Welcome to my World

Welcome to the domain different--to paraphrase from New Mexico's capital city of Santa Fe which bills itself "The City Different." Perhaps this space is not completely unique but my world shapes what I write as well as many other facets of my life. The four Ds figure prominently but there are many other things as well. Here you will learn what makes me tick, what thrills and inspires me, experiences that impact my life and many other antidotes, vignettes and journal notes that set the paradigm for Dierdre O'Dare and her alter ego Gwynn Morgan and the fiction and poetry they write. I sell nothing here--just share with friends and others who may wander in. There will be pictures, poems, observations, rants on occasion and sometimes even jokes. Welcome to our world!

Saturday, May 26, 2012

Time for more dogs...

I introduced Alanna before. We got her on about May 10, 1977 in Colorado Springs, the same day we picked up our new SUV. Before we got home--we lived out from town in the (then) rural community of Falcon--she had barfed and my husband looked at me and grinned. We knew why I told the salesman not only no but heck no--I so did not want carpet but rubber floor mats! A hose took care of the little mess and that was one of only two or three times Alanna ever got car sick. She was just a puppy, scared and confused, but it did not take her long to claim our family and that car as hers.

I could write a whole book about her. She was a truly unique and very special dog, the kind you only get a couple of in a normal lifetime. She was pretty, smart, mostly very eager to please and get along, and tried for a good twelve years to talk. She knew at least 1000 words and soon had the spelling and nicknames for her favorite things down pat too. She traveled from Colorado to California with us and then back to Arizona. We lived in Tucson for a few months and then settled in Whetstone, an unincorporated village outside of Huachuca City.

When we got settled, or as we got settled, Jim promised Alanna she would not have to move again. She really did not enjoy the disruption. And that proved true. She had to cross the Rainbow Bridge in October 1990 and is buried in the yard. She had an inoperable tumor in her throat that was around the major blood vessels and at her age (13 or so) anesthesia was risky even if she could have had surgery. We and our wonderful vet all wept together as she drifted off to the eternal sleep.

Jim did not move again either; he passed away in that very house in November 2003. But he is not buried there--I'm keeping his ashes so his and mine can be scattered together but that is another tale. Anyway, for three years after Alanna we did not have a dog. I got to the point I was carrying treats for dogs in the neighborhood and even feeding some scraps to a half grown female coyote that came by often--which I know is a bad and foolish thing to do! But we took the loss hard and had to heal for awhile. But as is usually the case, when it is time, the dog deity puts the right dog in your path.

There is a little story called "I rescued a human today" that I will share later but that is true. The right dog rescues you every time! The next dog to come to our home we already knew. He belonged to an old gentleman who was a dear friend and involved in the Huachuca City VFW Post with us. He'd lost his wife, who we also knew, and got a dog for company. That was Butch--I would never name a dog Butch but but I think John had a 'Butch' as a kid in Kentucky so he named his Brittany Spaniel pound pup Butch. In a bit he had to move back east to be near his son and daughter in law and lived in a senior complex that would not all pets. He begged us to take Butch and of course we did. So in the summer of 1993, we were again dog people. The same breed as Mickey who I told you about earlier, Butch could not have been more different in personality. He was the opposite of a rascal and had taken eighty something John for a role model and behaved like a little old gentleman.

He did not play but he loved to run, especially with a Border Collie that a neighbor had, named--oddly enough--Dog. Butch and Dog had wonderful tag and chase games and we amazing by their speed and agility. Dog lived to be about eighteen despite not being neutered until he was almost killed by either coyotes or a semi-feral pack when chasing after a female.

Butch started out as Jim's dog because he already knew Jim more than he knew me but in time he came to be mine. Male dogs often bond with women and females with men--natural enough I think. I have some cute pictures of him but they are not scanned into my computer so none for now. Sorry. He had a favorite place when we were out in the yard working -- the well or water basin around a little peach tree we'd planted.  That became Butch's 'foxhole'. In time I will get those photos; Butch was a very photogenic dog! He was vain as most Spaniels are but until he grew old and hurting one of the sweetest dogs I ever knew. I'll save his pasing for another day. It is sad, tragic really, and yet almost miraculous!

Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Dust--another D and related oddenda

It's been a few days but I have been busy. I know there are more dog stories to share but this is not the night for that. Instead I'll talk about dust. Living the greater part of my life in the high desert of Arizona and New Mexico, dust and me are old friends. If I were a Martha Stewart type housekeeper I would be pitching a conniption fit every time I turned around. Even if I did dust every day--which I don't LOL--you could probably write your name on my coffee table any day--if you could find space between the potted plants. The plants make less surface to dust and also by being together I do not forget to water one or more.

Me and plants have a love-hate relationship. I love them and they hate me or so it sometimes seems. I can grow pothos and a few other super hardy ones but a lot just curl up and die when they see me coming. But oddly, I have managed to nurse thru a total of four moves a Ming Aurelia which is said to be a finicky plant. It was given to me by a sweet little Japanese lady who had a nursery with her husband near Douglas, AZ. My late hubby and I bought a couple of peach trees there and since it was the latter part of May--about this time--she gave me a strange little tree looking plant for a late Mother's Day gift she said.

Well that was probably at least ten years ago as Jim has been gone since November 2003 and it was more than a year before he passed away. Not until late last year when I was getting ready to move from Colorado Springs did I learn what it was! I was giving a bunch of my plants to a friend and saw one like mine in her house the day I delivered them. Carrie is a plant-witch par excellence and makes African Violets preen, all sorts of struggling plantlets thrive. Anyway when I asked she told me--Ming Aurelia. I looked it up line and there it was. It struggled a bit after this last move but is doing great now, repotted again into a slightly larger container.

But I digress. Dust--Dust in the Wind, all we are is dust in the wind. So sang Kansas in one of their songs that especially spoke to me. And here in Alamogordo, dust in the wind is a common occurrence. WE have had about three serious haboob type dust storms since we arrived, from late winter on. Another one today but the worst winds are above us as is the heaviest dust, mixed with smoke from a number of major forest.brush fires in Arizona and a couple here in New Mexico. So no use dusting for a few days...which is fine by me. Actually except it is a bit bad for allergies and irritates the eyes etc. I don't mind too much.

Sunday, May 13, 2012

Mother's Day Redux--for the pet moms

Here is the neat piece I promised last evening. Took me longer than I expected to get back. Sorry!! BTW I had a nice day. My 'baby' daughter put a neat message on my Facebook page--we have a running joke about her 'wicked step-mother' and she referred to that as usual. That we can joke in this way is a sign of our bond and how much we care for each other now.
She is a single mom of three and has worked very hard to raise them after losing her husband in a very traumatic way when they were still very small. My hat is off to her!! She is notoriously camera shy but this is a picture of her eldest daughter who is almost the image of her mom at the same age. Rhiannon is nineteen now; but was about fifteen in this photo.
Anyway the essay below came off the email where I got it as a web page and I can't do much with the formatting. Sorry about that! It's still worth reading!! My hat is off to you fur-kid moms too!! Our pets and animal companions are just kids in fur suits as we know!

