Virtually Connecting
There are two primary places where I exist online. Obviously, one of them is this WordPress blog, which I started in 2009. The other is a virtual community called “Brainstorms Metanetwork” that I joined in 2001. Sometimes I lose track of what I’ve written on one or the other, since there is a large overlap in the stories and topics I’ve shared.
A recent thread on what we usually refer to as BSMN has jumped back to some things I wrote 24 years ago about my experience as a boy on the farm called “Intervale Ranch.” If you notice a similarity to Wintervale Ranch, it was intentional, an idea Cyndie came up with, and which means the world to me.
There is a tangled thread of my life intricately woven through that virtual community. I originally learned about it because I fell for online conversation in a way similar, I think, to how people became enamored with Facebook. The Caucus software that I was introduced to by Twin Cities Freenet made sense to me, and I was quickly hooked on conversing with folks via typing my words. I liked it so much that I became saddened that TCFN seemed to be languishing.
One of the brilliant people there suggested I check out Brainstorms if I wanted to see the Caucus software being used by a vibrant community. On Brainstorms, I met Ian Rowcliffe, which led to Cyndie and me traveling to Portugal to experience his world and help him out with projects there. Those life-changing weeks became the seed that germinated into us buying horse property in Wisconsin.
As the online world has evolved since the days when virtual communities were the new and shiny attractions, new energy has dwindled from BSMN. Those of us who stayed around to keep conversing have aged 25-30 years, and we haven’t figured out if anyone in younger generations would be interested in the pen-pal world of typing entire discussions with fellow humans spread out across the globe.
Lately, it seems as though the proliferation of bots and algorithms driving ads, clickbait, and rage in most social media might be causing a decline in interest in those versions of connecting in the online world. Some folks are wondering if that could lead to a return to interest in online communities like ours.
One aspect that I think deserves mention is that an interest in writing is less than half of what leads to a successful experience in a virtual community. An interest in reading other people’s typed-out ideas and opinions is pretty essential. If you’ve read this far in my post today, you are a natural.
Let me know if you ever feel drawn toward participating in a community of readers and writers; show-ers and tellers; listeners and learners; creatives; thinkers; lovers and laughers. A cocktail party with no beginning and no end. A library of stories that is expanding daily.
I’d be happy to guide you along on what could be a spectacular adventure of discovery and potential.
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Bucket Loads
Today is Asher’s and my last full day managing the ranch on our own. The house has been cleaned by professionals whom Cyndie hired before she left. This girl thinks ahead and knows my ability to endure dust and dog hair is different than hers. Tomorrow, I drive to the airport to pick up the pair of travelers and all the Norwegian souvenirs they collected.
I suspect that Cyndie will be excited to see the changes that have occurred at home since she left. In case you ever wondered why we call our front field the “hay field,” this image serves as a clear example:
They started raking the grass into windrows in the early afternoon, and when I came out of the house after a late lunch, there were already four large round bales parked in the field. That round baler machine sure makes short work of the task.
Conversely, I was making long work of the job of moving loads of lime screenings up to the barn overhang. I opted to use a wheelbarrow to move 15 shovel-fulls at a time, because I was working with the horses surrounding me the whole time.
It will go much quicker when I can use the loader on the big tractor, but I need a helper to manage horses and gates, and be my eyes on the perimeter of the bucket I can’t see from behind the steering wheel.
I got most of the north side of the overhang covered yesterday.
They didn’t wait for me to finish before christening it with the first dump of manure. I’m not sure if that was a message relaying an opinion or simply a show of acceptance for the update.
I would love to get more done today, but we are about to get hit with a thunderstorm that has put any agenda I had for the day on hold. I should probably be thinking about how I’m going to keep the floors clean for a whole nother day for Cyndie. Wet weather usually translates to dirty paw prints.
Not that I tend to notice, though.
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Screenings Delivered
A week ago Friday, I called to order 16 yards of lime screenings and was told they needed to check for availability and would call me back. I didn’t think that would take very long. By the end of the day on the following Monday, I texted a query asking if they had learned anything. Crickets.
This isn’t unprecedented, so I decided to be patient and trust they would get to me as soon as they were able. Well, yesterday, after waiting a full week, I texted simply: “Screenings?” hoping to renew my request. This time I got an answer almost immediately. He said they could deliver in the afternoon.
That’s what I was wishing for a week ago, but I’m not going to complain. They have been delivered. I had them drop the pile directly into the small paddock. Now I need to spread it beneath the overhang and area just beyond. I’m not sure I can do it alone, but if the horses will accept being trapped in the back pasture for a few hours, I could open multiple gates and maneuver around with the diesel tractor to spread bucketfuls with the loader.
