Welcome to my World

Welcome to the domain different--to paraphrase from New Mexico's capital city of Santa Fe which bills itself "The City Different." Perhaps this space is not completely unique but my world shapes what I write as well as many other facets of my life. The four Ds figure prominently but there are many other things as well. Here you will learn what makes me tick, what thrills and inspires me, experiences that impact my life and many other antidotes, vignettes and journal notes that set the paradigm for Dierdre O'Dare and her alter ego Gwynn Morgan and the fiction and poetry they write. I sell nothing here--just share with friends and others who may wander in. There will be pictures, poems, observations, rants on occasion and sometimes even jokes. Welcome to our world!

Sunday, March 17, 2024

Memoir Monday, March 18, 1966

Finally I got well and up again. Life goes on. I went with it as best I could. This was both a good day in some ways and also a hard one. I was still very raw from the loss of Tina and knew B&B 6 was going to leave soon and dreaded that ...  I had not been able to see Dusty for well over a week.

March 18, 1966 Friday

Life goes on, though. The sun comes up this morning and I am still here to see it. And now that it has set, I am glad I was alive today. We talked after breakfast and all went to the pasture about 11:00 and did the chores. When we got back I saddled Buzzie and went up for mail and led Lyno around a little. I was afraid the outfit was moving but couldn’t quite make myself go over. So I fed. Charlie Mike and I had a PB sandwich and then went to work on the feedbox for Leo. He took a side trip and I waited fretfully. Finally he got back about 2:45. Yes, they are moving and Dusty was working alone. So I hopped on Buzzie bareback and hustled. I slipped up and surprised him. He was working frantically to get things tied down but looked up to smile quizzically at me. “You’re liable to get shot that way.” he said.  I felt a little bit in the way but watched as he worked. He gave me some gum, a Pepsi and a tiny box of candy. Finally I said I’d better go and that he’d just been going back and forth like I wasn’t there. He turned around and we stood in the corridor door and talked. I flung myself into his arms for a moment and he held me with a fierce tenderness and then loosened his embrace to hold me at arms length. He said first he had to try to win Johnny’s respect and make him understand and arrange real custody. After that, he said “I’ll come after you.” I promised I’d be waiting and behave myself. We kept telling each other to be good and be careful. He gave me a half-sideways kiss or three around my fever blister and finally I said “I love you and goodbye.” “I love you too.” I scrambled down ignoring the cook car steps. “I have to do things the hard way.” We swore there would be a next time and never a last time and a lot of other small senseless and large important promises such as lovers make. B&B 6 is moving to Drake for about a month (I’ll say two knowing how things go). 

I came hurrying home and helped with the fed box. Actually I just did it. I’m so much better at doing things like that  and accomplishing things than Mom is or Charlie Mike, either one. They went out to the pasture and I did the home chores alone. Ran over to the outfit but it was deserted. Tomorrow all the cars will be gone and Dusty won’t be back in Clarkdale on Monday morning. I left a note under the door “Came back to say goodbye but you were gone. I love you always.”  So that will be waiting for him when he gets in Sunday night or Monday.  He had said, “Now I’ll have to write you once in awhile.” I’ll write faithfully once a week unless hell bars the way. I had told him about Tina and he was sorry for me. And the pain in his voice talking about Johnny left an ache in me. It will be hard to get used to his being gone.  As I said, “It will be awfully empty around here now.”  The Verde Valley now holds no charm for me. My last two links are broken. And yet--he met me here and loved me here. He loves me dirty and sweaty and tired, just as I was today. And I love him all ways, always. I’ll be waiting somewhere.

I think Mom and Dad had gone to either Prescott or Flagstaff and took Alex with them so Charlie Mike and I were doing normal work. I'm not sure why he was not at school that day. Anyway we had plenty to do. I was still wanting to know but afraid to find out if B&B 6 was going to leave so he ran over to see.  I think I knew the answer anyway but that jump-started me. I had to go then and see Dusty if it was to be the last time for awhile.

