Being Open

When I decided to combine three, finished novellas into one novel, it was something new to me. It meant three couples, with only one of them what might be seen as typical-- even there, the supernatural is involved. As for the themes of the novellas, each was covered loosely in the previous blog. 

Because I am hoping to do more promoting of my Mystic Shadows Series, I got to know these books better, as I edited them for the umpteenth time. Fortunately, for the novellas, their original covers still worked.

Those covers represented three couples, but when the novel came along, what kind of cover would work? Maybe, no couple but background or a monster or two? With its title being Diablo Canyon, I wanted something that represented the challenge these humans were facing. I believe, in many ways, the conflict we still see-- supernatural or physical.

The thing is, although the first novella began with a dream, in actuality, they all were aimed toward the challenge in the last book. It is there, the reason for everything is revealed, with, of course, another romance and how the two earlier ones were doing.

Those, who haven't been reading my blog for very long, might not know that dreams are a big part of my life-- the night-time sort. Some of mine are prosaic or seem that way, pieces of my life, or scenes that I see like going to a movie theater. Mine are usually colorful and the beauty of nature or the sort of art I wish I could have when I wake up. In my experience, dreams don't always make sense. Mine are sometimes where I've been, but not always. They don't have to, as it's the brain playing around, or is it the muse trying to speak to us? In the past, some of my dreams have worked to be inspiration for books. 

The one, that began that first novella, came because I had lost a cat I loved very much. I'd have paid a lot of money to save her life. She was too young to die, but something was catastrophically wrong inside. All I could do was let her go, which happened when the veterinarian came out to the house and gave her a merciful end. I cried so much. I still cry when I think about it, which is why I don't include her picture here. I think we love many animals, but always there is one very special. She was that for me and still is.

 That night I asked for a dream to know if reincarnation was true. I had thought this cat had come to me twice before. Both other times, she'd lived out her whole lifetime. This time I wanted to know-- could I get her again? Was reincarnation true? 

The dream did not turn out to be about my cat, but it was powerful.

A man and woman were on a train. They had been lovers in previous lifetimes, but always star-crossed. This time they were both destined to die early from accidents.

There were two spirit guides looking at what was happening. As the lovers kissed, a gold ring was clearly seen over the kiss. The guides saw it and observed how rare true soul mate love was.

 'They will just ruin things again if we don't let them fix it this time,' they said. 

At the same time, there was another couple, where the woman was plotting to kill the man to get his fortune. What can fates do to fix these two star-crossed lovers? The dream had the answer.

When I woke that morning, I realized I had to write this story. For it to work, as a book, it'd take some adjusting, like no train, but the ideas for what would work were already percolating. I knew it'd be set in the ranching country of Montana. Having raised cattle for a big part of my life, with many trips to Montana, the setting was a natural. The cowboy life has long fascinated me, even though our piece of it is small.

 

