Our English guests, Mark and Debbie, who stayed with us after traveling to Warm Springs, South-East of Portland, Oregon, to view the eclipse took the following three photographs.
See the crescents in the dappled shade of a near by bush. 10 minutes before totality.
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Totality – August 21st, 2017.
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Our English guests.
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Then you will love the next one. Sent in by Neil Kelly from Devon, England.
Madison wears sunglasses to view the eclipse along the Cumberland River, Nashville, USA
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And another beauty courtesy of Neil K.
Last but not least ….
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Back to the stars!
The rising moon a little after 5am on the 19th August.
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And there hanging above that rising moon was Venus!
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Finally, back to Tanja Brandt whose most beautiful photographs will be gracing these Picture Parades in the future.
Lisa Mae DeMasi offers you all a beautiful guest post.
Not going to allow my words to delay you reading this wonderful essay from Lisa.
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How this Handler and Service Dog Nurture One Another
by Lisa Mae DeMasi
At two years old, Lady’s ribs protruded from her coat and her belly was swollen with milk.
Like the thirteen other Labs that had arrived at a rest stop in Union, CT on the straight 12½-hour drive from Muncie, IN, she was presented to us on a crisp autumn day amid the chaos of respective adopters.
My husband Dennis had never experienced the warmth and companionship of having a dog and well, I surprised him with Lady, who we quickly renamed to Sabrina. The very afternoon we picked her up, we raced to the park, wanting her to feel the joy of freedom and play. My husband’s face lit up and while I was thrilled at the opportunity to befriend and care for Sabrina; it meant closing the 20-year gap since our beloved German Shepard from my childhood passed away.
Until laying my eyes on Sabrina’s profile, my heart couldn’t entertain loving another dog.
And what canine isn’t after the same love?
In Sabrina’s case, she couldn’t know of the family members that awaited to embrace her presence. Within days of the initial hair-raising excitement, the cat sought out occasions to groom her ears. Our pet rat was free to waddle the kitchen floor un-bothered, and the pair of bonded bunnies in want of company stretched out beside her on the living room floor.
Dog, cat, rat, rabbit?
You bet.
And Dennis and me?
Like kids again.
Sabrina settled into the folds of our lives, well-nourished and exercised in Boston’s epic snowfall in the winter of 2009-2010, taking careful watch over all of us. The fear expressed in her eyes pre-adoption disappeared. Eight years later, she watches over me in particular. Thirty years ago, I was struck and thrown from the passenger side of a car until my abdomen collided with the steering wheel—blunt force that called for iterative repair to my digestive system and caused permanent damage to the nerves that signal my bladder is full.
Today when I’m busy working away, Sabrina will alert me to get up every couple of hours to make a trip to the restroom by gently placing her head in my lap.
When I suffer acute intestinal cramping, Crohns-like symptoms, she’ll sit at my side and lean her body against mine. Her calm and steady source of nurturing, helps me to relax and mitigates the cramps.
In 2008, the Department of Justice amended the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA). This was amended to include digestive, bowel and bladder impairments that limit major life activities as the disabled, calling for employers to make reasonable accommodations and if the individual elects, to allow task-oriented service animals [dog or miniature horse] to accompany them on the job.
Sabrina, serving in the capacity of a sensory/medical assist – alerting me to get up and take care of myself – qualifies.
The HR Director, Debra Susler of Reputation Institute in Cambridge, MA this past April would not allow Sabrina to accompany me on-the-job. I sent her an elaborate email explaining my condition and Sabrina’s certification. She did not reply to me but to my supervisor.
She said “no”.
My response?
I walked out of the place
Sabrina: rescue dog to devoted helper dog.
Respectively, Sabrina’s competencies and understanding of language cease to astound us and her behavior on-the-job at Dell EMC is so well-mannered, coworkers never run out of compliments.
And bystanders in public? The grocery store, pharmacy, gym, dentist, doctor?
Gazes from cell phones are broken, conversations fall short.
Then, come the smiles. A question. Praises. The feel-good moment.
Sabrina brings people together.
I recently read a distressing post from a woman who said every time she looks into a service dog’s eyes, she sees sadness. Even Ingrid Newkirk, CEO and Co-Founder of PETA, has told me, “the life of a typical service dog is a terrible one.”
