This and that


This evening a good friend took my daughter, grandson, and me out for a totally lovely dinner.  We talked about light stuff and serious things too, e.g. discrimination against people who are not white, gays, people who are “different”.  We also laughed and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.  My friend also showed my daughter around his older home which he has totally transformed.  My daughter lives in an older house as well, a house at least 90 years old.

It’s late, I’ve accomplished a lot of little clean up things today and tomorrow I must get up early and go to this “gifted and talented” class for work.  Yes, sometimes teachers have to work in the summer.  Today, I went to the pharmacy to check on their drug supply–in three weeks I will be in Ethiopia and I want to make sure I have the needed vaccinations and such.  I already have my yellow fever shot–required to get in the country, but my doctor and nurse daughter think I need a couple of other things for safety first.  I picked up my malaria pills as well.

When I came home, I opened the windows–the air conditioning was on when I left.  I always turn it off at night and open the windows because I love, absolutely love summer nights.  The soft wind flows over ones body while sleeping and just simply lulls and lulls and lulls.  Love it.

Earlier today I found a few quotes I wrote down on scraps of paper, quotes that spoke to me so here they are:

 

-“Meditate.  Live purely.  Be quiet.  Do your work with mastery.  Like the moon, come out from behind the clouds.”  Buddha

 

-“When your mind is already made up, facts seem to not matter.”  Do not know who said this one.

 

And then this piece of sad news:  in the US veterans make up only 1% of the population, but 20% of the suicides.

My observation:  war is good for no one.

 

Bedtime it seems.  Happy dreams!!

 

Getting rid of junk mail


The amount of junk mail seems to endlessly increase.  Once recycling ceased here for all practical purposes, I became a bit distressed and somewhat obsessed about what to do with all this useless paper.  It took me more time than I planned to discover where and how (hopefully) to at least get rid of some of this useless mail.  Now that I have done all this opting out, they claim I may have to wait several months before the junk mail quits showing up.  I will let you know what happens.

In the meantime if you want to try this for yourself and you live in the US here are some options:

-To remove your name from all catalog mailing lists, email optout@abacus-us.com and give them your name and mailing information.  You will receive a return email explaining that this will opt you out of all catalogs.

-To remove your name from only certain catalogs you do not want to receive, go to catalogchoice.org.  You will have to create an account and can unsubscribe to those catalogs you specifically do not want to receive.

-To opt out of other types of junk mail, you go to http://www.dmachoice.org.  They provide various choices for different types of junk mail you wish to quit receiving.

After doing all this, I decided to take a little hike in the new land of green in which I reside.  I discovered a tree, which I thought the drought killed, slowly leafing out–a rather strange sight in June.  Usually, this occurs a month to six weeks before.  Black foot daisies are blooming everywhere, their small snowy faces showing up boldly in the emerald grass sea.  When I opened the gate to let Rosie out to graze–finally there is enough grass to let her out, she ran and ran and ran and bucked.  Nothing is more glorious than a happy, running horse.  The prickly pear are near the bloom stage and some other cacti are starting to bud magenta blossoms.  When they come out, I will take photos to share.

 

 

 

Rosie

 

Rosie–photo taken by my friend, the photographer, Anabel McMillen.

Is my book really that racy??


Today, my ten year old grandson and I worked at the gift shop at a nearby state park.  We worked the 1-5 afternoon shift.  At first it was quite busy and the main attraction was the Native American made jewelry.  We do show a fabulous collection with some unique pieces.  One woman bought more than 500 dollars worth.  It is difficult to work there in respect to the books and the jewelry–we have a LOT of both.  We are all volunteers, we get a discount but do not get paid.  So much to want!!

Two members of the organization which supports the gift shop have their books on display in the shop for sale.  Over a month ago, I left my most recent book of poetry (see the side bar for the cover and yes, you can buy it from this site or Amazon) for the manager to read.  I have known the manager for years.  In fact he painted (he is an artist as well and Native American himself) the corn plant on my wall next to where I am writing this.  I thought probably since the others sold their books there, I could do the same.  I realized that one of the books is a collection of poetry specifically about Palo Duro Canyon so it “belongs” there.  However, the other one has absolutely nothing to do with the Canyon.  When I saw the manger, I asked him what he thought about the book and the store selling it.  He seemed a bit astounded that I had written it and commented that I certainly had a lot of talent.  He had taken the book home and it was not at the store.  However, when I asked about selling it there, he said he was working on it.  Apparently, and in some ways not totally to my surprise, he is afraid some of the other members would find it too shocking, too racy.  Really?!  Maybe I should have encouraged one of the blurb writers to say something racy, maybe I should advertise differently.  Racy sells more books.

Lazy Day and Dinner


Cool and cloudy reigned today.  Now tornado warnings west of here glide across the TV screen I’ve turned on mute.  About now, the severe thunderstorms are supposed to start.  A repeat of yesterday when I took these photos from my patio.

