An Amazing YES Life! Little Miracles

And may I never hear the *skreee* of a raptor and not stop whatever I am doing to say "YES! Thank You!"

Yes is a pleasant country

And may I never drive down my steep hill when the moisture clings to the river's way and the spines of the pines pierce the cat fur blanket of fog, when their sweet heads are bathed in honey sunlight and not *gasp* in astonishment as that panorama unfolds before me...

YES!

Daily miracles, we but need to open our hearts to see....



>^,,^<

Memorial Trees: Fall is for Planting

Autumn is a melancholy joy, such deep and abiding beauty, and behind the gauzy veils of Fall's Bright Tresses, sits Lady Death, She Who Weaves, She who takes in this thread, and cuts another. I see Her rocking at my pond side, counting the leaves, and as Dr. Clarissa says, tapping her foot and folding and unfolding her gloves.

When I was around eight years old, we moved out to the Country, to a big house with a scorched earth policy. They had scraped the top of the High Chaparral acre clean and clear of every shubbery and plopped a square white house on it. But it was "in the Country", and I loved it. My Grammy took me for a walk one day, with a shovel and a small bag and walked us down to the property line and unveiled a small Brazilian Pepper tree sapling. She told me to start digging a hole. When it was big enough to her satisfaction, she showed me how to tickle the wee tree's roots, and nest it into it's bed securely and safely, tamping the soil over the top. When we were done, she stepped back, looked at me, and said words that will follow me forever: "This is the Kathy Tree."

That tree is still there, Lo! These 40+ years ago, huge, magnificent, healthy. I moved from that house long and long ago, but the tree still calls my name in the breeze, if only I listen carefully.

When Grammy bought the house next door, we proceeded to plant the Unca Richie Tree, (an eastern redbud) the Auntie Lorrie Tree, (a Parlour Palm which was supposed to only grow to 8' tall, but when we planted it, beneath the patio at the corner, loved the site so much, that it pushed the roof. We eventually cut a hole in the roof, and the tree grew to a grandiose height of 25' tall. I moved from that house, where I took care of my Grammy, six years hence, but those trees are also still there, and also call my name on nights when the warm winds comes up from the South.

For Chrsitmases, I always bought a live tree, and planted them wherever I was living. San Diego is dotted with evergreens from my many residences, before I came home to take care of Grammy.

And now, the leaves are turning and Fall is brushing her long luscious locks, shaking her hair out. Fall is for planting. I bought a pink dogwood for Jerry Lipetzky, and I have his hole all dug out and ready next to the pond. The Jerry Tree. I think he'll like it there, listening to the ducks and the Great Blue Heron. I bought an Eastern Redbud tree, and I shall plant that next to the aspen tree, to shed dappled dancing light and shade into my living room during the hot hot spells of Summer. She shall be the Grammy Tree.

It will be like coming Home.

>^,,^<

To Jerry Lipetzky

The World lost an Advocate of Laughter last month, and today, everyone who knew him will either be at El Monte Park, or will be there in spirit to remember him, to laugh with him again, and to share what the man meant to so very many.

Jerry's Celebration of Life

Legacy Page

Jerry's Art (Besides the obvious!)

I hear Teachers say "I took this job because I wanted to make a difference", and Jerry truly did. He took a 9th grade required class, and unscrewed our parched mind and hydrated us with thinking, with vicarious living, with safety, with Nature, with the simple joy of breathing and laughing. He was Gallagher before Gallagher was Gallagher, smashing watermelons to demonstrate the audacity of maps, peeling oranges to show how they got that weird round blue marble onto a flat surface, squishing a sow bug to show what Europe looks like. He was most of our first glimpse into haute culture, preparing escargot, loving the smell, but unable to get past the fact that Johnny kept telling me he'd seen an antenna frantically squirming from between my lips "Help Me!" nibbling on small pieces of limberger cheese and crackers, pinkie extended, don' ya know..

And the extracurricular classes like the Bike Club where I joined the elite of Alpine at the Peugeot Plunge, adding my Subhuman monster to the collection of twisted limbs and spokes in the Malstead Mash, and later in the Season of the Vaqueros, the Lake Henshaw trip, where I was clipped by a trucker, and proved my ability to bounce bodily like a big rubber ball, and where that night, I caught a volkswagon bug on its' way into the gas pumps by jumping through the open driver's window and steering it -just barely- to the left where it hit the curb, but missed the gas pump. Picture it if you will, it is dark, and I see a volkswagon trundling straight at me, no lights on. "OH aren't you funny!" Wait, I can't see who is driving.. Goodness! They are shorter than I am ! Odd.. Maybe the dog is driving.. No wait.. No REALLY, wait now.. NO DRIVER??? uh oh .. What do I do? OK, do something to make car 1 not hit gas pump 2 and go boom. Yes, that's right. Go ahead OW!! I hit my noggin!

And the Summer of Archeology with Jeff Abshear at the Bancroft House where I suspect they still have our journal on display, Jeff with his outrageously delightful illustrations and me with the gift of gab and goofiness. We discovered three extraordinary finds! A proj point obviously used for brontasauri, an incredibly rare leaverite, and grape stakes from the orchard. Finding the joy in dirt, sweeping each dusting of the past away to reveal the puzzle pieces of that past. In this case, a rather interesting juxtaposition of Native peoples, Spaniash peoples, and Western European peoples.

Yes, Jerry was pivitol in our lives, in all our lives. He gave us a safe place to think and ponder, a safe place to question authority, an exciting and safe place to explore. He also gave many of us our first glimpse into living sustainably. Some of us needed this safety. Some of us needed the space to open our wings. Some of us went along for the ride, and what a ride it is! Thank you Jerry, for every smile, for every brush stroke, for every laugh at the absurd, for every Gift of yourself you gave us. Thank you, Jerry for being such a wonderful Teacher, Mentor, Delight and Inspiration. Thank you, Jerry, for your time.