It’s true. Any canine enslaved to servitude is doomed a dog’s life unlived.
Service animals are working animals, not pets.
The ADA confirms it.
But that’s not the relationship Sabrina and I share [and I understand it can’t be the same with other handlers and service dogs]. In addition to being my devoted helper, Sabrina teaches me to exist in the moment — just like she does. To enjoy the sight of the sun shimmering through the trees, the call of the birds, the fragrance of wildflowers, the feel of the soft soil I tread a few yards behind her when we’re on our hikes.
What more could a dog do for a girl?
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There is something rather special about Lisa’s guest post; special in an introspective way!
That will be better appreciated if you go across to Lisa’s blog site at Nurture Is My Nature.
In particular when you read, via her ‘About’ link, what Lisa offers about herself. Republished here in full.
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As time goes by and you’re getting older and stuff like that—getting older sucks. You know, I hear all this crap about, ‘Oh, you can age with dignity.’ Really? —Mickey Rourke
Lisa’s creative work has recently placed second in Fiftiness’s 2017 Writing Contest (Why I Love Bike Commuting in Boston) and been featured in the anthologies, Unmasked, Women Write About Sex & Intimacy After Fifty (9/17, print) and The Best of Vine Leaves Literary Journal (11/17, print). Her essays have been published in the lit journals and several other media outlets. She considers Massachusetts her home, but has lived in Connecticut, Vermont, New York State and two other planets called Wyoming and Arizona. She earned a B.A. from Regis College and an MBA from Babson College, and holds a Master certificate in Reiki.
Lisa is seeking a development editor [that gets her] to work on her collection of essays and her memoir.
Sometimes I think a particular Picture Parade series will be impossible to follow. So let’s see what I can find for next week. Dear Bob, thank you for these!
I have a marvellous blogging friend in New Mexico who has Rufina, a chicken who was shot in the head, sealed in a plastic bag, placed in a freezer for 24hrs, and lived! (albeit now blind).
I have a framed poster of Rufina up in my living room, and even one her feathers perched in one of my many, many, many St. Francis’s
Then in response to me wanting to republish that story replied: “Contact her, she’s wonderful, and her pottery is to die for.”
So I did and, with Laura’s permission here is that story of this most remarkable chicken.
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The Undead Chicken
by Laura Bruzzese, June 24th, 2013
This is Rufina. She’s new to our household.
She’s quiet and doesn’t take up much space, mostly sits on her perch or in her ceramic nest all day. She moves around slowly. If you are really gentle, she lets you pick her up.
We sit by the pond together in the morning, before everyone else gets up.
Last Thursday, I answered a friend’s call on Facebook for someone to take this chicken. Isabella and I drove to my friend’s house in the South Valley, put her in a bin, and brought her home. I didn’t think she’d actually still be alive today.
My friend had posted this story Thursday morning:
The neighbor gave us fresh chickens last night for cooking up. He shot them in the head with gun and handed them over the fence. We bagged them and put in freezer for today. Evan gets home, opens freezer and one bird is perched fully alive, very cold, and pissed off.
Chase ensues… !! We now have a blind undead chicken in our yard.
Anybody want it?
I’m not sure why anyone would shoot chickens in the head.
But when I read the story, I couldn’t help but admire this chicken’s tenacity. She is courageous. She made her way out of a plastic bag inside a freezer and survived for thirty-six hours. After being shot in the head. I figured any animal that fought that hard to live deserved a little help, if only for a day or two.
The chicken hasn’t made any effort to eat like a normal chicken. Because, of course, she can’t see where to peck. (There isn’t much point in force-feeding a blind chicken.) But she does drink, so I’ve started blending up borrowed chicken food and water and giving her that. She seems content, grooming herself sometimes, showing no signs of pain or anxiety. And still, she will die.
But until then, we will enjoy each of her borrowed mornings by the pond, the sound of birds and running water, the sun on her feathers, expecting nothing.
I’m not sure why I have a blind, undead chicken in my studio. But here is one of my favorite poems, by Laura Gilpin.
The Two-Headed Calf
Tomorrow when the farm boys find this
freak of nature, they will wrap his body
in newspaper and carry him to the museum.