To all of you who have children who are a bit hairier than others and walk on four paws, pads, or hooves!
This is for the mothers who have sat up all night with sick dogs in their arms, wiping up barf laced with edible and inedible things and saying ‘It’s okay baby, Mommy’s here.’
Who have sat on the floor for hours on end soothing dogs who can’t be comforted.
This is for all the mothers who show up at work with dog hair on their suits and poo bags in their purse, coat pocket, pants pocket and all other pockets.
For all the mothers who make their own dog food and treats.
And all the mothers who DON’T.
This for the mothers who help the new mothers deal with the loss of their litter. And the mothers who help them cope when they are given new homes.
This is for the mothers whose priceless art collections consists of ribbons and photos.
And for all the mothers who froze their buns off, sweated gallons and swatted away bees to watch their precious prance into a ring and achieve 2nd place and then jump around as though they had won best in show.
This is for all the mothers who yell at their dogs in the park and firmly tug the leash to get their attention.
And for all the mothers who count to ten because they realize how animal abuse happens.
This is for all the mothers who go to the special pet stores to collect the proper treats, food and toys no matter that it take 3 stops and 50 stoplights.
This is for all the mothers who taught their dogs to sit, come and stay.
And for all the mothers who opted for sit.
This is for all the mothers who teach their dogs agility and obedience and actually understand that it needs to be FUN!
This is for every mother who automatically sucks in their breath when she can’t see a leash on a dog in the non-fenced front yard.
Then relaxes when she realizes that the dog is sitting on it.
This is for all the mothers who took their dog to the vet assuring them that there would be no needles only to be told they need a blood sample.
For all the mothers whose dog has gone missing and was returned because she had the forethought to have chip put between its shoulders.
What makes a good Mother anyway?
Is it patience? Compassion? Ever available treats?
The ability to answer the door, hold back the dog and deal with a phone call all at the same time?
Or is it in her heart?
Is it the ache you feel when you walk out the door to your job every Monday through Friday knowing that 2 eyes are boring into your back?
The jolt that takes you from sleep to dread when you hear the sounds of heaving at 2:00am?
Years later, the guilt that won’t go away when you have no other choice but to put your friend down?
The emotions of motherhood are universal and so this is for you all. For all of us…
Hang in there. In the end we can only do the best we can. Tell them everyday that we love them. And never stop being a Mom.
Please pass along to all the Moms in your life.
~ Anonymous. unless someone knows…

Saturday, May 12, 2012

Mother's Day

I guess I am a mom of sorts--I got my kids second hand and housebroke LOL but they are still precious to me and we have become good friends now that we can meet as near equals and adults. But I don't normally take a lot of note of Mother's Day. Oddly though, something got me thinking that direction today--maybe the fact that I'm catching up to my mother's age--for her life ended at the age of 76 and 3/4 when she succumbed to ovarian cancer in November 1996..

My parents met due to the disruption of World War II which sent a man from Missouri to Lexington Army Depot in Kentucky, which was mom's home state. Her ancestors had deep roots there, dating back to the days of Daniel Boone and the Revolutionary War. They met, fell in love and wed within two months. That happened often in those days, for when war threatened, people were inclined to grab what chances they could for happiness. Living together without marriage was much less common in the early 1940s. Here is a picture of my parents at  that time, I think on their wedding day; they were married in a parsonage with few attending.  I cannot recall them looking either that young or that happy but I am glad for them in the joy reflected in their smiles here. It was July 6, 1942.

Twenty nine years and a couple of months later, it was my turn. I was married in my father-in-law's home, another simple and quiet family wedding. That was on September 3, 1971. A Methodist minister did the honors and before he performed the ceremony, he asked my future step kids, at least the two younger ones, if they were willing to accept me as their new mom. I guess they were and he went ahead and married us.

Despite some dire predictions in both cases --I had known my future husband only four months when we wed--both marriages lasted until the death of each husband. My father was just short of 77 years old when he died in a traffic accident and my husband had a massive heart attack at the age of 73. So mom was married for forty six years and me for thirty two. She bore three children and I none but I feel I have two sons and one daughter just as she did but the girls' birth order are reversed. I was the eldest and Jennifer, who chose me almost before her dad did, was the baby.

Besides my human children, I have been a mom to a number of furkids, as you know. Right now I am mom to Belle, my Aussie girl, and 'auntie' to a couple of Blue Heelers that also live in the household. A friend sent me a very sweet anonymous piece about the joy and pain of being a furkid mom. I will go get it and post it in a separate entry since I found it touching and it certainly captures some good sentiments that I identify with!

For all you moms and grandmas and mothers-to-be, I wish you joy and thank you for the incredible service you do for humanity as your pour your love and time and energy into your offspring be they natural, adopted or fostered. For a mother, it really does not make any difference because that is what love is like. Motherhood is not a biological matter but a function of the heart.