With All My Love and Undying Admiration,

Kat Malstead
Class of '75

Heat Advisory on SOOO many levels !!

Man it's a hot one and it's gonna get hotter ! Trying to keep all the plants and animals and peoples hydrated will be the Challenge de Jour.

I need more pictures ! I need more words! I want more life !

Off to prepare my watery sword 'gainst the dragons of heat


>^,,^<

The Book of Changes

By the look of the date of my last Blog post, I shouldn't wonder if all believe that I have disappeared into a puff of blue smoke. Au Contraire, Mon Amis ! I am still quite lively and still making terrible landscaping mistakes in the Pacific Northwest.

At this moment, I am drenched with a goodly or Godly, depending upon your viewpoint, amount of good ol' fashioned PNW clay, and Teufel, about evenly mixed and measured with weeds and grasses stuck between my toes. I have been working vigorously upon the "New Do" of the Perennial Winged Garden. Greig moved one of the "lost bath tubs" into the garden, and in a group effort, the Good Folks of Wolfdancer Creek hoisted it up on blocks with a slight incline towards the drain hole, stuffed several buckets of river rock and then 4 squished peat pots covered with bags of Teufel and Black Gold. Then I stuffed it with plants! The vholes and the crack grass took over my last attempt, so this time 'round, I thought I'd mix it up with big containers. I planted Zagreb Coreopsis, one white double Crazy Daisy, and then some Firebird Penstemon along one side to help hide the exposed cast iron innards, and planted a deep purple cup and saucer Campanula Canterbury Bells, a cluster of three Delphiniums, a line of different types of Rudbeckia - Irish Eyes and the standard Black-Eyed Susans- then along the back, Echinacea, Liatris, Queen Victoria Lobelia, Cosmos, and a Joe Pye Weed(Eupatorium maculatum) a striking bee attractant along with Monarda, Joseph Kline and Blue Stockings. The front of the bath tub will have a curry plant, a silver Artesmia, and a bunch of pansies and violas. I figured I'd hope for a naturalization thing. :~)

Along the side of that planting, along the next blank space after a butterfly bush which will REQUIRE! heavy pruning this year! I stuffed a bunch of petunias in a Radio Flyer red wagon, and in a broken fountain. The fountain also has dwarf trailing snap dragons in it. First time I've purposefully planted annuals.

I'll take pictures. I have a new camera, and am trying to learn how to use it.

:~) We're Sanctuary here. :~) Life is Good. Bright Blessings!

>^,,^<

Spay Neuter and Free Pregnant Cats?????

In response to a post I read on a wonderful Blog:
/free kittens free older kittens free cats free pregnant cats???

Thank you so much for this Blog post! I have 16 cats now. I came to this state with 5 cats -all spayed and neutered- 2 of my Grammy's very elderly cats, and three ferals I had rescued as wee small tinies whom I bottle fed (and spayed and neutered) Then I found Puddles starving -literally- in my orchard. And while I was unable to catch her and get her spayed before the coyotes got her, I DID manage to trap her three litters and have THEM all spay/neutered and vetted. Then came Mimi -a pregnant non-feral dumpee- and her three kittens. The last is Velcro, yet another cared-for dumpee, who has yet to be neutered, but he's quite young yet (I figure only 2 & a half months old yet) Merp is spayed and an outside kitty who sleeps in the motorhome at night for protection. That leaves one wily ol' Tom who has thus far eluded the live trap.

14 cats inside, and 2 outside cats. I had so many promises of homes, but surprisingly, nary a one was interested in the kittens when they discovered that my demands included spay/neutering.

WHY??? If you love your sweet kitties, why in the hell's half acre of demented thinking don't we teach our people to value their lives by spaying & neutering?

hmmm /vent off. But thanks again for this thought provoking Blog post. Adding your link to my Blog now.

For those of us in Oregon, I highly suggest this FABULOUS organization to be book marked. They have helped me tremendously in my efforts to get the ferals in my area spayed and neutered. The Oregon Spay and Neuter Fund

>^,,^<

Painting 101

OK< here's the first installment of my very first Painting. I am using the layering techniqu, since it is more forgiving for the steep learning curve I have ahead of me.

The first underlayer of white


The second underlayer of burnt umber


Got some greens in for the background


Added in some yellows for shadings


Here's my first layer of the fur, in burnt umber mixed with black


That's it until I get the next roll developed. I am actually delighted, it seems like some REAL artist is channeling through me, because it's turning out pretty nice ! Obviously, as I go along, I have to change where I photograph this painting, AND subsequently, where I paint, as the light hits the paint and just vanishes it in glare.

>^,,^<

Painting 101

REALLY steep learning curve, I had to start a journal as well to write down my successes and failures IE: my lessons... Still have so many to go! so much to learn..

For instance, what are the benefits and weaknesses of going from light-to-dark paint, VS dark-to-light paints?

I find that the InterNets often don't have the information I require, OR I don't have the questions phrased correctly enough for Google to Google.

Sketching in my second canvas. The first one is coming along well. Since the subject is mostly dark, I have been painting dark-to-light. If I tried light-to-dark, I'd have these eyes staring out from deep within the recesses of dark fur, quite over whelming them, methinks. I want the eyes to dominate the picture.

Obviously a SHORT blog post, I get to go to dinner with my Sweetie. For Valentine's Day. *beam* Happy Chocolate Dreams !

>^,,^<

The Paintbox of my Mind !

Well, I did it ! I scrimped and saved, and I sent away for some new oil painting brushes. The rat bastadge Movers Paul Arpin Van Lines (now Arpin Van Lines) the most HORRIBLE unethical bunch of ratbastadge nincompoop idiots I EVER had the misfortune of dealing with, lost one (of many) of my belongings, this one was a box of art supplies, which included couple hundred dollars worth of nice brushes.

