.. She moves toward my voice and will "answer" back when I call to her. When we completed the fencing for the blind horse habitat, we moved Lakota's corral as close as possible to the driveway, connected corral panels to the new enclosure, opened up the corral and Lakota MOVED HERSELF across the street and into the new area. Now Lakota and Grace live together happily.They spend their days grazing, swatting flies and enjoying the shade of the big oak trees... and from a distance, no one would ever know that they are both blind.. Lakota and I continue to bond a little more each day as she permits me into her world, which is a calm and relaxed place compared to the terror of the darkness she previously endured. I am honored that she chooses to accept my presence and my good intentions despite what humans have done to her in the past. She was living wild and free then she was captured, freeze branded, adopted out and sold off and put out to pasture. With Lakota's experience with human beings, it amazes me that she could trust people again. For sure, she is more forgiving than a lot of people that I've known in my lifetime.

Happy Father's Day DAD

My DAD, he is a hoot. He is a one of a kind. He's taken a licking and kept on ticking. There is no back up in him, but if you are waiting for him, you are backing up. He thought he was wrong once but he was wrong about what he thought. Patient he is not but good hearted and dedicated he has been from the very start. He asks too much but always gives back even more. If it is broken, he can fix it more times than not. If he hasn't been there yet, he's probably planning to go. If he doesn't know, he wants to find out.

He started out in life with nothing and has worked very hard his entire life. Whenever it became necessary, he picked himself up and dusted himself off and he started all over again from scratch.When he was sixty, he could outwork three 20 year olds on any given day. After 72 years of living, when he looks himself in the mirror, he sees a person that never went out of his way to cause harm to anyone despite what others have done to him. At 6 foot 3, he might give the impression that he is big and mean. When it comes to his daughters his heart always melts, then he turns from a grizzly bear to a teddy bear in a split second. He is a man of few words, however he is a man of action. Though he doesn't often show the tender side of his personality, he takes the time to pick out the most beautiful birthday cards with just the right words. My DAD's not old fashioned in any way. Unlike most people of his generation, he doesn't get nostalgic for the "good old days". He hates black and white movies and "old timey" stuff. He moves always toward the future. Modern technology draws him like a moth to light.

He's more well informed than most. He keeps a constant eye on the world. He warns that younger generations need to do the same before it's too late. He's never afraid to voice his opinion even when faced with strong opposition. He cares what happens to this planet and our civilization even though he knows he may not be here to see it come to pass. He has taught me so much by setting the example that doing the right thing isn't always so easy but if it were, everyone would be doing it. The bottom line is that you have to live with yourself and what you do or don't do will affect your life and the lives of others.

For 47 years he has been my father, my friend and my Rock of Gibraltar. I wish for forty seven more years together, but I fear that is too much to ask. I'll settle with whatever time we have left and hope that he truly realizes what he means to me, back when I was a little kid, now and in the years to come. I am so thankful that when they were handing out Dads, that he got to be mine.

A Thing Of Terror & Beauty

This is a photo I took of a photograph. While staying at a friend's house in the city, this photo would draw me to it several times. Over the course of the week I spent at her house, I walked by this photo several times and found myself stopping to look at it again and again. Even without having been there I can imagine how terrifying it must have been for everyone in the area. I can imagine how it must have affected the wildlife. My friend lived near Vallecito, Colorado when this fire occurred. I know nothing about the details other than she referred to it as the Missionary Ridge Fire of 2002. I know that her home and family survived this fire. But that is all I know about it. How can something so terrifying and devestating be so beautiful?

In Memory Of Zena

"No one ever held on to life more than she did...."

IN MEMORY OF ZENA
b. 4-21-2000
d. 6-09-2008




Best friends Zena and Josie






Camping on an island 4th of July

WE WILL NEVER FORGET YOU NINA PULLINA AND THE JOY AND LAUGHTER THAT YOU BROUGHT TO OUR LIVES....WE WILL REMEMBER THE LESSONS YOU TAUGHT US. DESPITE LIFE'S STRUGGLES TO NEVER GIVE UP !!!!