But tonight he is alive and in the north
field with his mother. It is a perfect
summer evening: the moon rising over
the orchard, the wind in the grass. And
as he stares into the sky, there are
twice as many stars as usual.
Now if you think that was remarkable then let me share what Laura posted a few weeks later, linked to via her Epilogue above.
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The Miracle of Re-Birth
by Laura Bruzzese, July 11th, 2013
Good news: it’s been three weeks since the attempted murder of Rufina, and she continues to dwell among the living!
After loads of eye care, foot washing, antibiotics, food and vitamins, she has gained weight and is learning to find food and water by herself. Her remaining eye looks normal again but is still blind (I was hoping for a miracle), and the place of its former pair seems to have reached its majority in terms of healing–no eye, but no skin, either. Just a weird, green spot surrounded by red skin that looks not unlike a tiny sun-dried tomato.
But that does not prevent her daily forays into the garden where she walks around with her head craned forward to “feel” where she’s going, and from exhibiting other persisting chicken qualities that seem to evidence a contented life.
I’m still surprised, and slightly in awe of this traumatized chicken who is satisfied to reside indefinitely on my studio porch. Shiny, happy chicken.
And so far, Velma the Rascally Whippet has not been the nuisance I was afraid she might be, but instead, a proud example of a bird-dog in defiance of her own natural instincts (save for one minor incident involving a tail feather. That was still attached to Rufina.). Perhaps Velma knows they are kindred spirits, she herself having survived a scary encounter with the Great Beyond earlier this year.
Thanks to everyone who has contributed free chicken advice, food, ER and vet consults, and even a couple of adorable, surprise chicks* (!) to keep Rufina company.
*Chicks will unfortunately be dispatched to some other venue because they are exploiting their sighted advantage: stealing food out of Rufina’s mouth, crowding the water dish, and mocking her by constantly blinking and sticking their tongues out. Also, they are filthy little creatures that walk in their own poop and then jump on me.
And finally, what’s in a name? When it became clear that chicken might live, I thought I should name her, and Rufina was the first thing that popped into my head. A few days later, I googled it to see what came up. This is what I found on Wiki:
Saints Justa and Rufina (Ruffina) (Spanish: Santa Justa y Santa Rufina) are venerated as martyrs. They are said to have been martyred at Hispalis (Seville) during the 3rd century.
Their legend states that they were sisters and natives of Seville who made fine earthenware pottery for a living, with which they supported themselves and many of the city’s poor. Justa was born in 268 AD, Rufina in 270 AD, of a poor but pious Christian family. During a pagan festival, they refused to sell their wares for use in these celebrations. In anger, locals broke all of their dishes and pots. Justina and Rufina retaliated by smashing an image of Venus.
The city’s prefect, Diogenianus, ordered them to be imprisoned. Failing to convince them to renounce their faith, he had them tortured on the rack and with iron hooks. This method also having failed, they were imprisoned, where they suffered from hunger and thirst.
They were then asked to walk barefoot to the Sierra Morena; when this did not break their resolve, they were imprisoned without water or food. Justa died first. Her body, thrown into a well, was later recovered by the bishop Sabinus. Diogenianus believed that the death of Justa would break the resolve of Rufina. However, Rufina refused to renounce her faith and was thus thrown to the lions. The lion in the amphitheatre, however, refused to attack Rufina, remaining as docile as a house cat. Infuriated, Diogenianus had Rufina strangled or beheaded and her body burned. Her body was also recovered by Sabinus and buried alongside her sister in 287 AD.
Saint Rufina, by Velázquez. See the likeness?? She’s even carrying a giant feather!
Just another name? Perhaps. Or: a dark-haired Spaniard and a Italian-New Mexican, two Christian potters separated by centuries, a saint, a chicken, and an ordinary human united in an extraordinary coincidence of the undead.
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Follow that!
Well I can’t but John Zande can.
For he was the first to leave a comment to Laura’s Rebirth post:
Here, i feel this song is in order. Listen carefully to the words, and who is singing them.
There can never be too much trust and love in the world!
As many of you know we feed the wild deer as indeed do many of our neighbours.
So with that in mind just read the following incredible and wonderful story that recently came my way thanks to Dordie from next door.