PS~ If you ever want to have your furniture destroyed, (broken hardwood table legs, scratches a quarter of an inch deep on your hardwood dressers) your belongings lost, (boxes, my Hammond organ for three months, and when they found it, it no longer works, so I have to hire a tube specialist to repair it) with the added bonus of having your contract doubled upon arriving and having the rest of your belongings held hostage until you can pony up twice as much CASH as you had agreed upon, PLUS having the delightful experience of being told by the district attorney's office that there ain't ONE damned thing they are willing to do about it, regardless of how many pictures you have supplied of ravaged belongings.. I tell you, it's like a rape. So, if you want to just rape yourself with no vaseline, hire Paul Arpin Van Lines to do your moving for you ! They will gladly lie to you and take your money for inferior service and superior destruction.

But I digress.

I wanted to get a lovely set of laminated wooden rainbow-colored brushes by Papillon but I can no longer find them online, and the gal who said she'd order them for me has been just too busy to keep her promise, darn it... She's juggling lots of plates! So I had to settle. But I got a nice deal, good sturdy wooden handles, came with a nice wooden case, natural bristle brushes... And I picked up some turpentine to clean my brushes when I'm done for the day, and a couple of palettes.

I had taken a beautiful picture of Nihki Roxie, she's looking straight at me, and it's nice and sharp. So I gathered all my materials, my easel and canvasses that Dian & Mary Claire bought me, my paint box full of paints, my new brushes, an old sheet, and I am beginning a new project!

I have successfully translated what I see on the photograph onto the canvas, using a pencil, and I called my friend Jane who is an artist and we talked for about an hour on my next step. I didn't want to lose the detail and I've never oil painted before ! *laughs* I can't take a photo of the canvass at THIS point, pencil does not photograph well at all.. But I will take some pictures of the progress as I go along.

I realized I have to get a few more tubes of paint, and I must get some linseed oil before I can start putting brush to canvas, but I've been studying, and learning, and getting my fingers dirty exploring the colors I do have.... OOOOOOO rainbow fingers!

I'm quite excited, and I hope that I can translate what I "see" in my head with what I put on the canvas!

>^,,^<

Goodbye, Granny

About three and a half years ago, I adopted/rescued 2 Oberhausli goats. My good friend Dorrie, an elderly Gentlewoman who lives alone, asked me if I could take them, because she had fallen, spent some time in the hospital, and was now finding it very difficult to take care of them. Their names were Granny, and her son, Joey, a wether. Granny had spent most of her life tethered, but not Joey, because he wouldn't go anywhere without his Mama.

This put my goat count to five. I had the two Nubian Princesses, Corazon and Tattoo, Granny & Joey, and Chevy, a white Pygora wether who came to Wolfdancer Creek last year. I call them the Royal Goat Court.

With the help of my friend Greig, (who is a Blessing!) we (read that HE, because I didn't do much except hold one end of the fencing) fixed most of the old perimeter fencing, and fenced some areas off limits. I have a rather long row of beautiful large leafed Rhododendrons lining the west side of my pond, and rhodies are very poisonous to goats, plus, I have my gardens, and my fruit trees, and goats are notorious tree killers, and garden vegetable pillagers.

So they have about 3 acres to browze in, plus the neighbors' wild piece of property which they are quickly denuding of blackberries.

Now, when I adopted Granny and Joey, they weren't in the best of shape. They were both VERY thin, Granny's tummy was huge, but all her hip bones and spine bones were easily counted from afar.... Joey was rail thin. Their fur was very rough, dull and coarse. I wormed them several times, put them on minerals and grain, and good hay, and let them freely wander the 3 acres to browze at their heart's content. Within about a year, their fur was shiny and glossy and soft to touch, they both had put on 30-50 pounds, and they looked very nice and healthy!

Dottie told me she thought Granny was about 11 years old. So she was real close to around 14 plus years old. That's quite elderly for a goat!

On Wednesday, the other goats jostled her around while I was passing out treats and hay, and she went down, back legs splayed behind her. I shooed the other goats off, and helped her up, and gave her some extra treats and skritches, which is my wont. Granny is a VERY sweet friendly goat, and actively solicits attention. On Thursday, I gave them all treats, and she was doing well. I THOUGHT she was ok yesterday, but I didn't go treat them. I could've sworn I saw her up and around, but now, I don't think so. This morning, when Greig went up to refill the hay barrel with a lovely orchard-alfalfa mix, he found her dead. :~(

We spent most of the afternoon digging a very deep hole in the hard, damp clay. (At least it was not in the summer months, when it's baked hard!) We got a big bag of lime, because BooBoo the Bear has been around again, I saw his scat about. We placed Granny in her grave, limed her, then I covered her with a blanket of autumn leaves, and we buried her. I told her to Go to God, and that I'd be seeing her over the Bridge. I told her that I genuinely was honored to know her, and I felt as if we hadn't had as much time together as I would have wished.

So for the last 3 years of her life, she got to wander free of tethers, got to eat her fill, and I got to know a very sweet goat. I shall miss her a great deal.

>^,,^<

My Tribe

People ask me often what I mean by "My Tribe". They wonder if I am Native American (I am part Iroquoix, and part Apache biologically, and definitely NA for my Spirit.)
A long long while ago, in a universe far far away, in a (then) small town in San Diego (Yes, Virginia, there used to be a close-knit small town aura in SoCal) there was a group of people who went to the same High School, called El Capitan.