Thursday, May 10, 2012

Surprise images and small miracles

If you are a photographer as I am there are times when a picture will reveal something unexpected. Other events will sometimes create or reveal images or visions too that take you by surprise or seem to give an omen, a miracle or a gift.

Let me share a few examples. The first is a simple little rock. I picked it up years ago when there was a stressful situation in my life and I had offered a prayer and asked for a boon. I hoped but did not expect to get some sign that my very sincere prayer had been heard. Turns out it must have been for that desired outcome did happen, or at least close to what I had asked for but before that I got what I interpreted was a sign. The next day I had put my little gray-green rock along with several others into a tumbler. Imagine my surprise when I took it out and washed it. That little stone--about 3/4 of in inch high sits on my desk to this day in a small gemstone box with a magnifier in the cover. It gets a bit blurry when enlarged from the micro-photo but maybe you can see what I see--a face shadowed by a cowl or hood and two hands holding an armful of boughs or flowers? I called her "Our Lady of the WIldlands" at first and now see the image of Brighid, saint and goddess and consider her my protector.

And another: I have tried over the years to take photos of lightning--I have a huge affinity for thunderstorms in the desert and love the brisk, sharp wind that blows ahead of them, often bearing the scent of damp desert plants such as creosote and mesquite. One evening I had climbed up on top of my flat roofed garage at my old home in Arizona and using the 'bulb' setting on my SLR camera, a cable release and a tripod snapped a number of shots. I'd hold it open for two or three flashes and then wind on to the next frame. I sent the film off to be processed and when I got the prints back and looked through them, one stopped me in my tracks!

Now the word Huachuca comes from the Spanish attempt to spell an ancient Indian word used by the people who lived in that part of Arizona long before it was a state or even more than a vague colony of Spanish Mexico. It is pronounced wa-choo-ka and means where the thunder walks or place of thunder. Anyway on one of my pictures, I had captured an image I term "the spirit of Huachuca." I did not see it myself; the flashes were all too bright and fast to do more than dazzle the eyes but there it was. I am still a bit awe-struck over it!  With only a bit of imagination, you can see a striding figure holding aloft an antelope or buffalo skull, no? Maybe the spirit of an ancient shamen of the Sopapuri people whose land this was before any European settlers came...


Last, we have been doing lots of yard work here at the new home in Alamogordo, NM. In the yard is the stub of a small peach tree that succombed to cold (the winter before we moved saw a rare fierce cold snap) or perhaps drought and neglect. There are some suckers so we have not remove it yet. I was sitting on the patio and glanced out thru the yard--the vision created by that little stump with one branch still on it and a plastic bag hung on that branch surprised me. I saw a robed figure with an outstretched arm. One can call it any divine personage or imaginary entity you wish but there it is! I had to document it on film, but it is still there. Some see it and others do not. I am not one who sees divine images in burnt tortillas or tree bark but there is definitely something there if you look. So much of life comes down to looking and then really seeing--beyond the mundane and the surface, beyond the expected or normal. Maybe you have to be a bit touched by the fey or even carrying a tiny trace of Elven blood from those who were in the British Isles when my Irish and Welsh ancestors first arrived there!

Some of these things have crept into my writing. My spirit of Huachuca image was incorporated into the cover design for my time travel tale, Back to Tomorrow and a lot of the lightning images were discussed in He Comes With the Dark, a paranormal erotic romance tale. But I promised no sales so I am not even going to link to those books; if you want to you can find them!

Go in peace with open eyes, mind, spirit and heart!

Monday, May 7, 2012

A new D--dragons

Being at least a quarter or more of Welsh descent, I have a special spot for dragons in my heart. Of course the traditional Welsh flag has one smack in the middle.