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Quite a Catch
Awesome act of trust and love!
A once in the history of mankind kind of thing. The Best Day Of Fishing Ever! Some fishing stories are a little hard to believe but this guy has pictures to prove his story… I’ve heard of salmon jumping into boats, but never anything quite like this. Tom Satre told the Sitka Gazette that he was out with a charter group on his 62-foot fishing vessel when four juvenile black-tailed deer swam directly toward his boat. “Once the deer reached the boat, the four began to circle the boat, looking directly at us. We could tell right away that the young bucks were distressed.
I opened up my back gate and we helped the typically skittish and absolutely wild animals onto the boat. In all my years fishing, I’ve never seen anything quite like it! Once on board, they collapsed with exhaustion, shivering.”
“This is a picture I took of the rescued bucks on the back of my boat, the Alaska Quest. We headed for Taku Harbour .
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Once we reached the dock, the first buck that we had pulled from the water hopped onto the dock, looked back as if to say ‘thank you’ and disappeared into the forest. After a bit of prodding and assistance, two more followed, but the smallest deer needed a little more help. This is me carrying the little guy. My daughter, Anna, and son, Tim, helped the last buck to its feet. We didn’t know how long they had been in the icy waters or if there had been others who did not survive.
My daughter later told me that the experience was something that she would never forget, and I suspect the deer felt the same way as well!”
I told you! Awesome!
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Kindness is the language the blind can see and the deaf can hear. – Mark Twain
A traumatic accident to Casey is very professionally dealt with.
Our nine dogs are divided into two groups. One group lives in the kitchen/dining-room area (Casey, Paloma and Ruby) and the other dogs in the living-room/bedroom area (Pharaoh, Sweeny, Pedy, Oliver, Cleo and Brandy).
These two groups are separated by a gate, as seen here with Pharaoh resting on his bed and Casey at ease just on the other ‘kitchen’ side.
Both Jean and I go between the two areas via the gate many times daily.
Last Sunday evening, as Jean was going to the kitchen, Casey stuck his head through one of the vertical spaces in the gate and must have become stuck albeit what then happened was upon us in a flash. For Brandy grabbed the left-hand side of Casey’s face with his own jaw and the two dogs were locked together. It was a bit of a struggle to separate Brandy from Casey and when we took a look at Casey’s face it was clear that there was a laceration along his lower, left-hand lip. However, he did not appear to be in pain and we all proceeded to bed.
On the Monday morning after I had returned from my bike ride with a local group of neighbours I queried with Jean whether or not we should just check that Casey wasn’t too badly injured despite the fact that Casey was showing no signs of discomfort. Nevertheless, his wound was not a pretty sight and a quick call to our neighbour Jim Goodbrod, who is also a Doctor of Veterinary Medicine (DVM), resulted in Jim saying to bring Casey round to his place then and there.
We are glad that we did for Jim quickly discovered that the laceration was not only to Casey’s lower lip but that much of his gum below the gum line along Casey’s teeth had been torn away exposing the jaw bone. Jim said that this required specialist attention and had no hesitation in recommending Southern Oregon Veterinary Speciality Center (SOVSC) in Medford, about 40 miles to the South. Jim went inside his house and made an appointment for us to take Casey to SOVSC for 2pm that afternoon.
We had previously been to SOVSC with Hazel and were impressed with their level of expertise and experience and the fact that they were open twenty-four hours every day of the week!
By the time we arrived Casey had been allocated to be seen by Dr. Adam Reiss, DVM, and very soon after arrival we were shown into a side room awaiting Dr. Reiss’s medical assistant.
Dr. Reiss then arrived and explained that Casey’s lip and gum would require suturing under a general anesthetic but that they could fit it in that afternoon albeit Casey would not be ‘back on his feet’ until 6pm at the earliest. Of course, we agreed and shortly thereafter Casey quietly and calmly was led away by Dr. Reiss’s assistant.
Jean and I then went the short distance to the centre of Medford, did a bit of shopping, had an early dinner and returned to SOVSC shortly before 6pm.
While we were waiting for news I was interested to read a prominently displayed sign setting out what constituted a veterinary specialist. (I’ve included the image at a larger size to make it easier for you to read it.)