"Sycamores and Mighty Mountains, Colors, Black and Gold! These will be our inspirations as our lives unfold ! Guide us to the understanding of our fellow man, lead us all to new horizons, Hail El Capitan!" Thirty-something years later, in 2010, I will be in a group of people in the Golden Dragon, watching the Cameltones, when the drummer will slip next to us during break, and we will, all eight of us, burst into our alma mater song. How many folks remember your High School Alma Mater song? I graduated in 1975, and I still remembered it! *laughs*

I lost many of my photographs from high school, when an idiot I was engaged to, Van Meers, burned them in a fit of weird inappropriate jealousy. But my friend Cathy has several! I am going to try to see if I have some more in photo books .. This is one of Cathy's of our Choir group. Everyone was supposed to dress up in flapper gear, but as I recall, 1) I was NOT "grrrly" or flapper-ish, and 2) we were pretty broke, and unless it was Theatre clothing, there wasn't any extra money for costumes. So I wore my street clothes. Somewhere, I still have these jeans, and their "partner" set, owned by Jeff, and still around with him, as well! Heavily embroidered and stitched with love, they are vintage cloth art! :~D
So guess which one I am.

This past New Years, I visited with my Mom, my Family and my Tribe, where I spent not-enough time with way too much laughter. My friends threw me a party which was inventive and very fun! Here are some more pictures from that party. These are my Tribe.
The culprits and Master Minds of the concept, soon to be an annual event

My Dear Friends Chris and Larry

Tim, myself, Jeff & Robert watching the Music makers

Jeff gives good hugs !

MarBaby, Randy, Robert & Tim around the campfire.. Hey what's a great party without fire?

Steve & Sam jamming.. I was struggling with the creeping crud and was terribly hoarse with a sore throat, else I'd've been singing with them! That was my only sorrow !

Sam Steve and John

I was in my element! Friends and music *happy sigh*

Larry, Ralphie, Chris & Jani

Cathy and my Baby Boy, Teeghkii, whom she baby sat for me whilst I was rehearsing at the theatre or working. Teeghkii still remembers her very fondly!

So there's part of my Tribe. An Elder once told me that Family can be born into or chosen, and they are both to be Honored as Special. As I have gotten older, I have realized just how special this bond has been! Hardly anyone I know has had this kind of still-close bond, despite time, despite distance, despite changes, despite all the living we have had between then and now. Most of met each other in High School, or in our early twenties. We have saved eachother's lives, we have held eachother's hearts in ours. These are people I am Honored to call friends. They are my Tribe.

>^,,^<

First Annual All Howl-i-Daze Party

When I went to visit my Mom & Tribe, Cathy and Jani threw a GREAT party for me, the First Annual All Howl-i-Daze Party, where we celebrated all the holidays that I missed, such as
Easter,

St. Paddy's Day,

Fourth of July (there were even fireworks!),

Fat Tuesday,

We did THAT one up!

and Cinco de Mayo.

In no particular order. I just got to go to the Designated Table, and call out a Howliday to celebrate ! So many folks showed up, folks I hadn't seen in FAR too long ...
Like Sam,

and Mar Baby

and Jeff .. Here he is with the OTHER tallest man in my world, Chris !

OMG! it was so good to see him and Larry !


and well, everybody. Cathy even stayed till the very end, and she NEVER stays out late anymore ! I'm still awaiting another set of pics from Jani. My cheeks and belly ached for days from the grinnin and the laughin and the singin and the *happy*happy*joy*joy* It was just the best party I've been to since .. well, since a long long long time. Since the last great Tribal gathering!



It appears as if I have reached an unspoken limit for pictures in this post --go figure!- So I shall write another one ! With pictures of the music makers...and more...

>^,,^<

Tales of Terrorist Toothpaste Transgressions!

Now, I know (now) that some idiot terrorist nincompoop tried to blow up an airplane on Christmas Day but I grow weary of common sense being so... well, uncommon. On Dec 28th, I tried to fly to San Diego to see my Mom, and visit my Tribe. It took me 13 hours to fly a 2 & a half hour flight. I certainly made two large mistakes:
#1 I told the truth
and #2 I don't watch television, so I knew nothing about the idiot with a bomb.

Because I just HAVE to find the sunny side of every shadow, I figured I'd write about it. There's plenty of laughter in the tale, much of it in a keystone cops kind of way :~D Much of it at my own expense.

Picture it, if you will. Our heroine blithely approaches the airport, little knowing that she is about to step into: The Twilight Zone.

Since 9/11, I have flown five times with the same "personals" bag in my luggage. It's a three-fold bag which hangs on the back of a door. VERY handy for traveling! It's filled with clear, see-through plastic pockets where you put ungents and potions, lotions and whatnots, toothpaste, shampoos, & conditioners. You know, Grrrrl stuff. So why on Earth would I even think that any of these ungents and potions and toothpaste might NOW be considered dangerous weapons of mass destruction?

The Security Cop fellow is hollarin' about everyone having to place their ungents and potions and whatnots in a plastic Ziploc baggies. I think this is retarded, since there's all these clear plastic windows in my well-traveled personals bag, but I've learned to shrug and follow instructions, so I do this thing.

When I am checked through with my boarding pass, I get told my toothpaste is too big. I have, you guessed it, Terrorist Toothpaste. Right alongside the Terrorist Toothpaste is my Biosilk & Pantene hair conditioner. Those of you who know me, know I have fairly long -middle of my back- quite curly fine hair, and if I don't use superior hair products it gets brittle. And man, there is little in this world more embarrassing than to go around town looking like a frayed Q-tip. The folks say "Just throw it away", but who the heck has about $50.00 bucks extra to spend to replace this kind of stuff in this economy?? They say bag checks cost $15.00 bucks, go back and check your bag.

OK, fine. I hobble off to the baggage check in, and as I hobble, I call my ride, who has walked away a mere THREE MINUTES earlier, dagnabbit, but he does not answer. I wonder still, just what he thought about those 5 frantic phone calls (and a partridge in a pear tree!) The ga at the baggage check-in recognizes me, but tells me it's too late for her counter, hurry inside. I hurry inside, stand in a hurried line, hobble hurriedly, and get told "Well, you should have come here first." riiiiiiiiiiiiiight. It's too late to check my bags, I'm told, the line didn't hurry hurriedly enough. I ask them to call the gate, cuz I'm a'comin', and she says she will. So I hurriedly hobble to the post office right next to the gate, and mail my Terrorist Toothpaste and Companion Potions back to myself, and re-enter the boarding line. I go through security for the second time, hobble to the gate, and I MADE IT! with 7 minutes to spare!

