Give a little shake of my head to find myself in Roslyn. Always just the tiny town to slow down through on the way to a trail head. Then Northern Exposure - "You really should watch it. You remind me of the woman who owns the store." Not a compliment; I was forty five when Russ said that. Now, parking in Roslyn two, three times a month. Favorite Pre-Hispanic restaurant in Roslyn. Buy stamps in Roslyn. Writers Group Roslyn. Poets' Pot-Luck Roslyn. Last night, first time in seven years, fellow poet drives out from town to give me a ride to Roslyn! Today: all plans are off. Snows this morning, rain now. Tony cleaning goat paddock stalled out and Mike cancels due to weather. My cold is boring into sinuses. I saute onions to deep and dark then will add wine, French Onion Soup. Bread in a bowl to rise by the wood stove. Signing up for $5 retiree class CWU, looking for me student ID. Find five cards from my mom. She says, from years ago in Flordia, that my plane has just taken off and all my worries are sorted out. Which worries? Life leaks worries. No one shares worries like a mother. I will spend the rest of this day with tears stinging behind my eyes. Now, horses are my salvation.

Last night Jaci the Akbash is limping on her left hind. Can't get her in the barn. This morning I throw my jacket over my nightgown, shove my barefeet in barn shoes and run out in the gloaming rain. At least Jaci follows me to the barn-yard so I can shut both gates and restrict her running. Later I will find her inside the barn. Jaci needs to stay off that leg. When I asked Tony w nights ago, he is eating the meat loaf special at the Buzz Inn. Tony says what he likes about the goats is the tax right off. I say I like goats. I like the animals. I like being part of the ecosystem. When we go to take 2 young does up to Bob and Bernice's buck, Oreo, the 2 I pick are very pregnant! Eeesch. Good we looked closely. We move Rene and her 2 down to the goat shed. The pregnant 2 come in the barn pens with Poppy. Then the 2 does that are Cindy Lou's daughter and foster ride up to Bob and Bernice's. I give this bunch their shots, the non pregnant their dewormer and all of these get their feet trimmed. Mike says he can come Sunday and pound T-posts so we can make a paddock for Kalypso especially but also give us more alternatives for all 3 horses. Then with Mike's help we will increase the side of the goat shed pasture. This is what I buy at the Old MIll this morning. (after Badger gets his shots and ears cleaned - 95 lbs) 1 horse dewormer, 3 5-way horse vaccines, bottle of goat dewormer, bottle of goat CDT vaccine, 2 dog vaccines and dog dewormer. We are ready for April Fools Day! And I feel good. There is a live-wire of vitality in this work. (The beautiful, long haired young women take photos of Badger's first store experience and he did well.)

Proximity: nearness in relation, occurrence or place time and order. Push-pull for me to go on an overnight with a friend. Henrik is here from Denmark for a clinic. Because of the snow this year, I can't ride and neither can Jackie. I am the grandmother clock pendulum. On one side is the attraction to be with humans who have verbal conversation but the other side is my lifelong rash from proximity. Horse clinics are a soup of pathetic fallacy: words that give human feelings or qualities to animals. Am I any different? Don't I come face to face with my own fear of emotive claustrophobia in each horse? Man from Blue Mountains, he says he lives in the most beautiful place in the world and the elevation is 3,500. I do not tell him that I lived in the most beautiful place in world at 10,000 feet on a forest service road, Flat Tops, Rocky Mountains. Instead, I tell him about Kalypso running straight into me, me flying threw the air. He says that it takes only one time to get killed. He wants to give me advice. With horses there is ten different types of advice per quarter inch. I watch Henrik, I watch the horses and riders, I wait to go home because I didn't drive myself. But eventually we do go home and I did survive. Today, I take Kali out and keep her out of my space. I am the capital R for Respect, and she is the little r. I make a plan to longe two times a week and the other days Kali will walk shoulder to shoulder with me and after we get to the end of the driveway, we will cross small creeks, we will circle sage and bitter brush, go up through the blue gate and around Rod's out-buildings and she will not knock me down. Beau will walk with strength and Kansas will settle down and not be the princess. By the time I am done with all three horses, picked up poop again, filled buckets again, swept the barn again, I clean the pen Josie and her new baby sleep in. I toss the old water across the barn's cement apron and give Josie clear, cold water. I give Josie cob, soy and a pinch of horse vitamins. The baby boy sleeps in the 20 gallon, blue hay bucket. He is a white-beige with a dark stripe down his back. He reminds me of his uncle long gone. When I pick him up, I wonder how long I can keep him with us. I name him (yes, I name him) Carl Junior.