After the first came together, it led to a second and then a third novella, each with their own romance and mysticism. I wrote about the general premises of all three in the previous blog. What I didn't expect is to put the three together, with the spice, for which there is no room for in my novellas. That became the novel-- Diablo Canyon.

~~~

 Once again, this blog has ended up too long. The importance of Diablo Canyon, its cover, and theme, that'll be next blog. Remember, what I am trying to do with my blogs on writing is to encourage others to find their own creativity. Sure sales are nice but mainly to know others found something of value in choosing the books.

To me, ironically, Diablo Canyon became my most important book with its combinations of energy and the unexpected way it worked out. Why did that happen? I believe it came about because I was open to it. That is also to me what creativity is all about-- being open in life and our dreams.

marketing from the land

The big deal for us this week-end will be a Craigslist ad for selling a portion of our cattle herd. We are doing this for the grass but mostly because our son, Ranch Foreman, is managing the livestock and he wants less animals as he feels his way into all that means. Although he grew up with these herds, as a kid, he hadn't the responsibility that he now feels when he's the man and Ranch Boss is in Arizona. So, reluctantly especially me) the farm has to face the reality of either finding direct buyers (my hope) or sending these animals to the auction, which I hate but has sometimes been the only way.

The ad has so far produced a fair amount of interest but not enough for the bull, Estevan, who I especially want to find a herd where he can do the job he was born to do-- be herd bull. He is easy to work around, not using his bulk to bully the other cows (as much as the cows do each other). He has been depressed, being away from the main herd (and the old herd bull, who he has connected with). An intelligent animal, he knows more than some. He is, however, horned and some are afraid of that even in an animal that is not mean. Accidents happen and that can be true with any of them with that kind of bulk and muscle.

 

So, I hope this week-end we have some visitors here to look at the eleven available animals (cow/calf pairs; heifers; young bulls; and the 2 year old bull). We have had good luck in the past with selling to the right buyers through these ads. My fingers are crossed that the right ones will come across it and the Benevolent Universe (wording in a dream I had recently) will bring a life for these animals, such as they have had with our land here where they both have shelter and the ability to wander in more rugged terrain with the leased land behind us. They live both wild and domestic. The work Ranch Foreman has done among them for the last nearly two years has made them very human oriented-- ideal for small operations.

 

As for me, I never like times of sales. I feel my personality is wrong for this work-- not hard-hearted enough to be realistic.  Too many tears fall during such times, and always have. I see these animals as personalities and some of that is due to living close to them and watching their interactions. I watch them lick each other, call out when separated from the herd or their offspring. I do not see them as a product but as beings worthy of respect where some must die for others to live. When we can butcher from the land, it's perfect for me-- born here, live here, and die here. 

I wasn't born here but I might well die here someday. It's the process of life whether living beings or what we consider the plant world, which might be more living beings than we think.

 

If anyone lives close enough to have an interest in these animals for their own land, email is  [sevenoaksranch@gmail.com] or you can use mine here at the blog [rainnnn7@hotmail.com]. I know some don't believe in eating animals; but if it's done with respect and not using more than needed, I see it as a healthy part of life. Done like this, it's not corporate ranching; but as it always was-- small and interactive to the community. 

Ever as Before

by Rain Trueax

Looking for a new read that is a kind of magical realism just in time for Imbolc? How about throwing in a threat of the living dead? A particularly determined demon? Natural born witches, gnomes, warlocks, shamans-- this is, after all the 7th in the Mystic Shadows series of books that move beyond what we consider reality to something else. Might that something else be quantum physics? What if there is an alchemist aspect to how evil can be fought and contained? Imbolc is a good time for a story that is a mix of physical reality and romantic fantasy.

Immigration

by Rain Trueax

 Sonoran Gopher Snake at our Tucson backyard pool. He/she might look scary, but they are very beneficial to the environment. You can tell a dangerous snake from this one by head shape. Rattlers have triangular heads. The rattles are less reliable as they can lose those various ways. It's nice when we can clearly define what is dangerous and what is beneficial.

Originally, I had not planned on starting with from where my thinking on immigration has come, but Diane asked that I do that. She and I come from different backgrounds but have been friends for over 50 years. In the early mornings, we used to meet for coffee, when we both lived in a Tucson apartment complex. Our husbands would leave for Graduate School, and she and I'd talk over different things that seemed important at the time. We often disagreed, but it didn't matter. We didn't get mad. She'd head off to paint and I'd write. It was a creative environment, one I have never actually duplicated.

