Projects Delivered
There is a special satisfaction that comes with seeing our handiwork reach its intended destination. Yesterday, we held our traditional early gift exchange and feast with just our kids and their loves before the Christmas gatherings of extended family planned for later this week.
I have already featured a project I had been working on, sharing photos of the progress on two mirrored hearts I made from one Y section of the oak tree that fell last summer. I gave them to Elysa and Julian to have and hold.
It’s a little redundant to give someone your heart when they already have it, but these offer a more tangible reminder, no?
There was one other project underway in our house that I have not shared photos of in order to preserve the surprise.
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Cyndie took on the task of sewing two quilts simultaneously for the kids. Seems to me that one quilt with a hard deadline would be enough of a challenge, but that just shows another example of how different Cyndie and I are.
Crafts such as this are one of several ways Cyndie shows no fear. It is a way that her sometimes unique version of logic is revealed to be a superpower, because it was not logical that anyone would be able to pull this off in the short amount of time that she did. Now two kitty-loving families have similar (you could almost say mirrored) handmade blankets of whimsical cat silhouettes to stay warm under.
Projects delivered. It’s definitely a massive joy to gift others with items crafted by our own hands.
Of course, Cyndie had so much more to give. After presents were exchanged, we feasted on Italian beef or seasoned jackfruit sandwiches she whipped up, after we had already test-tasted her first-ever homemade almond kringle. Sides included a fancy lettuce salad with homemade candied nuts, fancy roasted new potatoes, and cut fresh fruits, finished with a unique pile of marshmallow-corn flake wreaths that were supposed to be a tree.
Turned out to be more of a Christmas bush than a tree.
Here’s looking forward to whatever the next project is that she comes up with to deliver, despite there being only 24 hours in a day.
Happy winter solstice! Ho ho ho!
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Chopper Mittens
This morning, I tried describing a dream I just had so that Cyndie could share in the experience. Of course, the deep drama I had witnessed and felt as if it was actually happening was not adequately conveyed by my words. My struggle to express the dream’s intricacies revealed a glimpse of the monumental difference of what telepathic communication must be like. I quickly realized that each moment in the dream encompassed more impressions and thoughts than my words were able to recreate.
We think and feel a lot faster than words can express. It’s why a picture is worth a thousand words. Visualization is better than verbalization.
Have I described how phenomenally great chopper mittens are for the outdoor winter activities I undertake? If you are unfamiliar with chopper mittens, I could describe them to you, but let me offer this so you can visualize them:
I have tried a variety of other versions, but none compare to the perfection of the original, right down to the knitted inner mitten. I don’t know what makes that liner different (better) than any other new fandangled water-wicking Thinsulate® version I’ve experimented with, but, for me, it falls under the idiom, ‘some things can’t be improved.’
Somewhat counterintuitively, the floppy looseness of the mitten fit is a feature, not a flaw. Being able to pull my bare hand out quickly and easily to accomplish a task that requires ultimate dexterity, and then slip it back in with equal ease, is like having a superpower.
If the mittens get wet from heavy use in the snow, pulling the inner mitten out when I get back indoors allows them to dry quickly and be ready to go, as good as new in no time. If they get too wet, or I need to go back outside before they are dry enough, a second pair is more than worth the money spent.
If you aren’t able to telepathically perceive the unmitigated amount of satisfaction I get from the original chopper mittens, you are only getting a fraction of the perception of how great they are through my written words. Trust me.
Thinking about communicating in words, it occurs to me that, even though using words to describe something falls short of what our minds can do in an instant, I am fond of written communication because it gives me time to construct my thoughts more adeptly than I can do on the fly if I were speaking to you directly.
I suppose that is why, after some 16+ years, I have never felt an urge to transition from blogging to vlogging or podcasting.
Will we someday come up with a word for telepathically sharing our take on things and experiences? Telelogging? Telecasting is too conventional and already in use. It’s not wrong, though.