When I was twenty one I got my second horse. He was only two, an appaloosa named Joker. I had to wait another summer primarily, in my mind, because I was pregnant. We lived in the Rocky Mountains, way up. Chuck bred Joker. Chuck was a soft skinned man with short red hair. He was older than me, probably thirty. Chuck did not own dangerous handsome. I knew Joker as a colt and then the next year he was for sale. Chuck said he was "green broke". This is how young I was and how different riding horses was in those mountains in the early 70s: I just got on and started riding him. At first I didn't have a saddle. I had two really young kids who needed me but getting hurt didn't register. There are some things that we did in those days I would never do to a horse again but I spent a whole summer riding Joker. He was young and took in everything he saw. We rode by ourselves way out on the forest service road and jumped the ditches on the way home. Nothing lasted in my life except my children in those days. Cats, men, friends, horses, all disappeared. There is an ache deep inside my body when I think of all the lives, the things, that have sifted right through this sieve. I heard long ago that Joker got tangled in wire and was put down. There's a photo of Joker on my dresser these days. Now, three horses and I have been working for the last two weeks slowly in-hand, then once the arena was snow free, longeing. Today I got the long-lines out thinking tomorrow I'd ride Kansas. Even on long-lines she was a handful. She was pressured, racing, resisted control. I am old and I will not ride tomorrow. So, all three horses: Kalypso longe, Beau and Kansas long-line. But, what if I was still young, I would not hesitate.

Call with Anne: 1 step at a time - friendship with Tony. I need the help. He needs the animals. Tony, go camping in the trailer every month, twice a month. We never spent so much time together. We both like solitary. Go camp and gain independence, confidence. Give me space. When he gets home he says yes, he'd like to. Anne & I say, it is time to work as little as possible. It is time to write poetry. Five years. Cut down on goats. I need to stay on my course. Alexander Hamilton: I won't give away my shot. Hellow: here is Mary. Mary & I out for Mexican dinner, big beers. Drive home rain & fog. 1 goat has head stuck in feeder but comes free with cruel push in the dark. Wind blows hard. Ice on goat water. Morning, I am short: cold, the horses need work, I want to sit by the no-fire-fire after feeding, cleaning stalls. Mary comes down to horses. We brush together like we did at Barnabee. Mary takes photos of Kalypso. She is dark with red highlights in the sun, fluid and young and sweet. 3 dogs in the video. Old black one stands dazed, big white puff watches alert, black & white lurks in the back-ground carrying a foot long leg bone. On the video you can hear the wind. My glasses are splashed and spotted from watering eyes. Kansas. We scrub yesterday's war paint off with brushes. She is mostly white & gray. Mary & I trot and walk down the driveway with my mare. At the gate I take the bridle off. The 3 of us walk & trot back up out of free choice. I say we don't have to take Beau, I can do stall exercises. Mary says we owe it to him. We do stall exercises and then trot & walk both directions. Beau arches his orange neck. Yesterday I tell Anne I am a participant now in life. I don't want to turn life into a retirement plan. She says no I can't become a retirement plan. I need to live every second of my life. Mary and I sit on the red metal bench in front of the porch in the sun. She says her thumbs hurt. I show her my middle finger will not move to straightness. We both have a finger that locks especially in the morning. When I stand up my right hip will ache from the cold. Tony drives in in the red pickup. We 3 sit facing the sun.

Incessant: ceaseless & unending. Husband: someone who has a household. Tony went to motel for 2 nights: break from incessant animal requests. Being alone is a gratitude. Irritation, its avoidance is sucked back into the mud. Water runs at a gallop. Seasonal pools overflow. When the trailer comes home any day now, I will insist Tony takes 3 nights away every month if not twice a month. I will shoo him up the mountain when the snow disappears or shoot him over to Teanaway to camp. I will buy propane and a shower stool. Tony will be a Jules Verne of the forest with all his disabilities intact. In the meantime, I called Mary. She is passing by on her way home today and will spend the night. Why is it that sleep-overs for girls, women, old ladies are always full of freedom and warmth? I can't wait!