Recently, she and I decided here to discuss some big topics that we know we don't see the same way. We are doing it to show people can disagree and remain friends. We can let it go when we can't convince someone else that we are right. One of the problems today is the bubbles in which so many live. They hear only one side and get to thinking everyone out of their bubble is bad. I've been unfriended for that very reason on Facebook. I've come to believe that in most bubbles, if I read them at all, it's smarter to not say what I think unless it's Amen. The bubble is their right. It's a shame though as hearing from other viewpoints can let us know the ones who think that way are not bad people for disagreeing.

As for my own background, I come from working people, mostly lower income but responsible folks. There wasn't an elite among us-- intellectually or economically. I have jokingly called myself a redneck because I understand those people and ranchers tend to work with the basics of life. My people valued education but didn't see someone with a fancy degree as necessarily any smarter than someone without a high school diploma. They were more knowledgeable, of course, at least about some things...

One of my main lessons from childhood is--actions have consequences. I grew up with a belief that idealism is fine, but it has to be tempered with reality. This was reinforced when my husband of 55 years and I bought a farm over 40 years ago. Farming teaches you even more strongly that idealism doesn't get the work done. It doesn't fix broken fences. There is a reality that those who work the land learn or they go back to the city. For farmers and ranchers, work is not a temporary vacation. It's a day by day reality. You do it or it does not get done. 

True, some farmers do pay those not legally here to do the work but not many cattle ranchers as it's dangerous work where you need to be skilled or it won't turn out well for you. That is also true of most forestry work; and in my part of Oregon, I see very few migrants in those jobs. The only big farmer nearby has brought up workers from Mexico but applied for them legally with blue cards. That lets the workers come and go.

Now, I do see a lot of those likely without documentation seasonally for Christmas tree harvesting. They aren't here later. Generally speaking, work for migrants has meant a need to move with the crops-- this is not new. It was big in the US during the Dust Bowl years in the '30s for families like Ranch Boss's father's. It is true today for those living in RVs, who go from job to job. Steady work isn't always available for some-- here illegally or otherwise.

My time in Arizona, where the border is today an issue, began in 1965 and has been off and on until it increased when we finally bought a second home in Tucson 20 years ago. Tucson is a place of many ethnicities, a city proud of its past with influences from the early Mexican settlers, the Native Americans, the Chinese, and yes, European settlers.

I've seen the difference illegal immigration has made to Southwestern places where I enjoy re-creating, mountain islands and valleys along the border. There was a time, when we could explore washes down there or out of Tucson with no concern for who we might meet. For those who don't know, the scary people are not generally speaking the migrants but those who bring them and drugs. I've personally seen what it has done to border towns like Nogales where the fences got more onerous and intimidating, where the ones I'd see hanging around looked more dangerous-- on both sides. Where rudeness to women got more out in the open by the comments made. That was not the Nogales of 1965.

One of my favorite areas to explore out of Tucson (Ironwood National Monument now) had a group of immigrants murdered as they waited for a ride-- murdered by a rival cartel. It's a place we no longer go without watching for what's coming. 

Same thing with nearer to the border. We go but with caution and yes, with a gun. On the ranches down there, I've read their stories, seen for myself the plastic garbage strewn (which when cows eat kills them), seen cut fences, to which I, of course, relate. I've read how tanks were left dry after migrants refilled their bottles and left the tap open. This whole thing of having people crossing land with no respect for it can't be understood unless someone understands and tends to the land. 

Despite understanding the side of those who have their land and want to protect it, I also sympathize with those here without papers, who work hard but find their lives on hold as they never really know if there will be a knock at the door. This is an intolerable problem and it's made worse that some profit from it-- on both sides of the partisan divide. 

Because of my nature, I read both sides, desperate stories like this one [Risks for the migrants] but I am a practical woman, made so by my life and belief in rules-- an archaic way to be in today's world apparently. I also believe that with a country 22,000,000,000 in debt, where we aren't going to see 0 interest in the future, what can we really afford? There is no sugar daddy out there to pay that all off. We have to live responsibly as individuals. Why is the government different.

So, here we go with what I have come to believe-- and yes, it involves a wall--

Slippery Slopes

by Rain Trueax

I had written the blog for today and then woke up Friday morning to another mass shooting, this time in New Zealand. This was another psychotic shooter, with no caring for other humans. His name needs to be forgotten, but we do need to pay attention to the meaning behind his insane rant. I didn't read all his words but enough to see what he wanted was one thing-- to strew mayhem. He put out some kind of twisted manifesto, which deserves to also be forgotten but what we should remember is how these kind of evil people want to divide and destroy others-- not just those they killed or injured but from all walks of life. He had excuses for his killings, but they weren't reasons. They were attempts to elevate himself and his cause of destruction. People like that don't deserve to be elevated. They deserve to go to prison for the rest of their miserable lives, never able to send out their words again-- words intended only to hurt others.

