Diet Transition
Imagine if people had to be as careful about changing their regular diet as the animals in our care. Full disclosure: this line of thought is coming from someone who doesn’t have any food allergies.
For two completely different reasons, we are currently in the process of changing the foods of both our dog and the horses. It is a long period of gradual transition from the old food to the new, serving a portion of each at a sliding percentage.
The horses don’t appear to care much about the introduction of something different thus far. I haven’t seen any indication of change in preference for the mixture we’ve been serving them.
Asher may be happy with his changing mixture because it was starting to look like he didn’t care for the food he’s been served since we adopted him. He’s shown no hesitation with the new brand.
I feel very lucky that the food I can choose to eat isn’t dictated by someone else. Unfortunately, that leaves it up to me to make smart choices. I was thinking the other day that it takes constant mental energy for me to avoid succumbing to my cravings for carbs or sugar foods.
It’s always great when you are granted a free pass to have as much as you want of a healthy food. Why doesn’t spinach taste more like chocolate? I love the feeling when I am thirsty and my body seems like it can’t get enough of a tall glass of ice water. Guilt-free reward.
Oxygen is something else I can consume as much as I want with no limitation. When my mind yearns for something my body doesn’t need, I can think about the total free pass I have to inhale as many huge breaths of air as possible.
Yeah, I’m weird like that.
This time of year there is a lot of tractor time when thoughts can meander. Yesterday afternoon, I was finally able to drive on and mow some of the areas that were saturated two days ago.
It amazes me how fast conditions change. The high ground around here is getting bone-dry. After I finished mowing the backyard, spotty thundering rain clouds rolled past. I put away the tractor and prepared for a downpour.
All we got was a spattering of drops.
I’m guessing all that ground moisture is getting sucked up by plants and trees making leaves. There is now a fresh new batch of phytoncides to absorb while bathing in the atmosphere of our glorious forest.
I’m going to count that as part of my spring diet transition.
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Aurora Watch
We go from Trillium observation on the ground to glowing ionosphere in the sky. Last night, friends Pam Knutson and John Bramble drove out from the Cities to join Cyndie and me in an Aurora Borealis watch party on the hill in our hay field.
We closed gates to temporarily constrain the horses to the paddocks and back pasture. Then Asher and I walked up to the high spot just after sunset to scout our location for sky-watching.
Cyndie packed our zero-gravity recliners and blankets in the car and we set up to await the show.
After reading the multitude of reports getting posted about fantastic sightings in locations well to the south of us, I was prepared for a spectacular event. Cyndie has an app that gives an aurora forecast and it was sending alerts of the increased activity. As Pam and John arrived, the percentage of likelihood was indicating 33% in our location.
We had a great view of constellations and saw satellites move across the sky in addition to regular airplane traffic. As far as Aurora goes, we saw very little with our eyes. However, I had read that using Night Mode on our iPhones would capture more than our eyes perceive.
Bingo!
There was some color showing up through the camera lens around 11:30 p.m. that our eyes could barely see.
This was around the same time Cyndie took another look at the app to see what our chances were up to for a visible spectacle. It had changed from 33 down to 4%. That was good enough to help us all decide to call it a night.
Fatigue helped me easily get over a fear of missing out on even more dramatic viewing after we stopped watching. Our warm and cozy bed was calling my name loud and clear.
At least our iPhones saw something pretty cool.
I had fun watching the night sky with friends for a few hours and listening to the calls of an owl serenading us. I had even more fun climbing into bed and falling instantly into Sleepsville. By that hour, it didn’t matter to me if the viewing outside was becoming better than ever.
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Native Trillium
For years, we have longed to establish a colony of trillium in the woods closest to our house by transplanting them from the forest on the land of Cyndie’s lake place up in Hayward, WI. The very satisfying success we have achieved up to this point has been limited to the plants surviving the stress of getting dug up and driven hours away. Some, but not all, have even produced the ultimate reward of the classic blossom.
What has yet to transpire is the natural propagation of new plants in the surrounding vicinity. When we start seeing that, the rewards of our efforts will have us over the moon with joy.
In the meantime, we have been noticing other rewarding blooms in the farther reaches of our forest.
There are a small number of native trillium plants that appear during the relatively short flowering weeks in a handful of spots in our woods. Still, they have yet to offer a hint of becoming the striking carpet of coverage like we see up at the lake.
Now in our twelfth year on this land, we can begin to measure how things change in a decade. Of course, the natural evolution of our surroundings is hard to predict given the rapidly warming climate underway. Will that make a teeming blanket of flowering trillium a more or less likely possibility in our woods?