My late husband had a whimsical streak. Early in our relationship we named the Mule Mountains between Bisbee and Sierra Vista, AZ  "The sleeping dragon." It only took a wee bit of imagination to picture the sprawling shape, head near Tombstone and tail extending to reach close to the border fence--yes, the Mexico/US line is only a few miles south of Bisbee!

One summer while we were up on a hill above Bisbee to watch the annual Fourth of July fireworks, I snapped this shot. Of course we called it "the dragon's breath". I haven't found another to scan in but in time I will--taken the same night and showing both some of the man-made fireworks and a bolt of lightening back throuh the pass in the Sleeping Dragon's back--it has a couple of humps like a camel LOL--to the west. Over the years, I have taken a lot of fireworks pictures--they never turn out quite the way I hope but I still try. I am a huge fireworks aficionado and feel like a sulky kid if for some reason I do not get to see any around Independence Day. Here in my new home I am not sure what will be available but I will do my best to see some! Every year I declare it the best I have ever seen!

In the years I stayed in Arizona after my husband passed away, I loaded up whatever dogs I had and drove to find a place where I could see as many of the area displays as possible. There was one spot on highway 82, west from "Mustang Corners" where state routes 82 and 90 crossed, that I could get a good view of Huachuca City, Sierra Vista and a bit of Tombstone and Benson as well! That was awesome. It was too far away to take pictures without a super telephoto lens but also far enough that the booms and cracks did not alarm my canine companions so that was perfect! I shared the views with Sadie, Rico and Belle. You will meet them in  future posts, probably one by one.

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Dogs again

In an earlier post I mentioned losing a dog when my husband, kids and I moved to Colorado long ago. We actually lost two since we had Mickey and a German Shepherd we called Wolf who had adopted us. Somewhere I have pictures of Miekey but he was a typical Brittany Spaniel so you can visualizee him. He was ever a rascal and that led to his parting from us, I guess.

We had several dogs come and go for a time and all gone out of our lives too fast. mostly in sad ways I prefer not to dwell on. Then we were given Angus. He was supposed to be a Husky, I think probably a Siberian variety although he was not really typical of any variety of Husky that I know. He was a young dog, barely past puppyhood and we called him Angus Og, which in Scots means Angus the Younger. (Only some mad Celts like us would call a Husky by a Gaelic name!)He was a very sweet dog but perhaps not the sharpest knife in the drawer. Still we loved him. Then, a bit later, not long before we moved to California, we decided he needed a companion, a resident lady as it were. So down to the Humane Society we went.

We first visited the Dodge dealer with the object of buying a four wheel drive SUV after having barely survived a blizzard experience a few months earlier. From there, after ordering our vehicle with some custom choices, we went to the shelter. One pup caught our attentiopn. She was a ratty and ragged youngster about three or four months old, sandy tan color and no discernable breed. But she sat at the gate of her pen and gave a sharp yap as we approached and let us know she intended to rescue us! She had just arrived so we could not take her that day. As it turned out, we collected our Plymouth Trailduster--a clone of the Dodge Ramcharger but a bit more economical--and the pup we soon named Alanna a week later. And Old Blue was always Alanna's car from that day on! She dearly loved to go places in it.

We eventually decided Alanna was a mixture mainly of Chow and wolf! She grew to be a big dog, about eighty pounds in her prime, and was the smartest and most unique dog we ever had. She did the usual puppy stuff, like chewing a brand new brand-name athletic shoe my daughter left in the garage and a few other bits of mischief but once she was mature, she behaved very well. She was very freindly and loving and only behaved in a hostile manner to a very few people, justified in each case. She never bit anyone and was with us for thirteen years. She is interred in the yard of my old home near Huachcua City, AZ which my son now owns, along with some later canine friends but I will never forget her. She still visits me in dreams at times and I know she waits by the Rainbow Bridge along with Flash and many others.

