Find Something Fun

I used to tease my friend Betty for saying that chickens were her favorite animal. 

I've heard of chicken on the Barbie, but this is ridiculous.

Now I understand where she was coming from.

I’m not saying chickens are my favorites. I’m not choosing. You know I have been crazy over a horse, a dog, I have loved our cats, and goats are more fun than a barrel of monkeys—most people wouldn’t know this without experiencing one or two.

Who wouldn't love that face?

I don’t know why I am talking about this. A blog is meant to inform. 

I inform you here in this lock-down depressing times, when people are plain worn-out with worry, receiving conflicting data, knowing there is an information war, and that our minds and bodies are being dinked with...

Find something you enjoy. 

I’ve recently taken a couple of trail walks, recording both the trail and my voice, and I enjoyed both. Can you believe it? I talk about the Law of Attraction and whatever else pops into my head. 

Why would I be so arrogant as to do such a thing? 

I’m not a big talker. Neither am I a big walker these days. Sorry. Justin Perry suggested I do a YouTube. If you get 1,000 “likes,” you can monetarize it, meaning have ads, but still be free for the watcher/listener. ( My internal knowingness said, “Jump in. See what happens. Be brave.”

People are interested in The Law of Attraction. I can say a few things about it, not to teach or to give any processes you ought to do, goals you ought to set, or meditations you ought to do. No ought's. Just plain talk. At least you can get a green forested trail walk out of it. And I was yearning for the trees. 

This videoing and putting the recording into the computer has been a learning curve for me. And I used to download pictures with ease. But not on my new computer., It kept locking me out until daughter dear turned off the S mode. Apparently, Microsoft wanted me to use only their software. I think I can get it now. This YouTube will be the unabridged version of walking and talking and hearing my breathing. Jewells Happy Trails #1. (No link yet.)

The first walk had no audio, so I redid it. No wonder I was puffing. I got lost on the mountain after the second walk as I was returning home. The road was clear going away from town, but coming back, there were logging roads, Y’s in the road, I didn’t see on the way down. I took the wrong Y and scraped the sides of my truck on blackberry bushes. 

Oh, back to chickens. They have given me a reprieve from the depression we had over losing my daughter’s lady. 

I bought three baby chicks on March 19, then three days old. They lived in a box under a heat lamp in the laundry room until recently when I moved the box outside. Next came a little movable yard on our green lawn. A freed animal is such fun; they run (It’s only a 4 x 4 sq. foot enclosure) and could fly over the three-foot-high fence if I didn’t cover it. Now part of their diet is mowing the lawn. 

Husband Dear and I had spent a week off and on flipping a tiny chicken house that I bought when we lived at an earlier home. Amazing that it survived the weather, and only the roof was rotted. My son-in-law and grandson carried it from where it had been stored including lifting it over the fence as it couldn't get through the gate, I freshly stained the sides, and repainted the trim. Home Depot cut the roof plywood for me, and I found asphalt shingles at Habitat for Humanity. Husband dear screwed the plywood in place and we shingled the roof.  It’s cute enough to live in the backyard. 

This property already had a chicken house and a coop attached to the backside of the Wayback (Our auxiliary building.) We had a secure (we thought) dog kennel attached to the coop for the two chickens who survived an earlier massacre. Sadly, about four nights ago, something got Red, one of the two hens. She must have been lying next to the fence, and something (a raccoon ??) killed her right through the fence.

Well, Blackie became free-range. The neat thing is, this somewhat standoffish street-smart chicken (she adopted us) has come into our back yard, visits the young chickens through their fence, lets me pet her, and has become the elegant lady she was meant to be. 

The picture above is of Blackie.

Although we had the house in our workspace for replacing the roof, Blackie climbed inside and laid two eggs. She is a resourceful chicken. Now I see why Betty was so attached to chickens. 

Here’s a quick change of subject:

Want a FREE blank book?

It won’t be completely blank. It has lined pages and quotes scattered throughout like seeds.

The quotes are not meant to stop your creative flow, but to give you a moment to pause and reflect or argue with, I don’t care.  

I like little booklets for my computer data, for I change passwords more often than Katy Perry changes clothes. The booklets with pretty covers are more fun than the simple spiral notebooks where I put junk stuff. 

Of course, you can write the great American novel there on those pages if you want.

I ordered two booklets about a week ago, for I wanted to know how they looked and make sure every page was lined. They have a matt finish cover. Glossy might be better. 