But Lo! & Behold! The lady at the baggage claim did NOT call the gate, and they will not allow me to board. *sigh* I get told that there's no flights out until tomorrow ! I actually grabbed my lips and squeezed them together in order that they not drop copious and illegal F-bombs about. I suppose I looked as if my head were going to pop off, because after about 20 minutes, they found me another flight... with three connectors.. Puddle jumper. From Portland, Oregon PDX to San Jose, from San Jose to Los Angeles, and from Los Angeles to San Diego, arriving at 11:30 pm. It is 10:30 am, and I have been at the airport now for an hour and 45 minutes.

I am NOT a good flyer, I'm a white-knuckled take-off-and-land OMG I hate this kind of flyer. This is NOT a roller coaster, this is NOT a Disney ride, we are all thousands of feet up in the air and even the elephants look like ants ... if I had a magnifying glass that big .....

But the silver lining was, at least I was in Portland. Because those OTHER three airports are, well, not as nice as PDX. On PDX, they have live music. Every time I've been there, there's someone plugged into an amp, playing music. Steel drums, pan pipes, acoustic guitar, violin, it's all beautiful. So if you ever have to spend 7 hours stuck in an airport, I hope you wind up stuck in Portland, because at least they're civilized.

In San Jose, you have to go to an entirely different airport to change planes, consequently ensuring you get to go through customs, errrr security, errrr jail... or whatever they call it now yet another time. You get to go OUT of one airport, catch a bus, and go IN through more security, strip ... and hurry and wait. In L.A., well, what can you say about L.A. except their airplanes all look like great white sharks in a feeding frenzy with brightly colored fiesta fins.

The puddle jumpers did make for lovely lights. Since most folks still had their Christmas lights up, it looked like someone had spilled chests filled with jewels across the dark velvet landscape, jewels lit from within by luminous fireflies of loveliness. The skyscrapers and office buildings were festooned with garlands of rubies, diamonds, sapphires and emeralds cascading down their sides. It was quite beautiful. So beautiful, in fact, that I almost forgot to be scared! In San Diego, I get all sorts of excited when I land in San Diego, because I know I'll get to see my Family and my Tribe. That makes it all sweet.

When I finally got into San Diego, picked up by my little sister Laurie, may angels sleep on her shoulder, I learned why #1 was so incredibly foolish of me. (You remember reason #1, don't you??) There, in that personals bag, was a 6 oz. brown glass bottle, unmarked, unlabeled, with about an inch of clear oil in it. My friend Greig makes this WONDERFULLY scented oil which I use at the ends of my hair, and on my arms and legs. It mixes well with lotions, and has a lasting and lovely fragrance of herbs and essential oils. In my purse, I also had a small nail knife, you know those Swiss Army knives for nail care? about 2" long. Can you imagine the mischief I could have caused with that dangerous weapon? Stewardesses threatened by pedicures at knife point! Film at eleven! So if I had just left my toothpaste and ungents and such in my personals bag, I'll betcha I would have had NO problems at all.

Teach ME to be honest and forthcoming ! *bah*

Till the next great adventure ! Onward to the next star and to the right !

>^,,^<

The Golden Book of Possibilities Chapter One

Merry Christmas, first of all, and a Happy Glorious Rich and Juicy New Year!

I have this problem. Sometimes when I read, I read things cockeyed. It's not quite dexlysia, because it's not backwards, it's just... different. For example, "Sycuan Bingo Palace" easily becomes "Szechuan Bingo Police", and leads one to wonder, what will they do? "M'am, You didn't finish your Kung Pao Chicken. I'm afraid we'll going to have to fine you 30 chips."

So I find this note that I have written reminding me of something or other, and it says "The Golden Book of Possibilities". And I think, wow ! that's cool... It's like the Little Golden Book series we had as kids, filled with POSSIBILITIES! No wait, it's really the "Garden Book of Perennials", but man I am running with it.

So this then, is Chapter One of "The Little Golden Book of Possibilities."

The hoar frost sits crunchy and heavily on the grass crispy and white as a fine dusting of snow, but not. It is crystalline, it is magic, it's a tweener thing, hoar frost, not snow, not ice, not water, not quite solid. And it makes the most mundane things glorious. A piece of garden netting becomes lace left behind by the garden faes hurried dawn flight.

The guinea hens patrol the backyard, in an amoeba movement ,three for all, and all for three.

I got some pictures back of my puppy Grrrrl. Here is one particularly lovely one. I think she is a stunningly beautiful grrrrl.



Off to Seattle for Christmas dinner!

Chapter Two will be forthcoming.

>^,,^<

Morning Jewels, Dangerous Dreaming

This past week has been a difficult one for plants, animals and people. Each morning, I would heat up a 2 gallon pot of water on my trusty propane stove, and defreeze all the animals' water buckets. This was repeated each evening. For a week, we never got above freezing at our daytime highs. For the Yards up top, for Teeghkii & Chance, and the Goat Royal Court, I used my wee wagon. I found a 5 gallon bucket I saved from earlier which has a rubber seal inside the lid, so it will seal, and stay sealed even if I accidentally tip the wagon over. Which I did every time, for some reason. Clumsy I guess :~)

It was a dry cold, with no moisture. I am hoping I will not lose too many plants. Plants don't much care to get frozen solid with dry roots. So we scrambled this past week.

Yesterday, the rains came. It was freezing rain, a constant drizzley very "wet" rain which soaked every thirsty thing. This morning when I went outside to hie me off to work, leaving a half an hour early just in case -which didn't help much- the sun poured golden over the landscape filtering through the diamond-festooned trees in beams of syrupy light. Each leaf, each branch, the seed heads I leave for the birds, all were bedazzled by frozen pieces of moonlight captured for the dawn.