So, yes, I had a life this week and wrote about it. It'll be after you hit Read more. I don't intend to let that life be destroyed by the evil of one person. I do believe we all need to say less anger-filled words and be more inclusive in our language recognizing that good and bad exist sometimes side by side. We need to pay attention to the good and bring more of it into life. 

I intended Slippery Slope for today's title for other reasons but it fits what happened in New Zealand too. The slippery slope can begin with hate-filled rhetoric. I try to keep with the philosophy that if I don't like someone or what they say, sometimes it's walk away and other times it's try to make my point where it sticks to that point and not become an accusation. Nobody but the shooter is responsible for what happened in New Zealand, but life is better when we dwell on what is good-- not on what is bad. Some days are harder than others to do that. This has been one of those times. I have been waking up feeling upset without a firm reason for why and then i remember. I don't know how we escape that. The big thing is that we don't get dragged down by the lowest elements of humanity.

What's around us

by Rain Trueax

It is hard to believe it's already March, and, we've been in Tucson two months. Where did the time go? The lambing and calving are going as usual in Oregon-- except, there are others taking care of them and feeding out the hay. As cold as it's been, there has been a need for more hay. We've had some losses, but that' happens whether we are there or not. One of the men who has always looked after the place has been sick; so lucky we had two backups (one is our son).

a character from Something Waits

Down here, after I finished the rough draft for 'Something Waits,' it went off to editor, beta readers and then back to me for final corrections. I took out a subscription in Dreamscope to do work on its trailer. On the editing, I am going slow with it for assorted reasons. Having done about 1/3 of it using Speech Recognition, there are some odd mistakes, places where the computer doubled up on what I had just written. It's taking a lot to find all the places that speech recognition used a different word or spelling than I intended.

Wherever I am, I always take a few minutes when I first wake to remember any dreams from the night. Sometimes that helps with a book element. Sometimes, it's mundane and filled with daily frustrations or ordinary events. Dreams are important to me though and I pay attention to them. Once in a while, there will be a symbol that isn't part of anything I can connect to me and then I go to an online site i like for dream interpretation.

Whether in Oregon or Arizona, we are up before first light. The cats get fed (3 black and one orange). I read the papers, hope nothing bad happened, write, eat breakfast (which my husband cooks). With the essential repairs to the house out of the way, we are concentrating on figuring out what exactly we can get done, before we have to leave, on what had hoped to be an addition. That may not happen. 

We had an odd happening involving the house where we got a letter to someone else but at our address. By the time, Ranch Boss traced it down, it turned out the title company had goofed two owners back. So far, it looks like more of a nuisance than major problem *fingers crossed*. It involves a lot-line adjustment that let that owner build a

swimming pool. It appears the title company has responsibility to get it right. The assessors office said it's common in this area of older homes and irregular lots. It's not all settled yet but very good we were here to get that letter.

One thing about this house is it's more nature oriented than our Oregon home, which is more ranch oriented. In Oregon, there are fences around the immediate house that allow the sheep and cattle to be down around the house and still have flowers and keep the cats from roaming. Here, every window looks out at desert with the potential to also see the bobcats, coyotes, hawks, bunnies, quail, and a myriad of birds. Sometimes I see nothing, the next time a roadrunner might pass by. A fence again keeps the cats safe from what lurks beyond.

The book I am hoping to have out early next week has shamans and witches as the primary characters-- good and bad. I realized as I looked around the house that Casa Espiritu looks like the home of a shaman. Some of what is in it has long been owned by us. Some was acquired by us for this home. It has touches of various spiritual traditions without one dominating the other.

I write paranormals, even when they have not been particularly successful for me. If I was writing what has sold the best, it'd be historical romances. I like them but right now my heart is into the mysteries of life. What is really around us? Do we see what we expect to see or what is? Once upon a time, I thought I knew. Now I don't but I write books that let me explore  mystery. Maybe someday those books will be wanted by others. A writer though has to write what comes to them or it becomes craft. There is a place for craft, of course. :)

A painting could sell a ranch : A fantasy that emerged as I overcame painter's block

 