Here is a bird with an attitude.

Quote on the back cover:

"Once upon a time,

when women were birds,

there was the simple understanding

that to sing at dawn, and to sing at dusk

was to heal the world through joy.

The birds still remember what we have forgotten,

that the world is meant to be celebrated."

--Terry Tempest William

One person can have my extra booklet if they are willing to give me their email address and/or name and physical address so I can UPSP the book. If you win, I will need it for mailing.  

The young chicks will choose the winner. The first address pecked will be it.

The Judges

This is Saturday. I will do the drawing next Saturday, May 22, 2021

Contact: jewellshappytrails@gmail.com

A National Treasure

There is a photograph of a tree hanging in an elder’s apartment. To the casual observer, it is just an ordinary tree.

 

For the photographer, it is extraordinary. 

 

Long ago, this woman, the photographer, was a child in Germany as the Second World War broke out. The British government organized a rescue effort to save Jewish children under 17, waving visa requirements and placing them in a safe country in foster homes, farms, and orphanages. (1938-1940) Often these children were the only members of their families to survive. This was the Kindertransport.

 

This elder, the photographer of the tree, was around 8 years old when she was taken away from her family and moved to England. Outside the orphanage where she was placed grew a tree.

 

When she was grown, she revisited that orphanage and wondered if the tree was still there.

 

It was, and that is the photograph of the tree hanging in her apartment.

 

My daughter feared that when they were clearing out her effects, that inconsequential little photograph would be swept aside. Maybe it would be thrown away. It was old and not very alluring. And so, she wrote a note explaining its origin and pasted it to the frame. 

 

I don’t know what will happen to the photo. It was special to the lady, as many of our memories are unique to us and no one else. 

 

On Mother’s Day, May 9, this lady passed away. 

 

I have been angry, disheartened, and livid over the treatment of this woman—a National Treasure who survived the holocaust only to be killed in a “Retirement Community” where someone decides one’s fate.

 

This is a lesson to us that if we don’t take control of our own lives, someone else will.

 

This lady was a people-pleaser and took “authorities’ advice,” no wonder given her rearing.  It had helped her survive until now. 

 

I don’t know whether I will post this or not. I have gotten feedback on how righteous and wonderful Hospice is. Given the proper conditions, it can be, but it can also be misused.

 

I am writing this for I carry a deep sadness. I was under confidentiality, and many times in my brain, I wrote a letter. I wanted to tell her Rabbi. I will launch a complaint, although it’s a little late now. 

 

I wondered how much was a part of the lady’s life passage. I wondered how much she had set this up for herself. Could it be that she was guilty of having escaped the gas chambers? I don’t know. Those thoughts rattle in my brain. 

 

How much was my responsibility?

 

I just know that this rational mathematician went from lucid, laughing at puzzles, liking to see repetitive patterns in carpeting and plants outside to an invalid within the course of a week. She was a lady who enjoyed going to the roof and watching the sunset. During her school days, she was the star mathematician, and when she graduated at 16, they hired her to teach mathematics. In later life she had a theorem named after her. She was engaged to a doctor once, but when she talked about what she was doing, he seemed uninterested. “I can’t marry someone who shows no interest in my work,” she said.

 

I wonder if she was denied one of life’s spiritual moments. And that was to die under one’s own choices.

 

The caretaker who was with the woman 12 hours a day, four days a week for the past year pretty much knew her ups and downs.  The lady had some short-term memory loss, but in a moment of clarity she told her helper “I would rather have pain that be whacked out of my mind.”   However, she was whacked out of her mind.

 

Later on, she would forget she had any pain. Thus, the nurse’s assistant (not even a nurse) determined she could not decide for herself, and recommended Hospice. That way, they would have access to pain management. The patient, our photographer, had a Power of Attorney to decide for her. An in-house doctor, not her primary care physician, signed her to Hospice. The only family she had were nieces who lived in England. (They were from an older sister who was also on the Kindertransport, but who, in later life, killed herself.) The nieces loved their Aunt, but didn’t really understand what was going on.

The nurses said they had a meeting where they explained to the lady what was happening, but she did not understand. They asked her questions such as “Where do you plan to spend the rest of your life?” Well, she owned her condo. Why would they be asking such a personal question? She never consented or understood what was happening. 