The ground was slick with an invisable layer of treachery. I scraped and scraped to chip the ice off the windshield, resisting the urge to dump a pot of hot water all over the windshield. I know where that will lead, and it's not pretty. Started the truck up and reached the end of driveway. I got out and took a couple of steps into the street, and watched a truck pass on by with no troubles. My halting steps were quite like skiing with no skis, so I pulled the chains out and attached them to my back tires. Pulling out of the driveway, I noticed my wee truck skittering like a spooky colt. Fishtailing and bucking, I slowly made my way in first gear down the middle of the street praying no-one would be coming up the hill, or pull out from a driveway.

As I crept down my quite steep hill, I noticed the sunlight stroking the frozen leaves with tender ministrations. The beams prismed through each diamond drop casting tiny rainbows hither and yon. As I passed beneath the trees as they lean across the road, they dropped a mist of hail, of frozen solid raindrops losing their grip on their perches pummeling passers-beneath. The sunlight bathed the larger trees with silver light, illuminating each tiny drop as they fell.

I had to pay close attention to my squirrely truck as she wiggled and giggled down the hill, but the sight of all those crystalline raindrops clinging to their leafy boughs was glorious! It was beautiful. It was treacherous. It was dangerous dreaming filled with morning jewels.

>^,,^<

Love Song to a Small Town

Love Song to a Small Town
****************************

Solitude


34*
Snow alights treacherously down upon the railings of the deck overlooking the pond disguised as fat innocent puffy soft flakes
where the ducks sleep restlessly
one eye open for the black bear in the orchard
one eye open for the coyotes trash talking behind the dog yards.
Our wolfdogs trash talk them right back
the hillside rings with the singing of the Brethren
Wolf & Coyote.

The guinea hens spook at every shadow which passes overhead, hawk or sparrow, it is all the same to them, all is danger, all is sorrow
They have short memories, however, and as soon as the shadow is gone, they go back to their chuckling and hunting.

I wonder if the bugs they hunt do the same shrieking and hiding as they spy the dangerous shadows of the guineas.

I wanted solitude, I wanted to touch the wild within me
the wild which was being smothered in the smog of Southern California,
crushed beneath the developers’ mitigating circumstances
as they bulldoze yet another riparian area unto insignificance.
I hungered for the solitude and quiet
and that, I got, in spades.
Now widowed, I have all the solitude I can stand.

This past week, I missed a bill, and have been disconnected
from the internet.
Like Joni sings, you don’t know what you’ve lost ‘till it’s gone
and like an ache, like a shadow limb severed unbeknownst to the brain which thinks it still controls it,
I miss the connection.
I miss the daily chat and the silly games.
I miss hearing the voice of the man I am seeing before I sleep.

And I wonder about that
as I watch the crackling of the ice which covers the pond
like traceries and veins of the Mother
a milky slip of crenalated silk overlaying the deep violet blue of the pond
with the stumps arising from the depths like loons in the mist
No matter how many times I pass them knowing what they are, I still give them a second glance to make sure they have not shape-shifted into the Earth Birds that I know they really are.
Grounded frozen into the pond, dreaming of flight.

Love is for the young they say, and if that is so,
I am still so very young,
Because I love
I love
I love
Strong and different this time ‘round, more direct
patient yet urgent
patient yet passionate
patient yet wild like the howls of the wolves.

Time does that to a person.
I always thought I would disappear into a puff of blue smoke
when I hit 30.
I did not.
Instead, I moved to Oregon and started a new life
where I watch the snow drift silent down upon this land
where I love
where I live
where I have found the solitude I wanted
and the love that I needed
and the life I never knew I could have.

12-4-09

Garden Blogger's Bloom Day

Drat drat and double drat. Having had one of "those months", I was unable to get my pictures developed. The derned mortgage company asked for a check, cashed my check, and then did a direct withdrawal on top of that, thus double charging me. So I have had to be very frugal, and limit my spending to canned cat food and medicines for Sunny the ailing kitty --Fatty Liver Syndrome due to stress. I spent two months solid giving her 100-150 ml of subQ injections of saline and normal saline with electrolytes twice per day, and tempting her pallet with canned tuna mixed with gourmet canned cat food. She has now OFFICIALLY turned the corner, and gained TWO POUNDS! YAY! - and my monthly 300 pounds of raw chicken quarters for the Song Dogs. For myself, I have been gleening treasures from the freezer. :~) And once per week when I get to see my friend Greig, he brings dinner makin's, and I cook them.

But there has not been that silly little millimeter extra to pay for the development of film. So my Garden Blogger's Bloom Day pictures are all at the developers awaiting my tender checkbook ministrations!

Got some nice shots of last call roses, a couple of erysimum varigatas who shall NOT give up the ghost! some moss phlox, some tarrying black-eyed susans, and a few berries. So my pictures shall be late! You will have to take my word that there are still some hardy lovelies up here in the nippy Pacific Northwest.

Yesterday, I startled four swallows or swifts -deeply "V"d tails, stark black and white color, smallish birds - who had been busily de-bugging our third greenhouse. How delightful! They flitted along the roof line of the filmed roof, and then made a beeline for the open door.. One I had to help a bit, he got confused. All got out safely! And I hope they know they are well and truly welcomed to come eat bugs in our greenhouses any ol' time they wish!

Happy Blooming!!!

>^,,^<

On Mothers and Daughters

Right about this time of year, regular as clockwork, dependable as the setting of the sun, I find myself getting melancholey and thinking of stuff. Now, as we all know, I AM a Problem Thinker so it shouldn't be surprising, this deep contemplation of mine.

I waver between sorrow and gratitude. Sorrow for the losses and loneliness, gratitude for the many Blessings I have. I miss my Family, I miss my childhood, I miss my Tribe. I miss the familiar places of my youth. I am grateful for my new Tribe, I am incredibly grateful for the paradise and cornucopia of richness of my home.

