love – The Hermits' Rest

Of My Two Keys: Turkey and Donkey

Hey, not too much broke today, and though we have to wait for an air conditioning part, a convenient “cold” front came through, so sleeping won’t be too bad tonight. This leaves me with my observation for today.

First, I have an admission. As much as I like birds, I rarely get attached to them. I was fond of Bertie Lee, my old chicken, but I try not to get too attached after living through a couple of grisly chicken massacres. Nonetheless, I find myself feeling as much love for Connie Gobbler, my sweet turkey lady. I love her happy greeting chirps and the way she stretches her turkey neck out to be rubbed. She’s just so friendly and funny. It’s hard not to love her.

Anyway, she has a new habit. When I’m in the pen feeding them and filling the water dishes, she silently sneaks up on me. I feel a presence and turn around to see her beak, less than an inch from my leg, as she stands as closely as she can get. I think she’s figured out she gets extra love and petting when she does that. It’s a weird feeling realizing your fowl is stalking you.

Today I thought to myself that she reminded me of someone. Hmm. Oh yes, Fiona. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve been in the horse pens or out in the pasture doing a chore or working with a horse when I move slightly and realize Fiona’s nose is next to my leg. She’s completely silent and just shadows me until I pay her some attention.

If asked my preference, I’d say I prefer the silently patient requests for attention I get from Connie and Fiona to some of the dogs’ and horses’ rowdier techniques or the standoffishness of Mabel and Spice (they are fine with little physical attention). I can’t argue with Dusty, either. He never fails to amble up and politely present his head for some good rubbing. He’s such a gentleman.

I’m not going to discourage the donkey and turkey from their silent stalking, for sure. I just know not to make any sudden moves or I’ll run into a pink nose or a beak attached to a pink featherless neck. I’ll take affection wherever it comes from, however it’s expressed.

Gobble gobble. (Clint is too happy with his fresh water to pose)

Pausing for Grief

My friend Gail died today. She was one of my small circle of high school friends who chat frequently. So, today am taking time to remember this strong, resilient, funny woman. Probably gonna do more of that tomorrow.

Four of us who struggled through high school together: me, Anita, Gail, Jana

I feel the worst for Jana, who lost her best friend today. Wow they were lucky to have each other to share tragedy and joy.

I bet Gail had no idea what she meant to some of us. We need to remind those we care about that we do care, through ups, downs, absences, and all that. Go hug your dear friends, or call, or text. I did a lot of that today. So glad for true friends, old and new.

We also lost this sweet high school friend recently. His presence is missed. I keep wondering why I haven’t seen him in social media.

And the tarot cards were eerie again. Yesterday was the 9 of Swords, grief. That was me, knowing Gail was failing.

Today was 6 of Cups, that healing circle of friends.

It looks like our group, with one friend transformed and swimming off.

And in the End…

…the love you take is equal to the love you make (Lennon/McCartney)

I re-learned this from a horse today, dear Mabel. Coincidentally, the blogging prompt today was about animals:

Which animal would you compare yourself to and why?

I have had an affinity with horses since I was a toddler, as I’ve frequently mentioned here. Even before I met my first horse, they made an impression in books and on television (I was a child when Westerns were popular, so you got to see lots of beautiful horses, and I read every horse book in the school library).

Horses always seemed to have good lives, mostly eating, hanging around with friends, and sleeping, with some running around to liven things up. That would work for me. Plus, as prey animals they look out for each other, but low rank horses get picked on by insecure bullies (a drama I often witness). That reminds me of how I ended up being very protective of friends and team members after dealing with a lot of bullying.

No wonder I like horses. They even have delicate digestive systems like me.

Mabel certainly has her issues. She’s choked twice.

As I’ve learned more about horses and how they interact with humans, it’s become so clear that your intention, your mood, and your demeanor affect them. It’s made a huge difference with me and Apache, and I’ve seen it break down with Drew due to his issues — no amount of good intentions has broken through his pain.

I’m just not able to help him like he needs to be helped. Makes me sad.

