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!

Sunday, December 18, 2022

Memoir Monday, Dec 19, 1964

As I said, 1964 seemed like a gray, glum, ho-hum ending. December was not 'nice' most of the time. I swung from happy to gloomy--kind of dependng on what came in the mail or didn't. Christmas had ceased to be a big deal to me but I tried to keep it for the boys. Charlie Mike was 13  and Alex was 6. 

Dec 19, 1964

I woke up to see a gray sky still--felt like laying low all day but didn’t. Got up and did the chores and ate. Dad want to see Julio; I made the mash etc. and Charlie Mike went up for mail. I got nothing at all.  We did our chores and went directly to Dead Horse Ranch. We nearly got stuck but we’re real pleased with the hay. When we got home we unloaded and did the noon chores.  Had pancakes for lunch. I spent the afternoon writing the rest of Cim’s letter--it is 24 pages again. I took a break and went to town with Mom. No more mail. I had Dusty on my mind all day, even while writing to Cim. I know who I love…! I wrote Dusty this evening and then outlined my article and now plan to combine them into a single piece of slightly more length. I believe I’ve got something going for me here. We may get our Christmas tree tomorrow. I hope I hear from Dusty on Monday. I was disappointed today. What do I want for Christmas? Guess!  To see my love, of course. Those pictures really hit a soft spot in me. I can just see that smile and hear his voice. Oh, Darlin’ Dusty, I love you so. 

The Dead Horse Ranch had been owned by the Irey family who put it on the market and moved.  It was about two miles down the back road--on the east side of the river--from the pasture.  A woman named June Parsons, who we knew as she was a friend of Charley Bryant's,  and a Mexican man I only knew as Julio were the caretakers and managed things until it sold after a year or two. We bought a good bit of hay from Julio and the quality varied. I think this batch was mostly alfalfa and pretty good.

I had been working on an idea for one or more articles about training young horses and mules and basing the methods on their personality types. There were basically four types. The #1 was very spirited and often a bit flighty but generally willing to work and learn fairly quickly. #2 was slower and tended toward stubborness; when they gave up resisting they more or less just quit but then would show less 'get up and go'. #3 was usually traumatized and tended to be very unpredictable; good one day and wild as a march hare the next.  #4 was maybe the middle-of-the-road between the very high spirited and the more phlegmatic and perhaps the best  to become reliable and a good worker. The exact same methods did not work eqully well on all four types and I wanted to bring that out!

I  had received several letters from Dusty since he left the 10th of November but still tended to lose some confidence or assurance of our connection or bond in between them. I have to remind you this was stilll all very new to me.  I had almost no experience dating or having a 'boyfriend' in my teens and high school days and was still very lacking in confidence about my own feminine 'charms' and potential attractiveness. I felt grubby, dowdy and very much a misfit in all but my cowboy girl role. I had two photos I had taken of Dusty a few days before he left and had gotten them back from processing. (Today's instant pix are so quick!) They were a talisman of hope for me. They brought to mind our numerous conversations. And as of this date, that was all there was to remember. Words and smiles and some long, intense looks shared. A fairy tale romance? Not quite but I was hopeful for I'd never been in this spot before. 

Photos to illustrate: Three critters I would have used to illustrate the types. Tina--she was basically a #4 but leaned toward the #1. Very energtic and willing and she and I had  perfect rapport. Beano was a #2 but not too balky or stubborn. He was sold to a trail rider in Louisiana who loved him. Patrick was a #1 and very senstive but had a streak of 'common sense' as did most of the colts of our Appaloosa stud, Yavapai Chief. It took me about a month the next summer to have Pat working like a champ. And then Dusty-- in work clothes on a Friday afternoon, one of the times we talked and talked... It was Oct 30, 1964. 






 

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