tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76926162024-03-23T12:28:15.371-06:00Wandering WillowCHRONICLES OF METAMORPHOSIS... A PLETHORA OF PULCHRITUDINOUS PONTIFICATIONS!Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger78125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692616.post-87791798843770820002018-01-28T12:56:00.002-07:002018-01-28T12:56:15.688-07:00Get Ready for Ecuador 2018Yes, we are on our way to Ecuador for a month and this is where you will find out all about our trip!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692616.post-12557856244422293382008-11-09T19:42:00.003-07:002008-11-09T19:54:11.863-07:00Be the First to Know the Future!<span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);">There is a website that I've found fascinating over the past several years. This ordinary man noticed that his dreams kept coming true. He'd watch the news and see reports of whatever he dreamed about over the prior few nights. Eventually he made a website to post his dreams, and others became fascinated by watching the dreams come true. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);">The site is called </span><a style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);" href="http://www.briansprediction.com">Brian's Dreams or Brian's Prediction.</a><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);"> (click on the link to see what I mean.) Twice he dreamed about my life! That's when I got hooked on reading his dreams.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);">In the first case, I'd had a serious conversation with Gary about whether or not our beloved rabbit bugs had a Higher Self of individuated soul that could possibly reincarnate. If he did, we wondered how we'd know when and where he had returned to us. The very next day, Brian posted a dream saying "High" with an arrow pointing up, and it said "Pick the runt, Rebirth" There was also a strange scribbled drawing of rectangles. We searched around town for a baby rabbit for sale, but only one could be found. He was the runt of the litter, with an overbite, so they couldn't "show" him in rabbit shows. We took him home and named him Ziggy. A couple of years later, I looked at Brians' dream drawing again, and realized that the scribbles of rectangles made a perfect image of the pattern of colors on Ziggy's back! Pretty amazing.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);">The other dream was of a personal nature, regarding a friend in danger, so I won't go into that one. Today I was reminded of Brian's site again, and thought I'd pass the information along so that others might be intrigued as I have been.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);">Have fun with it!</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692616.post-22119617288195899962008-11-04T21:14:00.003-07:002008-11-04T21:40:05.499-07:00Election Day 2008<span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">All week I've felt pregnant. The country has felt pregnant to me, about to give birth to something. What is birthed may be terrible or beautiful, and nobody knows until the moment of birth. I've been doing everything I can conjure - praying, visualizing, hoping, be-ing - to help bring in the very best, finest, most nourishing new life possible. I've taken it on myself to embody the responsibility of bringing the best possible outcome for this election.</span> <br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">I've just watched John McCain's concession speech, which was graceful and generous. I feel he could have said much more to repair the harm that his harsh accusations wrought within his following... but it was gracious enough to please me. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">President-elect Obama's acceptance speech should be coming up soon. Tonight, I am proud to be an American in a way that I've never felt before. This is a deep sense of our entire human race moving into a new level of brilliance at long last. At very long last. I am proud. PROUD! I am so proud to have been part of it, and with all my heart I have been part of this. I am pleased that the voting machine debacle was repaired enough that this election was made possible.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">A balm of Spirit is flowing through me, healing wounds that have injured and scarred humanity for centuries. We who live and vote this year have contributed to this historic birth. I am proud.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692616.post-89951242378490927852008-10-05T19:23:00.004-06:002008-10-05T20:17:20.864-06:00Zrii Experiment #1<span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Since spring, life has blossomed and changed a hundred times over! I still miss Sandy the bunny, but our rescued puppy Kaylee has brought a whole new level of fun to our house.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Just before Easter, two people suggested that I try an Ayurvedic nutritional drink called Zrii. I was unimpressed by their pitch. I've tried dozens of nutritional drinks that had compelling labels but never made any difference in my health, even after a year. Of course the idea was put forth that I could make a good living selling Zrii and enrolling others to do the same. That's also never worked for me. But it's largely organic, so I felt compelled to at least inquire. I am committed to supporting that kind of product and lifestyle.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">What made a difference in my opinion was when I turned inward, prayed and asked my inner spiritual guidance about it. Strange technique to employ, no? But that's just me. It's also how I make my living, so I trust what I receive.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">The message I heard was strongly positive and enthusiastic about the important part this product was destined to play in the upliftment of humanity, due to its ability to re-balance the imbalances of those who are suffering. Wow! That was not a normal message to receive from my inner wisdom. That got me intrigued.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Just before Easter, Gary and I started drinking Zrii, to try it out. Easter dinner at Gary's sister's house is normally a pig-fest for us. Oddly, I just wasn't in the mood to finish my piece of hot apple pie with ice cream. How can I convey how deeply unbelieveable that statement is.... my endless sugar cravings have been the only vice I've been unable to conquer. I am a sugar hog and that's that. But suddenly, one teensy piece of pie is too much?!?!?!!!</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Upon discussing this aberration with Gary, we realized that </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">neither </span><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">of us had eaten a single piece of the nice organic Easter chocolate on the table at home. hmmmm. We went home and looked up the ingredients of Zrii. Turns out that it has three ingredients that help to stablize the metabolism of sugar. hmmm. Within about 4 days, it did all that for us? Amazing!</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">We have continued to barely eat sweets, and I've lost twelve pounds now, effortlessly.