Metaphor: A thing regarded as symbolic of something else. Comparing two disparate things. Yesterday, the presentation at the Roslyn Library revolved around Ellen Bass and metaphor. When Ellen came back to poetry in her 50s, the emphasis was more about craft than when she was younger. Her poems now start with something we all hold in common like daughters, butterflies, chicken bones, figs. Somewhere inside the poem, when the poem is talking back to her, the poem evolves into a deeper, darker place. Metaphors slip inside your mind without notice of what they entail. Horses: I wasn't thinking when I lifted the saddle onto Kansas back three days ago and rode down the driveway. We made it to the gate before I leaped off and when Kansas was free, she galloped up hill bucking. three days in hand now and the conversation has started: arch neck, fast run - her trot is faster, halt with a raised hand, eye as big as m y fist. Kali, Watch out for her! Today she keeps her eye on me. Halt at the gates, I walk through. She walks through. Walk on the lunge line on gravel by porch. Halt. Walk to her shoulder fast. Don't turn in Kali. Point to her hip and it turns away. Point to the other hip, it turns away. Small steps, big steps, small steps big steps. Not is my space Ms Kalypso! Beau arches. Trot 3, walk 5, trot 3. Trot small steps. Hooves almost in place. He watches me from large, round eye. Creeks are flooding beside us. "M heart is your neck arched in front of he rippled creek.

Dissemble: to give false or misleading appearance; conceal the real nature, feign. 2 1/2 days in New York City. There are many things. I talk too much about when I was young because now: I am not young. There is a hunger to live up to standards of the Carlyle Hotel. I am so much a nurse and talk to everyone, the elevator men, the waitress. Sometimes I do not produce sound but inside I talk. I walk with my beautiful daughter. Was she always this much taller? It is my own spine. It was my own choice to make my hair pink. Everything about me has too much color. I have always been white dough. I do not know dissemble. What I do know is: we walk past the Park-Midtown. The trees stretch over the brickwall, reach up and arc. We are walking side by side traveling Uptown. The old women that walk towards me are walking- Downtown. They are sharp rocks in a wash of whitewater. They hold my eyes. They do not blink. The old women smile. Their legs are bowed. Sometimes there is a man. Sometimes not. They walk alone in the dark with street lamps. The cobbled sidewalk heaves and sinks. I want to be an old lady walking along the park in New York, crook legged, crow's eyes and a slight smile.

Chicken Tracks- 1) what it used to mean: illegible or barely legible handwriting. 2) what it means now: term used in Florida referring to the marks you get on your arms from injecting meth. 3) what it means this morning to my hens and roosters: footprints in the snow on the way to check out what's to eat in the barn. I leave for my trip with my daughter to NYC this afternoon. Three inches of snow last night. Tony already out plowing. I did the stalls with fresh shavings and pellets. I will be back on Friday but I think Josie the Ewe will kid by then. Those little babies expand my heart muscles. I start out by telling them: I might eat you but I'm not hungry now. I think it's best to know the complexity of different species as well as individuals. None of us are safe. I have some great characteristics: I am tough, strong, smart, persevere. I also eat meat and lose my temper. Once during a crisis one of the roosters attacked me. I twisted his neck and then he came back to life. I got the ax and cut his head off. Then, I got my laptop and watched a u-tube on how to butcher a chicken. Let's be honest.

Renovation: to revive, restore to life, vigor or activity. Post hernia repair, I am more centered, balanced. I can stand straight up and down for periods of time. Yesterday, a 12 hour shift of multi-tasking. I was nurse for a young man who reminded me of a Samurai warrior. He saw an angel in front of Jen's right eye. He could see the reflection of the angel on Jen's glass lens. Our best minute, we talked about off-loading trucks at grocery warehouses. He worked with his uncle in Tacoma. In my truck days I loathed grocery warehouses, the hours, the time they would keep drivers waiting after driving through the night. The warehouse demand that drivers hire lumpers. The Samurai Warrior and I talked trucks not hospitals. I had to quit Harborview last fall because I could not keep up with the electronics, the fantastic new machinery and the direct patient care. Now, I say to patients like the Samurai Warrior: At my age I can only do one thing at a time; you need to be quiet until I finish these meds. I am more aware of limitations and I bould more boundaries. I am looking at the two dressers in my room. I am planning how to make the spare room nicer for Tony. At first I want to keep the tall oak dresser for myself because I can remember the day my ex-husband and I bought it in Ballard. I can remember oiling it with him. That was an okay day. Now, it will fit better in the spare room and I will take the rain damaged Ikea. First I need to clear out some books and clothes. It is spring even if there is a foot of snow on the ground. Eventually the ice will fissure. Tony says he slept better last night. He got up every three hours instead of two. I say: cut down on the coffee. He says it wouldn't help. It is Tony's decision. I do not wake up each time he staggers to the bathroom. He decides what is important to him. I am renovating.