Cliche to say "Parting is such sweet sorrow" but it was. I had known this day would come as they had been there for eight months. The job was done but I was not ready... There was something so real and truthful to me when he said "I'll come after you."  I took those simple and direct words as a promise and considered myself betrothed or promised from that day on. I kept it for five years although fate ultimately had other plans.

What else is there to comment on or explain? I think this stands alone. Not many photos either.  Buzzie since she was now my "main mare" and an older shot of Dusty just because. First Charlie Mike with Buzzie. About this time (early 66) as he had been growing; he'd. passed my height.  He was 15 now. Then Dusty with a kind of sassy look--he was teasing me as he often did once we were comfortable with each other.  And then the Clarkdale rail yard with the empty spur track (view side of the road to the smelter area). where work trains parked when they were in town. It looked so lonely from this day on... The local took B&B 6 out the next day.  The date--blurred--on the lower corner is not right.





Sunday, March 10, 2024

Monday Memoir, March 11, 1966

This was the start of several bad, sad and hard weeks. I can get a bit teary and even mad now remembering but they are water long over the dam or under the bridge and really even the trauma has long since faded. The scars were deep but mostly they healed well over time. 

March 11, 1966

I was sick all this week with the flu, tonsillitis and strep throat and came within a very narrow ace of going out like a light more than once. I got up today (the 11th) with a fever and had to open my big mouth and foul things up so by 10:30 I was in bed instead of on the road to Cottonwood.  I wrote Dusty a fast frantic note but he was gone before Charlie Mike got it delivered so on  up to the post office. That evening I nearly took a baker’s dozen of aspirin and went to sleep--a very long sleep--with his picture in my hand.  But that‘s a silly theatrical gesture and worthless. Before the week ended, the Boss nearly eloped off with the boys--I mean things got pretty hairy. Still ill, I was rather peripheral to the main kerfuffle but it was discouraging to say the  least.

Then on Thursday the 16th, Tina went to sleep and I had not gotten out there to talk to her, to encourage or try to help her.  I got sick at a hell of a bad time. I can’t help but think if the folks had squared up and settled their disputes that she could have been saved but I know it is partly my fault too. In a way that breaks my last link with the past. I really could walk off now and not feel that I was leaving much at all. But I do have Little Dusty because I chose him instead of Rico, I don’t have anything of Tina at all except memories and that’s the way I want it, really. I truly loved her. She won’t suffer any longer and few horses were ever loved more. Rest in peace, Chiquita Mia. Until  I see you again someday

At this period, the folks were bickering and fighting all the time and the damn lawsuits were the biggest issue and source of trouble.. I usually felt my health was of small concern but somehow the old practice that if one had a fever they had to be in bed seemed to linger. I might have gotten up and gone on but then might have ended up in really bad shape, too. I was sick.  Anyway, them having to pick up the absolutely necessary part of the chores--animals had to at least have feed and water--was an unwelcome burden and not done cheerfully for sure. Charlie Mike was in school and either did not volunteer to stay home and do more or they did not insist on it. I cannot recall. 

Learning Tina had died almost broke me. She had been a key part of my life for ten years and left a huge hole that was never really filled. I did not bond with the colts as I had with her which may have been wrong but there were some other issues involved. Sadly, I did  not have Little Dusty much longer either but that tale is for a few weeks ahead. 

Really Tina had not been well since getting sick after Rico was born in April 1965. I know I came close to losing her several times. She was only 11 which is not old for a horse but things began to go wrong for her. Having two colts in two years as an older mare was too much and then being bred again when she seemed to recover after Rico was insanity. In that I do take some blame; I truly did not know better and listened wrongly to Dad who probably knew really very little more about horses and other animals than I did, if the truth be told. But he was an "expert"--yeah, right. So she died. No, very few horses were ever loved more and as I could, I always took as good care of her as was possible. I trust she will come to meet me when I get to the other side as my many dogs will and maybe some more horses, mules and donkeys I had invested a lot of myself in those years. This was an end of an era in many ways with a few more anti-climax events still to come. But a big cable began to fray. 