A week ago, I didn’t know that the hay field would be mowed. Now both things have happened at about the same time.
I was able to take care of cutting the grass around the edges of the hay field with the Greenworks electric mower, so that goal has been achieved. That mower continues to outperform reasonable expectations since I replaced the blade motor that kept overheating. I’m shocked at how well it works at cutting field grass that should be too tall, too thick, and on ground that is too uneven.
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It looks like lawn grass where I mowed what the hay cutter didn’t reach. I think the horses are going to like this when we can open up the field to them again after the hay has been baled and removed.
Hopefully, they will also like having a fresh layer of lime screenings to stand on beneath and around the overhang.
It’s a special honor to be able to give these rescued Thoroughbred mares royal accommodations.
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Happy Moments
There are so many happy moments at Wintervale, I hesitate to label one over another for preeminence. Usually, at the time I am experiencing a joyful situation, it tends to feel like it’s the best. Maybe all of them are the best. I’ve often written about how gleeful it is to clean up a pile of accumulated fallen branches by turning them into woodchips.
Every time Asher lollygags around on our property in close contact with us, regardless of what we are doing, it always feels like a best moment.
Yesterday, we received one of our favorite good moments when a nearby farmer showed up to cut the hay field.
Initially, the horses showed absolutely no concern with the activity, which surprised me a little bit. Especially since Mia is normally on high alert for anything out of the ordinary that shows up. Eventually, Light stepped up toward the fence to supervise the operation.
She seemed to approve, because she soon rejoined the others in ignoring the tractor entirely. For the record, it is a very happy moment whenever I find the horses remaining calm and comfortable while noisy machines are making a racket in their proximity.
Seeing the field freshly mowed makes me want to get out right away to cut all the tall grass that remains along the edges and in the corners where his mower didn’t reach. Having all the edges cleanly cut also creates happy moments for me every time I see them.
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Mole Caught
Yesterday, Cyndie reported that they had crossed the Arctic Circle. It looks like they are having a fabulous time. Life at home is much less spectacular, but I’ve no complaint with that.
Asher appears to understand that I am being much stricter about keeping him in my line of sight. This has reduced the amount of work I can accomplish in a day, but it has given me more time to catch World Cup matches. They have reached the third and final game in each group, so now the four teams in each group play their two games at the same time. That splits my attention across two screens at once.
It beats working hard out in the hot sun.
For having had three vaccination shots all at once on Tuesday, the horses showed no signs of discomfort yesterday. Our log guy, Matthew, brought his young son to work, so I had fun showing off things I thought would entertain him. He was particularly fascinated with the labyrinth. After walking it with him, he was determined to have his dad come walk it, too. Matthew was power washing the siding of the shop/garage, so he couldn’t do it at the time.
His son asked if he could walk Asher down to the labyrinth to wait. That was fine with me, but then I decided to tag along at a distance in case Asher looked like he was going to run off. By the time I arrived, Asher had pounced on one of those many critter tunnels and come up with a mole in his mouth. Matthew’s son and I then ran to keep up with Asher as he sought the perfect spot to bury his catch.
At least he didn’t do any digging in the compost staging area this time. He ended up picking a location beside the driveway, very near the shop/garage. It’s a trick to monitor this because it seems like he gets hesitant if we get too close, so we tried to hang back as much as possible without letting him get too far away from us.
Thank goodness there will be one less mole making a mess of the labyrinth. Good dog, Asher!
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Rain Came
Excitement started bright and early yesterday with a farrier appointment at 8:30 a.m. sharp. The horses had barely finished eating their morning rations. There were two more people in attendance than usual, and one of them brought vaccines. The horses each received three shots.
All four horses queued up calmly and showed no need to mess with each other. That doesn’t mean they didn’t make the farrier work up a sweat. She used a lot of muscle to hold their feet in position against the horses’ frequent decisions to pull them away from her.
It seemed to me that their hooves were a mess, but the farrier, Jamie, said they hadn’t grown a lot since her last visit, but they had chipped, cracked, and “pancaked” out a bit. She did a lot of filing, but didn’t need to do anything particularly drastic for any of the horses.
After tending to the horses, I turned my attention to mowing the labyrinth, which hasn’t been trimmed in a long time. I soon found that I couldn’t leave the mower at my usual low setting because it kept bottoming out over the shocking amount of mole activity.
It’s either one or two very busy critters, or a large population has decided our soil has the best grub worms ever. Getting the center of the lanes mowed was good, but it made the tall growth amid the rocks even more ridiculous-looking. We should probably spend more time walking the path to pack down those tunnels and annoy the moles.
