March 14, 2011
Dear friends and readers,
This proverb came to mind as I looked out my window onto the pasture the night before last just as the sun was beginning to set. Cold air off the the snow rose up into warmed layers and was transformed by the sun and the dark pines into filtered shafts of gold mica dust. In the foreground were the darkened silhouettes of the horses quietly eating hay.
This sublime image was a hint of better days to come--but just a hint. That night the cold snapped right back freezing the mud into wheelbarrow resisting ruts. Manure rich puddles of water were transformed into partially frozen layers of brown ice. My broken arm made balancing more difficult particularly when carrying a water bucket. The occasional misstep produced a high jean-soaking splash. Uggh!
There are still shelves of ice under insulating piles of mud and manure. These, coupled with deep puddles, has made it impossible to even conceive of round-penning Dolly. Just as well. Tomorrow the vet is coming to draw blood for the horses' annual coggins tests and to tranquilize Dolly so we can get a look at her teeth. The farrier--who adjusted his schedule to be here--will finally be able to take his nippers and rasp to her badly misshapen hooves. If things go well (that is, if she's sufficiently drugged beyond the duration it takes to tend to her teeth and feet) I will seize the opportunity to plunge her filthy, heavily matted tail into a bucket of warm soapy water.
Four days after Dolly's hopefully trauma-free encounter with the vet I am off to Europe to meet my husband for an MIT conference on environmental issues. The original venue was Stutgart, Germany which I was quite excited about. In 2000 we traveled to Berlin. I could hardly rise above a "Wie gehts?" and "Wo ist die Goethe Strasse, bitte?" resurrected from my 7th grade German class. One evening in the hotel I watched a German soap opera which, incredibly, was dominated by men and focused on some horse breeders in a tussle with their Spanish counterparts. I hadn't understood a thing until one of the male characters took a fax from the machine, held it up, and jubilantly cried, "Die coggins ist negatif!)
But for this next trip I wouldn't just rely on 7th grade and equine vocabulary to get me through. I would improve! I ordered a set of German language CD's--beginner, and each night, just before getting into bed, I would pop one into the player. Within seconds of track one all worries vanished. Gone were concerns about the increased price of hay, the number of horses that needed special winter shoes to keep them secure on winter ice. Thoughts of frozen--perhaps bursting--water pipes and a trailer in disrepair were banished from my head because I was listening to the German equivalent of the Alice and Jerry readers I had in the second grade. Except, since it was created for adults, these cd's were far less interesting. There were no dogs named 'Jiip' and 'Spot', just adults asking where they could get a beer or where a certain hotel was. Snore!! On those those cd nights I got more sleep than I needed.
Fortunately, just as I was about to get to really exciting part, that is learning to talk about soccer and shopping, my husband came to the rescue via phone. Well, sort of. The conference was now in Cardiff, capital of Wales. Welsh! Have you ever seen the length of some of those Welsh words? They make especially big signs to accommodate the length of their town and street names. Nope, I would speak in the language of the man who subjugated Wales--William the Conqueror. Oh no, that's right he spoke Middle French. That's not even available on my list of language cds. Oh well, I'll just speak the language of one of my favorite local couple John and Abigail Adams of Quincy--"New English".
I'll be back to these climes in less than a week. By then I'm hoping the snow will be gone, my arm better, and the real work with Dolly can get underway. Of course, I'm also eager to get on with dressage. I haven't ridden Tica in three weeks and the competition at Saratoga is at the end of May. I'd be in a state of agitated depression but that my instructor Linda Parmenter has enough room in her barn to take Tica in training for a couple of weeks. Tica has over-nighted at Linda's Pinehaven Farm twice before and she's always been a dream to ride afterward.
I, like everyone after this brutal winter, am looking forward to daffodils and tulips. But Spring, in all its metaphysical meaning--cannot come soon enough for the suffering people of Japan. When I was in my twenties I lived there for almost five years--three in Tokyo where I experienced quakes first-hand. They were smaller, of course, but disturbing nonetheless. My dear friend from college, Mari, was visiting my little wood and paper house when a sizeable one hit. I think it was near a 3 on the Richter Scale. The sliding wooden door of my apartment rattled noisily and the bells in the neighboring gardens rang chaotically. We dashed outside. I felt like I'd stepped onto a bowl of Jell-o. From that day on I kept an earthquake kit in my house--flashlight, small bills for purchases, drinking water, and a towel which I would wet and drape across my face if I needed to get through fire and smoke. I'd grown up believing that the security of the earth was a sure thing. And I didn't realize how much I believed it, and how much I needed it, until it was gone.