The only possible pictures here are of her. They end up in kind of reverse order.. The first is with Bravo when he was a few weeks old. Charlie Mike is with them. Next is Tina with Rico, her second colt. Then she herself probably between the two little ones, showing her thoroughbred look, tall and lean despite some added bulk from foaling. Then a favorite shot of me with her --about 3 years old then and such a good rough-country horse and so steady for hunting, and any work asked of her. I have a painting a dear friend made from this photo.  Then as a two year old, summer 1957, not long before she accidentally broke Charlie  Mike's left leg.  Then as she was being trained; there was never any 'breaking' required. She seemed to be born knowing how to be a good saddle horse and cow-pony. And finally, February 1956 when she had just come home to be mine. What special memories of this great blessing of a once-in-a-lifetime horse. It was an honor to have her for ten wonderful years. 








Sunday, March 3, 2024

Memoir Monday, March 4, 1966 Fri

 With the added leap year day, we now move the corresponding days from Saturday to Friday. More or less interesting? Big Shrug ~ Mostly not much different. This one slid by fairly easy but it was the last to do so for some time.

March 4, 1966

Today was pretty good. At least Dusty and I got together. I got up reluctantly and went down to feed. We wasted no time on confabs this morning and Mom and I were back from the pasture by 10:00. I saddled Annie, watered quickly and took off for Cottonwood. I had the fidgets and got my lost filling replaced. I dawdled along home; no sign of Moonspinner so I went uptown for mail. Charlie Mike got a letter from Twyla but that doesn’t help me much.  I rode around down the back way. Barner was still there so I sneaked up and found ‘Spinner was there too. In fact Dusty was preparing to pull the T'bird to start it. So I finally met the infamous Barner face to face. He’s a fink, really. “Maybe that thing can pull me,’ he said, looking at Annie.  I was offended of course. She is no "thing"! Dusty looked up with his eyes suddenly eager and alive but only said,  “What you got there?” rather off-handed. I rode on while they worked around. He caught me by the Y. For a minute I thought he’d go on but he didn’t. He got out and came around the car. “Where are you heading?” “Home” I said, coolly. But I melted quickly. His apology was stumbling but sincere. His eyes probed my face and sought mine as he leaned on Spinner’s top and moved his hands restlessly. He has ‘personal problems’ and still isn’t feeling good but will try to come over next week. I’d like to choke Marie with my bare hands. I used not to mind but I can’t stand it any more. The sly and mean way she does things to make it harder for him. I think of her as a fat bitchy thing. Perhaps she’s not but her image of me is probably not too complimentary either. So we parted, too soon and with too little said but our eyes had told one another “I love you.” It had to be enough for the time and place. I came home, had lunch and saddled Leo to go for a ride. I went up to the plant and came down the highway. He moved out nice and easy. He’s a damn fine horse. I gave Charlie Mike his letter when he got home. He about had a fit. We did the home chores and messed around until the Boss got home. He hadn’t made great progress; these things are always so slow. That’s legal crap for you. I haven’t felt too hot today. Today is 27 days so I really should tonight. I have a suspicious backache so maybe I am. I have not touched my lover since since Feb 11 or even been kissed since the 4th. I miss him so bad I could flip. I just ached to reach out and touch him today. Apparently things have been pretty rough for him lately. He had to drive to Flag Tuesday night to get his paperwork in and got caught in the storm and a roadblock. My poor sweetie; it breaks me up for him. I spent the evening playing records and writing to him. At least I am reassured he isn’t trying to get rid of me or anything like that. I can sympathize with troubles because I’ve been down that road too. I love him, I really do: day and night and all the time, with all of me that there is to love. Can’t help it and don’t want to. Someday I’ll be glad, gladder.

Barner was a newer young guy on B&B6. He had told Dusty he wanted to meet me and was 'interested', I think not really knowing our relationship.  Dusty duly related that to me but I was not interested even if he did drive a Thunderbird--cannot recall much about the car; I vaguely recall it may have been pink (?) and year maybe 60 or so--nor that he allegedly had a horse. Somehow I thought he was Mormon (LDS) and that did not interest me either.  Then when he referred to my good old Annie mule as "that thing" he drove the last nail in his coffin for me! Twyla was the daughter of a burro crane operator for the ATSF; he had his family along while he worked here for awhile and she and Charlie Mike  got acquainted and corresponded after they left.