Clearly there is more to caring for one’s pet than meets the eye.
At Southern Oregon Veterinary Specialty Center, we understand the special bond between a pet and their human family. Our team of highly trained doctors, certified technicians and support staff partner with your family veterinarian to provide specialized diagnostics, surgery and emergency care for your pet upon a referral or emergency basis. Our clinic is staffed 24 hours-a-day, 7 days a week, to receive emergency cases and to monitor our critical care patients. The clinic’s board-certified veterinary specialists and staff are committed to providing exceptional compassionate care utilizing state-of-the-art technology and treatments.
The relationships we have with partner veterinarians are vital to the success of treating your pet. We will keep them apprised of the patient’s status to provide a smooth and cohesive experience.
Jim Goodbrod speaks highly of the Center.
Dr. Reiss duly came out to speak with us and explained that all had gone well although Casey was still groggy but back on his feet. Despite the smiling face Dr. Reiss looked pretty tired. Not surprising when one reflects that the time was well past 6pm.
In an earlier conversation with some of the staff it was reported that, on average, some thirty animals were seen every day!
That’s commitment to the cause in any language!
Then it wasn’t long before our dear Casey was being led back into the front waiting area.
To be followed moments later by the assistant (apologies for not making a note of her name) setting out the details of how Casey had to be cared for over the coming hours and days.
The verbal guidance was supported by extensive notes.
Then it was a case of yours truly paying for all the services that had been provided for Casey and time to go home.
The car was rearranged to give room for Casey to sit on the rear seats with Jean next to him. I took the opportunity to take a photograph of the two of them that showed clearly the extent of the suture and the drain that had been inserted into Casey’s mouth.
It was beyond me to comprehend how Casey was so nonchalent to what in any human’s experience would have been hurting big time.
An hour later we were all home and getting dogs, cats and horses fed a lot later than normal.
Miracle of miracles Casey made it comfortably through the night and the following photograph was taken a little after 9:30 am yesterday morning.Well done all involved!
Thank you to Jim and all the doctors and staff at SOVSC but the biggest thank you of them all must go to Casey!!
This essay from George Monbiot just has to be read as widely as possible.
Dear followers of this blog know that from time to time I dip into politics. I do so because something I read strikes me with such force that I want others to read the article or essay. Not infrequently, my ‘dip’ is in the form of republishing an essay from George Monbiot who, long ago, gave me blanket permission to republish his essays. That is the case today.
I was inspired to write my book, subsequently self-published last December, because I truly believe that the values that we see in our longest animal companions are values that we, as in our societies, from top to bottom, have to embrace if we are to stand any chance of surviving as a species.
Reflect on the fact that dogs do not lie, they do not set out to deceive or influence others for their own personal gain and they are utterly creatures of integrity.
OK, I can hear some of you thinking that dogs are dogs and humans are humans and it’s just plain daft to link the two in this fashion. My only answer to that is to read the book or, at the very least, download and read the first twenty-five pages (for free). Better still purchase the book and have 50% of my net income donated to the Rogue Valley Humane Society.
On the 28th July, George Monbiot published an essay entitled So Much For Sovereignty. I read the essay and, frankly, was apalled at what George was describing: the background of the UK’s new international trade secretary, Liam Fox, recently appointed by Theresa May.
Read it for yourself and see if you react the same way that I did!
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So Much For Sovereignty
28th July 2016
To this government, “taking back control” means handing Britain to a different set of foreign powers
By George Monbiot, published in the Guardian 27th July 2016
What does it mean to love your country? What does it mean to defend its sovereignty? For some of the leaders of the Brexit campaign, it means reducing the United Kingdom to a franchise of corporate capital, governed from head offices overseas. They will take us out of Europe to deliver us into the arms of other powers.
No one embodies this contradiction as much of the man now charged with determining the scope of our sovereignty: the new international trade secretary, Liam Fox. He explained his enthusiasm for leaving Europe thus: “We’ll be able to make our own laws unhindered by anyone else, and our democratic parliament will not be overruled by a European Court.” But of all the people Theresa May could have appointed to this post, he seems to me the most likely to ensure that our parliament and laws are overruled by foreign bodies.