I have much to be grateful for this Thanksgiving. Even if I wind up spending it alone (I might just cook a turkey for leftovers) it'll all be well.

And one of my deepest Blessings is my Mommy. My Mama and I are as two peas in seperate pods. Grown of different types of peas. She's a Pole pea, I'm a Bush pea. :~) This has caused us no lack of consternation and frustration throughout my life, for both of us. Our differences are enough to make us butt heads, and our similarities are enough to make us butt heads.

As you might guess, we have spent much of our lives butting heads.

But my Mama is a wonderful, strong woman with a heart as big as Texas. I remember once, I was sent home from school and kicked off the bus for causing trouble. But I WASN'T. The kids behind me were. The bus driver was just fed up with their ofttimes violent shenanigans, and blew up. She wasn't feeling inclined to listen to another kid. The School was not inclined to listen to another kid, either. So I was sent home, with now, no way to get to school for the rest of the month for something I hadn't done. When Mama got home from work and I told her what happened, she took the next morning off, and drove me to school. She marched up to the bus driver, told her to get her hiney into the office NOW! and then proceeded to march into the office. With my hand held firmly in hers, she was every bit as intimidating as any drill sargeant. She read them all the riot act. I was back on the bus that afternoon.

Once we had a van big enough to transport the Irish and kids and accoutrement of dog shows hither and yon. It blew some part- transmission part, as I recall- and Mama took it to Car Doc (I THINK that was the name. They are no longer in business) for an estimate and repairs. They gave my Mom an estimate. Two days later, when we went to go pick it up, that estimate had tripled, and they refused to give the van back, or to honor the estimate. OR to produce what work had been done! My Amazon Princess Mom went down their entire counter with an armsweep and cleared it all to the floor. Then went home and hired a lawyer. Car Doc released our van at the estimate price the next week.

Once, I was feeding the horses, and Mom had gone into the shed to fetch more hay, when I heard ear-splitting terrifying shrieks of sheer horror. I came rushing into the shed, to find my Mama, the Amazon Princess, standing on a small chair screaming. I got her calmed down enough to divulge the nature of the beast who had so frightened her. My Mama, the bravest woman in the world besides my Grammy, had been treed by a mouse. I have to admit that I lost it. I just started to laugh so hard that I couldn't stand, and fell into the hay rolling in peels of laughter, later to be pummeled by flakes of hay by my brave and treed mama.

Another time, as we were riding our horses down the River bottom, Mama all dolled up in her new saddle, new boots, new fancy Western riding gear, new tooled leather bridle, me with my recalcitrant shetland pony Star (who in their right mind EVER gives a child a shetland? They are as mean as junkyard dogs! Get a Welch. Taller, yes, but EVER so much more companionable) with my well-oiled hand-me-down gear. I tried to tell Mama not to take the path she was aimed at, because there was a deep spot there, but Mama didn't listen to me. She was a VERY good rider, but I have always been in tune with horses. The horse Mama was riding LOVED water! LOVED it. Would drop and wallow in the shallowest bit of a mud puddle jut slike a pig. She whickered softly, I saw her ears prick deeply forward and an excited gleam flash in her eyes. I started to say "Mama! Watch ou...." and that horse bunny hopped into the deep spot and rolled. With Mama still attached. When the horse was done, Mama looked a wee tad bedraggled. All her beautiful clothes and all her new gear was caked and dripping with black eluvial river bottom silty sticky mud.

Oh and that was not the END of my poor mama's humiliation at the hooves of that rascally horse! Nay! Later, Mama was talking about something, and she turned just as a HUGE grasshopper flew straight into her open mouth! I heard a *crunch* and then a splutter more splutters, gagging and spitting as Mama tried to get that nasty grasshopper out of her mouth, along with that nasty brown "tobacco" stuff that squished grasshoppers emit. It was not a pretty sight. It was, however, a very FUNNY sight.

Mama has two birthdays. One is tomorrow, November 16th, which is the day she was born. The other one is the one she is most proud of, as that is her AA Birthday, the day she quit drinking. It's in April. I am so very proud of her! Our Family is all so very proud of her. It was a terrible struggle, and she deserves to be proud of this accomplishment.

For years, round about this time of year, Mama would disinherit me for one dumb reason or another, a threat to which I would shrug and tell her I was never in it for the money anyway. Round about this time of year, Mama and I would almost inevitably get into some kind of silly row. I wound up dreading this time of year. But we have both grown up, my Mommy and me.

Mama had me when she was still very young, and my Grammy kind of took over the job of raising me. When Mama had my sister Lynell, she was much better prepared to have a child. There were many times when I felt so sad that "Mama didn't love me like she loved Lynell", that "Lynell was always Mama's favorite", and all the typical sibling sorrow and Maternal angst. Now I know that Mama did the best she could. We all make mistakes that we wish we could take back. Sometimes we are not afforded the time to make it up. Sometimes we are not given the time to ask forgiveness, nor to give it.

I am Blessed. I get to see my Mommy for New Years', and spend some time with her, and I get to spend some time with my Tribe. We shall sing in the New Year, this shiney new bauble of 2010. I have the opportunity to have the time to be with my Mommy. It feels so incredibly blessed to find my True Friend in my Mother. I love you, Mommy!

>^,,^<

All Souls Day

Yesterday was tricksy. It was the first anniversary in which Vinnie has been dead. It took me a while to write that sentence, I wanted to say "Vinnie was with the Angels", but that is a euphemism meant to make the fact of Vince's death less painful to see in writing. Yet, it's true, he's one of my Guardian Angels now.

Now I know there are those who do not believe in that. And there is the distinct possibility that I believe because I WANT to believe, because it is comforting to believe that he is with me still, is with all of us who loved him. In the same way I believe in the Rainbow Bridge, I believe I shall see him again.