Dusty was having a  lot of problems over Johnny and the negative influences his mother exerted and her whole attitude of being n longer married except for the income and other tasks he was supposed to do but he still was as far as independence went or even having a separate life...legally yes, I suppose, but separated is separated!! 

I had been riding and training Leo for some time. Probably spent less time on him than on the two young mares, Buzzie and Lyno, but he had come along very well and was becoming  good reliable horse though still a stallion. He had a power and drive that the mares did not have which I enjoyed.He was fun to ride and you could feel his controlled energy. 

Dad had gone to Prescott, having recently begun dealing with another (a new) attorney on a zillion different lawsuits and issues he was pursuing, always expecting a good settlement and almost a public apology for all the evil acts and damages he had suffered. Immaterial that the family was impacted too and I suppose might have benefited if anyof it ever worked out though of course it did not. But it was always first and mostly about him. No wonder I get some PTSD flashbacks when I hear some of the rhetoric of our former President and his incredible situations--it sounds way too familiar. Charlie Mike and I both get upset about all that. 

Well, what for photos?  An old shot with Annie under saddle. She was not especially photogenic but she was a good reliable mule and I used her a lot with pleasure. She was generally steady and also willing. Of course Leo was one of my favorites. He was early in his training here so probably '65 rather than '66. He was a good looking horse, pretty much classic middle-of-the-road (not super bulked up or very lean for racing) old line type Quarter Horse look.  His color was distinctive, basically gray but with a hint of buckskin and blue roan, both subtle in his undercoat.







Sunday, February 25, 2024

Monday Memoir, Feb 26, 1966

 

The excrement had not yet started to really hit the oscillator  but that was coming.  Maybe I was or am slightly clairvoyant but I sensed the pressure building. I was still trying to stay calm, cool and focused on just the events of each day as it came. Borrowing trouble never helps and worry is useless, really. So keep on keeping on...

Feb 26, 1966, Sat

Just another day. A rather bad one weather-wise but otherwise okay. Woke up with a sore throat which plagued me all day. I staggered reluctantly out to feed. Mom drove Charlie Mike and me out to do the morning chores. We got rained on some. That’s our lousy luck. I walked uptown for mail and bought some thread. I hoped I’d hear from Dusty but no such luck. I did get a letter from Evelyn though. Charlie Mike was sorting and took my whole room up most of the day. I was a little disgusted; couldn’t really do anything all day. Hauled hay down and did the noon chores. After lunch had to go see Peckham. We didn’t  really cover much ground today. I’m beginning to think it’s all a waste of time. What is the purpose of it? Got groceries and butane and came home under a clearing sky. But after the home chores were done another squall came along just in time to catch us at the pasture. And then it cleared again. I could’ve flipped but to what avail? I sorted and squared up my stuff some and wrote Evelyn after supper. I’ve got a cold and feel pretty raunchy. If I wanted to let myself go, I could get awfully disgusted with everything but I won’t. I am a little worried about Dusty; guess that is the flea for this bitch to bite.  He hasn’t been feeling well. I know I probably ought to walk out on him…stomp, stomp, stomp. “Anita, you’re dreaming.” I like to suffer I guess. How come all the psychology and psychiatric stuff ends up on sex?  I think sex is overrated, really. It’s sure a damn nuisance. Oh shit. That’s my favorite expression nowadays. I guess I am rebelling, don’t you? Don’t figure quite where Dusty fits…no accounting for love is there?

I may sound a bit jaded or cynical here. You think? Well, I was two months from turning 23 and felt I was in a deep hole. I tried to stop digging but life wasn't giving me a lot of help. So I kept on keeping on for want of any other possibility. 

Dusty had asthma and had it all his life. Stress would make it worse and getting too tired, being out in the cold, especially damp etc did too. He was striving not to get to the point of having to take medical leave or anything and I did worry. Was not able to see him often or much at this time and that was hard. I know he tried like on Friday afternoons but I could not always be out and about. 