Since I’m already beaming love to you all telepathically, maybe you can tune in other intricacies my words are incapable of including. You won’t believe this dream I experienced early this morning…
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Nasty Conditions
Today’s quiz question is: What is John’s least favorite weather condition in the winter?
If you guessed rain in the great snowy north, you are oh-so-correct.
What a way to wreck perfectly good snow for outdoor recreation. Yuck. It stayed warm throughout the rain, so we dodged the dreaded icing that usually happens when the precipitation changes over to snow. There was a pause during which the temperature began its return to real cold again before the arrival of high wind and flying flakes.
I found the horses’ Jolly Ball had been carried or kicked out into the hay field. I regularly pick it up from wherever it rolls in the paddock and set it up where I hope it will entice them to play with it. It’s rarely obvious whether it gets kicked or the wind pushes it downslope a ways, but I keep resetting it for their benefit.
I’m pleased to see it occupied one or more of them long enough to end up so far from where I had left it most recently.
As we headed out into the nasty conditions to feed the horses yesterday late afternoon, I became aware of the difference between the ways Cyndie and I face the challenging weather. Largely due to the suffering she endures from the cold, Cyndie is more on the defensive against it. I hear it in the sounds she makes and the comments she utters. It leads her to be concerned that the horses might be feeling as bad about the Arctic gales as she does.
I try to play more offense, using comments that diminish the harshness and telling the horses how well they are doing as we all brave the cold and windblown snow. I talk my way into winning the battle of man against the elements.
If the weather wants to go nasty, I’ll dish out my own dose of nasty-level positivity in the finest of contrarian ways.
Take that, old Man Winter.
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A Thursday
There was an unexpected Asher adventure as we were about to feed the horses yesterday morning, involving a raccoon. While Cyndie and I were focused on the usual chores, Asher vanished without our noticing. His telltale, excited barking in the distance instantly grabbed our attention.
Cyndie stopped what she was doing and hustled in the direction of the hay shed. In the perennial garden just beyond the shed, she found Asher and the raccoon in conflict with each other. I stayed with the horses, trying to pretend that nothing out of the ordinary was going on, despite the angry noises coming from the raccoon.
She reported that Asher had the butt end of the still-complaining raccoon in his mouth and took off running when she showed up. When she caught up to him again, across the road at the end of our driveway, she said he was in the process of burying the no longer living critter.
I don’t remember seeing coon hound in the 18 breeds identified in his DNA.
Our neighbor just south of us was pleased to hear he has some help in controlling the population of nuisance wildlife. When Cyndie stopped by to deliver some Christmas cookies, he told her he had dispatched 19 possums and 25 raccoons this year.
It’s comforting to know that we may have gained some tolerance for occasions when Asher might wander onto their property, now that he’s seen as contributing to pest control in the area.
After a couple of days above freezing, we are facing another Winter Weather Advisory from the National Weather Service, which predicts light snow, wind as high as 40-50 mph, and icy flash freezing conditions. Needless to say, the horse blankets are back on.
Mia needs the added protection more than the others, but she was the most uncooperative about letting us cover her up. She doesn’t grow as thick a winter coat and ends up shivering more quickly than the others, so one would think she’d welcome the blanket.
Instead of chasing her around in an attempt to force compliance, we are inclined to patiently invite her to come to us as we stand holding the blanket. Since they were all eating from their feed buckets while we were putting the blankets on, that just meant standing close to her bucket, and eventually she stayed put while we covered her up and hooked up all the clasps.
I have every confidence that they understand why we are covering them up again. We also move hay nets from out on fence posts to up underneath the overhang. Since we only do these things during periods of stormy weather and always return things to normal afterwards, I believe they read the signals and accept the changes without unwarranted stress.
Lousy weather is stressful enough on its own, especially when high winds are involved. The Weather Service is tossing out phrases like “a conveyor belt of Aleutian low-pressure systems” and “atmospheric rivers.”
To us, it just seems like a Thursday.
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Welcome Distractions
Yesterday was a day when I wouldn’t have had a clue our government was churning towards a fascist dictatorship if I hadn’t read an accounting of the pertinent details. Laid out the way they were, it seemed pretty obvious.
