~:: Ergodicity ::~

What a swell word. Has to do with statistics, mostly – as in the consideration of erstwhile moments as indications of probability in a system. Or something. I am choosing to mean it thus: any given moment in the past may very well indicate the state of my present life.  Which means I am harvesting moments of last year—tiny things that I wanted to write about and never did, swallowed up as those moments were by the rush of circumstance that has become so indicative of our present realities—and trotting them out as typical.

By the way, I am in Santa Fe, sitting next to Ginna as she enters endless strings of numbers into Quickbooks, catching up with her own hardly peaceful life and its responsibilities. She is working; I am finally answering every comment made by my dear ones over the last couple of months. When we are finished, I will be the one who feels, I think, the deepest satisfaction. I loaded up Flickr with a bunch of photos so that I could actually do some blogging here.  So – let it begin:

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I was standing in a line.  Somewhere.  And here was this kid, carrying a soft drink that was half the size he was. Phone shot.  How could I help myself?

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I guess I never did write about this.  The day I thought Dustin was going to die.  It started so suddenly – I was bringing the guys in one late afternoon, and Dustin wouldn’t come. So I grabbed him by the forelock and hauled on him – which usually results in his resigned cooperation.  This time, he didn’t move. He was like a statue horse. So I hauled harder. When he came forward, it was awkwardly, horribly so. And as I watched him, I realized that he was putting absolutely no weight on his rear left leg. Not even touching the front tip of the hoof to the ground. The leg was tucked way up. And I was chilled.

I fell all over myself, apologizing to him.  It took us ten minutes to get up the driveway to the barn, and I felt sicker with every step. I called Geneva – they were at a play of some kind, I can’t remember now. I can’t even remember what month it was this happened.  I hovered over him, sick at heart. And Geneva, bless her heart, came to the barn at about eleven that night, after she’d dropped off her family, still dressed for the outing.  She had lost her beloved horse not very long before. And the two of us examined him, our eyes glistening in the dim barn lights. She thought he’d broken his leg. We could hear the large bone in his hip grating. And if it were true, it would be the end of him.

All night, I tried to deal with the knowledge. I had to go to Chaz’ house at nearly midnight and tell her.  She was much better with it than I was. Then I had to spend the night processing.  Next day, we took him to the vet. I didn’t include here the pictures I was sure were the last I would have of him. His is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen – those great dark eyes and the noble head of him. It was very hard.

We led him into the examination room where our trusted vet was waiting.  He poked and prodded, worked the joint. Then started picking up Dustin’s foot.  I kept waiting for him to say it – that this was a break and nothing could be done.  But in the end, it turned out to have been “nothing” but a horrible abscess in his hoof. Really horrible. An inch and a half deep and half an inch wide, and I’d never seen him limp till that moment in the pasture. The thing must have been growing in his foot for a week.

He had to wear great, massive bandages, which lasted about fifteen minutes each, and a poultice tucked up into that gaping hole – all of which I had to change – except for the time Geneva came and did it for me. Finally, she leant me a boot so the meds could stay put. And it took weeks before he would walk on it. He lost about 200 pounds, too – moving so slowly and carefully. And dignity. The others got a bit cheeky, but none of them had the courage to do much.  Dancing just out of reach, but too smart to trust his temporary reluctance to trounce them.

It was a really hard night.  But the relief the next day, when the Doc said that magic word, “abscess” was totally awesome.

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Cleaning out the tack room. It had been a couple of  years. Anybody who has horses will tell you about the dust. Anything you put in the arena – wood chips, gravel, fist sized rocks – quickly gets pulverized by those hooves and ends up turning into dust. Coats everything. Enters through keyholes. Slips between molecules.  So I dragged the stuff out (I have no shots of before), cleaned each piece of everything, then re-organized. All by myself. I used to make the kids help. There’s a blog about that, too – spring of 2008, I think. Anyway, I felt pretty proud of the whole thing when I was finished.

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Looked pretty bad, though -

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Burning bush. I love it in October.

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Phone shots of this fabulous rainbow. Too bad I had to shoot it with all the stupid, blessed power lines in the way. Old rural roads are like that.  It was HUGE.

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So I headed for the church parking lot.  SO cool.

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The shot Gin sent me when I wondered if the boys had liked their Christmas Ponies.

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And the mountains. They kinda scare me. But they keep off the tornados. And in Autumn, they burn with beauty.

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Dying leaves can be so beautiful – even at their latest hour.

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So there you have it. Each picture a truth in my life. Each one a story with a moral. Fear, joy, beauty, redemption, reprieve, wonder, reassurance, love, absurdity – mortal life is so complicated, light mixing with dark, sometimes exposing beauty so utterly breathtaking, all you can answer it with is awe.

There.  That counts as a blog, right?

 

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21 Responses to ~:: Ergodicity ::~

  1. Chazi says:

    Gotta tell ya, the only reason I didn’t fall apart over Dustin was because I knew you were. We couldn’t BOTH fall to pieces.