Healing can take time, and a horse in pain has trouble trusting people. That’s how Mabel was at first. Gradually, with good nutrition and care, she’s become healthy. And her attitude has shifted as well. I didn’t realize quite how much until the last couple of weeks, when she’s become downright friendly. All the love I’ve tried to pour into her may have helped, too.

This friendly expression makes me so happy.

This afternoon, after feeding everyone, I spent time removing winter hair and any new burs from each horse who’d let me. The last horse I groomed was Mabel, who isn’t as fuzzy as Dusty or Apache, but needs de-winterizing. I noticed how nicely she stood still and let me spend time on her, even lowering her giant head and asking to have it rubbed (I didn’t touch her head for at least two years).

I finished up, opened the gate to her pen, and set the grooming bucket down to keep the gate from hitting her when she left. But she didn’t leave. With her ears forward and eyes bright, she lowered her head so I could massage her neck. I ended up just holding this animal who’s as tall as me at her shoulders in my arms with her leaning her neck on my shoulder and her head cradling me. Other horses walked by us, but she didn’t move.

I remained with her. We watched a rabbit flee from a Harrier, then watched the bird hunt all over our field, still calmly sharing love (or safety or whatever a horse would call it) with each other. It was the most peaceful time I’ve ever had with Mabel. Since I’d already exchanged hugs, love, and peace with Dusty and Apache, I was all full of endorphins.

It’s not always this way, but lately these animals have repaid me for my efforts with so much. It’s the way relationships should be, giving and taking love as needed. It helps to identify with the animals, perhaps.

Farewell to Our Dear Friend

You may have heard that Goldie left this world today, about five months after her osteosarcoma ordeal began. The good news is that she didn’t really slow down until this week, and only got really bad today, not eating, having trouble standing, etc.

The three of us here at the ranch worked together to give Goldie a good last day. after many calls, the guys found a vet who would come here so she didn’t have to be hauled in and out of cars. I sat with her for the last hour before the vet arrived, with her head on my lap or in my arms. It was very peaceful and loving.

It was important to me that she have peace. I have had too many traumatic dog passings. I don’t want more if it can be helped. We knew this was coming, so we could prepare.

Describing what a special dog Goldie was is difficult. People say all Great Danes are sweet dogs. That may be so, but this one felt like a friend, a confidant, and a guardian all rolled into one.

She was a Mighty Huntress of skunks and armadillos, she was a goofy dinosaur head when she got excited, her tail was a danger to men of a certain height, and she looked at you with those golden eyes, so full of love…

The few years we had with Goldie weren’t enough. But that’s what she had for us. We will treasure our memories.

Goldie’s memorial bonfire, next to her very deep grave. Digging big holes is a good way to process grief.

Old, Parents, Worries

What were your parents doing at your age?

I’m still feeling old and irrelevant, just like my cousin J. And I’m incredibly sad to be watching my sweet Great Dane, Goldie, swiftly declining. Cancer is just awful. It makes me hesitant to have another giant dog.

And cancer is why I can’t tell you what my mother was doing at my age (pushing 67). She’d been dead four years, thanks to her nicotine addiction. I wish she’d had a less addictive personality. I know she loved us.

I was born, born in the 50s. I already look concerned.

When Dad was 66 I think he was at his happiest. If my memory is correct, he’d met my stepmother and was having fun hanging with friends, traveling, and working in his beloved flower gardens. What a contrast. Dad was great taking care of Mom. He deserved a time to have fun. (He married Flo, a woman just like quirky Mom only without addictions, so he had challenges later!) I loved my dad so much. What a great, flawed, very human human being he was.

Things sure are different for me. My parents grew more prosperous and felt safer as they aged. Boomers like me had no idea what they’d be in for as they grew older. This is not the future I’d envisioned.

Thanks to everyone who’s been reaching out. Knowing I have kind people in my life is a source of comfort.

Cute Birds and Bittersweet Memories

It was the best day in a long time for bird watching. Between my observations and the Merlin Bird ID, 51 species were found on our property. That’s pretty exciting for me. But more exciting was how entertained I was by all that I saw. Yes, I’m easily entertained. You knew that.

I swear this little White-crowned Sparrow looks like an egg with a tiny head on it.