Initially I overcame inertia  by just mixing colors and painting without a plan. I decided  I did not have to paint a meaningful painting. Some vague notion of landscape would be a starting point. I didn't know what kind of landscape I would make -  maybe a seascape, alpine meadows, water reflections or near non-objective abstract.  Internal or external type was not decided. As I brushed on the acrylic paint covering about two thirds of the canvas,  new thoughts of possible meanings flashed across my mind.

When the four foot by five foot canvas was almost completely covered,  I thought it was good. The painting was a nice backdrop to holiday clutter being  decorative and calming.   But if it was done in just three hours, it was void of a possible ricer involvement. So I took courage ignoring fears of spoiling the painting.

New directions 

My paintings are a pictorial journal of my life with some even becoming solutions to problems I have encountered. Time to paint when changes are near. The beautiful wood lot and ranch in back of our property is going to be subdivided. The view will be gone forever, but I will have a sentimental memory painting. For awhile I thought I would paint a deer jumping over the foreground fence out at the viewer, which shortly occurred to me was merely an exercise to see how good I was as a painter - a short lived shallow reward for me.

Once a painting solved a problem I had. I used to sign my maiden name to my paintings in hopes that I would find a long lost cousin when all the usual means of searching failed for a decade. A painting of a common ancestor published on a blog did result in one child of the lost cousin calling me.  Then I  visitited the cousins I never knew as a child.

Though it is a long stretch, maybe a want to be ranching family will read this blog and  buy all 13 acres and continue ranching while rearing their children like my painting reminisces.

The flow was strong with purpose for a couple of weeks



 

After blocking in  the atmosphere and colors, each day I added a small pictures of my heart warming memories like the house decorated with Christmas wreath, along with the barn and horse arena. I have more memories that could be added like the chipmunks, rabbits, humming birds, robins, peacocks  and steers. There were quail, China pheasant, owls, raccoon, coyote and skunk, shrews, mice and rats, hawks, woodpeckers and more. My husband giving a neighborly assistance in the falling of trees, and cutting wood, the tractor added too. The small family farm opens up the continuation of fundamental values upon which our greatness as a nation was built - neighborly caring for each other sharing our labors and bounty with one another. Urbanization of most of us is at the heart of our loss of empathy. saving this life style is important.

 Because in this season I was overwhelmed by adding so much, I placed the painting with the front to the wall in my studio out of sight until next year.

 The  view outdoors had changed from being autumn to wintry frost.  I was mesmerized by the pastels as the sun started to melt away the whites. When the sun set behind the trees at 3:30 PM, the purples and greens died in my painting, only coming back to excite me in the early mornings when the sun glow peeped through the window.

 What is slowing the flow now? Wanting to paint a winter scene?  Indecision? Would more additions  take away from the pony ride?  Or have the holidays called me to do some baking and shopping that I have been avoiding? Time to put it away until next year. I am too close to it to make a decision.

 

I have successfully kept a flow going but not the holiday preparations.  Enough is enough. Time to hide the painting away until next year when with fresh eyes I will determine if it is complete. Time for undivided time with family. Next year I will be ready to do more paintings of the neighboring ranch.

I hope my Jewish friends are concluding their last day of a happy Hanukkah celebration and to my Christian friends a Merry meaningful Christmas with hope for peace for all faiths and beliefs in 2018.

weather and the land

Getting back to the farm left very little time to think about anything beyond what needed to be done. We had not even totally unpacked the trailer when the snowfall began. The weather reports changed by the hour as to what we should expect. Very cold. No snow. Snow. Some snow. A lot of snow. Besides weather we came back to the main lambing time. 

So looking at weather maps more than we have in years, we had feeding, lambing, unpacking, the joy of such a beautiful snowfall, and finally, as happens so often in the aftermath of such a storm, a power outage. 

Photos and memories are all that remain of the storm as the snow has mostly gone into the ground. The power was finally restored. We have a lot of live lambs but lost more than we had in the last three or four years-- never this many in one year. Some is the weather. Some maybe the wrong ram for young ewes. It is part of the nature of raising livestock but not a fun part. It was complicated by no electricity from Saturday afternoon until about midnight Tuesday night--followed by another power outage Friday morning from 3:20am until 7:30am (likely due to a downed tree across a line as a lot of them haven't looked good since the storm).

When you are without power, it's amazing how it changes living. Surprisingly, light was the thing I found myself missing most. Yeah, the internet, but we could get online sporadically with long extension cords attached to either the trailer battery or a generator (original one stopped working one day into the outage). What we couldn't have were electric lights, the refrigerator, stove, water for flushing or drinking (well pumps run from electricity). 

What we had was heat thanks to the fireplace and a good wood-stove. We lit candles, but they provide pools of light. It feels like living in a cave when the only light comes from flames. It was a good reminder, when I get back to writing something historical, although likely people didn't think about it so much as it just was what they experienced.