I wrote notes and letters often, he not so much. Well I could understand that too--time and what to say, why try as it was hard for him when we *might* cross paths any day...but at times it did bother me a bit so my old insecurity and "was it my fault?" worries would kick in. "Anita, You're Dreaming" was a song on the C&W list at that time; forget who sang it but it was a sad no-happy-ending one.... OK. it was Waylon's song, partly written by him and released that year--just checked. Not one of his more popular ones but nearly fit my situation in some ways. Ouch. No beer to cry in. 

I felt a shadow coming close, inexorable. .March and April were full of really difficult and painful times and I sensed that but did not foresee most of the whys and wherefores. Well, I knew B&B6 would be pulling out soon for one and dreaded that very much.  I'll get to all those things in due time as we go on.

Pictures? Just work and horses and mules and wet weather and ...like I said then "Oh shit!" So just toss in few oldies for 'tax' of sorts.  First, Charlie Mike and me in the junked up back yard, probably a year or two earlier. Not sure which mule. Then at the pasture. The mule under saddle is Annie who I rode a great deal. And then Charlie Mike on Prez. We both rode this big old guy a lot and loved him although he could be a bit 'mulish' at times. That big truck was our F750. It got a lot of use hauling--wood, hay, stock... We called it Big Green. Five speed (?) split axle and all--I drove it very little and Mom would not even try. 







Sunday, February 18, 2024

MondayMemoir, Feb 19, 1966

 

Odd that the day actually falls on Mom's birthday. I will mention it elsewhere on FB but here it is part of the narrative for the date. Let's see, she would have been 46.  At this point nobody's birthday got much noted. I tried and Charlie Mike too to at least let Alex have a little special--he would be 7 in May.  We were past caring for our own. 

Feb 19, 1966 Sat

Just an ordinary Saturday. I don’t especially care for weekends. It was Mom’s birthday but we didn’t make much of it. B’days really don’t matter much. I’m going to ignore mine this year. “They” had conflicts most of the day. Charlie Mike and I rode. We bought Mom a big chocolate bar and after lunch I did the dishes and made a cake while she was in Cottonwood talking to Peckham. I drove for Dad in the afternoon and did pretty raunchy because I was all tensed up. He was pretty reasonable and helpful about it, though. I finally finished my letter to Judy and it got late pretty quick. I only wrote twenty pages to Judy. We trimmed Little Dusty today. He is a doll but awfully high strung.

I actually do not recall what the fussing was about--maybe just same crap, different day, but Mom and Dad were gnawing at each other most of the day. Charlie Mike and I tried to make ourselves scarce in such cases. So we had either driven or ridden out to do the chores and then were  exercises most of the animals we had there in Clarkdale.

Dad had not been going to the pasture a lot but for some reason went that evening and did not take the wheel, which surprised me. I was nervous and expected every gritted gear or jerky motion would be 'discussed' but that did not happen. Sometimes I swear he had a split personality. A dim memory comes that he got over being peeved with Mom and told her to stay home and relax or something and then was very mellow with my still amateurish driving, suggested a thing or two, but no yelling or bawling out!

Little Dusty was the buckskin colt the buckskin mare from Gallup had the summer of 1965. He was now of course weaned and often in a pen now with Tina's second colt, Rico.  This day we trimmed his feet and generally worked on him some. I had been leading him for exercise and socializing most days. He had a very sweet nature, a gentle colt from the first and a real pet of mine.

Photos:  The first is Little Dusty--early fall of 1965 I think. He was then several months old. I have no later photos of him and am not sure why.  Then two of Mom about this time, probably a few years earlier. She was showing her age some but still sweet faced and some of her youthful beauty was still there. For a time along here I took few pictures,  rarely having film and also mostly barely out of chronic depression that got worse as this year went on.  I am sad about that now. I missed some things I would like to have those memory joggers of. C'est la vie. 




Sunday, February 11, 2024

Monday Memoir, Feb 12, 1966

 And the relative calm continued. I was fearful of a coming (family) storm and it did hit in awhile but not quite yet. I guess I was blessed to have some time to adjust and regroup after my sudden trip and return. Mostly the weather was not bad along this time.