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">In month four of drinking Zrii, my lifelong eczema utterly disappeared. Poof! Gone. Given that I've tried every eczema remedy under the sun, pharmaceutical and herbal alike, this is no small feat. I still check my hands every day, and there's still no eczema.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Meanwhile, my office assistant decided to try it also. After several months, she started feeling funny and went to the doctor. He determined that her high blood pressure had miraculously gone down so much that her medication was now too strong! Long story short, she has now reduced her medication twice, and discontinued one of the meds altogether.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">This intriguing product has caught my attention, alright! I plan to periodically report on what happens with those who drink it. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I do know of two people in robust health who drank it and found that nothing in particular happened. One person didn't notice benefits until after several months of drinking a slightly higher daily amount.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Two people close to me have struggled with rather deep depression for decades. One had taken several herbal remedies, with only minor benefits. After a mere week of drinking Zrii, he became cheerful at work and at home, and has stayed that way for six months now. He notices that the ongoing anxiety and sporadic unprovoked anger disappeared. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">The other is on psychiatric medication, but still depression and resignation weigh him down. After about a month of drinking Zrii, he found that his mood was lighter and he had more energy during the day. His emotions became "stabilized" in his words... he could get in touch with his emotions better, so he could determine how to respond. He feels noticeably calmer and happier on a regular basis, now.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Lastly, another friend fell into a coma and barely escaped death. Over the two years since awakening, she has had flat emotions, and a total lack of motivation or interest in life. It was as if a part of her had remained shut down. She started drinking Zrii, and called me within a couple of weeks to report that suddenly life is exciting, and she's starting to make plans for having fun! She feels that when she started drinking Zrii is really when she came back to life from the coma.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Needless to say, each of these people has become a distributor of Zrii. I've found that my business within this company builds itself easily, once people try the stuff. With little effort on my part, I bring in enough commission monthly to more than pay for what I drink. Cool.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">So that is my first installment in the indefinite series of articles on what happens when people I know drink Zrii. Got any good stories? Share them in the comments! (politely, please, or I'll have to erase them).<br /><br />love to all from the Wandering Willow</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692616.post-11919085468431645802008-03-23T21:17:00.002-06:002008-03-23T21:20:17.099-06:00The End of a Peanut<img alt="Sandy" src="http://ih.constantcontact.com/fs059/1011265152031/img/30.jpg?a=1102024072681" align="left" border="0" height="214" hspace="5" vspace="5" width="160" /> <span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);font-family:Verdana,Geneva,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:85%;" > Our friend Sandy was a peanut-colored, peanut-shaped rabbit. Hailing from Palomino (huge) and Dutch Dwarf (tiny) ancestry, he was a friendly, mild-mannered fellow. If his buddy Ziggy's ears needed grooming, he was the man for the job. When our ankles needed a licking, or our electric cords needed a chewing, he was glad to oblige. When the new kitten wrestled us too aggressively, Sandy would ram her like a furry torpedo. We loved being "saved" by him!<br /><br />More than anything, he loved to be outdoors. One fine day last week it was 68 degrees. He hopped and wiggled joyously, napped in the shade, grazed in the sun. Nothing could entice him indoors, even after Ziggy retired inside.<br /><br />As night fell, he evaded our attempts to herd him in. Later, our flashlights caught a fox finishing his cotton-tailed dinner. </span> <br /><br /> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Verdana,Geneva,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:85%;" ><span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);"> Grief-stricken, we had to make a quick decision: chase away the fox so we could bury Sandy's remains near the graves of our other pets, or allow the fox to finish a meal that really mattered after the long, harsh winter. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);">The stick-thin fox waited nearby, reading our faces.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);">We chose to say our fond goodbyes to Sandy's hovering spirit, and walk back to the house.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);">At the end of his most fun day ever, Sandy returned to Rabbitdom in the natural way... by nourishing a neighbor who desperately needed the meal. His rabbit destiny was well fulfilled.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);">But I'll miss the single-file rabbit parade that hopped daily throughout the house.</span><br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692616.post-11560398929957221532008-02-24T13:27:00.008-07:002008-02-24T13:59:00.861-07:00Playing and Eating with the Deer Family<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_p80jHS4U2VE/R8HVaE_wsQI/AAAAAAAAAFE/b1inzTfaSdg/s1600-h/DSC05804.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_p80jHS4U2VE/R8HVaE_wsQI/AAAAAAAAAFE/b1inzTfaSdg/s320/DSC05804.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170648491192529154" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnY1HzOJGHt6Uid4PAFbn_A0sMfviledrKdrDQE1c4NOCL9f8RcHy5XmJvdThGr7e16yu2swImmWQzlq3byMRHKkUzDOh5EbI9DUooS_yuWBx5ZvlrDiP_cM6JubdBrOLk_bY2/s1600-h/DSC05925.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnY1HzOJGHt6Uid4PAFbn_A0sMfviledrKdrDQE1c4NOCL9f8RcHy5XmJvdThGr7e16yu2swImmWQzlq3byMRHKkUzDOh5EbI9DUooS_yuWBx5ZvlrDiP_cM6JubdBrOLk_bY2/s320/DSC05925.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170647761048088770" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbiAoUXsNW-fJ6pFAETbYFFb4LLXGOLEGixm7XSCA34MYyfAcc65bkZwXnvUtcradddUSyNfsyBjFgTLin1KIYTJAOxznY47kNEBq7RH4wtJxq7Tiyqid6I-jKe66Y5PGhGDsg/s1600-h/DSC05918.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbiAoUXsNW-fJ6pFAETbYFFb4LLXGOLEGixm7XSCA34MYyfAcc65bkZwXnvUtcradddUSyNfsyBjFgTLin1KIYTJAOxznY47kNEBq7RH4wtJxq7Tiyqid6I-jKe66Y5PGhGDsg/s320/DSC05918.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170647769638023378" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL4aE3o67u0P0rQntDvsriTNBSlRNwNFIe9Sb7EPhfxuDpVyqBu_WJ3Jdz73ZHBcogygNnPd1SfBNnR6o2qJj6oMw5m2soj9JYWyaqxWKK3LT9MREuVTqaYE7iD__aZj62D2Gq/s1600-h/DSC05917.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL4aE3o67u0P0rQntDvsriTNBSlRNwNFIe9Sb7EPhfxuDpVyqBu_WJ3Jdz73ZHBcogygNnPd1SfBNnR6o2qJj6oMw5m2soj9JYWyaqxWKK3LT9MREuVTqaYE7iD__aZj62D2Gq/s320/DSC05917.