Not a history geek, but my voice box squeaked when I read that some of Canada’s woman pioneers of our vast west were yodlers. Braving the elements and adventure of young love, the isolation and cabin fever under prairie skies, an apron momma stepped out of her “soddy” or doorstep one day and yodelled to the wind. To her surprise her yodel was returned by another female homesteader.

Seems too far fetched, but it so captures my imagination. Trail blazing — lonely business, so too artistic creation. Introversion is prerequisite to translate the inner eye. The basement-preneur is common for freelancers. Part extrovert, the time comes for yodelling.  No chorus responds, but bravado builds.

Facebook has become a personal yodel platform. Not that anyone is really listening. Really. Oh sure, the vanity loves a “like,” but more so, It just feels good to express, shout to the world. Blogging, I suspect will be the similar to my pen to journal experience. Not expecting anyone will see, be bothered to read, but hey it’s out of the brain box. The mark is out. If some one ever decides to yodel back—hey, all the better.