I guess that proves that I count our Animal friends as important as our human friends. I shall see them all again, in the great by and by. It's taken me a bit of a while to write this. There is much sorrow, still much anger, and now I find that there are regrets.

As often as we say to ourselves --nay, as often as I have told myself that I shall not make the same mistakes, I find -in hindsight- that I did. I made the same mistake, and I have made this painful one thrice.

And as I am want, I find a smidge of dark humor in my grief, and in my exploration of it. I am now -in some Churches- a blasphemer! In the same umbrella of Christianity, I would be stoned, or burned at the stake as a witch, or tossed in the pond with stones clutched to my breast knowing the proof of my non-witchiness was my death by drowning. How droll! I believe that Animals and Trees and Plants and even Rocks have Souls, have personaility, have intelligence, and were created by the same Source as I. Are thus deserving of the same basic respect. HA! Ah well, so be it.

But Halloween was my Anniversary (see above, I am STILL irreverant!) and my first Anniversary as a widow. And November First was All Saint's Day, when the Catholic Church Honors all the Saints of History. But November 2nd is the day I get confused with. This is All Souls Day, when we hold our Ancestors and Those Who Have Passed close to our hearts, the day when we Remember. In Mexico, and in many of the Catholic countries of South America, All Souls Day is a time of Gifting, of sharing memories, of Celebrations of Life. In Cancun, we all danced in the streets, like Carnivale, a festival time, irreverant, smiling and joyous of memory of those people who look over our shoulders from beyond the veil. (Another interesting euphemism) I baked sweets for the children, and helped prepare the evening meal for my roomies. And then I partied like it was 1983. (which it was)

When I moved to Oregon, I lost Grammy's ashes for some months before I could find the box her box was in. So I have her ashes in my breakfront, her very favorite piece of furniture. It's in my dining room, where she can be with me.

So as I remember these two very important people in my life, I also have to face the mistakes I made. The times when I was frustrated and not kind. The times when I was neglectful. The times when I was distant. The things I could have done better. I am trying hard to forgive myself for the unkind moments I allowed myself with both of these people. Despite my excuses and my reasons, the fact remains, that if I am ever in the position again, I hope I remember writing this. I hope I remember the sleepless nights I have tossed and turned through berating myself for my times of frustration and my unkindness.

I'm reading a very interesting book called "The Bitch, The Crone, and the Harlot" I resisted for a few months, because I found those terms oddly offensive. But I went ahead, and I am reading it, and I have found -besides Ms Schachterle's use of those three terms, chosen on purpose- much to learn within its pages. I will try to remember. I will hold my memories close to my heart. I will learn from my mistakes, and embrace the lessons.

And here, on this windy November morning, the sharp wind picks up the fountain's small geyser and casts it sideways. The water resumes its' carressing of the concrete figure in its' path, the form of a maiden water bearer. I wonder if there's a lesson there?

May all your Blessings not have to wait until Thanksgiving to be present in your life.

>^,,^<

That's IT! The Winged Garden is having a face lift

I'll bet you thought I was kidding when I said I was "busy making terrible landscaping mistakes", well, dang me, dang me, it's all true.

One of my biggest mistakes, and one I shall never repeat, let me assure you! was mulching for the Winter with straw. bright, fresh, bedding straw. Which, as the Spring came creeping along, germinated into lush, rooty, tall and pugnacious grasses. They have completely over run all my perennials. Plus, they have harboured the shrews and vholes, the bane of my Winged Garden's existance. Those evil rodentia ate the roots off all of my phormiums, and my EverGold Sedge. I don't even know what else they got their grubby little mitts on!

So this Winter, as the weather permits, I am going to pull, yank, cut and pummel the grasses into submission. Once they are properly submissive, I plan to use the newspapers that I have been collecting for 2 years, and lay them down to smother what's left. I shall cut out holes and spaces for the remaining perennials who are still fighting the good fight.. Such as a wonderful Geranium sanguineum 'Elke'.(or cranesbill) that I propogated at Clackamas Community College with jenny Ward 9the greatest propogation teacher in the whole wide world!); 2 beautiful Firepower Nandinas ; a Common Upright Rosemary Officianalis which is not listening to the naysayers about its' tenderness in my Zone; the Buddleias - a Royal Red , a couple of Black Knights ; and a couple of the standard Common lavender with the orange centers .. And most of the Lavenders made it. The Scarlet Monardo made it, as well as the Salvia Officianalis 'Purpurascens'. Mine's a much darker purple, tho, and it always sings as I pass by it. (You know the tune! and lookie what I found!) I think the golden sage made it as well. The Lucifer Crocosmia made it, but I do not know whether the Emily McKenzie made it, (I have another pot of that in the greenhouse, tho.. Yay!) and I don't know if the Solfaterre made it... I shall have to find another, and protect it from the ravages of the root scourges. I LOVE the foliage of this crocosmia!

Everything else is either smothered, yet to be re-discovered, or sacrificed to the dining pleasure of the shrews and vholes. Whom, as you remember, I loathe.

So, I think I shall do my best to remove all the grasses, lay down newspaper mulch, cover that with a thick layer of bark mulch, clean around the surrounding plants, and mulch heavily with the back chips.

Then I shall drag my ceramic bathtub up from the blackberry prison that it has been trapped in, and fill it with soil. I shall plant my phormiums and some trailing plants in the bathtub, something which will hide the back of the tub. Then I'm going to collect all my wine barrels, and cedar boxes, and place them around inside the Winged Garden, and plant them up with the plants which the vholes and shrews showed such interest in. I'm going to pull out a big stump, and put my solar-powered fountain on top of it, and my two sun chasers around.

A new look! A new plan! Perhaps a little ambitious, but I'll bet it'll look pretty cool! Well, this is exactly what Winter is for. To plan how to correct terrible landscaping mistakes!

>^,,^<