Either way, it appears we will need to be patient and set our sights on long-range changes. Thankfully, we experience a wonderful thrill even when coming upon just a single flower of our much-loved wild forest trillium.
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Serene Green
This time of year, every morning the landscape looks different than the day before. The increase in the number and size of leaves on branches and blades of grasses that happen in a day is astonishing. Our morning walk with Asher through the woods and around the pasture offers one marvel after another.
“Look at this!”
“I can’t see you through the trees anymore.”
The horses have quickly gotten over the excitement of being allowed on the grass now that we’ve reached the point of leaving gates open all the time. They get to come and go as they please so there is no anxiety about confinement.
They are wonderfully calm in the morning and impressively patient about waiting for the delivery of their feed. I will soon be able to refer to “grain” in their buckets as we are gradually transitioning from manufactured pellets to a mixture of actual grains. This was a business decision by This Old Horse but it seems like an improvement to me, changing to a less processed food.
The chestnuts, Mia and Light, took a break from grazing to have a little nap in the lush grass. That incredible serenity is precious, especially since the horses are also experiencing seasonal hormones that have them coping with some unfulfilled urges that sometimes stir things up in the herd.
Yesterday afternoon, Light was like a little puppy trying to get Mia to snuggle necks but Mia wasn’t interested and moved away carefully to avoid causing a ruckus. Mix actually greeted Light nose-to-nose without being aggressive about it. That almost never happens.
Maybe Mix is showing some empathy toward Light.
That kind of behavior contributes significantly to the serene scenes we’ve been enjoying between rain showers. I’m all for more of that.
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Heirloom Rehomed
After consulting with Julian W. Hays, I decided to check with the Pierce County Historical Association about their interest in having my great-grandfather’s Oshkosh steamer trunk. John Waters Hays (1860-1931) was eleven when his father, Stephen W. moved the family to Pierce County.
By the 1880 Census, John is listed in the Village of Morris in Stearns County, MN, as a boarder with the occupation of Painter at the age of 20. John most likely spent his teen years in Pierce County, so I think the PCHA collection of historic artifacts is a fitting place for the trunk to land once and for all.
John ultimately became Secretary-Treasurer of the International Typographical Union working out of the Indianapolis office. I assume this would have been his one piece of luggage for traveling during the years in that position.
After I used the trunk to store my clothes and valuables for decades, I passed it down to Julian. He used it for a while but then asked us to store it in our basement for him. I think the Historical Association is a better long-term place for the trunk to be kept.
I asked the Vice-President if she thought the PCHA would be interested in the precious family heirloom. She asked for photos and said she would share them with other officers and get back to me. The response came back a day later and the reaction was a unanimous “Yes!”
I drove it down to their office in Bay City on Tuesday afternoon. While I was filling out a donation form, one of the staff printed copies of articles about the school where John might have attended, based on the area where it appears they were living.
I have a good batch of reading to do. It’s not clear that I will find precise details about John during those years, but I can at least get a sense of what life might have been like for him.
Unfortunately, this will steal time away from my exploration of the spat between Joseph Sleeper and his wife, Abagail that led to dates in court.
So many ancestor stories to investigate, so little time.
Of course, the ultimate bonus for me out of this donation is the decluttering I accomplished in our basement. It provides a “win-win” and warms my heart that much more.
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Immutable
[I found this in a post from 2018 when I was looking for something else and decided I wanted to post it again.]
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Words on Images
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Growth Control
Between the days when it has been raining lately, the mowing hasn’t been simple. The saturated ground makes navigating the heavy riding mower on the many slopes around our property a rather inelegant science. The hardest part is not knowing I’ve driven myself into trouble until I’m already in it.
A glance behind me reveals muddy tracks and then forward momentum slows as the tires start to spin. Even though there are areas where I know there is standing water to be avoided, it’s not always obvious how much of a buffer around them I need to maintain.
The bottom line becomes getting the tall grass knocked down as a priority and accepting there will be a few sacrifices made to the turf in the process. The final result is a much less satisfying mowing experience than the days later in summer when the ground isn’t so wet.
Yesterday, I decided to use the string trimmer to clean up some areas where the tractor didn’t dare go. Then I trimmed around culverts, under fence lines, around downspouts, and along walls. Having those areas cleaned up provided a visual reward that compensated for the ugly skid marks and muddy tire tracks that resulted from needing to control the growth happening at its fastest while the ground was still extremely wet.
I’m coming to terms with the reality that early-season mowing often won’t look pretty around here but the fast-growing grass will be knocked down often enough that it never gets completely out of control.
Heck, even the horses can’t keep up with grazing their pastures this time of year.