The power company was the most disappointing it's ever been as they kept giving updates when we would call in and each one was the same-- we're working on it. Be back in 48 hours. Here are the places still without. Who believes anybody when they say it'll be 48 hours? That just means they don't know. These days they operate like so many businesses, you are never allowed to talk to a real person. A computer runs it all including the crews from what we can tell.

Finally Tuesday night when Farm Boss called their recording, it said, all power is restored in the area. that's when he got angry and told them as much. They were on our road later that night, just before midnight with three trucks to restore power. It could have been done Sunday and saved us the cost of a new generator-- if they had listened to their old timers-- like us. We've been through it before. Their computers are clueless as they go by whatever info was typed in!

When you live out and through this kind of storm, you totally appreciate the crews that go out in the worst of it and try to bring it all back to normal. The road crews worked steadily not only removing snow but the trees and branches that went  across the roads from the ice and snow load. 

Of course, I can't be sure what went wrong with our power company, but I am blaming their computerized system that cuts jobs and frequently fails pretty much in an emergency. When the guys out here were the ones deciding what to do, they got the job done. When they are forced to depend on a computer to tell them where to go, the story is not the same. 

Anyway all is well that -- at least temporarily-- ends well (other than the cost to us of that new generator as we didn't have time to get the old one repaired if we wanted to save what was in our freezer as it began to warm up). I am just very glad we were here for the whole experience. It was a snowfall my part of Oregon hasn't seen in probably ten years-- beautiful, intense, filled with opposing emotions, colors and feelings. For someone like me who remembers these kinds of storms when I was a kid, I enjoyed it-- even to some extent the power outage as it does challenge us to bring out the best we have. I am not yet ready to live somewhere that the temps never change and there is no challenge. I'll save that for my 80s... maybe ;).

Anyway it's more or less back to normal, and the snow is gone all but for patches. We are back to rain, which our land badly needs; so we welcome it. Some people kid Oregonians about how so much rain must be depressing. It isn't for most native Oregonians-- especially those who have lived their lives the west side of the Cascades. We do what we want in it. We know it's what makes our land what it is. If the rain goes, so will go a lot of our vegetation. This is a drought year in our area and even this amount of rain hasn't gotten our snow-pack or river levels to normal. It's not as bad as California but we had already been experiencing forest fires. That's not good when it's January and February; so I am glad to see it raining.

In the house there has been a lot of color with the roses earlier, the fires in the fireplace, candles. In the midst of the rest of this, I have been trying to get good photographs of a gift we were given in Arizona. They are carved bookends of two buffalo heads by a talented Bisbee artist Thomas Suby who does phenomenal work as you can see if you look at this link or this one Bisbee sculptor in wood.

The detail and personality in his work is amazing, but the glossy finish has  made them a challenge to photograph on the mantle beside one of our Navajo rugs, some pottery by a local potter, and candles. Because of the shine from the flash, I gave up and moved them to a table where outside light helped to cut down on the glare. You can enjoy the grain of the wood and detail finally this way.

The wood is ironwood which we happen to live near quite a lot of it in Tucson. Ironwood doesn't flourish everywhere as you'd see if you were in Tucson. Our home there is in one of its regions. We have several healthy trees, lost one big old one since we moved there. I tried every which way to keep the biggest and another younger one alive but lost them both. They had reached the biggest size possible for their settings, I guess. That area has caliche in the soil and maybe it was a factor. The big one might have lived its life expectancy but it was a big loss, such a lovely tree.

Ironwood trees are beautiful all year but especially when they bloom. They also have fine little slivery leaves and limbs. Unless you have worked around an ironwood tree, you have no idea how insidious those tiny slivers can be. I wouldn't have one near the pool but in the natural vegetation region of our property there, i love and treasure them. I am though thinking maybe the stump from that big one we lost... maybe just maybe some of it should be carved ;). I used to carve stone but bloodied my hands so much that I gave it up-- not to mention the soapstone dust is bad for lungs. We left the old ironwoods where they were as the hawks, doves and other birds love to perch on them as they survey their world.

 May 2012

Pete French Round Barn

My third Oregon historical book was right after the Civil War and involved the beginning of cattle ranching in Eastern Oregon. The region along the North Fork of the John Day, because I love it so much, actually didn't have big cattle ranchers that early; but hey that's why I call them historical romances not history books.