 

SAM_1564

 

 

SAM_1565

 

 

SAM_1566

 

 

Fed Rosie earlier to beat the predicted storm, swept the dirt and little rocks from yesterday’s storm off the drive, and strolled around to get some exercise.  After several hectic days of no cooking, decided to cook something vegetarian.

1 medium sized purple onion coarsely chopped

6 medium brussels sprouts cut in half

1/2 large red bell pepper coarsely chopped

1 teaspoon chana masala (East Indian spice)

1 teaspoon berbere (Ethiopian spice)

Olive oil

Pour enough olive oil in 8-10 inch skillet to cover the bottom.  Saute the onions in the oil until translucent.  Add the brussels sprouts and spices.  Stir and cook until the brussels sprouts are cooked but still crisp.  Add the red pepper and sauté.  Do not over cook.  Serve over Jasmine rice.

SAM_1567

Not quite ready but almost.

 

SAM_1568

 

Berbere on left sent from Ethiopia by my friend’s mother.

SAM_1569

 

Jasmine rice ready to serve.  Here is how I cook the rice:

Pour enough olive oil in the bottom of the saucepan to barely cover it.  Add 1 heaping tsp. finely chopped garlic and briefly sauté.  Add one cup rice (here I used white but sometimes I mix red, black and white evenly) and sauté a little bit more.  Add two cups water and 1 tsp. vegetarian bouillon (I prefer Better Than Bouillon).  Stir and cover with several paper towels or one thick tea towel.  Place lid on top and turn down to low.  Cook 1/2 hour if using only white rice.  Other rice requires double the time.

SAM_1570

 

The finished product ready to eat.

 

Now I am going back to reading while awaiting the lightning and thunder.  About 1/3 way through a light but entertaining read:  “Coyote Cowgirl” by Kim Antieau.

 

A New Day


Guessing today’s post will be written in pieces.  It is now 11:55 in the morning and this is at least a start.  Yesterday, a friend posted this on Facebook.  Its message appealed to me so much that I downloaded it because I wanted to post it here:

 

1512451_10152085396379223_16700898_n

 

A lot of young people and even older ones seem to struggle to discover who they are, what they stand for, their life’s purpose or even if they have one.  Not me.  Somehow, in spite of struggles as to the best way to express it, I always knew. In some ways, I think I owe this knowledge to my parents who always accepted and encouraged ME to be ME.  In fact, my current work relates closely to what I said I wanted to be when I was in high school:  a college professor, actually a philosophy professor.  I teach high school now.  Yes, about my third career or maybe even fourth, but my first real one was a college administrator.  When I received my BA in English first in my class, my professors tried to talk me into going to grad school in literature.  At that time, English professors were the proverbial a dime a dozen so I went to grad school and studied higher education administration.  Later, I almost went to law school–was accepted at several good ones, but grad school gave me money so I did that.  If I had to do it over?  I would go to law school.  I would have made a great kick butt lawyer because I don’t give a damn what people think except for one thing.  I do not want others to think I’m stupid, but that never occurs so I need not worry.  Regardless, I feel happy with my life and my work, really happy.

12:25 am Guess it is technically tomorrow.  About fifteen minutes ago, I returned home from a party at the house of my friend from Ethiopia.  Guests included many Ethiopians and also a number of people born here and lots of Ethiopian food.  Since I am going there in less than a month, I will then be providing more reports on food, including my experiences in learning how to make some of it.

I had to run in the rain to get to my vehicle when I left their house.  Running in the rain is not a common experience here.  Weather has gone from drought to day after day of rain.  Apparently, a part of my house thinks it is too much because I found a small lake in part of my bedroom when I returned home.  Therefore, instead of hopping into bed, I have been mopping up water.  Now I am waiting on five bath towels to go through the spin cycle so I can mop some more.  Repairmen are going to have fun trying to locate the leak.  My guess is it not where one might think.  Oh, the joys of home ownership.

Mop time.

What day is it?


Probably only school teachers and students will relate, but since school was out a couple of days ago, I have to really think to know what day it is.  You would think I could remember because today is a busy day and last night’s sleep was interrupted by lightning, tornadoes, crashing rain, and hail.  Tonight they predict more of the same.  I live out in the country; I cannot hear the tornado sirens going off.  About 1:30 am, my daughter calls from her basement in town.  The tornado sirens had gone off and she and my grandson had gone to the basement. Honestly, hail worries me more than the threat of  a tornado because hail is relatively common here.  Little hail won’t destroy my steel roof or break the numerous banks of windows in my house, but large hail…I don’t want to even think about it, especially since the company from which I bought all these windows went bankrupt.