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Time Travel
By simply driving south on the gravel road winding along Isabelle Creek, I felt transported to the time my ancestors lived there in the second half of the 19th century. We were on our way to the Pierce County Historical Association.
Our visit to their office in Bay City was a treasure. The old log cabin they have preserved is from near the community of Esdaile where the Sleeper mill was located. Standing in that structure made it even easier to imagine we were no longer in the year 2024.
Our conversations with volunteers covered multiple subjects, including how quickly things changed when the railroad arrived. I learned how to interpret the symbols for structures on old property maps: round = log; square = frame; triangle = brick.
Something I didn’t anticipate was a tip that old newspaper information is available from the Library of Congress online through their Chronicling America site where it is possible to search historic newspaper pages from 1756-1963.
I took a stab at “S. W. Hays” in Wisconsin between 1855-1895 and found this morsel in The River Falls Journal:
Now, this is particularly cool because, in addition to my ancestor Stephen Hays, it includes mention of my 2nd-great grandfather Charles Church and refers to “C. Betcher” who owned the lumber business Stephen (S.W. Hays) worked for. The only family missing is someone from the Sleeper clan. That’s okay though because when I searched for Joseph Sleeper there are a large number of pertinent results.
In fact, I discovered there was a summons published in the Prescott Journal about a complaint between Joseph and his wife, Abagail:
Spring is the wrong time of year for me to be discovering a new resource for losing hours on end searching old newspapers for the names of my ancestors. There are acres of grass that need mowing outside!
I hope today will be a little dryer out there than it was yesterday.
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History Open
Today is the first Sunday in May. I can’t count how many first Sundays of the month have passed without me taking advantage of the regularly scheduled open house at my county’s History Society. Today will be different.
On a day when the sun is shining bright in a clear blue sky, we are going to depart from our little sanctuary and drive past the little village of Esdaile (where my Great-Great-Great Grandfather Joseph Sleeper owned a sawmill) beside Isabelle Creek, on our way to the Pierce County Historical Association in Bay City.
It will be my second visit to the main office of the PCHA. When I first discovered that my Great-Great Grandfather Stephen Hays once owned land in Pierce County, I made my way to Bay City to learn more about him.
I discovered so much more than I bargained for that day. Suddenly, it was revealed that three of my ancestral families were living in the area in the 1860s.
Recently, the PCHA announced that local Historian, Mary Beeler had published (at the age of 92) a book about logging and log buildings in early Pierce County. I want to see if there might be more information about Joseph’s mill or Stephen’s wagon-making.
The rain has ended for a day, but the over-saturated ground remains too wet to do much work of substance. A small group of hearty souls stopped by yesterday to walk the labyrinth and enjoy Cyndie’s baked treats in the lingering mist following another half-inch of accumulation.
No other visitors are expected for a while, so I can let the grass grow crazy while waiting for the ground to dry up a little.
I suppose I could pull more weeds out of the gravel loop around the hay shed today, but that’s not as enticing as exploring more local history.
Maybe, in the end, I’ll do a little of both.
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Peace Meditations
’Twas the first Saturday in May
And all through the labyrinth
Plenty of creatures were stirring
Especially the burrowing pests
Today is World Labyrinth Day. Despite the first Saturday of May always arriving too soon for our beautiful growing perennials in the labyrinth garden and the trees surrounding it to have fully blossomed, we still try to tidy it up as much as possible for the annual peace walk at one o’clock.
I had the electric riding mower out and about again yesterday in an attempt to knock down the outrageously tall and thick areas of overgrown grass in multiple places, despite several of them holding puddles of water and most of the soil being too saturated to support the tire traffic.
I had to swallow my pride a couple of times when the spinning wheels turned what had been nice grass turf into wide smears of muddy skid marks. I deemed it tolerable damage in this case, given the difficult situation we were in to get ready on the only day left when it wasn’t raining.
It’s too bad the prediction for this morning is at an 80% chance of more rain. Even if precipitation pauses around the middle of the day, we will likely be walking on the equivalence of wet sponges while meditating for peace on Earth.
The concept of creating a rolling wave of energy around the world by having people participate at 1:00 p.m. in each of their local time zones is an inspired one, in my opinion. I suggest that the practice needn’t be limited to people walking labyrinths. You can do this wherever you are.
At one o’clock [your time] this afternoon, pause for a time and rally your mental energies toward a focus on the possibilities of peace in every form imaginable. Heck, if you are reading this after the appointed hour, go ahead and do the mental exercise anyway. What have we got to lose?
Give Peace a chance.
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Relative Something 