Wind is 40mph. Snow blows sideways, presses into crests hard as cement. Wind crashes to the ground like breakers on sand. Living out in this open is like sand blasted into my eyes. I cannot keep my eyes open. I think there is an answer to a problem. I believe Tony wants to change. I close my eyes to what's infront of me. What I do do is go to the Teanaway. The road is black top except a few stretches. The farther I go into the valley, the closer to the circle of mountains, the lower the wind. When I get out of the truck, Al the Dog hops down with me. The birds are big and raucous. Birds believe it is March. Do they have eyes wide open? There are strips of bare pavement to pull me along. Trees wave deep green, bounce their needles. Snow builds up along the sides of the road. I peer between trees and snowbanks at winter campground picnic tables. If I could have the serenity of a picnic table in winter. Is that what age could bring me? A picnic does not try to solve another picnic table's problems. For some reason the campground is abandoned and plowed. We wind our way and I take many photos of incognito picnic tables. Tables sit hunched under snow like a childhood fort athat I would crawl under, inside, but I need a shovel. The voices and screams, sound of TVs and radios inside trailers and camper, the light of little colored bulbs has drained away like through a sieve. Has the Teanaway River carried it all off to the Yakima and on into the Columbia? Al the Dog already learned to stop at each snowbank view of tables. I believe that my photo series of snow piled picnictables will be in a gallery someday and many people will file past and fill with peace. When I get home the farrier texts that he is almost here. Tony is irritated: I thought he was coming at five. I set to organizing all the animals and then I begin brushing the horses. When Geri gets here, he flames up his furnace. The barn smells like burnt hoof. As he works I braid Kalypso's mane. Her mane is thick, dark, covers her neck and sparks with red highlights like a Ponderosa but it is so fine and soft the braid will be gone in an hour.

Tempest: violent and windy storm commotion disruption hurly burly. I can not take photos of wind even as it blows sideways at 40 MPH. It takes more than I know. It looks like a sunny day with smoke along the ground. Wind wakes me up at 4am rattling, breaking like waves against the house. Scout and Al the Dogs do not whine to go out. While Tony and I drink coffee with the bed covers up under our armpits, I talk about retirement. Seven years here and right from the start I always said: I'm not retired yet. Seventy I will retire and make at least one more choice: Western Washington, giant trees, rain and beaches. I foresee Tony with a walker, Beau dies by 30, Scout the 16 yo lab mix no longer with us, maybe not even Al. That iss too painsful to think of. We buy a woodshed that looks like a mini-barn and fill it with tools, a small pen for 2 pet goats and straw for our Pyrenees that are past middle-age by then and we string an invisible fence up. Kansas is 21. If Kaly finds a good home at 7 we will sell or if not I will be long-lining at 90...I have to snap at Tony to get him out of bed. Sunrise did not bring the wind down. By the time he has finished his breakfast drink, I will be done at least one stall. I am up and out. March 1: no physical restrictions starting today. Hernia repair will hold. I am even on both sides of my belly. Just this has made me 10 years younger. I carry outside goats 4 flakes of compressed timothy. Ellensburg has internationally renowned hay and here the big hay sheds sell seconds. The goats pile out of their shed but I walk on top of snow to the lee side and spread hay on clean snow. The stalls go fast. Badger lays on top of a 2 tier hay stack. Jaci Chan spreads out in the hay on the floor. They do not go out in this wind. Liz the chicken and a rooster cluck for layina. By the time I've mucked Kaly's Tony is in the barn. He pries the boot on Kansas shoeless right front then we slowly walk her through the barn. I hold Kaly back and her mom joins her in that stall with turn-out. Two big flakes of Dave's timothy go on clean snow outside. Tony wrestles Beau's boot on his shoeless left front, feeds him inside and I finish cleaning stalls. On my way to the m anure pile the wind picks the heavy rubber bowl out of the wheelbarrow and turns it upside down with molasses cob grain intact on the ground. Quick I let the nubian, cindy, out of the goat pen and she gobbles grain. The baby goats and their mom, the pregnant ewes get compressed hay I set in a line in the lean-to. I string up a rope between the 2 turnouts to give the goats a safe, windless area away from Kaly in case she decides to chase them again. Maybe today fighting the wind will be enough for her. Tony fills the inside water buckets and I fill the outside. The sun is shining. The wind is screaming and up my nose. It is so good to be able to carry, lift, move. Back in the house, homemade bread with broiled cheese. I sneeze and sneeze. I say: I will not be ready to leave for 5 years. I say: You and I know so much now. We know how to work with the weather and around our own limitations and we can almost work together. And then there is what this place will give the 3 grandson; it is so precious.