I saw a beautiful Harrier swooping over the fields late this afternoon when working with Apache the Wonder Steed. We both watched.

Then right at sunset, while I was watching and listening to the sparrows (Harris’s, White-throated, Chipping, Song, and White-crowned) as they rustled through the leaves looking for bird stuff, something flew by. It was the Great Horned Owl heading to a tree. Thirty seconds later, it hit the ground. I guess it got a mouse. Spectacular.

I didn’t like that. What if the owl was after us cute songbirds? Circle of Life, yeah yeah.

That really helped me get through a hard day. It’s now six years since I heard from my son. He was a great kid. I hope he’s enjoying life. I think he is, and that’s good. I just miss this little charmer.

33 years and 8 months ago, 4 generations.

As the two older generations in that photo are no longer here to talk to, I’m the older generation now. My cousin Jan and I have been talking about that, since her dad, a good friend of my dad’s, passed a way a couple of days ago. We’re the elders. That feels so strange.

Three generations, me, Mom, and Aunt Belle, my grandmother’s twin. I was a senior in high school.

I hope I can stay in contact with the generation after me. Maybe someday my son, but if not, it’s his decision and I respect it. And I’m fine. I just allow myself one day a year to mourn the loss that I really don’t understand. Grief is always lurking.

My parents and me in 1958. I knew they loved me, even if none of us were perfect. Dad was 27. Mom was 36.

Once again, I ask you to stick close to your loved ones, your friends who support you, and your community. We need each other.

Committed to Telling People What They Mean to Me.

This afternoon, Lee, our friend Martha, and I drove back to our old haunt, Live Oak Unitarian Universalist Church in Cedar Park. Due to some PTSD (at least on my part), it doesn’t happen often. But there we were, right where we used to be.

And there I was, doing what I used to do, singing with Bill. He asked me to join him, so I tried to remember how to sing.

A dear friend, Esther, passed away recently, and the Celebration of Life was today. This couple was a role model for our marriage, support when Lee’s dad was ill. I sang in the church choir for many years with Jim, and he brought me fish and game from time to time (I loved threatening to make squirrel stew from his bounty). He hated squirrels as much as Anita does.

As I listened to Jim share the touching story of their long and loving marriage, followed by funny and moving stories about Esther from their children and more, it occurred to me how Esther would have enjoyed the evening. Gee, most of the family are professional writers, so anyone would have enjoyed it.

My choir and women’s group friends with Jim.

What sparked in me was a desire to let all my old friends I saw at the service know how much I appreciated them and their contributions to my life. I did a lot of extra-hard hugging of my women’s group buddies and former choir friends. And a few people were probably a bit embarrassed to hear me tell them how much they mean to me. I was sorry a couple of people had to leave early. I’d have blubbered even more.

I blubbered at Ricky because he called me “Sue-Nanna,” which is what he always called me. Then we talked about football and golf.

But, in these uncertain times, I don’t know when I’ll see some of these kind and loving souls again. If I didn’t tell them now, when would I? I just looked into their faces and wanted to savor every moment.

I see them on Facebook all the time, but their in-person faces. Ahhh.

Please, if you get a chance to see people you care deeply about, tell them. Show them. It won’t hurt to tell them multiple times. It helps counteract some of the negativity. I’m glad Lee, Martha, and I got to do it.

I’m committed to telling everyone I see that I care about how much they mean to me now, while I can.

What You Do

What you do on a hard day is what you do every day. You put one foot in front of the other and keep moving. You persevere.

I hope I and those I love can stay safe and free to be ourselves.

I’m glad I had my relatives for one last meal together this evening. We made it a very good one at a beautiful harbor-side restaurant. I’ll miss them, but not trying to navigate with conflicting sets of directions. We did laugh a little, make that a lot.

I know this blog has been dull lately. I’m in more of a survival mode than a creative one. But I’m not going to stop noticing the good around me and sharing it. Some beautiful images from today.

Bonus: Lee has been trying out the new camera and found some photos of New Mexico from the first time we went.