Feb 12, 1966, Sat

Today was all right--pretty damn good, really. I didn’t accomplish much but that’s beside the point.I got to sleep in this morning. Mom, Charlie Mike and I drove out and did the chores. We found more pottery and hauled some dirt into the big feedbox. I drove all the way home. I was proud of myself. Mom and I did the washing. It only took us a good hour and it was a whopping big washing, too. Maureen came by about noon. She’s had her hair straightened and was wearing shades and I almost  didn’t know her from anybody!  She seemed friendly enough but I never know for sure what she’s up to anymore. Made it over to the MHC on time. I talked to Peckham about music, writing and my childhood and school years. Fairly safe topics, I guess. Hope so anyway. When we got home I messed around with Charlie Mike til 4:30 and then Mom, he and I drove out again. I gave Scarlet a shot and we did the regular feeding. I drove home again. It isn’t too hard once you get the feel of it. I’m improving steadily I think. We did our home chores and then came in for the evening. I redid my bulletin board, read the Verde Independent and finished the letter to Dusty. Not a great list of accomplishments I admit. But it will have to do for the time being. I’ve got to get some sewing and writing done soon, not to mention my QH data and other studying. There’ll never be enough hours in the day for me. I may as well get used to it. Hope someone is okay. Tomorrow evening maybe he’ll be back. I’ll have a letter waiting for him.

It looks and sounds like a very ordinary day. Mom was allowing or even encouraging me to drive many times to and from the pasture. This was a real boon and I gained confidence almost each trip. Soon driving the stick shift F150 pickup was almost routine. It was more important after a time.  Scarlet was the worthless old mare we had gotten back in September 1964. She never was healthy or reliable and died not long after this. Poor old thing. 

We had been finding pottery shards near a trail that went up to the higher parts of the pasture and the east end fence. I am sure it was from the same culture that built Tuzigoot. By today's rules and standards, maybe we should not have collected it but it seemed all right then. I still have most of it in a jar with my rock and scrap colored glass collections. So come bust me, culture cops!

Maureen was going to NAU at this time--still ASC actually--and it was her fourth(?)  semester. I did not see much of her any more as we were moving off in different directions. Kind of sad as I had valued her friendship a great deal.Have never found her in recent searches. 

I was still seriously studying the Quarter Horse bloodlines and other news in the Quarter Horse Journal and also carrying a few of my own projects forward at this time, without a whole lot of flack. Again, too good to last but enjoyed. Of course Dusty was never far from my thoughts. I saw him much more seldom than we both wished so wrote a lot of letters in lieu of visits and phone calls, which were not possible. Time went on... It was to be six more months as things soon slid abruptly down hill to nearly the worst ever, but eventually my "sentence was commuted." I almost felt I had died and been reborn. If only I had known it was coming, the interim might have been less painful but the final wait  surely made me appreciate the sudden change of life even more. 

So what for pictures? Got zillions but not all are applicable. Okay--best I can do. A dark shot of Scarlet. She was a very ordinary looking mare with no markings to mention--one white foot and a nose snip I think.. Chestnut and no special breed or type.  Next is looking at Tuzigoot from the bluff above the corral area of the pasture. You can see it was not a large distance. Last,  looking at the pasture from the west side of the river--the cliff is kind of a straight line that topped the bluff rim, and the top of it is where the last shot was taken. Near the right edge is where a trail went up and down via a jutting ridge and where we found the pottery.





Sunday, February 4, 2024

Memoir Monday, Feb 5, 1966

 I had come to waiting for the other shoe to drop. There had been a few small flare-ups of the familiar "troubles"  but they faded down fairly fast. So I figured when it fell it would be a Size 15 irrigation boot with lots of barnyard attached.  It was hard to do all my work with fingers crossed! At this time I recognized a vague female deity for whom I yet had no real name but I asked Her to continue to protect me.and thanked her for the umbrella thus far.

