Monday Memoir, Feb 12, 1966

 And the relative calm continued. I was fearful of a coming (family) storm and it did hit in awhile but not quite yet. I guess I was blessed to have some time to adjust and regroup after my sudden trip and return. Mostly the weather was not bad along this time.

Feb 12, 1966, Sat

Today was all right--pretty damn good, really. I didn’t accomplish much but that’s beside the point.I got to sleep in this morning. Mom, Charlie Mike and I drove out and did the chores. We found more pottery and hauled some dirt into the big feedbox. I drove all the way home. I was proud of myself. Mom and I did the washing. It only took us a good hour and it was a whopping big washing, too. Maureen came by about noon. She’s had her hair straightened and was wearing shades and I almost  didn’t know her from anybody!  She seemed friendly enough but I never know for sure what she’s up to anymore. Made it over to the MHC on time. I talked to Peckham about music, writing and my childhood and school years. Fairly safe topics, I guess. Hope so anyway. When we got home I messed around with Charlie Mike til 4:30 and then Mom, he and I drove out again. I gave Scarlet a shot and we did the regular feeding. I drove home again. It isn’t too hard once you get the feel of it. I’m improving steadily I think. We did our home chores and then came in for the evening. I redid my bulletin board, read the Verde Independent and finished the letter to Dusty. Not a great list of accomplishments I admit. But it will have to do for the time being. I’ve got to get some sewing and writing done soon, not to mention my QH data and other studying. There’ll never be enough hours in the day for me. I may as well get used to it. Hope someone is okay. Tomorrow evening maybe he’ll be back. I’ll have a letter waiting for him.

It looks and sounds like a very ordinary day. Mom was allowing or even encouraging me to drive many times to and from the pasture. This was a real boon and I gained confidence almost each trip. Soon driving the stick shift F150 pickup was almost routine. It was more important after a time.  Scarlet was the worthless old mare we had gotten back in September 1964. She never was healthy or reliable and died not long after this. Poor old thing. 

We had been finding pottery shards near a trail that went up to the higher parts of the pasture and the east end fence. I am sure it was from the same culture that built Tuzigoot. By today's rules and standards, maybe we should not have collected it but it seemed all right then. I still have most of it in a jar with my rock and scrap colored glass collections. So come bust me, culture cops!

Maureen was going to NAU at this time--still ASC actually--and it was her fourth(?)  semester. I did not see much of her any more as we were moving off in different directions. Kind of sad as I had valued her friendship a great deal.Have never found her in recent searches. 

I was still seriously studying the Quarter Horse bloodlines and other news in the Quarter Horse Journal and also carrying a few of my own projects forward at this time, without a whole lot of flack. Again, too good to last but enjoyed. Of course Dusty was never far from my thoughts. I saw him much more seldom than we both wished so wrote a lot of letters in lieu of visits and phone calls, which were not possible. Time went on... It was to be six more months as things soon slid abruptly down hill to nearly the worst ever, but eventually my "sentence was commuted." I almost felt I had died and been reborn. If only I had known it was coming, the interim might have been less painful but the final wait  surely made me appreciate the sudden change of life even more. 

So what for pictures? Got zillions but not all are applicable. Okay--best I can do. A dark shot of Scarlet. She was a very ordinary looking mare with no markings to mention--one white foot and a nose snip I think.. Chestnut and no special breed or type.  Next is looking at Tuzigoot from the bluff above the corral area of the pasture. You can see it was not a large distance. Last,  looking at the pasture from the west side of the river--the cliff is kind of a straight line that topped the bluff rim, and the top of it is where the last shot was taken. Near the right edge is where a trail went up and down via a jutting ridge and where we found the pottery.