    • K says:

      Yes. Thank you. And the worst part of the whole thing for me was the thought of having to break it to you. This is how people save each other. Loves.

  2. Donna says:

    I don’t like being so far away and so helpless when you are scared and need help. I do like your mountains….so different than mine.
    I didn’t even take enough pictures to get caught up with my life….but mine is slow and fairly uneventful and I’m not complaining. Have fun at Gin’s!

  3. Dawn says:

    Thank God that Dustin is okay. I’m so sorry that you had to go through that trauma. It must have been so scary.
    I like these types of blog posts, pictures and stories from your life. They tell a lot about who you are, and you are a beautiful person.

    • K says:

      It wasn’t a miracle. But it felt like one. I wonder how many things in life are like that – dangers we anticipate that, could we see our lives from above, were never to come close by us at all – but we worry over them, and plan to prevent, to defend – and when nothing happens, it feels like a miracle that we’ve been passed by. And maybe it is. But watching the news doesn’t help us build a picture of peace, and rather, leaves us feeling as though terrible things are the norm and peace is the rare exception. Which it becomes, because we fill the quiet in with our worry. Which, to complicate things, actually prepares us for the few terrible things that will be real for us. Hmmm. I’m glad you said that about the crazy collection of things. I always worry that I’m silly and boring. I’m happy now, because I wasn’t. Because I gave you something you liked.

  4. Rachel says:

    I can tell you when that happened to Dustin because I wasn’t available emotionally for you. We were reeling from the loss of our dear friend J. I was still numb helping you drive Dustin down for his vet visit to have the wraps taken off and looked at. Oh my heart that was a tough year!!

    That shot of the rainbow in the church parking lot!!!! That is cool and beautiful and wow!! The fall shots were with Donna weren’t they? That was a fun time and memory and what a friend/sister we have found in her…….

    • Rachel says:

      P.S. Ergodicity. I can’t believe you had the audacity to use that word! :D

      • K says:

        snicker. I needed a word of a certain color and played with the thesaurus till I found one WAY out of my pay-grade, but so full of the kind of meaning I wanted – well, sort of, anyway. And could it SOUND any more fun?

    • K says:

      You were there, though. Because you are always there. Even when you can’t DO anything, you are constant – if only you knew how you are the ground under my feet. It was an unbelievably hard year – so much loss and shock. Never do I want another one. And now that I think of it – all of that on top of the push to publish – no wonder I retreated into making things.

      Oh – that rainbow. I couldn’t believe how cool it was. I haven’t seen that strong a reflection on the ground very many times in my life – once in Paris. I’ll find the picture of that and show you. It was stunning.

      And Donna – how lucky can we get?

  5. Marilyn says:

    Wow, that was so disorienting–the Fall pictures. I had to look outside, like–wait, have I lost something? Because that has happened, where I blink and a season is gone. Never with winter, though that’s when I’d welcome it. :) Say hi to Ginna for me! Tell her I’m dreaming of those tiny hamburgers (sliders?) she made us. :)

    • K says:

      Ginna actually giggled over that. The sliders, I mean. Kris made us fish tacos last night. These people are full of surprises. And truth be told, I did the same thing to myself with those pictures. But I couldn’t resist them. Those mountains with the drift of clouds – so close to how I have been feeling about life lately – such a solid, magnificent core to it, but those shrouds of chill – they can hide the strong lines and seem to belie the solidity below.

      I don’t want to blink this season away – and really, it’s not going that fast. I feel like I’ve had a lot of warm time and slow days, and it’s really barely just started. I’m going to come back and read what I just wrote here every three days for the next four weeks.

  6. wsw says:

    Well, I dunno, I think that you’re lookin’ styling with the sunglasses and dust mask. Barn fashion is it’s own special statement. Not everyone can rock it. But you do.

    And yes, yes, YES this counts as a blog! The only reason I’m late in arriving (I actually saw in my reader that you posted) is because I’ve been burning up the last few days. Not with a fever, but a rosacea flare up gone wild. All I’ve been doing when I get home from work is lying down with a cold cloth on my face. It’s hard to do much of anything when your face is on fire.

    Dustin – that was a scary thing! That feeling of dread, I know it. I was so happy and relieved that Dustin’s story had a happy ending.

    And now I must haul this burning face (but less intense today) in to work. But I will do it with the images of the spectacular rainbow. They are beautiful and refreshing. I need refreshing.

    • K says:

      I find myself really wanting to stand over you with a spray bottle set on mist all day long today. The computer at work wouldn’t like it, and neither would the hard copy lying on your desk, but a small fan and a mist might go a long way to keeping you sane. Wonder what brought that on, dang it. Ach – why does space have to be so WIDE – are you sure ya’ll don’t want to move on down here? I’m sure we could find you a lovely little farm – somewhere close – for less than millions of dollars. Sigh.

  7. Kathy V says:

    Love the photos, right down to the kid with the soda. Especially loved the mountain scenes. They keep the tornados away – never thought of that before. Hmm. I love the mountains. No fear. They feed my soul. I will always need to be by mountains or the sea or my soul will die of malnutrition.

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