Recently, things have been very challenging for me. Being a nomad wears thin, even though I have been very fortunate for most of this last year. I am very thankful for the friends who were able to help me along the way. But I ran out of places to go, and had to turn to help from women’s emergency shelters. Those were stressful, even though the operators were courteous and doing what they could to help the ladies.
Then God brought a number of things together, and an opportunity for a place through February came up. The directors of a retreat center in Oregon needed a temporary caretaker for the property (there are animals to be cared for) through February. It is not a paying position, but gives a place to stay, and there is an internet connection. I jumped at it, and drove up immediately. I’ll be able to continue my web content writing and editing. Staying at the retreat ranch should help me save money. And the quiet up in the mountain is a needed respite from the challenges and stresses of the last year. It’s a retreat I need.
***
The sky was clear as I drove through California’s central valley. The sun went down in golden display behind the western ridge. Then the sky went copperish, melting into a dusty rose. Light lingered in the sky for a long time though, a luminous blueness to the west while shadows had crawled all over the landscape. I stopped for a break in the dark but did not get out of the car. When I got back on the road on the freeway and got out away from the distance truckers, I noticed some sort of light that must have been above me reflecting off a flat surface on the seat beside me, even casting a bit of shadow. The moon had come up unnoticed by me. I could not see it, just the effect of moonlight.
Driving through the northern valley sections of California, the direness of the drought was brought home to me. The grass is all dried to a determined yellow. The greens of all the trees and shrubberies are grey or slightly toasted. Some trees have tiny leaves that never seem to have made it all the way to green. One corn field I passed had obvious missed some watering at some point, for the stalks were entirely burned dry. And Shasta Lake is so low there is a dramatic broad band of reddish stone and dirt above the current waterline.
***
Reaching the retreat ranch gave me a wonderful sense of peace. The stillness and quiet has been very soothing. The first evening, I needed to check online, but the directors forgot to show me where the key to lodge with the wifi was kept, so I sat outside on the deck as the evening fell. But it was a lovely night. Crickets singing a major chorus, after an opening evening overture from some geese.
Suddenly after several years of not being on a job-clock, I am back on a time schedule. My charges on the ranch demand to be fed in the morning.
The two donkeys require attention. The smaller one, I was told, overeats, so she has a nose harness which slows her down. The larger one is Buck, and he complains in the morning when he sees me in the distance. He wants to make sure that you know he’s hungry, although he does accept the reassurance when I call down to him.
There are six llamas, and they really crowd round, when I get to the barn to get the alfalfa out for them. They don’t even wait, pulling nibbles off the leaf from the bale that I’m breaking up to spread out for them.
There are wild turkeys on the property. I saw a bunny on the drive after dark one of the evenings. There’s also a peacock on the property, apparently, but I haven’t seen it yet. Well, the peahen and some growing chicks at least.
I’m going to be getting regular exercise here, that’s for sure.