The climate of Sendai is much like ours. After living in the US, Spain, and Germany, Mari is back in Tokyo--about four hours south of Sendai. I e-mailed her as soon as I saw the news of the quake begging her grab her mother, daughter, two dogs and get on a plane to Boston, and if not Boston, New York. (Her husband is in the Japanese equivalent of the Peace Corps and sesrving in Cali, Colombia.) I wondered if she would even get it. Within an hour she replied. This is part of her first e-mail:
"Thanks so much for your sweet offer. To tell you the truth, I'm terrified. But I doubt packing Ms.Tank (*That's our nickname for her incredibly robust mother) and the two old dogs up will be easy. All the quarantine papers that are required to export animals, and Ms. tank is fit but after all, she's 92, going on to 93. If we did decide to leave here, California would be easier for everyone, considering the distance, but I just don't think it's feasible. A friend called me from Spain this morning, telling us to flee to Spain. But many flights have been canceled at Narita, and all these other things to take care of.....
And I don't think Pansy can make the long flight. Yes, the nuclear reactors are such a concern. 3 people have been determined to be highly contaminated with radiation. They've tested 3 out of 90 who were taken to the hospital, and suspect that the rest are also highly exposed to radiation. They were apparently waiting for rescuers near the reactors. I don't know how much the government is letting out information, but things seem pretty bad. But at the moment, there's nothing we can do here. But here in this area, life seems as usual, at least outwardly. Mana and I went shopping today to stock up on stuff, but instant noodles, for example, were wiped out from the shelf and there were practically no water bottles left. We learned that many have been shipped to the affected areas. the ground is shaking as I'm writing this. I'd better try to get some sleep, because I could hardly sleep last night. And before that, we'd better fill up some pots and pans with water, just in case."
And then this this morning:
"How I wish I could forget all of this even for a short while and be at your farm. I'm drained. I feel like I'm on the verge of a nervous break-down. I know I should be stronger, but there's so much to take in. If the major Chubu-Tokai Earthquake which has been predicted for a long time occurs, then Tokyo will be destroyed in addition to other nearby regions. We'll have a planned brown-outs tomorrow. But the reactors are a nightmare. Oh well, Ainslie chan. I'm going to have a cup of Sleepy Time and try to get some sleep. I did sleep a bit last night. The aftershocks that we feel here have become much smaller, but the already severely affected areas continue to have strong tremors. They don't have enough medical supplies (medicine, drips, dialysis tubes and filters, etc.), food and blankets, etc. The already cold Tohoku is expecting rain and snow tomorrow. It's like dooms-day.
How is Dolly and how is your arm? You take care, and appreciate everything you have around you now. The idea of fleeing this country is just not realistic at the moment. The dogs, especially Pansy. Nata still is very fit with excellent eye-sight and hearing. And to take a flight from Osaka or Nagoya, we'd have to take the Shinkansen. But it's very difficult to get to the Shinkansen Station. Especially now with the planned brown-outs, trains stop operating. "
This is heart-breaking and there seems to be no end in sight to this on-going tragedy. And now this nuclear sword of Damocles hanging over--not only the people who suffered the quake and tsunami--but all of Japan. I wish Mari and her family could and would come. I wish everyone in danger there had somewhere they could take refuge.
But as bad as things get, as supplies dwindle even more and frustration rise, at least there won't be an increase in crime. The Japanese are resolutely honest. Once I left my wallet in a Japanese taxi. The driver returned with it and all the cash inside. Over ninety-percent of the Japanese population considers itself middle-class. And everyone knows about their great work ethic. But what makes the Japanese so extraordinary is their ability to unite, endure, and achieve in the face of terrible adversity. I glad that they have this quality, but I wish to God they didn't need it. My heart goes out to everyone there.
Ainslie
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