We took both Alanna and Angus to central California with us. Sadly Angus came to an unfortunate end. He had a feud going with an Aussie that belonged to a friend of ours who had property just down the road from our house. One day as Steve drove by with his dog in the pickup, Angus made a wild leap at the other dog and fell right under the rear wheel. He was killed instantly and we all cried--except Alanna. I don't think she was too grieved but I am sure she did not push him as a neighbor lady alleged, one who was not fond of her. Alanna did have an attitude but then she had surely been a queen in a prior life! She was a very special dog and one of those I call an "angel dog" that leaves deep pawprints in your heart. Rest in peace, my dear friend until we meet again. Her likeness appears above, with the sly grin she often wore and a twinkle in her amber eyes!

Promises to Keep

I have promised two things and today I will try to do them both but it will be in two posts instead of my ususal one. First, my special weekend.

My birthday was Friday, April 27, and I was a bit depressed at the stark numbers staring me in the face. I was not ready to be there yet!! Finally, to shake myself out of the doldrums, I decided to make a trip over to Grant County, where I had lived briefly from August 2008 to April 2009. While there I had made some special friends and continued a relationship developed earlier with someone who now lives there.

Friends are sacred and special to me. I have a fair circle of standard garden variety friends and enjoy them all. Then there is a smaller inner circle of what I might call "True Friends" or folks you can count on to provide honest advice, help, and the needed things that make life so much better. And last, there are a very few Friends-of-the-Spirit with whom you share a bond so profound it hardly seems it could have developed in just a few years.Maybe the soul mates or soul groups some have written of are real and this applies here.

One such friend I had not seen face to face for over two and a half years but we had finally managed to plan to get together. I was a little edgy, not sure how it would be. The first time we met, back early in 2008, I felt as if I had known this person forever and we had always been at ease and comfortable with each other and always had a good time together but then things had gotten complicated as we both had problems and issues that seemed to push their way into our connection and force us to choose new and diverging paths.It left an ache that never quite went away and we managed to keep in contact a bit but so far apart...

Well, I can truly say I received a great blessing--we saw each other, walked into a strong hug, and then began to talk as if it had been merely weeks instead of years. That, to me, is the measure of a real friendshp and one which I feel has to result from other lives shared in the past, memories we cannot quite access but which have built a gossamer web of links and connections, a measureless and enternal bond. We spent several hours together over the two days I was there and every minute of it was precious. I hope now we can avoid such a long space between together times but I am assured now the shared connection will never sever..

I then went to the home of another friend and spent the night with her. We met through the unlikely vehicle of Freecycle--more on that another time--when I was trying to get rid of things before I moved from the small town of Hurley, NM to Colorado for awhile. We are very different and poles apart on politics but we respect each other and share a love for books and an intellectual curiosity among other interests and never seem to run out of things to talk about. She loaned me a book which I am currently reading and I will review it when I finish it--perhaps a week or so. A literary novel, I suppose one would call it, of which I do not read a lot but this one is unusual.

The next day, Saturday, I caught up with another friend. She is a bright flame of a person, a non-denominational minister and an actress, singer and dancer, a magnet for trouble and always in a circle of drama on a mad roller coaster ride of highs and lows. But this time was different. When I called, she told me where she was and I managed to find my way there. And I was invited to take part in a simple and informal worship service she and some new friends were holding. It turns out they were Messianic Jews, an offshoot of the Jewish religion that accepts Jesus. They danced, sang, read some prayers and scriptures and welcomed me into their circle, even after I explained my Celtic pagan/Druid beliefes. It was a truly uplifting experience! I came away wtih a conviction that all the many paths lead to a single place--call it God or Godde or whatever you wish--the creative force of the universe and all the good that's in it. As I think a verse ran in Simon and Garfunkle's Wedding Song--"Whenever two or more of us are gathered in His name, there is Love." (perhaps not perfect quote but close). And how true that is! When people come together to share in worship and faith so long as it is loving, open and accepting, there is an incredible energy to be found; all that is Holy and Sacred is there and I define that as Love, which I call "the One True Thing." Needless to say I came home later that afternoon feeling completely uplifted and at peace with myself, the world and those I love. It was a real gift, the whole two days, and I am so very thankful that I went and experienced it all!