But my day started with a visit from the farrier before I had even completed the morning chores. It took a lot of energy to coax Asher away from all the scents on the farrier’s tools to get the dog up to the house for his feeding.
Just as had happened the day before, with the Nutritionist reporting that the horses were in excellent condition, the farrier said their hooves were looking really good. The winter growth has slowed enough that the next trimming appointment wasn’t even scheduled. In the summer, we might see him every 6 weeks. It may be more than 10 weeks during the winter.
Maddy gave the horses their dewormer dosage, and so they are now up to date on all their health issues. I think we are more thrilled over the milestone than the horses. They stood really well for the farrier, making the process a relative breeze.
It didn’t hurt that the weather was headed toward a big thaw. It was the first time the temperature rose above the 32°F freezing point since the winter-like cold arrived, and it shot well past that into the mid-40s.
My day ended with an evening of catching up with guys I went to high school with at a brewery in our old hometown.
It’s an annual December ritual that relies on a core of a handful of regulars, plus each year a bonus of a few rare sightings that surprise us by showing up. I think it’s a good exercise, though I am aware it’s not for everyone. Some folks have no interest in revisiting their past. I enjoy it greatly.
Thinking about the days of my youth is more pleasant than examining the sad state of our crumbling democracy. Hanging out with the horses and hanging with the guys yesterday distracted me from how bad things continue to get in this once-great country of ours.
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Hay Challenges
It wasn’t supposed to be complicated. Hay to feed the horses is supplied by This Old Horse, and it is up to their managers to procure the bales from anywhere they can. Our liaison, Maddy, checked with the previous farmer who delivered to us, but he was out of grass hay.
She found another source who delivered 85 bales yesterday. An hour after we’d stacked it in the hay shed, the Nutritionist arrived to check on the condition of the horses. She was following up after having switched the horses’ feed from grains to processed pellets of Senior Feed last summer.
The good news is that she found all the horses are doing very well since the diet change. The bad news is that she didn’t like the looks of the new hay bales at all. Her concern is that the nutritional quality of the new hay looks so poor that feeding them this at this time of year will leave them short of their daily needs.
That leaves poor Maddy in the difficult position of needing to find another source and figure out what to do with the 85 bales now in our shed.
Just to mess up the day a little more after that, the farrier was running behind and asked to move our appointment from the afternoon to first thing this morning.
One bright spot I particularly enjoyed during the Nutritionist’s visit was the surprisingly social demonstration by the horses as we stood in the paddock and talked over their body condition scoring. All four horses brought their heads together around us, peeking over our shoulders and standing close without issue for an uncharacteristic amount of time.
Eventually, Mix brought things back to normal by getting snippy with Mia, forcing her to move away, which prompted the rest of us to break our little huddle. It didn’t spoil how precious it was to see the horses being so present in the moment together and tuned in with us as we chatted.
It was a nice exclamation point on the fact that their body condition scores were ideal for their ages. It means a lot to us that they not only look good physically, but their behaviors reflect that they are doing pretty well emotionally, too.
Now, if we could find a way to give them some better hay to eat this winter, that would be just grand.
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Cookies Aplenty
The morning after Cyndie’s two days of unadulterated Christmas cookie baking dawns with the results neatly packaged for distribution.
My blood sugar is probably still out of whack after sampling way too many varieties over the weekend. Niece, Althea, and son, Julian, showed up to contribute their energies to the effort yesterday, keeping the festive feeling in full swing.
The head baker decided to repackage the entire inventory before beginning the extra effort of cleaning up a mess that a multi-day baking extravaganza creates.
With that epic effort behind her, it’s out of the kitchen and into the horse chores. Our schedule got doubled up today with a planned visit from the farrier happening on the same day as an unexpected delivery of hay bales that will need to be stacked in the shed.
There will be no rest for the weary.