A Sight For Sore Eyes

Seeing My Honey, our animals and our place for the first time in a week was a sight for sore eyes. And my eyes have been sore. It's been five days since my eye surgery but I am feeling much better. The first few days were a bit tough. I am able to see much better. Yesterday for the first time I was able to read a menu while having lunch with a friend with my "very own real" eyes. It still doesn't seem real. Being able to see well for the first time in 47 years is going to take some getting used to for sure. It is somewhat distracting to be able to see so well. The first time that I got into my truck, I noticed that my windshield is really dirty. There is a small scratch on the dashboard that I'd never seen before. I've been driving this truck for over a year. Today I am working on the computer without glasses or contact lens. This is truly a miraculous thing. I've called my Dad several times to thank him. My eye surgery was a gift from my Dad. He's been calling and asking "so how are MY new eyes today", which makes him chuckle. During the course of my life he has been my dad, my friend and my Rock of Gibraltar He is one of a kind. Thanks again Dad ! Last night, I sat on the front steps for a good long while. I listened to the crickets chirp, the frogs croak and the owls hoot. At last, back to the serenity and tranquility of our own little piece of heaven.

Yikes, Let Me Out Of Here !

Where I used to horseback ride in a beautiful meadow, just a few years ago


Tunnels aren't good when your vision suddenly becomes unreliable !


Early, early, early on a Sunday morning is the only "good" traffic time


From a distance the price looks like $13.79 a gallon.
A sign of things to come ????


I've spent a good amount of my travel time in construction zones and stop and go traffic, trying to avoid accidents and drivers with road rage !!!


YIKES......Let me out of here. One more appointment with the eye doctor and I'm headed back to the country. It's only been six days but I've had enough of this big city life. I'm seeing better than I have in 47 years, but my eyes hurt. My clear vision comes and goes, which can be a bit unnerving on the freeway in rush hour traffic. But my eyes are healing and it seems like a miracle to be seeing with my own eyes. It's been great getting the chance to visit with friends, but honestly, I don't know how people live all crowded together like this. There is no breathing space. It is push and shove, and push some more. Everyone is in such a big ____ hurry. If I ever feel like I'm missing out on something, all I have to do it venture into the city and immediately I remember why moved to the country.

Sweet Sixteen To My Chula

Today is my stepdaughter's sixteenth birthday. My precious little girl is no longer so little.Today she is only two short years from becoming a legal adult. I'm writing this blog to preserve it as a somewhat permanent record of this special day. The birthday card may be forgotten, lost or thrown away, so I wanted to put it on my blog to record it for the future. I am going to include the wording on the birthday card as well as the note that I included in her card.
This is the birthday card that I chose for her 16th birthday:

HOW TO MAKE A BEAUTIFUL LIFE
"Reflections For A Daughter On Her Birthday"

LOVE YOURSELF.
MAKE PEACE WITH WHO YOU ARE
AND WHERE YOU ARE
AT THIS MOMENT IN TIME.
LISTEN TO YOUR HEART.
IF YOU CAN'T HEAR WHAT IT'S SAYING
IN THIS NOISY WORLD,
MAKE TIME FOR YOURSELF.
ENJOY YOUR OWN COMPANY.
LET YOUR MIND WANDER AMONG THE STARS.
TRY.
TAKE CHANCES.
MAKE MISTAKES.
LIFE CAN BE MESSY
AND CONFUSING AT TIMES,
BUT IT'S ALSO FULL OF SURPRISES.
THE NEXT ROCK IN YOUR PATH
MIGHT BE A STEPPING STONE.
BE HAPPY,
WHEN YOU DON'T HAVE WHAT YOU WANT,
WANT WHAT YOU HAVE.
MAKE DO.
THAT'S A WELL-KEPT SECRET OF CONTENTMENT.
THERE AREN'T ANY SHORTCUTS TO TOMORROW.
YOU HAVE TO MAKE YOUR OWN WAY.
TO KNOW WHERE YOU'RE GOING
IS ONLY PART OF IT.
YOU NEED TO KNOW WHERE YOU'VE BEEN, TOO.
AND IF YOU EVER GET LOST, DON'T WORRY,
THE PEOPLE WHO LOVE YOU WILL FIND YOU.
COUNT ON IT.
LIFE ISN'T DAYS AND YEARS.
IT'S WHAT YOU DO WITH TIME
AND WITH ALL THE GOODNESS AND GRACE
THAT'S INSIDE YOU.
MAKE A BEAUTIFUL LIFE....
THE KIND OF LIFE YOU DESERVE !

Here is my note to her.