 

“What happened to my bed,” she asked when they moved in a hospital bed. “My toilet is broken, and I can’t use it,” she said. No, a nurse taped a sign over it, “Broken,” so she would use the commode. Why? I ask. 

 

They limited her fluids because “It is better to die dry than wet.” Well, I consider not drinking to be torture.

 

She had a bladder infection that they would not treat because she was on Hospice, and they do no curative actions. So, they used morphine to numb the pain. She had a rash from sitting so long, and they treated it with powder, not an antibiotic that might have cured both the rash and the infection. 

 

Two cardinal rules were broken in this case. The first rule is that the patient be diagnosed with a terminal illness. The lady had MS, which is not a terminal. She had it for 30 years and had leg twitches and itches but was ambulatory.  The doctor said his wife died of MS. (With MS, doctor, not of MS.)

 

This lady stated emphatically that she was not dying and did not want to. 

 

The second rule is that the patient is given six-months to live. She was not.

 

Instead, she was given Morphine, Ativan, Methadone and Haldol (an antipsychotic drug used in hospitals to bring down a violent patient.)

 

Warning

“Concomitant use of benzodiazepines and opioids may result in profound sedation, respiratory depression, coma, and death.” 

She was not psychotic, but apparently, they give Ativan and Haldol as a matter of course with morphine. I don’t know what else she was given, whatever she was taking for her MS.

 

Throw all that in a system, and it could turn a person psychotic, or kill them.

 

When the lady was delusional, the caretaker said she was over medicated, and she had seen that before when she came home from the hospital after recovering from a fall, but that time she regained her brain.

 

A Power of Attorney held out for a while until the “Doctor” convinced her that Hospice was the best procedure.

 

And what happened to the caretaker? She was mentored that she was not handling her patient's decline well.

When Did We Become Weird?

Many people have taken on religious fervor, the very thing we have championed against in earlier years. 

We have global warming where we can divide ourselves and beat each other with our viewpoints. Some say, “Pollution has done it.” Others say, “It’s the natural earth cycle.” Oh yes, there is another: it doesn’t exist.

 We have vaccinations where one side says it will save us from this blasted pandemic. We have another side that thinks the vaccination will turn us into zombies, implant devices into our bodies to be controlled by whoever has their finger on the button.

 We seek out material, especially on the Internet (Well, that’s where we can find it), that supports our point of view. In the process, we become enmeshed into a rock-solid belief system.

How far can we go down that rabbit hole?

 If we watch the news on TV, we will be swayed by rhetoric that deliberately slants toward the horrific, the fear, and the desire to keep us watching--thus ratings. (Do you see any bias here?)

 We know some of these things like fear sells, that’s common knowledge, but still, we can get pulled in. I don’t know why that is so; it’s something about our makeup. We hate that car wreaks happens, but we can’t help but look if there is one.

 We’re drawn to the drama, the excitement, the adrenalin rush. I guess we need it. Our lives are too enmeshed in the minutiae of life. (I suppose there was more value in the hunt than bring home the bacon. Perhaps the thrill of the hunt kept the hunters hunting and the village fed.)

If we continue to be stimulus/response individuals, we will be programmed.

 We need to get back some healthy debate, to consider that maybe, just maybe, we are driving our own evolution, and we have a choice as to where it is going. 

 Perhaps the “truth” lies somewhere in the middle.

 Maybe you do have a point that the earth is naturally warming.

 Maybe we are driving it faster with pollution, emissions, hair sprays, aerosols, and etc. 

 It scares me when I see a picture of the earth from space, and it shows how thin our atmosphere is. Heavens, we can’t climb the highest mountain on earth without carrying oxygen with us or heaving and puffing, with little energy to climb to the top. I remember being a kid where our family would drive up toward Mt Hood in Oregon for a picnic. I would get out of the car and wondered what was happening to me that I could hardly climb the embankment. After I acclimated, I was okay. Doesn’t that tell us something? Like maybe we should all work together to ensure that thin film stays surrounding us. (Like not exploding bombs in it.) and we ought to make sure those life-giving elements continue at a ratio beneficial to all life.

 Would you prefer to look at a desolate planet like Mars and consider a colony there when we can play on this gorgeous planet?

 If we pollute the oceans, we’re goners. 