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170647773932990690" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);">Our deer family keeps surviving injuries and the long, cold winter! They are glad to eat from my hand and allow me to pet them. We are all in love. Even the buck, who comes up the porch steps and tries to come in the kitchen, lets me pet him! When I feed him and pet his face, he licks my hands. It's really heartwarming. We both approach one another gingerly, because those antlers loom huge and sharp as he dips his head into the food bowl I hold. My friends all tell me I'm nuts to hand-feed so large a buck. I understand their viewpoint, but we are building an important trust. That means a lot to me.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);">These deer have all known Maya since she was a teensy kitten. They seem to love watching her antics. By the way, that big buck is the same one who had the run-in with Maya the Kitten in the July 2007 post. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);">Recently Maya was chasing me around the yard as I dragged a stick through the dry grass. The two adolescent fawns watched in fascination. One little guy in particular couldn't stop watching us, radar ears listening. He walked closer and closer, finally stopping about one foot from where we stood catching our breath. He leaner over and sniffed the stick I was dragging. To my amazement, he leaned down, rump in the air, and wiggled in the universal position for "Let's Play!" I imitated his motion, to indicate that I understood. Then I dragged the stick past him, but he was a little too nervous to actually chase it. Instead he leaped excitedly and ran over to butt his brother with his tiny antler-stubs. They head-butted and wrestled while Maya and I ran around some more. Being of such different species, playing with our friends at the same time in the same yard is probably as close as we'll get to actually romping together.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692616.post-55819081465795347642008-02-23T12:36:00.004-07:002008-02-23T12:51:44.984-07:00Blue and White, Brown and Green<span style="color: rgb(102, 255, 153);">Blue sky filled with cottonball clouds meets snowy mountaintops. Wind blows streamers of snow off the mountain peaks, streamers sparkling white against the blue sunny universe above. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 255, 153);">Crunchy yellow stalks of last year's plants sit broken on the dusty brown ground. Tiny beneath their bent blades, new grasses poke green shoots up to test the breeze. Fawns with fuzzy antler stubs rustle to find growth beneath the crisp dead leaves.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 255, 153);">I am dusty, brittle and white against the warming blue sky, as winter begins to end. I invite the breeze to blow away the vestiges of snow that bury my joy. </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 255, 153);">Blow winter off of me in sparkling streamers! <br /><br />I poke my green hope up too early, to test for signs of spring.<br /><br />I need a vacation!<br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692616.post-80402125800474671922008-01-21T17:20:00.001-07:002008-01-21T17:33:43.645-07:00Back from Hiatus<span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">I have been away from blogging so long that I had to remind myself how to navigate this blog. Funny! Writing feeds me; being too busy to write is not what I intend for myself. Who can I blame for this?? Oh yeah, that taskmaster-lady in the mirror.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Work calls. Because I love it, I jump when it asks me to. My classes are becoming more requested, around the state. I am teaching on 4 topics relating to consciousness expansion and wellness. In spring, I'll take at least one class to Boulder. (wait... isn't that like taking coals to Newcastle??) My clientele has filled my schedule with individual sessions well into February. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">A part of me feels gratified with the positive feedback. A big fat part, actually! If I'm going to pour my heart and soul and my days and evenings into something, I'd like to know it's helping. I acknowledge that my skills were half-baked for many years. My increasing number of gray hairs is one more mark of experience... it took this many years and this much focus to get to where my work is effective enough for me to be proud of it.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">A different part of me is only mildly interested in the work I do with humans. Of greater interest is my deer family that lives in the yard and eats apples from my hands during the cold of the winter. The rabbits that trust me enough to lounge and stretch under my feet as I type this interest me more. The silent downy snowflakes piling up on the branches outside my window interest me much more. If it weren't for the weeks of ice built up, I'd be walking among those snowflakes this very moment.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">This rambling story is my unplanned declaration to get myself back in the writing seat more often. My kitten Maya still accompanies my trips to the keyboard, only now she's become gigantic. She's not quite as helpful as she thinks she is, but the movements on the monitor screen still fascinate her. Don't give up on us! Maya and I will be back when we can.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692616.post-14772369656900365062007-08-22T09:54:00.000-06:002007-08-22T10:03:51.693-06:00Solar/Wind-Powered Strawbale Home for Sale in Colorado!<span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 153);">Friends of mine are selling their custom-built strawbale solar-and-wind-powered home on 40 acres in a mountain valley of Colorado. I wish we could buy it and live in that quiet valley, ringed by snowcapped peaks of the Wet Mountains on one side and the Sangre de Christo Mountains on the other! Life could be something altogether different from what it is here and now. Peaceful. Serene. Antelopes and eagles as neighbors. Wilderness hiking just a brief walk from the front door. No electric bills.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 153);">The trouble is that Gary and I both make our living in this town.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 153);">Their place is amazing. They even build a strawbale barn and garage. There's a greenhouse attached to the home, so that it helps to heat it (for free!) in the winter. There's a workout room, so they can stay fit enough for their hiking adventures. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 153);">I know they're sad to be selling their dream home, but its a medical necessity. Michael needs to move down to sea level, for his health. This home is at 7,800 feet elevation. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 153);">Do you know anyone who might be interested in an absolute dream home in paradise? Check out this website that I made for them, and please pass it along to anyone on your email list who might want to purchase it. Whoever buys it will be the luckiest, most grateful person you know!