It’s humid, really humid.  We here in semiarid country are not used to humid.  Feels like you cannot quite ever get dry.  Clouds come and go and I am guessing tonight will be a repeat of last night.  I do not need a weather forecaster to tell me that.  But it’s green, really green, emerald green, an infrequent site here too much of the time.  At least, I won’t have to worry bout wildfires like I did two weeks ago.

My daughter was called in to work–she’s a nurse, my grandson is eating a grilled cheese sandwich–I use artisan bread and cook it in olive oil.  Gives grilled cheese a whole new meaning.  In two hours we will go to friend’s house to visit with her dad who arrived from Mexico for a vacation.  I will have to use my Spanish; he speaks no English.  Last night he called me on the phone.  He talks fast and I am a bit lost.  It’s easier in person.  Then we will pick up my grandson’s older brother, we will take grandson to soccer practice, take him home and finally older brother and I will be off to a concert we know nothing about (an adventure) and to Art Walk.  Art Walk occurs the first Friday evening every month.  You would think I would remember what day it is.

Immigrants


Since teaching senior English is my new teaching assignment, I started reading books I have not read that were short listed for the Man Booker Prize.  The first, which I just finished, is We Need New Names by NoViolet Bulawayo.  I marked two quotes that hold special relevance for me for very different reasons.  The first one:  “And besides, I’ve been getting all As in everything, even maths and science, the subjects I hate, because school is so easy in America even a donkey could pass.”  I laughed out loud when I read this.  Talk to many students born here and you would think school is hopelessly challenging.  Last school year and for many before, I taught math, algebra 1 and geometry mostly.  Half do not know their multiplication tables which makes teaching them how to factor polynomials quite a challenge or at least a lot harder.  Ask something truly simple, “What is 1/3 of 3?”  They stare and shrug.

In the past six years, four exchange students have lived with me, two from Thailand, one from Brazil, and one from Argentina.  They all took math, including AP calculus for one.  For all of them, English was a second or third or fourth language.  One commented that except for trying to read Beowulf and Canterbury Tales (they were all seniors and senior English is British literature), it was quite easy compared to school at home.  Two of them took either AP or honors classes.  Parents here complain that school is too hard, there is too much homework.  Really??  I chat with my friends from countries in Asia, the Middle East, Africa, South America.  I listen to my students and I cannot help but wonder what will become of this country if we do not have immigrants.  Yet, many citizens complain about immigrants.  These same complainers often lack the skills to get the best jobs, to rise upward in part because learning these skills is hard work.

The other quote illustrates just how difficult it is to come here from a war torn or violent or economically depressed country you love but must leave and how angry some who feel stuck there may feel.  “Just tell me one thing.  What are you doing not in your own country right now?  Why did you run off to America…Why did you just leave?  If it’s your country, you have to love it to live in it and not leave it.  You have to fight for it no matter what, to make it right.  Tell me, do you abandon your house because it’s burning or do you find water to put out the fire?  And if you leave it burning, do you expect the flames to turn into water and put themselves out?  You left it…you left the house burning…”

I cannot imagine how to respond, how to feel.  I am from here, have always lived here except for one brief stay elsewhere.  Traveling even with friends and family from another country simply is not the same.  Amarillo is a large refuge center with displaced people from Sudan, Myanmar, Somalia, Iraq, Afghanistan, and many other places. Even those with degrees often must work at horrid menial jobs others rarely want, e.g. killing and butchering livestock.  One of my good friends teaches English at a nearby high school.  She has one class in which only one student is a native English speaker.  Although I can read and speak some Spanish, I think just how difficult it would be to learn history and literature in Spanish.  I look at my house and know 100 % that without immigrant labor, I would not have this house.

If you live in the United States and are not 100 per cent Native American, you are either an immigrant yourself or the child of immigrants. Many have forgotten what their immigrant ancestors knew.  Perhaps they need to remember.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Photos from a late spring evening


After completing the horse chores, I decided to take a walk and photograph the new green.  This time two weeks ago, everything except the juniper trees was brown and dry.  Some of the native bushes had not even shown their usual spring leaves.  Many plants in arid and semi-arid environments lie dormant until the rains come.  Five inches in five days transformed the landscape here.  And it brought out hordes of mosquitoes, but that’s another story.

Image

A wildflower, sundrops, a type of primrose, grows in even dry hard soil as you can see here.

Image

A few sundrops had even come out before the rain, but many more are visible now.

Image

Hard to believe the sudden greenness.  What a difference water makes.

Image

Three species of juniper grow where I live.  Some people have told me these trees are hundreds of years old.

Image

Image

Looking across the canyon from my house I see various cavelike places such as the one here.  Great places for the foxes, coyotes, and bobcats to live.

Image

Blackfoot daisies, tough, drought tolerant, enduring, a favorite because they grow everywhere and anywhere all summer.  When they appear among flowers and bushes I have actually planted, I just leave them there.  They provide a kind of perky joy.