Dr Fox looks to me like a corporate sleeper cell implanted in government. In 2011, he resigned his post as defence secretary in disgrace, after his extracurricular interests were exposed. He had set up an organisation called Atlantic Bridge, financed in large part by a hedge fund owner. Atlantic Bridge formed a partnership with a corporate lobbying group called the American Legislative Exchange Council, which is funded by tobacco, pharmaceutical and oil companies. Before it was struck off by the Charity Commission, it began assembling a transatlantic conclave of people who wished to see public services privatised and corporations released from regulation.
He allowed a lobbyist to attend his official meetings, without government clearance. He made misleading statements about these meetings, which were later disproved. It seems extraordinary to me that a man with such a past could have been brought back into government, let alone given such a crucial and sensitive role. Most newspapers have brushed his inconvenient history under the political carpet. He is, after all, their man.
This is the man who has been put in charge of making new trade agreements. What he wants to do with them is pretty clear. “We need to see a reinvigoration of our transatlantic relationship,” he argues. “We have a low regulation and low taxation environment which is only likely to improve outside the EU.” Improve, in this context, means becoming yet more hostile to human welfare, social mobility and the defence of the living world.
They threaten to reduce to the lowest common denominator the laws protecting us from predatory finance, the exploitation of workers, food adulteration, climate change and environmental destruction. They threaten to force the privatisation of public services. They would allow corporations to sue governments for compensation in offshore tribunals that – unlike the European Court Dr Fox professes to hate – are unaccountable, opaque and wildly imbalanced. The EU has no mandate to strike such agreements: a consultation on the offshore tribunals TTIP proposes attracted 150,000 responses, 97% of which were negative.
Leaving Europe should enable us to leave behind biased, destructive treaties of this kind; we will, after all, have to renegotiate most of our trade agreements. But by putting the Fox in charge of the chicken coop, Theresa May seems determined to replace them with something even worse.
The corporate army is already at the gates. The Republican senator Tom Cotton proposes that Britain should join the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA). Using the kind of international tribunals that TTIP threatens to impose, NAFTA has undermined labour rights and environmental protection. It has blocked attempts to produce more progressive laws and greatly restricted legislative sovereignty. Whether we formally join NAFTA, or connect to that trading area through TTIP or another such agreement, the results will gravely threaten our sovereignty – unless negotiations are run on an entirely different basis.
In response to the Philip Green scandal, Theresa May says she wants to “tackle corporate irresponsibility” and “reform capitalism so that it works for everyone not just the privileged few.” We have no idea what she means, but here’s where it should begin. Before her government starts negotiating any new trade treaties, it should open a public consultation about their purpose and scope. The UK’s trading relationships should be debated in parliament and the people of this nation should be allowed to determine how much control over national life our representatives should retain, and how much should be ceded to international agreements and international bodies.
Does this mean a referendum? If we can be trusted to decide whether or not to share our sovereignty with Europe, should we not also be trusted to decide whether or not to share it with transnational capital?
But the Conservative vision of sovereignty is highly selective. People like Dr Fox appear to hate much of what others love about this country: the NHS, our public broadcasters, our social safety net, the protection of the countryside, the notion that power resides in the people, rather than in corporations and their shadowy lobbyists. There are traitors in our midst, who would rip down our most treasured institutions on behalf of the transnational elite and its offshore holdings. This, it seems, is what they mean by taking back control.
At two years old, Lady’s ribs protruded from her coat and her belly was swollen with milk.
In Sabrina’s case, she couldn’t know of the family members that awaited to embrace her presence. Within days of the initial hair-raising excitement, the cat sought out occasions to groom her ears. Our pet rat was free to waddle the kitchen floor un-bothered, and the pair of bonded bunnies in want of company stretched out beside her on the living room floor.
Eight years later, she watches over me in particular. Thirty years ago, I was struck and thrown from the passenger side of a car until my abdomen collided with the steering wheel—blunt force that called for iterative repair to my digestive system and caused permanent damage to the nerves that signal my bladder is full.
calling for employers to make reasonable accommodations and if the individual elects, to allow task-oriented service animals [dog or miniature horse] to accompany them on the job.
Sabrina brings people together.
Learning from Dogs 