</span><br /><br /><a href="http://www.strawbale4sale.blogspot.com"><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"></span></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 153);"><a>http://www.strawbale4sale.blogspot.com</a> </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692616.post-61526635732902165612007-07-21T09:12:00.000-06:002007-07-21T09:25:16.642-06:00Guard Kitten Saves The Day<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkQIZ7yt5qoNgQg4IP8a9vcgIde6swck7ZT7r_Zu-Of2NJ13VRHQCUKjOGV7W3X8fH-EvR6y4sT3usLp6ADWwhRxTuUc8UDAA0JMD9D_zmxh_pzLjiT-TFKPMDsbq_IxQTcCDU/s1600-h/DSC05069.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089670746886176114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkQIZ7yt5qoNgQg4IP8a9vcgIde6swck7ZT7r_Zu-Of2NJ13VRHQCUKjOGV7W3X8fH-EvR6y4sT3usLp6ADWwhRxTuUc8UDAA0JMD9D_zmxh_pzLjiT-TFKPMDsbq_IxQTcCDU/s320/DSC05069.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS-z8SMcKGeJ_-f365krzoANbmAkglk_TZK6LjaplNnojZcrbUlNokuVZ_wQSo5VOAMsIVGQtmbxz3qpfFG3q4Esvw4rXy3HCDgjml5P-XVoF9O3ZpRgVE2V4lIKJKqsd9AJqP/s1600-h/DSC05074.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089670746886176130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS-z8SMcKGeJ_-f365krzoANbmAkglk_TZK6LjaplNnojZcrbUlNokuVZ_wQSo5VOAMsIVGQtmbxz3qpfFG3q4Esvw4rXy3HCDgjml5P-XVoF9O3ZpRgVE2V4lIKJKqsd9AJqP/s320/DSC05074.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT1BEe9pUx1fskzc-vezq6i0Q5bppPVTekfXFlfrK_syEZcq-TNOI2A0fdSq9LwmebnV3p4svtPBEjqWZ9DIvInDLc2OOpr6xhJGOjRz_SBNxxRM7-K0m5zsb8rpnA0bvB6Q10/s1600-h/DSC05075.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089670755476110738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT1BEe9pUx1fskzc-vezq6i0Q5bppPVTekfXFlfrK_syEZcq-TNOI2A0fdSq9LwmebnV3p4svtPBEjqWZ9DIvInDLc2OOpr6xhJGOjRz_SBNxxRM7-K0m5zsb8rpnA0bvB6Q10/s320/DSC05075.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_p80jHS4U2VE/RqIklvvY_aI/AAAAAAAAAEE/f1zOeDLwgJo/s1600-h/DSC05079.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089670759771078050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_p80jHS4U2VE/RqIklvvY_aI/AAAAAAAAAEE/f1zOeDLwgJo/s320/DSC05079.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="color:#33ccff;">We awoke to the sight of a mule deer buck with a massive rack eating the lilac bush outside our bedroom window.<br /><br />Maya the kitten got her first glimpse of a deer when Gary lifted her to the windowsill. She was fascinated. We then put her outside the back door. She trotted up to the deer, and stopped on a flagstone a couple of feet away.<br /><br />When Bucky had his fill, he turned to go up the walkway. Tiny Maya arched her furry little back and stood her ground on the flagstone. The deer backed up. Maya sat down. The deer stepped forward, and she arched fiercely once again. He eyed her calmly, steadily.<br /><br />I called and called, but nothing would persuade our Guard Kitten to leave her post. Eventually the deer glanced at me, invisibly shrugged his shoulders, and walked around another way. Maya immediately collapsed into a little limp heap on her flagstone.<br /><br />She seemed relieved but proud when I ran over to pick her up. At great peril to herself, she had singlehandedly saved our home and lives from the ravages of a deadly killer deer! I did my purr-imitation into her fur, to show her I was proud of her bravery too.<br /><br />Bucky made his way to the back of the garden and hopped over the 8' fencing with ease. I photographed his antlers backlit by the early morning sun, as he got ready to hop the fence.<br /></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692616.post-47996644582951481492007-06-25T11:34:00.001-06:002007-06-25T11:51:56.452-06:00A Welcome Addition to the Family<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzm2AelqPNiyZkLmrgmz-vdr0SviyM_pwUgInpwTfgW34-TWff1ZnUuV39jPsP53w_zBm2R4riW4ZtK7ripYYjjYg_g6d-hOai4_9AXGj7PJZIAoEGBQgsceZP-nR5ZsvZ6voo/s1600-h/DSC04718.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzm2AelqPNiyZkLmrgmz-vdr0SviyM_pwUgInpwTfgW34-TWff1ZnUuV39jPsP53w_zBm2R4riW4ZtK7ripYYjjYg_g6d-hOai4_9AXGj7PJZIAoEGBQgsceZP-nR5ZsvZ6voo/s320/DSC04718.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5080057326732782738" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuEdOSlHlAPSgBiW-D1WU9FHqcN2Ab6gEpESGEoeQMFvZmeF3e6TmxLfNyY3F2rD4rfQUKOQUFI3ctL-N9HpxW7p8a58gWwLM7IQaqUanu28qnMQ_EeX-ZpHZzzxqrVuu445ib/s1600-h/DSC04715.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuEdOSlHlAPSgBiW-D1WU9FHqcN2Ab6gEpESGEoeQMFvZmeF3e6TmxLfNyY3F2rD4rfQUKOQUFI3ctL-N9HpxW7p8a58gWwLM7IQaqUanu28qnMQ_EeX-ZpHZzzxqrVuu445ib/s320/DSC04715.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5080057180703894658" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 0);">We'd been thinking that the time was coming to get a kitten. Our cat and dog both died in December. The bunnies are fun, but the don't bond and play with us the way cats and dogs do. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 0);">When I got back from Sedona, we decided to start looking for the right kitten. One night I dreamed all night long of playing with a calico kitten. I'd wake up and return into the same dream. The next morning I visited the Humane Society. There was one calico kitten, a long-haired little calico girl. She was sweet and sleepy and friendly, so we took her home. Somehow, Gary and I both thought of the name Maya, after playing with her for a few hours. Maya she is! As I type this, she is snoozing on my desk, paws on the keyboard.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 0);">She's been part of our family for over two weeks now. She's learned how to play without using her claws. It took awhile, but she's finally learned that bad things happen to her when she pounces on our fluttering eyelids in the middle of the night! And she's discovered that her bunny brothers run away when she tries to wrestle with them. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 0);">Our family rhythm is developing. Maya sleeps all night without waking us, at last. When she awakes, she spends half an hour being petted, purring loudly and tumbling in happy somersaults between Gary and me. This seems to be her bonding time. We eat breakfast on the back patio. Bunnies and kitten come out and lie together on the cement at our feet. Then they chase each other around the garden paths for awhile. When it gets hot they all traipse in the house, and we close the door to keep the heat out. In the evenings, we gather in the living room - humans on the sofa, four-leggeds on the rug. Maya goes wild for an hour, attacking everything in sight and leaping into the air for fun. If I take a bath, she hops onto the edge of the tub, then steps gingerly onto my chest. She stands there with dry feet and drinks from the bathwater, then hops back out. What an adventurous lass she is! Then we all go to bed. Maya starts her night's sleep by draping herself like a noodle-scarf across my throat or Gary's, purring. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 0);">It's hard to resist the baby-love she exudes. Her sweetness is healing our grief and bringing a new style of fun into our home.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692616.post-53390858976001221032007-06-25T11:20:00.001-06:002007-06-25T11:32:30.729-06:00Part 7: The Last of Sedona<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_p80jHS4U2VE/Rn_5fC6HLFI/AAAAAAAAADE/0HWx2HJoJDA/s1600-h/DSC04622.