We Were SO Worried

I haven’t been talking much about Goldie’s health in the last couple of weeks because she really hadn’t been doing very well (if you missed it, we had to have her left front leg amputated due to an aggressive osteosarcoma; she is only three years old). Shortly after getting her stitches removed, the area under the incision started swelling. Then one day, when she seemed better, she tried to run after cows, and that wasn’t good. She must have hurt herself, and she whined a lot and barely got up off the couch for many days. She stopped eating and looked so sad.

No photo of sad Goldie. Here’s the sunrise.

Lee and I both wondered if we had made the right decision to try to keep her alive and enjoy her for some more time. We didn’t like to see her looking defeated and in pain.

Lee took her back to the local veterinarian, Dr. Amy last Thursday, while I was in San Marcos. They ran some tests and looked her over. The consensus is that she did something that caused internal bleeding, but that it was clearing up on its own. The pain was from an infection (I’m not sure where), so she got antibiotics. And the reason she wasn’t getting around much was that her front leg hurt. Amy theorized that it had probably started before the surgery when she started relying so heavily on her good leg. What a mess!

So I spent the weekend enjoying plants and birds and such, but worried that I’d get a sad call from Lee.

Luckily, that is not the case. Goldie has been gradually improving since she started antibiotics. The swelling has gone down greatly, she is alert, she eats, and by gosh, today she acted pretty much like her pre-illness self. She came out of the house multiple times and walked around, sniffing and doing dog-like things. She walked up and asked me to pet her many times while I was working on the porch.

When I came home from a quick trip to the drug store, lo and behold, ALL the dogs were at the gate to greet me, even a smiling Goldie. That inspired a smiling Suna. This evening after work, I decided to go outside and asked if she wanted to go. Boom, she was up, and beat me to the door! When I was looking at birds (too windy to hear any!) and realized she was following me around, like normal.

She had been very slowly hobbling around outside, and mainly doing her dog business and lying in the sun a bit. Today her pace was normal. She even went up and down the steps, which she’d been avoiding. It has been a good day for Goldie. I’m hoping they continue. I even can tell her hair is growing back in. Let’s hope for more good days, weeks, and maybe months for our intrepid Golden Girl.

Waiting and Watching

Another long day of waiting. You know I’m trying to distract myself when I bury myself in AI training, which I did.

Suna, post training. Just kidding. AI is the BEST! Just ask corporate training!

I did get some nice pictures with Goldie today to remember her four/-legged era. We had a very nice morning sitting outside and enjoying the birds and breeze.

Lee took pictures of her on “her” couch, which used to be mine and used to be clean. And the blanket used to be nice. Yes, I was in hippie mode today.

Again, loving this dog and sending healing to her.

Lee took her to the vet this afternoon. She was so good. I keep saying that, but it’s true. She was sweet to everyone at the veterinarian office and tried to comfort them as they recited everything that could go wrong. Poor Lee. Wish I could have gone with him.

The watching part of today was a nice balance to sadness over terminal illness. I was looking at a Green Heron through my binoculars this morning and realized the cow above the bird had an amniotic sac hanging out of her.

You can sorta see it. The white thing is her bag of milk, ready to feed. The white cow was keeping Caracaras away.

I called to Lee, and he was able to watch “the miracle of birth” with me. It made us both feel better to see new life. I was a little nervous because Mama kept swinging the calf around when it was mostly out, and it was close to the drop-off to the pond.

Once the calf was on the ground, much licking ensued. Mama did a great job! It took the calf a few tries to stand up, but it eventually got up to slurp down that delicious colostrum. Mom licked it a lot more. The owners came by to check, because Lee told him it was born sorta close to the edge.

This all took like 20 minutes. That’s a successful birth with no issues … but the calf did end up down the slope but not in the water, thanks to the dry weather. Luckily the other owner showed up to pick it up. It was so cute just wagging its little tail.

That slice of ranch life helped us a lot and put things in perspective. The Circle of Life is the other trite saying that comes to mind, but it’s true. We all have our time to come and go. It’s just hard to be a witness at the end when it’s someone you love.

Think of Goldie tomorrow, if you can. We just want her pain lessened.