Monday June 9, 2008
D.
On your 16th birthday I wish you all the best that the world has to offer. You've been through some hard times and there will be more ahead but it will make you a much stronger woman in the long run. Stay true to yourself, learn from mistakes, yours as well as those of others, be independent, study yourself to find your true purpose, enjoy simple pleasures, open your heart to those who honor and respect you, forgive those who don't. Don't let anyone tell you who you are - you SHOW THEM who you are by the way that you live your life. Over the years, you will change in ways that you'll never expect and the world will change in ways that no one will ever be able to anticipate. Change is the only factor in life that is guaranteed. Don't burn your bridges to your past, for the day may come that you'll want or need to cross back over them. No matter where you go or what you do, or what you become - my love, support and understanding are yours for as long as I live - 24 / 7 / 365. Remember I carry you always in my heart. With all my love, always, E

On The Road Again

I am on the road again. Here are a few of the highway scenes that I captured on my way into the city. This is my first road trip in six months and the first one since I've gotten my new digital camera. Hesitatingly, I'm slowly but surely moving into the 21st century. Within the past few months I've started a blog and purchased a digital camera. Now, the motive of my trip to the city, I'm going to have Lasik eye surgery this afternoon. After years of avoiding most aspects of modern technology, now I'm jumping in with both feet. Who knows what will be next.

Road Trip

I've left the Big Woods and have just arrived in the Big City. I've already seen more humans than I've seen in the past six months. I tell people that when you live outside of a town that only has two signal lights, that you should venture into the city from time to time to make sure that you haven't lost your nerve. Fortunately, I've always been like a chameleon. I have the ability to adapt quickly to my environment. I'll be in the city for a week, while My Honey stays home to take care of the ranch. He will have his hands full. I, on the other hand, don't have any chores to do. There is absolutely no one to take care of where I am now. Oh my, what will I do? Well, I'll find a way to pass the time. I've got a library card and can spend more time on the computer. I have many, many friends to go to visit. And I'm in prime garage/estate sale territory. We will see where the road takes me. With the price of gasoline, hopefully, not to very far, ha ! I will post some of the photos that I took during my five hour drive to the city so that I'll be able to view my blog if I get homesick this week. As for My Honey, he has big plans (all of which include long hard days of working around the ranch. I hope that he doesn't get too caught up on the chores because that could spell trouble. Hope he doesn't throw away anything. Admittedly, I am some what of a pack rat but he takes the slash and burn method to spring cleaning. Hey, a few years ago, while I was out of town, My Honey threw my toilet away. I came home to find that it was gone, gone, bye, bye. (Fortunately, we do have two bathrooms)So quite some time later, while was out of town, I stole his toilet and installed it in "my bathroom". Let's see what happens this time.

Bye Bye Billy

Bye Bye Billy. Billy the Kid (AKA William Bonney) "was" our billy goat. He's a four year old South African Boer Goat. My Honey sold him to a co-worker this past week. He had to deliver him, which meant taking a 200 pound goat for a 300 mile road trip. It is so unlike us to "sell" anything but this was for the best. Billy now lives in a big pasture with twenty girlfriends. At "our place", he had to live alone. We had kept him separate from our other three goats for quite some time now. Our "pet" goats were rescues that we raised on a bottle. It was My Honey's idea to get a billy goat, which was not a problem for me, at least not at first. As I've mentioned, My Honey is out of town at least half of the time. It seems as though when the "blessed events" occur around our place he is always gone. Well, Miss Lilly had two big baby boys without problem. That same morning, Zena was in labor as well. By the evening she was in major distress. From my years of working in hospitals, I'd seen a number of human babies born and recognized that Zena was what they would have termed in a state of "failure to progress". In human terms that would have been grounds to do a emergency Cesarean-section, which I was in no way prepared to do. Without a vet available to help, I decided that Zena would die without invervention. I carefully tried to turn the baby which was not in the proper position. One of the baby's legs was folded back. I knew that she would not be able to deliver this baby on her own. At that point, so much time had passed, that I thought that the baby was still-born and my intention was to save the momma goat. Much to my surprise, I was able to carefully reposition the baby and literally pull her into this world. The baby was lifeless and discolored but I attempted my own version of CPR anyhow. I was shocked when she took her first breath. By this time is was late at night, Zena was drained of all energy and promptly rejected this tiny little baby girl. Being rejected by the mother was the reason that we took Zena as a rescue and raised her on a bottle. By then I realized that I would have to step in as foster mom and raise this baby also. I set up a large pet crate in the house and started bottle feeding Baby Zora. It took three and a half months to wean her off the bottle. She was a "good drinker", unlike Zena that I had to force every drop of milk in her for the duration of her "kid-hood". Zora is now three years old and she still thinks I'm her mom. She lives with the other two goats, but she still cries when she sees me or hears my voice. I think that she still misses "watching" satellite TV and the other perks of living indoors.