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_p80jHS4U2VE/Rn_5fC6HLFI/AAAAAAAAADE/0HWx2HJoJDA/s320/DSC04622.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5080053216449080402" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_p80jHS4U2VE/Rn_5fS6HLGI/AAAAAAAAADM/pYEiSerBjtg/s1600-h/DSC04665.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_p80jHS4U2VE/Rn_5fS6HLGI/AAAAAAAAADM/pYEiSerBjtg/s320/DSC04665.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5080053220744047714" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkAP-UJxTTBQPtzXn8enfN3mw_1PrH63Oh82DSAumY6aOhyphenhyphenQRl4UXLcb0UodNJ_OZh7ZF4MOiD3sNQ-imEYLAdNZwutKXKg5V1qvOHedS6AoaEJA9bp6BG3ReHV6Y45uMa1eDu/s1600-h/DSC04672.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkAP-UJxTTBQPtzXn8enfN3mw_1PrH63Oh82DSAumY6aOhyphenhyphenQRl4UXLcb0UodNJ_OZh7ZF4MOiD3sNQ-imEYLAdNZwutKXKg5V1qvOHedS6AoaEJA9bp6BG3ReHV6Y45uMa1eDu/s320/DSC04672.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5080053233628949618" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);">The comfortable hotel in Sedona was no small part of the trip. The Red Rocks Lodge is perched on top of a mesa overlooking the town of Sedona. A circle of gargantuan mesas are eye-level from the hotel's mesa-top. West Sedona appears to be miles and miles below. My room was nicer than I'd expected, with a little gas fireplace in the corner and two giant beds. Sorry you missed it, Birdie! The beds were comfy, and the landscaped pool and jacuzzi area was just a few steps away. Young jackrabbits hopped around the lawn, reminding me of how fortunate I am to have pettable rabbit friends in my home. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);">My sister and I hung out on our joint back porch and sewed/ designed / glued gifts for our brother's birthday ceremony. After the ceremony, he came back to our room with us and admired all of his gifts. Here is a photo of a 50 year old Peter. I still remember holding him on my lap as my baby brother! Looks like he grew up and got all handsome.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);">The drive back was much like the drive out. I do love the peace and quiet of driving across country with only myself for company. Nonetheless, when I got home to my own husband, rabbits and exquisitely comfortable bed, it was a relief.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692616.post-59148493588455537592007-06-18T14:15:00.001-06:002007-06-18T14:35:33.623-06:00Part 6 - The Greatness of Wide Open Spaces<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU1d1wveDYRfUHbT6NJ_WaG7pdSyn_L_TliGqzNmENgKZRCeM5IYy8UQQXSdKDTkLlHhK2-N_ZH2S1du05r-2S86CK4HeVLZfXTMI5sVB6BDdcsu0rOL-IR96OsAIWbVp8tGBi/s1600-h/DSC04647.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU1d1wveDYRfUHbT6NJ_WaG7pdSyn_L_TliGqzNmENgKZRCeM5IYy8UQQXSdKDTkLlHhK2-N_ZH2S1du05r-2S86CK4HeVLZfXTMI5sVB6BDdcsu0rOL-IR96OsAIWbVp8tGBi/s320/DSC04647.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077500798989446082" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM1jgIVAJPTtR_AZjrbYE_TInVDVEXw4wBYXFwNI_tsZLitJk55rTE0GjNuGs5zv_Nin9ejBqFzMZNCZx21J0n1Jgv7MxkGGnm0-dwTMZifcrHe8BDbDVwZNkkKXbopSb2yRjw/s1600-h/DSC04648.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM1jgIVAJPTtR_AZjrbYE_TInVDVEXw4wBYXFwNI_tsZLitJk55rTE0GjNuGs5zv_Nin9ejBqFzMZNCZx21J0n1Jgv7MxkGGnm0-dwTMZifcrHe8BDbDVwZNkkKXbopSb2yRjw/s320/DSC04648.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077500811874347986" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQNz2JfOhB5tp2n4sZXJ9S8-9oCdvYPZZeZHrrHH8mMAUf3k6a8hRrepggGALdXl5xJkXRv98B66vQAuubR8Ijfmgm4qTgjaiytnUKdezhmwemmIWbR_8q5cKa4OJZqyLC9r-J/s1600-h/DSC04652.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQNz2JfOhB5tp2n4sZXJ9S8-9oCdvYPZZeZHrrHH8mMAUf3k6a8hRrepggGALdXl5xJkXRv98B66vQAuubR8Ijfmgm4qTgjaiytnUKdezhmwemmIWbR_8q5cKa4OJZqyLC9r-J/s320/DSC04652.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077500820464282594" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 255);">In Sedona, it's easy to feel expanded and relaxed. The scale of life is unique there. With gargantuan rock formations hovering above all, reflecting a thousand centuries of life, my existence is small. In that smallness, I feel like a part of those ancient centuries myself. My trail of footprints is one more element in the millenia since this land was once under water. One day it may be under water again. A diver from the future may find my bootprint on some underwater hillside, and wonder.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 255);">The upper photos were taken as the three of us aging siblings hiked into the wilderness beyond Sedona. The rock wall in the photo is next to where we ushered Peter into his second half of this life. The three of us sat on the sandy ground behind a giant boulder, near Oak Creek. We ceremonially told him what we appreciated about him in his first half of his life. Then we asked him what he wanted to take with him into his second half-century, and what he wanted to leave behind. Lastly, we gave him our wishes and our family's wishes for him in the coming years. He received gifts from family and friends that we brought along. Then we all sat against the boulder, eating and listening to the trees rustle amid birdsong.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692616.post-16110131419441907502007-06-18T09:32:00.000-06:002007-06-18T14:14:56.987-06:00Part 5 - Sedona AZ<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3cTJ6TTGFfnFYSYFK36taXcImObEZ2LYxwmxfX7q_vwwMkVhQJRU_YGAnTlQ0yIP08NdNpih53ocgQb4SbHlnVxAPOLy2QBDNKlzN4dV8Wi_UzDmp2uXfDuas9Hp0pw6YDkeP/s1600-h/DSC04623.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3cTJ6TTGFfnFYSYFK36taXcImObEZ2LYxwmxfX7q_vwwMkVhQJRU_YGAnTlQ0yIP08NdNpih53ocgQb4SbHlnVxAPOLy2QBDNKlzN4dV8Wi_UzDmp2uXfDuas9Hp0pw6YDkeP/s320/DSC04623.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077428132437764994" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix1VODcYCuh6W7X1I4jOMFAHivkdr5JzdxpuzuSI1NfNtRP55XX7g_vmRpnd04NjuVnPN0OOkOul5vBO30MupTEpLLctz5pCDWDAChSdVRP36b2c5TSjFX__1raNNs7t2z2ziV/s1600-h/DSC04639.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix1VODcYCuh6W7X1I4jOMFAHivkdr5JzdxpuzuSI1NfNtRP55XX7g_vmRpnd04NjuVnPN0OOkOul5vBO30MupTEpLLctz5pCDWDAChSdVRP36b2c5TSjFX__1raNNs7t2z2ziV/s320/DSC04639.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077428145322666914" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhon5E0ltDN66R6yEuwJKNg5QU9poXh0Kch_pszKbaKu1SjQqKL3D1QT2Xjl1uBRtFNhr6R2yh5HkZBm2GrvAyoivUfs1gOcYz7ea9O2WhuD-mvRdLkl7bo0-xe80DPYRBzISUd/s1600-h/DSC04645.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhon5E0ltDN66R6yEuwJKNg5QU9poXh0Kch_pszKbaKu1SjQqKL3D1QT2Xjl1uBRtFNhr6R2yh5HkZBm2GrvAyoivUfs1gOcYz7ea9O2WhuD-mvRdLkl7bo0-xe80DPYRBzISUd/s320/DSC04645.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077428153912601522" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);">Sedona Arizona at last! Sedona is a small town nestled between mesas and buttes taller than the imagination can comprehend. These dwarf even my beloved Colorado red rocks. It's hot and dry, but Oak Creek flows through the edge of town. In the Oak Creek Canyon, the air is cooler and moister. Breathing is an enjoyable activity there.