Image

Green everywhere and they predict thunderstorms for the next several days.  At 100 degrees today, the green would not last long without more rain.

Image

These little red spots appeared in clusters here and there everywhere as I strolled around.  I think they are the beginnings of a plant but I have no idea what.

Image

Both lavender and catmint do well here.  In the background last year thyme spread everywhere, but for the first time in several years, it died out over the winter.

Image

Mexican bird of paradise, also called desert bird of paradise, is one of my favorites.  This is just the beginning of a truly spectacular bloom.

Image

In the background Greek oregano grows.  Along my rock retaining wall Mediterranean plants seem to grow well.

Image

Blackfoot daisies growing in native grass.  All this was brown except for the daisies two weeks ago.

Image

Most of the flowers which do well here or are wild seem to be purple or yellow.  Salvia does well, but it is barely in bloom.

Image

A type of dalea, this very drought tolerant shrub grows everywhere wild around my place.  If there is no rain, it does nothing and looks dead.

Image

This is another plant that looked dead two weeks ago and then suddenly a couple of day ago came out in full bloom.  I have looked through two wildflower books and still remain uncertain as to the name of this plant.  If some reader out there knows, please email me the name or comment on this post.

Living here on the rim of wonder gives me great joy.

Large Lakes of the Sahara


Who knew?  In the literal middle of nowhere in Chad several large lakes still provide fresh water to the few animals and people who live there.  Salt water lakes reside in many deserts worldwide, but not freshwater lakes.  The May/June 2014 issue of Saudi Aramco World both astonished and enlightened me.  These lakes are not mere oases, but really large lakes, the Lakes of Ounianga.  In 2012, all eighteen of them became part of World Heritage sites.

Each lake remains different, some interconnected, some fresh water, some saline.  They are 500 miles from the nearest large body of water, Lake Chad.  To get there, you must use four wheel drive or ride a camel.  In 2001 and 2002 not far from these lakes, the fossils of extremely ancient hominids were found, hominids who lived seven million years ago, potential precursors to modern humans and chimpanzees.  Here and there camels graze in sand nearly devoid of vegetation. Near these lakes lush foliage grows, green gems in the middle of miles of varying shades of endless brown.  One of the lakes’ water is red from the algae growing in it sometimes several inches thick.  Frogs croak.

Once upon a time long ago, this Sahara grew savanna grass where the wildlife we associate with other parts of Africa lived–elephants, giraffe, hippos, antelopes, and the now extinct auroch.  Lake Boukou holds fresh water, crystalline, pure.  Around this lake one can find ancient stone hammers and scrapers dating from half a million years ago.  Because of evaporation in the dry heat, one would expect these lakes to become increasingly saline.  Only one of the eleven lakes in this area is saline. How is this possible?

Under the Sahara lies the world’s largest fossil-water aquifer beneath the countries of Chad, Sudan, Egypt, and Libya.  The maximum depth is 12,800 feet. This acquifer supplies the Lakes of Ounianga.  The mats of reeds and algae on top of the fresh water lakes keep their evaporation rate low and their water fresh.  Once these lakes covered vast distances.  Researchers use diatomic soil to study the changes in the lakes over centuries.  Diatoms are the remains of microscopic sea creatures that turn into ivory or white soil.  Studying these soils enable scientists to date the age of the lakes to approximately 6000 years ago.  Once researchers thought the Sahara suddenly became a desert about 5000 years ago, but new data reveal a more gradual change to desert taking thousands of years and only becoming the desert we know more recently.  Research around the lakes will prove important to understanding climate change and its causes.

Currently fifteen clans live in Ounianga.  These people believe their ancestors came out of the lakes when they were one giant lake surrounded with date palms.  Core studies (scientists take a core sample of the soil–in this case 16 meters) indicate that date palms came rather late in the area’s millennial history.  They have also found the roots of reeds and even trees dating back to approximately 8000 years ago.  Their goal is to drill even deeper.  Heat (122 degrees F) make this a long, torrid task, but the scientists dedicated to learning the story of these incredible lakes and the Sahara press on.

 

 

Notes:  Saudi Aramco World is one of my favorite magazines, filled with fabulous photos, historical articles, recipes, and endless fascinating information.  This issue also included an article about the Muslim Tartars who live in Poland today.  You can subscribe  by adding your name to their free subscription list.

Diatomaceous earth is found in many places.  I feed it to my horses to prevent parasites.  It is used in cleaners and even tooth paste.

Not a Good Day to Die


Not a Good Day to Die.  No, I did not write this but it made me smile, really smile.  I am still smiling.  If you have elderly parents, please read.  If you do not but someday will, please read.

 

The author is a fellow board member of the Story Circle Network.

 

Juliana