 If we don’t look at the coral reefs and realize they are telling us something, we are stupid. There is a phenomenon in corals caused by the warming ocean and the pollutants, where the coral blanches white. If it stays white, it will die. However, in its desire to survive, corals can produce a sort of sunscreen to help them recover. It will recolor. But given enough stress, that will fail.

 Not interested in coral reefs? Not into scuba diving? The purpose of corals to not to provide us with beautiful photographs but to support life. 1,500 species of fish live within the coral reefs. 

 They are called “Barrier reefs” because they form a barrier to protect the live-forms that live within the reef and are protected by it. Reefs stabilize the ocean floor so grasses can grow. Those grasses feed large creatures like manatees who nurture their babies within the protection of the reefs. 

 Over 500 million people depend upon the reefs for their food. Not only is food sustained there, but medicines have been made from the coral to treat heart problems and for human bone transplants. 

 You know about the food chain. And we ought to know about the ocean. For example, plankton provides 50-80% of our oxygen. One photosynthesizing bacteria within the plankton, Prochlorococcus, produces a whopping 20% of the earth’s oxygen. 

 While we are speaking holistically, dust from the Sierra dessert blows across the African continent, is dropped into the ocean, and fertilizes the plankton that grows there. 

 I notice, this year, that while the flowers are abundant, they came, flourished beautifully, but are gone within a day or two. I’m not sure the apple tree kept its blossoms long enough to be pollinated. No flowers, no bees, no apples. It could be that we have drought conditions, and they know it. And strange that one of the first things affected by change is the reproductive cycle. If we don’t have enough food or water, we don’t have babies or fruit or vegetables.

If a polar bear doesn’t have enough food to grow her young, she holds a fertilized egg in her body until such a time that conditions are right. Better to not have children that to have them starve.

 In our lack of having a holistic approach, we forget that one thing affects another. Even doctors will treat that one booboo without thought of how it is affecting the entire organism. (Some insurance companies will forbid the doctor from addressing more than one issue.) Now, I ask you, is that good doctoring?

 There is pollen in the air,” you say, “It gives me sniffles and itchy eyes. Take an allergy pill, and get with the program. (See, technology can help us be more comfortable. It can cure diseases and thus make our lives more enjoyable. Maybe that’s why God gave us a big brain. It’s up to us the help make life easier for its inhabitants. And don’t get after me for using evolution and God—I believe in both.) You know the grasses need pollen. You like grass-fed beef, don’t you? You like corn and grain, and pasta, and muffins. You like fruit and many other foodstuffs that require pollination. 

 I’m an earth child, as you can see. I want to see it thrive. I’m not waiting for aliens to come and save us or to find another planet to colonize. (Living on Mars would drive me crazy.) We need to focus on our own home. Oh yes, the earth can outlast us—it’s gone through a molten stage and evolved into the beauty we now enjoy, but we don’t want to go back to barren moltenness. (I make up words too.) 

 What about walking around, breathing clean air, drinking pure water, laughing with our neighbors no matter where they came from, what color their skin is, or how rich or poor they are? 

 We are primates—sorry, all the creationists that will be offended by this, it is no insult. I’m honored to be an animal. They have a loving side like us, but they can fight and kill--like us.

 We are getting smarter now. We know some of these things, and we can dialogue with each other too. And why in the world, when we lighten the pandemic controls, crazies go out and shoot somebody? We’re not taking care of the crazies either—but then that’s another story.

 It used to be the printed word was the way people attained knowledge. They found the news of the world in the printed word. And perhaps you stopped reading after the first paragraph—that’s common in books—but then maybe they are boring. 

 Now, most information is presented visually. (Maybe I need to get with the program—maybe I’m old-fashioned.) I know that we are frenzied, angry, upset, nervous, and taking tranquilizers—well, Jo, you have a glass of wine in the evenings. Yep, I do. 

 I also know that reading is a quiet venture. It gives us a moment to pause. You can rail back at the printed word, throw the book, disagree or cry over the wonder of it. However, it gives us time to do that. Have you ever laid your book on your chest and looked out the window and thought of not much, simple things. You look to the horizon and give your eyes a rest. You come back to the book to feel a warm glow encircle you.

 When we try to keep up with a talking face, we are deprived of that moment. Another frenzy to add to our discontent.

 I know I laid out a lot here, and I thought I had nothing to say.

 Probably I have not said things you do not know already. If you’re anything like me, though, a reminder once in a while works wonders. I’m taking a course where I know most of the information, but it can get me fired-up.