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);">You can see my sister photographing the primary formation that overshadows the town of Sedona. The bottom photo shows me with my sister and one of our brothers, outside Sedona. If you look closely, you can see a small village beneath that rock formation.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 102);">Can you find the chameleon on the branch, in the top photo? </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692616.post-71229983577175369712007-06-17T18:07:00.001-06:002007-06-18T14:49:02.406-06:00Part 4 - Badlands Visitor Center<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheZ31DwbIbP4l9avtnyEbuLthMa0nPdt6His6QEW4QRQ2aiRE7Tg7YNkrAuCoAHS0wgQ7UXhr79LVixCU3QLpBnjC4kGvZt7ZZel3ImsBfUEqpdY4MtWGchFTiNe84TBk_DJsQ/s1600-h/DSC04605.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheZ31DwbIbP4l9avtnyEbuLthMa0nPdt6His6QEW4QRQ2aiRE7Tg7YNkrAuCoAHS0wgQ7UXhr79LVixCU3QLpBnjC4kGvZt7ZZel3ImsBfUEqpdY4MtWGchFTiNe84TBk_DJsQ/s320/DSC04605.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077189585659177826" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG8ecOVA9KC1Mao5FdlaMtvKVtRwcmWMV4VEGyBWvFA-4c_YhX7qpRKs7ZKUG0WcQ4COAzFhGsOZhE6fsMSEbH-9mnv_9TAgDjEQ0mb_AvqXzKRlvPGp4Sig21b1T0wHnCkuV6/s1600-h/DSC04606.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG8ecOVA9KC1Mao5FdlaMtvKVtRwcmWMV4VEGyBWvFA-4c_YhX7qpRKs7ZKUG0WcQ4COAzFhGsOZhE6fsMSEbH-9mnv_9TAgDjEQ0mb_AvqXzKRlvPGp4Sig21b1T0wHnCkuV6/s320/DSC04606.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077189589954145138" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">I stopped at this Visitors Center in the New Mexican Badlands. The light is so stark there, that it makes for interesting contrasts. The air smelled like sage, cedar and dust for two days as I crossed the volcanic desert at six times the speed of the old wagon trains. Fast as I was driving, I felt rested by the lack of urban noise, color, shapes and lights. Nature can be peaceful in the desert, even through a car window.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692616.post-3046842078695778882007-06-14T23:03:00.001-06:002007-06-18T14:50:10.567-06:00Part 3 - Evidence of Enduring Cuteness<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_p80jHS4U2VE/Rnbv7y6HLAI/AAAAAAAAACc/1QBJwL8nttc/s1600-h/DSC04676.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_p80jHS4U2VE/Rnbv7y6HLAI/AAAAAAAAACc/1QBJwL8nttc/s320/DSC04676.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077509440463645698" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz-cg7Hbr2yfoltKGGN4MVhic_emLdP8redecddlV_ofCo24ZO2G4lUHdNqpfWiAtUjvqc6q4M5IKWu3VSWOhjE5bbmGmUD0amXGGz8YVKWJSuNHII1hHGAJFUQQueAm3hafo_/s1600-h/DSC04674.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz-cg7Hbr2yfoltKGGN4MVhic_emLdP8redecddlV_ofCo24ZO2G4lUHdNqpfWiAtUjvqc6q4M5IKWu3VSWOhjE5bbmGmUD0amXGGz8YVKWJSuNHII1hHGAJFUQQueAm3hafo_/s320/DSC04674.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5076152724719348562" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 153);">Yes, it looks as if my grandson is still cute! I got in a wonderful day of visiting him. I gave him a plastic elephant, which is pictured here drinking from the water bottle "because his nose is thirsty!". In the top photo, Ethan and his mom and I are all wearing matching candy necklaces, courtesy of Grandma.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692616.post-42639201959408257762007-06-14T22:51:00.001-06:002007-06-18T14:52:05.534-06:00Part 2 - Driving Through Navajo Country<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGVfLASdrcG2crCLhmAgXfmfaS5-jKR7YZ5_ESfvr9nV2izEQd3bL-7PAGvxGKNPFLUbjYZf8mANn17ABD1D77rIN8TDk4hsopdh8w0N7kmKSA_fNK9Nio3MdWYyRFIsMD5Hh9/s1600-h/DSC04611.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGVfLASdrcG2crCLhmAgXfmfaS5-jKR7YZ5_ESfvr9nV2izEQd3bL-7PAGvxGKNPFLUbjYZf8mANn17ABD1D77rIN8TDk4hsopdh8w0N7kmKSA_fNK9Nio3MdWYyRFIsMD5Hh9/s320/DSC04611.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5076149619457993490" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWAZ3ziHTtM7xABM0pscb5iSSug3kzTjAgbyNntPUM_CreX2Gi4dCrnRZ5Ky0cYnKMzEGS51VSMxV6-GaBAlq24GHOdNnxv7Vt7bOf-IM8LskoZcP0Up-XiRgCgwxaM9oDGC6t/s1600-h/DSC04612.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWAZ3ziHTtM7xABM0pscb5iSSug3kzTjAgbyNntPUM_CreX2Gi4dCrnRZ5Ky0cYnKMzEGS51VSMxV6-GaBAlq24GHOdNnxv7Vt7bOf-IM8LskoZcP0Up-XiRgCgwxaM9oDGC6t/s320/DSC04612.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5076149623752960802" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUHjWeDOiEHFOxWNsV3F4kahCV-gW6eDcuspkjloNQJ17tWdvyCBRr5wkJaq1sc8SRMMsJSFqzCGcao8ELhRVR1jXojKlxygTKh-DxECC4U3W4S_c-imH9e8Y-u2aikSh0ta8k/s1600-h/DSC04614.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUHjWeDOiEHFOxWNsV3F4kahCV-gW6eDcuspkjloNQJ17tWdvyCBRr5wkJaq1sc8SRMMsJSFqzCGcao8ELhRVR1jXojKlxygTKh-DxECC4U3W4S_c-imH9e8Y-u2aikSh0ta8k/s320/DSC04614.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5076149628047928114" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);">I drove for hours and hours and hours and hours on a long, straight road with very little other traffic. This part of the world is built of prickly hills and red mesas and camouflaged wildlife. It was an exciting diversion when I passed a truck that seems to have hit another truck, and somehow boxes were spilled all over the highway. Those metallic sheets in the photo are the fallen-over sides of two long trucks. It was hard to figure out exactly what happened, but it sure was fun to have something else to look at and think about!</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);">As you can see, Monk was clearly bored by it all, looking the other direction as we passed.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);">My radio was tuned to a Navajo station around this area. I love to listen to that language, so unique, so otherworldly. Between drumming songs and ancient country western songs, the announcer will say things such as: Ah nak'ka watta hotah BUDDY'S AUTO SHOP eenahyay. I just made up the Navajo words, there, but that's about how it sounds. I always hope that, if I listen long enough, I will start to know what they're saying. And the longer I drive through that kind of country, the more possible the hope seems.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692616.post-27430847520198460682007-06-14T20:32:00.000-06:002007-06-14T22:48:14.893-06:00Across the Western Moonscape<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTnMCQ4sAo5nMuHi54TTvfFqR0Jis1DgkDyfloV5UZMO4zl3G3t2g0f4kXSNoQz59qHtLntKLM6kpLkh-6uoj4zxeI5vxSdDTfJpX0DVEDb9_4Wizj5yws-qrXTlFO7YLx5P7D/s1600-h/DSC04589.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTnMCQ4sAo5nMuHi54TTvfFqR0Jis1DgkDyfloV5UZMO4zl3G3t2g0f4kXSNoQz59qHtLntKLM6kpLkh-6uoj4zxeI5vxSdDTfJpX0DVEDb9_4Wizj5yws-qrXTlFO7YLx5P7D/s320/DSC04589.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5076115109395770082" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPfwIL9S07EfsypNWpV1l5fLSArnItedRGwtRqq9Fs0c6Kio0sun1oNcVKSH_8ydek-M-2FNqy-Lth0KgjF7dWwk4IwnIx2dispaFFYmGGca1k9XoIUICSBXPRizKKKGk8SzW8/s1600-h/DSC04610.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPfwIL9S07EfsypNWpV1l5fLSArnItedRGwtRqq9Fs0c6Kio0sun1oNcVKSH_8ydek-M-2FNqy-Lth0KgjF7dWwk4IwnIx2dispaFFYmGGca1k9XoIUICSBXPRizKKKGk8SzW8/s320/DSC04610.