Feb 5,1966

Everything has been going good. I’m nearly scared to believe it. It just can’t last, I fear, but I can hope! I got up late and lazy this morning; we had biscuits for breakfast and drove out to the pasture to do the chores. We all went and cut off another section of the big cottonwood. Dusty was ‘with’ me all the while. I can see his face so clearly now as it was yesterday with dusty blue eyes half teasing and half tender… Charlie Mike and I did the midday chores hastily and debated who’d go to Prescott. I was selected. We went via Cottonwood where we stopped at the feed store and the clinic. I guess the Boss had a good talk with Peckham (who I heard on the radio yesterday while visiting). We headed over the mountain about 3:00. I bought a shift pattern, a valentine for Dusty and some tampons. I have finally gotten so I can use them. You really have to relax to put one in. I went twenty six days this time. I still have cramps some but not as bad as I used to. We got groceries etc. and came home about 6:30. Charlie Mike had done the home chores so we just had to go to the pasture. We hustled the chores. Had a good supper. I recorded my expenses and such and thought about my sewing projects. I think I can make a shift jumper dress and a gathered skirt from the navy blue material. Then I’ll make a blouse from the butterfly print if I can and two blouses and a skirt from the other blue rose/lace print--one peasant style and one tailored. Then I’ll have a wardrobe of clothes for sure. Maybe I’ll draw them quickly before bedtime but I’m about ready to quit for the night. Love you, Dusty. The valentine I bought cost 36 cents but it is really lovely. He likes roses--had a Jackson & Perkins catalog (the same one Judy sent me) on the counter yesterday. One more thing to add to the list of sharing.

I had managed a good visit with Dusty on Friday. With iffy weather, close tabs on my time and work and no way to get out at night, it did not happen as often as I wished. So every time I could sit and talk a little while was a treasure. He was still saying I should have stayed in CA and I knew that was probably true but we still were both glad to be able to share a moment here and there. He wanted to be sure I did not get in trouble over it. 

I can't recall Dad talking to Peckham again but I guess he did. Why he did not come out in a snarling fit and tantrum I have no idea! Maybe after hearing more from Mom and a bit from me, the counselor knew what not to say or how to say things that would not seem offensive. Dad did NOT want anyone telling him how to do anything and that certainly included dealing with the family. Hmmm. Wondering now about that. 

Going to Prescott was really not a huge treat but I took advantage of it since I still had a little money to spend. I had put most of what I came home with in secret savings (I had both checking and savings in my name only) but was glad to be able to buy a thing or two now and then. It was also a relief to stop using the awkward belt and pads each month. I never went back to that!

My old paper-doll-making practice had mostly morphed into design work. I sketched ideas and sometimes did really use one of the dolls to trace around and then color and detail a project. I had five yards of the blue print I mentioned and did as I had planned out. Or maybe no; I know there was a peasant style blouse, but I think it may have become a dress--full skirt and fitted waist with scoop neck rather than a skirt and no tailored blouse in that fabric--would not look right..   The butterfly print,I can barely recall. I had made a shirt in an orange-red butterfly print Grandma gave me, but that was earlier. The navy blue did make a gathered skirt and simple straight sleeveless dress.  For a tomboy cowboy girl I did love clothes and rather feminine styles too.And I made new things whenever I could even if they were aarely worn.

Relative to that morning, we had earlier cut down a big cottonwood tree that was mostly dying and although it is punky wood that does not burn clean, it was heat. We cut slabs maybe a foot to eighteen inches in height and split them with wedges; that was a task Charlie Mike and I did a lot. We used a single jack or sort handled sledge hammer and drive old ax heads for wedges to split off chunks.  It was hard to get up to Mingus to get better wood at this point so we made do. We were not living 'high on the hog' at this time!

Odd photos:  Me wearing the butterfly shirt I mentioned. It was a favorite. The blue print fabric--here in a quilt square. The fabric used in the shirt, again in a quilt square, and last, a bit of the fabric I used to make matching shirts for Dusty and me. I thought it was so pretty! This was in a scrapbook. I find many reminders of projects in the first quilt I completed after Jim died and a smaller one that I use for a lap and nap robe. And then the larger quilt just after I finished it--half of the front of it.