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Like Dad
Baby, it’s cold outside. The horses had frosty whiskers this morning, to rival all the other deep-freeze overnight lows they’ve endured in their time with us.
While the air was exceedingly crisp outside, the house was toastier than Santa’s workshop with Cyndie’s Christmas Cookie-palooza, Day 1, in full swing. The double oven was working overtime to keep up with all the delectible treats Cyndie and her team of guests were moving through it. The post-bake decorating station was a spectacle this year, with frostings and sprinkles applied to the wafting sounds of a unique mix of Christmas music, courtesy of some algorithm at Apple Music.
Since I was in charge of keeping the fire fed in the fireplace and the dog’s nose pointed anywhere other than at foodstuffs, I let the whole operation pass without taking a single photo. I apologize. That was a total lapse of thinking on my part. I did get a shot of some behind-the-scenes aftermath, though.
I stopped by the kitchen to take a photo of a recent success on my part that had me thinking of my dad. A little of his mechanical ingenuity and DIY solutions were passed to me, along with his exceptional ability to tolerate unfinished projects.
For some 10 or 12 years, Cyndie has begrudgingly lived with a problematic corner cabinet that has a pair of lazy susan shelves where we store pots and pans. When it would get stuck, I assumed it was because pan handles weren’t being oriented logically, or it was being overstuffed. When it became stiff, a confident nudge from my foot would close it just fine.
When the shelves finally collapsed from the top and bottom brackets two days ago, I was forced to figure out how it was supposed to work. How the heck did they install it in the first place? Oh, there are adjustment screws. Hmm.
I discovered there was a detent in the plastic top piece that was supposed to match the springy metal brace. Imagine that.
A Philips screwdriver, ten minutes of puttering with adjustments, and we had a perfectly functioning lazy susan corner cabinet. I could have done that years ago. I suppose Cyndie wouldn’t be quite as thrilled with the results if it hadn’t been an ongoing nuisance for a decade.
The quick fix had me feeling chuffed. Figuring out how it was supposed to work reminded me of my dad’s keen skills in that realm. Realizing I had let something go for years without properly solving it dampened my pride and reminded me that I inherited both good and bad traits from that wonderful, complex, ingenious, troubled man that I both looked up to and feared in the years we were both alive.
I think Dad would have approved of the way I fixed that corner lazy susan by figuring out the way it was intended to work.
I’m going to focus on that and not on how long it took for me to get around to it.
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More Munching
One of the many benefits of snow cover is being able to see where the horses have been overnight. While the paddocks will become completely trampled in a matter of days, even though closed gates don’t confine the horses, it takes a lot longer for the pastures to see a lot of traffic.
One or two loops will appear at first, revealing someone’s initial curiosity. The fresh snow allows us to observe how the traffic pattern evolves as the days pass.
While I was enjoying more of the calming aura of the horses munching their feed this morning, I witnessed a pleasing exchange between Mia and Swings. Mia has always been the fastest eater among the four. We used to think that was because she was the lowest on their pecking order and needed to finish before another horse chased her off her food so they could have it.
Maybe it has become her habit, because they all tend to stay put for the most part now, but she still eats fast. Mia was also good at coming around later and cleaning up scraps that had been dropped. Putting those two things together, she now seems to be establishing a relationship with Swings to eat off her placemat while Swings is still there eating from her bucket.
As I watched it unfold this morning, Mia approached tentatively, and Swings’ first response was to pin her ears back to fend Mia off. Mia then waited a minute, as if negotiating permission. My brain picked up a sense of Mia communicating, “You don’t really mean that…”
Then Mia meekly began nibbling away at the pellets dropped on the mat.
Every so often, Swings picks up her head while chewing, and Mia quickly does the same, in case she is going to be chastised. When no aggression is displayed, Mia checks in by putting her nose close to Swings, and then they both go back to heads-down eating again.
It’s a treat to see them growing a more observable bond. Swings never used to tolerate having Mia in her personal space.
I think Mia is showing increasing confidence with all the others (and us, too), as well as Swings is softening her boundaries more.
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Relative Something 