WHAT HAS CHANGED

Change can be a choice, which doesn't make it comfortable in its execution.  I chose to close the chapter on my caged birds. 

Though I still enjoyed them, I decided I'd had a good run with birds and wanted to use the not-insignificant time spent caring for them exploring other interests.  It was an emotional decision, and I discussed it with Ron over and over, making sure it was a correct decision.  It was.  Happy ending included. A man from St. Johns was in Flagstaff for the day taking care of business and happened upon my ad on Craig's list.  He came for one bird as a companion for a couple of birds he had at home, and ended up with all the birds (10, I think) the cage, the stand, and as much miscellaneous bird clutter as would fit in his full-size pickup.  Boy, did his birds get a surprise!  

Change can be forced upon us.  We said good-bye to Maggie after lengthy treatment for rheumatoid arthritis.  

Change forced upon us can have a flip side, and in this case, we had the opportunity to welcome Jasmine:

If you were to say dogs don't get any cuter than this, you'd be right!  Jasmine has been a joy for us, and a good companion for Gypsy.  She's a terrier mix, and fits this description from dogtime.com to a tee: "...a dog with an alert gaze, a powerful drive to hunt and dig, the typical high terrier energy level, and a good-natured personality...intelligent, loyal, fearless, loving, and determined...".  She has several opportunities daily to indulge in hunting, digging, and general exercise in the forest where we walk our dogs, so has been very manageable. 

The loft has changed to meet new needs.  The area where the birdcage was stayed unused for over a year.  I put a chair in the corner to fill up some of the empty space, but I mostly let it rest until its new purpose presented itself.  Which it did, in this way:  for several years I've been going to a local chiropractor/physiotherapist/trainer for what started out as injury treatment and has grown to include an overall strength and conditioning program.  As the nature of the strength and conditioning evolved, Ron's unused sets of kettle bells and resistance tubes made their way to me and what with the other gear I had accumulated,  I found I needed a committed space.  Thus was born the "Girl Gym".  

It takes up just a corner.  A sturdy black rubber horse stall mat protects the floor. And being the "girl" of the name (what, you think it should be old woman, old dame, old lady, old broad, old bag...??? I like the double G's and I'm sticking to Girl!) I asked Ron to spray-paint the kettle bells so they'd look nice (girly).  The resistance tubes come that way.

The Girl Gym displaced my violin practice area, which in turn nicely filled the area where the bird cage had been. 

Reflecting my musical interests, I found these three pictures on Etsy by way of the Ukraine (gotta love the WWW!) for the wall to the right in the picture.  

I see there's quite a bit of real reflection in the glass of these pictures...well, a snapshot is what it is!

Here's the whole wall.  The red scarf was a gift from a Chinese table-tennis playing friend of Ron's and serves as a dust cover for the violin.  

Ron's been plenty busy in the yard.

A pergola,

a bridge to replace an arbor that had seen better days,

this fantastic pagoda,

a repurposed bed frame gifted by my brother Mark,

and bird yard-art.

Lastly, our Little Red Truck, a 1993 Toyota pickup I bought new, gave up the ghost.  This photo, the only one we happen to have access to, is from an article in the newsletter of a group Ron volunteered with that featured these two similar workhorse vehicles owned by Ron and another volunteer.

Source:  Friends of Northern Arizona Forests July 2017 Newsletter

It certainly gave its best to us.  Our mechanic told us the engine repairs needed weren't worth their cost.  We were able to sell it to someone in Camp Verde who rebuilds engines, so it did get another go-round.  We replaced it with its 2013 cousin, which Ron has been driving with the greatest pleasure:

"Everything comes to pass, nothing comes to stay."

---Matthew Flickstein