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5076115122280671986" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9UfUTPeO92Hjp8e3-tvg6U2v4bhr-drRaXda7MQASkDjfwM98YIMR2eahLF_zN5fIHdc4aU8YQklGz5IlnLcXpg2jMfO1DnoeLr4Hdy4CuVfNL5658X8tqtbOrXIF_jg_A_Jq/s1600-h/DSC04595.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9UfUTPeO92Hjp8e3-tvg6U2v4bhr-drRaXda7MQASkDjfwM98YIMR2eahLF_zN5fIHdc4aU8YQklGz5IlnLcXpg2jMfO1DnoeLr4Hdy4CuVfNL5658X8tqtbOrXIF_jg_A_Jq/s320/DSC04595.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5076115126575639298" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 153);">Photos of the bizarre New Mexican Landscape!</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 153);">Better photos are coming soon, when I get a little more time.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 153);">My traveling companion ended up entertaining a strep bug, right before our trip began. That left just my stuffed monkey and me to make the drive on our own.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 153);">Monk spent most of the trip on the dashboard, but occasionally stuffed himself into a space in the steering wheel for a change of scenery. I photographed him on a few occasions, just to prove we were there.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 153);">We traversed the moonscape that is western New Mexico and eastern Arizona. These photos were snapped one-handed while I drove, so pardon the poor quality. The first one is a random mesa in New Mexico. The second one - yes, it's sideways alright - is Monk sitting on volcanic rock in the badlands. New Mexicans call that area El Malpais, which translates literally as The Badland. Ages ago, a volcano spewed lava for hundreds of miles around. El Malpais is strewn with cascades of porous lava rock, lava tubes, frozen lava waterfalls tumbling down hillsides. The bottom photo is of one of those lava fields. (If Dick Jones is reading this: I stopped and got you a lava rock! I want to mail it to you.)</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 153);">These types of long drives are heaven for me. The peace and quiet are balm for my harried life. There's enough air to breathe, enough silence to hear my soul, enough silence to eventually inspire me to start singing. A speeding car is the perfect venue for my vocal stylings, and nobody else has to hear it or form an opinion!</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 153);">I stopped at several Indian reservations and browsed around their stores, at the artwork. It always twists my heartstrings when I see their stores selling Chinese replicas of their own art, in addition to the authentic stuff. I'm sure there's enough logic and profit for them to be persuaded to do that.... but its pretty awful in my opinion. I was hoping to get some blue corn frybread, but none of the stands were open.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 153);">I had a vivid, powerful dream of a tall Kachina who said his name was Thunderbird. He operated on me, to heal me. I'd love to find out if there is such a Kachina. In a brazen moment, I told one of the Laguna Indian men in a store that I was trying to find out about a Kachina named Thunderbird. He said the Zia tribe has a Thunderbird kachina, but I haven't been able to confirm it. Within my dream at least, he was a reality.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692616.post-67070918253622425712007-05-14T22:57:00.000-06:002007-05-14T23:12:05.379-06:00ROAD TRIP!!<span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);">The highway has missed me. I can feel its longing for my car's tires. That longing calls to me in my sleep and during my busy, exhausting days. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);">The poor lonely highway even sends me mental images of those long straight stretches of open road laid across the ranchland south of here. Those images haunt my days and nights too. Wide open road with only a car or two for company... cup of steaming fragrant Earl Grey tea in my hand... box of cookies on the seat beside me... stuffed monkey Monk poked into the space in my steering wheel. Monk is my traveling companion. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);">So I found an excuse, and am preparing to embark on another long road trip! Two days of driving blissfully across prairies, past mesas and buttes, past herds of camouflaged antelopes, singing to the radio, enjoying the peace, soaking up the sunlight. I'm headed to Sedona Arizona to join with my sister to celebrate my brother's half-century of life.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);">This time I'll have a human traveling companion too. I suspect she won't be much like my husband when it comes to traveling habits. He loves to drive and get there fast, without stopping spontaneously to enjoy random sights and mysteries along the way. We haven't discussed this aspect, but I'm sure our drive will involve more fun than just driving. (Not sure if I'm allowed to mention names, so my companion shall remain nameless for the moment.)</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);">I am SO EXCITED about this adventure! The confinement of constant work can be wearing. Lack of work can be just as wearing, but in a different way. I am grateful that people want what I have to offer, and benefit from it, are appreciative, and pay me. But I am SO EXCITED about laughing, resting, swimming, hiking, and eating things that are bad for me because I don't have to be in top shape for any clients the next day! </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);">My batteries need recharging, and they're about to get it. </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);">See you all in a week! It's time for this willow to get wandering again!!!!!!</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);">* * * * * * * *</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692616.post-70104301257796890362007-05-13T22:23:00.001-06:002007-05-13T22:23:58.947-06:00Hope Smothered In Reality<p><span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 255);">Damp, heavy snowflakes the size of silver dollars fell between the raindrops yesterday and landed on my bright new pink tulips. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 255);">Hope, covered with a dose of reality.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 255);">My Mom is undergoing chemotherapy during these few months. After a lifetime of a strong, healthy constitution, an aggressive cancer suddenly struck. She is 80 years old. Even after three doses of chemo, she still feels good. No nausea. Her hair is gone, but she has a little fringe at the front, so when she wears her pink ball cap, it looks like she still has some hair. She and her pink cap drive around town, doing volunteer work and visiting friends. The wake-up-call of cancer reminded her to love everything, enjoy everything, be glad about everything, and to say so to her loved ones. She had to put off taking a cruise with some friends, but plans to take a cruise after the chemo is done. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 255);">I struggle to balance my elation over her steadfast health, with the fact that it is, after all, cancer. Our family has always had a silly joke about the number 81 being a bad number somehow, so I really want her to be 81 years old. I want the chance to harrass Mom about being 81, as we were able to do for a whole year with Dad. And then I want her to be even older and even healthier, for as long as she wants to be. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 255);">Hope, coated with a dose of reality.</span></p><p><span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 255);">* * * * * * * *<br /></span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692616.post-42156523863127003102007-04-19T12:44:00.000-06:002007-04-19T12:56:49.691-06:00Miss PopularityI've been <span style="font-style: italic;">DISCOVERED</span>.<br /><br />I've been doing the work I do for years, decades actually. Holistic energy healing is the general category of my work. In the last few years, it has gotten to be much more accurate and helpful than previously.<br /><br />Suddenly, in 2007, everybody took notice. All my clients are referring me to their friends and relatives, who then refer me to their other friends. I'm so booked, I barely have a moment to do anything other than work or related paperwork, or planning for classes that I'm giving.<br /><br />I love what I do! That's the good part. It's amazing to get paid for doing something that feels like a privilege to do. This is just an adjustment period, as I juggle like crazy.<br /><br />My apologies for not blogging more, at least to explain my sudden absence. I'll be back soon!<br /><br />with love to all,<br />The Wandering WillowUnknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692616.post-1172037212800076912007-02-20T22:51:00.000-07:002007-02-20T22:53:32.803-07:00Garden Visitors<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/558/444/640/65850/DSC04366.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/558/444/320/693740/DSC04366.jpg" border="0" /></a> <br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/558/444/640/743904/DSC04391.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/558/444/320/311110/DSC04391.jpg" border="0" /></a> <br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/558/444/640/354626/DSC04384.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/558/444/320/888683/DSC04384.jpg" border="0" /></a>Six young does visited our garden yesterday, in search of scarce winter greenery. They didn't find much, but it was plenty for these hungry girls. They are mule deer yearlings. <a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692616.post-1172036690714823282007-02-20T22:43:00.000-07:002007-02-20T22:44:50.720-07:00Our Christmas Fireside<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/558/444/640/411164/DSC04332.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/558/444/320/673593/DSC04332.jpg" border="0" /></a> I like this photo of our living room fireplace, minus a fire, at Christmastime. <a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692616.post-1170055065330740472007-01-28T23:51:00.000-07:002007-01-29T00:17:45.343-07:00Heartbeat of Home<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/558/444/1600/306146/May%2031%202006%20004.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/558/444/320/582596/May%2031%202006%20004.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/558/444/1600/336640/DSC03543.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/558/444/320/426161/DSC03543.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/558/444/1600/353980/DSC03477.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/558/444/320/152625/DSC03477.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/558/444/1600/926266/DSC03507.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/558/444/320/924261/DSC03507.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /> <p class="MsoNormal">Down between the polished wood floorboards<br />in the dank sweetness of moist ageless earth<br />My heart beats the rhythm of my chosen home.<br /><br />I stood one August on the grassy slope by the apple tree<br />stared at the staccato mountain peaks looming over the roof<br />and claimed this piece of the world to be mine for awhile<br /><br />Mine, shared with the teeming life under and above the grass that grew wild<br />My home, among dandelions, squirrels, skunks, junipers, apples, plums and birds<br />I staked my claim and began to build my world<br />Here.<br /><br />At first we felt like outsiders<br />Arranging, exploring, planning<br />Working, returning tired to unfamiliarity<br />Waiting for "home" to arrive<br /><br />Seven years of breathing have changed the air in the house<br />Breathing my breath onto the woodwork, garden paths and paint on the walls<br />Breathing in the breath of trees, cat, dog, bunnies, husband, grandsons<br />Breathing out my dreams and desires<br />Breathing in their gradual fulfillment</p><br />Dented, worn dining table remembers family feasts of thanks-giving<br />Quiet meals of mourning<br />Candles spilling wax in glowing darkness<br />Art projects dripping glue, and that little gouge mark<br />Gatherings of bright-eyed friends birthing plans onto paper<br />Annual drying of a dismayed cat after her bath<br />And always newspaper mornings with tea<br /><br />I light a fire, straighten my favorite painting, sweep the walk again<br />I no longer notice the click-hum of the furnace<br />Backyard graves of furry beloveds nourish the new spring growth<br />Fox and deer know my routines as I know theirs<br /><br />The earth knows my heartbeat, here in my chosen home.<br /><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7692616.post-1168909798944836552007-01-15T18:02:00.000-07:002007-01-15T18:09:58.963-07:00Snow Bunnies<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/558/444/1600/681410/DSC04301.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/558/444/320/95308/DSC04301.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/558/444/1600/586131/DSC04295.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/558/444/320/596096/DSC04295.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/558/444/1600/531264/DSC04310.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/558/444/320/497672/DSC04310.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/558/444/1600/859627/DSC04304.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/558/444/320/812050/DSC04304.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/558/444/1600/108941/DSC04293.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/558/444/320/631668/DSC04293.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 255, 153);">What do rabbits do in the snow? Not this zero-degree ice, mind you, but the lovely fluffy snow we had a week or two ago.</span> <span style="color: rgb(102, 255, 153);">What do bunnies do in the snow? They romp, scamper, dig, lick, leap, twirl and invent mid-air acrobatic moves to express their delight. With their fur coats and thick fur slippers, cold only stimulates their systems in a happy way.</span> <span style="color: rgb(102, 255, 153);">For evidence, check out these photos of Ziggy (white with black-brown-gray) and Sandy (sandy) enjoying every second of their snow day.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4