On this trip, I was doing research for the fourth Oregon book but we had some must stop destinations along the way. One was Pete French's round barn. We'd been there in 1978 (oh my gosh what I looked like over 35 years ago I don't want to even think) but this time we took some wonderful photos of the barn.

Pete French, born John William French in 1849, in 1872 drove herd of 1200 shorthorns up from California to the Malheur region. He had the backing of a big California rancher (whose daughter he later married). The ranch French established eventually grew to 200,000 acres before he was murdered over a boundary dispute. Because of the nature of the law and local western politics at that time, the man who shot him (unarmed and in the back) got off on a self-defense plea because French (small even for the times at 5'6") had hit him with a riding crop-- maybe.

The round barn is one of the remaining structures from the ranch's heyday. It was built to work horses during the winter and a fantastically beautiful structure. It had been maintained by the Jenkins family until it was eventually turned into a state park-- fortunately as Malheur and the P Ranch were closed when we were there thanks to being federally owned.

I might've changed a lot since I was first there, but it looked exactly the same.

Okay, I know after what I said above, you might be curious; so here's the photo of my kids and me from that trip in 1978. The second old photo proves owl families have been using this barn for a long, long time.

Protecting the rancher life

As long as I was writing about ranching and wolves, I might as well mention another concern of mine which I probably have written about before. Where it comes to Republican proposals, there is one with which I agree-- end the estate tax. I consider it unfair, double taxation and especially unfair to small business owners and ranchers. If there must be one at all, start it at a value of over $10,000,000 to keep the small ranches and businesses still possible for the family to continue operating.

I know the reason people think there should be an estate tax-- level out wealth, "social engineering through tax codes". Stop creation of a permanent wealth class. Well, I say do that through income tax laws that are fair and have purpose to encourage investment. Personally, I do not like it for estates, not even that of say a Bill Gates. He earned his money and his family should be able to inherit it if he so desires which he has said he would not as he'd rather they didn't get so much wealth that way. We'll see if he feels that way when he gets to old age and death planning that is more immediate.

What I don't like about estate taxes particularly applies to small ranches and businesses. So say I have a couple of thousand acres of Eastern Oregon land (yes, that's a small ranch over there) where my family has always raised cattle (something I could only wish to have had).

In my scenario, I would like my son or granddaughter to be able to keep doing it. How do I manage that? It can be helped by turning it into a corporation years ahead of my death, but that necessitates my losing control, and sometimes isn't possible or done soon enough. Because a lot of the value of a ranch is the raw land, and doesn't even indicate its value for ranching, the estate taxes can be so high that the family cannot continue working that land.

So who gets it, who takes it out of family operations? Government helped them do it but it's the financial types, those with a lot of wealth, who can then buy those places and might hire that rancher's kids to work the land they once owned-- turning them into sharecroppers basically.

In my view, estate taxes are more a way to keep wealth from growing in the hands of the middle than it is to keep it from the Donald Trumps of the world. It makes it possible for people like Ted Turner to acquire more and more big ranches and who knows what the end of that will be. The really rich have their methods and enough money to protect their estates anyway. Small ranches aren't big enough to do that, and this is part of why more and more land is being consolidated in fewer hands.

Sometimes the land is put into conservancy which has its values (except for those who love the ranch lifestyle and want to live it, of course)  but the thing is where does that leave Americans, at least those who do eat lamb and beef? Basically it will leave them buying it all from feedlot productions which turn animals from beings into things. It necessitates pumping them full of antibiotics to keep them alive in unhealthy conditions and hormones to cause them to grow faster while they live a miserable existence until fat enough for Americans to be satisfied. There has to be a price in health for this callousness toward the animals even for those who don't give a damn about ranchers who used to be highly respected and too often today are not seen as of value with Americans living further and further from food production with no clue how any of it works out in reality.

I admit I love cattle. I love their beauty, how they care for each other, and enjoy seeing them have a good life.  I am drawn to seeing them wherever I go and enjoy when it looks like a nice place and breaks my heart when it's a feedlot. In the case of the producing cows, on our small ranch, they live out their lives, even if they stop having calves.

I don't like the way Americans don't understand the value of eating grassfed beef, which is as good for health as salmon. Understanding the benefit of grassfed and naturally grown beef means healthier and better for the animals from birth to death. Whoever convinced us to eat the fat stuff sold in stores has not done our health or that of the herds any good.  [ConAgra and Monsanto, et.al.,]