 Do I meditate when I know it is good for me? Not much. Do I stay positive when I know that is the best way to live? Ha.

 I want the earth cared for, such as the seventh generation the Native American’s spoke of. We thought they were ignorant savages. Ha.,

 I want happiness for the people. I want them to see that we are little energy packets walking around affecting their surroundings and each other, and that snowballs to all of us. I’ve heard that we are all together in this, but many times people won’t even give you the time of day. Of course, I don’t meet those people.

 Our attitudes, thoughts, actions have some effect on our electrical/magnetic field. We are in touch with the Great Force that surrounds us, sustains us, and is affected by our wishes. Don’t believe me? Give it a try.

 I heard a wonderful story last week. There is an elderly man working at one of the Retirement communities who escaped Germany during WWII. He told the story of 300 Jewish people who escaped a concentration camp. They overpowered the guards, confiscated their weapons, and left. Not all the prisoners left, they were afraid. And they were all killed.

 This is true story that was hushed up by the ones who wanted to maintain control. My daughter verified in on the Internet.

 Be courageous.

 

 Here is my week in pictures. I am grateful to see all of them.

This old pink dogwood, in our backyard was chopped back to a stump and basic limbs when we moved here. I didn't know what sort of tree it was. Now, look at it. 

Apple blossoms
Duckies at the Farm Store

One coon hound who knows how to get his inspiration..

Lilacs in back yard

Crains in Coburg, Or.

I tried to show the humungous moon we had about a week ago.

How did you read this? On the side of a Pub in Springfield, OR

Live long and prosper,

Jo

P.S. What in the heck is "Low Fat Half and Half?" The store caught my husband trying to buy good old high fat half and half. Daughter inadvertently opened in. I can't take it back. Yuck.

Let's Talk Turkey

 

I’m posting what I feel, not to get numbers, but I’m have enough ego to want someone to read what I am written.

I know with a blog, you need to produce something people want.

Sometimes a blog is for information, often it is to inspire, sometimes for entertainment. Some people blog for self-indulgence. However, I prefer to say it is for self-expression. I encourage people to do that, to find whatever floats their boat and do it. That gives life its juice.

I have read that your demographics are into what you are into, and I would like to supply what you are looking for, but I must admit it is a shot in the dark. Thus, I must provide what I’m into and take my chances.

I found out today that more people watch YouTube than they read blogs, and while I’ve have been reticent about going on YouTube, now I find I don’t have to put my big fat face on it. (My face isn’t fat.) I’m thinking of filming forest trails, for I love the forest, and I live in Oregon, where there are forests to share. While walking along the forest trail, filming, I could talk about how we attract what we want, how we can have a happy life, and get what we want out of life. We are here for a reason, and I see that frustrated and unhappy people abound. We all need a picker-upper once in a while. Hell– we need it daily.

Having someone admit it isn’t all a bed of roses is essential too. (I’ll try not to use too many clichés.) It’s okay to acknowledge where you are. If it’s in the dumps, admit it and move on from there. Rarely do we jump from absolute misery to absolute happiness in one quantum leap. We climb up incrementally. Like anger is better than depression. What comes after anger? Maybe some resolve, some insight. Calm even. Acknowledge where you are and move from there. The idea is to not allow the minutia of life to overshadow the grandeur of it. (You see, I talk to myself as much as to you, for I have noticed that once I express my feelings, I am uplifted.)

I want to celebrate life. Is that what you want?

Upward and onward,

Love from Jo

P.S. I placed wild turkeys for the picture above, for they have enough smarts to survive, among coyotes, dogs, raccoons, and whatever else likes turkey for dinner.

A few years ago, we rented a lovely home on three acres in California. After a time, the owner moved in chickens and turkeys. They were out of view from the house, and as I had some experience with chickens I offered–for a reduction in rent, to feed them for him. It was a great arrangement, and the turkeys were young and thus became attached to me. They would sing out a chorus of gobbling when I approached their pen–of course they knew food came with me, but even the owner said they liked me. The trouble was we also had coyotes that would break in during the night, I would see the evidence come morning. So, I kept calling the owner to shore up the fencing. Finally, he got it rather coyote proof.

And then, can you believe it? I guess turkeys are inquisitive creatures, and would go up to the fence to meet Mr. Coyote, and zap off with the head.

I tried to tell them, but would they listen?

I’ll try to steer you right.