When I am on the road somewhere, I always notice whether the rancher is responsible for his land and animals (which means understands raising of grass comes before anything else-- without a healthy habitat, you aren't in business long).  You can tell where one ranch begins and another ends by quality of fencing and how tall the grass is. I admire those (and there are plenty of them in agriculture) who show responsibility in both.  Ranchers who treat their land well are looking to the future and as good for the country as letting the land lay idle. Livestock raising on ranches does not have to be bad for the environment even if there are certainly examples where it has been.

Top photo taken recently in Montana, second one on our way home along the Middle Fork of the John Day River in Eastern Oregon, and third one of our own cattle.

Klamath Basin

Klamath Lake was naturally a marsh area with some lake but became bigger in order to allow irrigation on farm and ranch land. This has led to turf wars when southern Oregon goes through droughts. The question of droughts must always be-- which amount of yearly precipitation is normal?
There is still controversy over which is most important, family farms and ranches, recreation, or salmon fisheries. Several years ago that led to heated exchanges and a few midnight releases of water. The problem is when you fool with Mother Nature, you often have no clue where it's going to end up; but man just can't quit improving on things... sort of.


These photos are all of the area above Klamath Lake and Fort Klamath. This is still big cattle country. It is about 33 miles south of Crater Lake.

I know it's amazing to me also that I live with cattle all year but that when I go on vacation, I just have to stop every chance I get for photographs of other people's cattle. Maybe there is something wrong here or maybe I just like the world in which I live.

Canoeing the Wood River

My second surprise on this vacation came while canoeing the Wood River. It is a gorgeous stretch of water, in the Klamath Basin, not very deep but with enough current to be different than anything we had canoed to date. It runs through ranch land and forests, is full of interesting things to see, nice places to pull a canoe out and have a lunch. It starts at a spring that forms a full river, not unusual in the volcanic Cascades.

Our daughter and her family had canoed this stretch (about 5 miles) several times before and talked of how beautiful it was. We knew it was too long for the smallest grandkids but our son's family had to leave a day earlier which left us a day to give it a try.I am not an adventurous person, nor am I one who likes to have thrills; so I had some reservations about the current they said was in the river. It also is a river of many oxbows where you nearly turn back onto yourself along with that current. They told me I'd have to keep my camera in a waterproof bag most of the time, only taking photos when stopping. That was definitely a drawback.

Being a canoe novice, I was nervous but willing to give it a try. There were some new tricks to learn with the paddle, ways to help the canoe make the turns, avoid downed trees, and avoid killing each other (that is Farm Boss and me). There is something about canoeing that can lead to spats as theoretically the back paddler tells the front paddler what to do. Strongest paddler is in the back. This can lead to disagreements especially if the canoe appears to be heading straight for a snag.
The stretch we canoed took about 5 hours, allowing for several stops and a nice lunch break (our daughter knows how to fix a picnic gourmet lunch). Although the river was constantly in current, it was a lot of work because the current doesn't take the canoe automatically where you want it to go. There is also one easy portage over an earthen dam.

We got a lot of good instruction, but there is no real way for anybody to tell someone else what to do in all situations in a river like the Wood. The currents and curves change with downed branches and trees. What worked one time might not another. You can be told the tools, learn how to use them, watch what the other canoe did, but each situation will vary. It will also vary from canoe to canoe.

Almost at the end of it, I got the surprise when we did something wrong (which we kind of think we know but still aren't totally sure exactly what). I felt the canoe starting to go over and knew there'd be no saving it. Being dumped into the river had not been on my agenda although I knew it was possible.

When a canoe tips in current, it reminds me of the sensation of being thrown from a horse (which has also happened to me). Basically, you are physically projected out and have to hope for the best. Even under water and looking up, I knew I was at no physical risk (we had passed the brush hanging into the stream, the stream was relatively shallow, and I was wearing my life jacket not to mention am a very strong swimmer), but still it's a strange feeling. Our son-in-law beached their canoe and came back to help us right the canoe and get everything back together.

It's one of those things that becomes more pleasant to think about after the fact than during it. My biggest concern had been my precious camera; but when we had started hitting more current, I had secured its bag to the canoe and it stayed dry.
I must admit that at nearly 66, I kind of like the idea of having been canoeing on a river, in some current, and being thrown from the canoe. A lot better at my age than sitting somewhere watching television or playing solitaire, not that I don't also do those things. However, I think I prefer the lakes where the only thing I have to worry about rocking the canoe is wind and a person at the back who keeps shifting position because of being uncomfortable.All photos are from along the upper Wood River. Yes, I have one of me looking like a drowned rat. No, I am not sharing it here!