Meanwhile, Matthew, our log guy, has made progress replacing rotted boards on the shop wall.
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Then the rain came, and all activity ceased. Well, not all. I still succumbed to a little nap before feeding the horses. They didn’t show any reaction to the shower. Asher shortened his walk to get out of the wetness, which was just fine by me.
Although I’m grateful that the rain meant I didn’t have to water Cyndie’s flowers and gardens.
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Good Samaritan
After driving up and down 650th Street, I turned onto a gravel field road to search along the edge of the woods just north of our property. Asher had disappeared on me again. We have tracking tags, but they are currently on Cyndie’s and Elysa’s luggage in Norway.
Thankfully, Cyndie had the forethought to write my phone number on the blaze orange neck bandana that we make him wear to help us see him. While searching for a missing dog, it made sense to answer the call from an unknown number.
The very cheery voice said that she had stopped for a dog in the road, and he jumped right into her car. That’s our Asher. When it comes to cars, Asher has no sense of the concept of stranger danger. He sees every vehicle as his favorite place to be.
She told me that he was on County Road N. That was a new one, in terms of distance away from home, and a real red flag. That road has a 55 mph speed limit, which makes it a very unsafe place for him to be.
I told her I would meet her at the intersection with 650th. Couldn’t thank her enough. She said he is a very friendly dog.
Well, sure. She let him get into her car. Instant BFF.
I immediately revoked his privilege of roaming freely. When I become engaged in an activity, he gets confined to a leash. If we go for a walk off-leash, he has to stay close to me at all times.
To all the good Samaritans who stop and rescue stray dogs wandering on roads, I say thank you. It would have been so easy for her to just keep going, and I had no clue he might choose to go that far. That woman created a good outcome with her care and concern.
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Elysa’s Birthday
Today is Elysa’s birthday, and Cyndie and Elysa are celebrating on a Norwegian cruise boat that will take them up into the Arctic Circle to experience the midnight sun.
After their cruise, they will make their way to Oslo and spend a few days visiting with Friswold relations.
Asher and I have survived our first weekend on our own, with one week to go until I drive to the airport to pick up our Norwegian adventurers. So far, so good. He’s only disappeared on me 3 or 4 times and got himself on the wrong side of the fence of the neighboring property once.
Ella, who stopped by to feed the animals when I was in Cambridge on Saturday, told me that she walks him on a leash to avoid the risk of losing him. I can fully understand why she would choose to do that.
After I retrieved him from one of his unauthorized jaunts yesterday, I convinced him to help me process the latest compost pile that finished cooking.
I was wheeling loads down to the staging space by the labyrinth, and Asher would muster the effort to get up and follow me. The second time we were making the trek, a rabbit hopped into view, and Asher came to life with a sprint that took him out of sight into the woods one more time.
Having now grown accustomed to losing him, I didn’t fret over it. When I got back to the compost area with the emptied wheelbarrow, Asher was already there, waiting for me to return.
Over by the strawberry patch, there was a clue waiting for me to see that I’m not staying ahead of the squirrels, birds, and probably rabbits that think the juicy red fruit is growing there just for them.
The stump of a tree had quite a few of the discarded green leafy crowns of the berries scattered all over it, in addition to two bright red pieces of fruit. I guess the critters are not trying to hide evidence of their activities. Seeing that emphasized to me that I need to be picking berries before they get to them.
Unfortunately, I found very few worth keeping. If the squirrels weren’t taking them, some slug-looking insect was burrowing into many of the rest. I find mowing grass to be a much more dependable endeavor than trying to grow fruits and vegetables.
I’m thinking about celebrating Elysa’s birthday today by treating myself to some ice cream in the middle of the afternoon. Since they are 7 hours ahead in Norway, it will be like I’m joining them for an after-dinner dessert.
I won’t be putting any fresh strawberries on top.
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Longest Day
Happy Summer Solstice, loyal readers! Here we are at the longest day, and it hardly feels any different than yesterday, when I spent more solo hours in a car in one day, traveling to a graduation of a grandnephew in Cambridge, MN, than I have done in a very, very long time. It wasn’t bad. A comparison could be made to spending hours on a lawn tractor mowing multiple acres of grass.
It’s a good thing there are so many hours of sunlight, allowing me time to catch up on mowing grass that keeps growing longer and longer due to the many hours of sunlight feeding it.
I struggle to find words to adequately describe how precious it is to arrive to see my siblings and their families with my mental health robustly free of the foggy, dysfunctional gloom of depression. The level of difference is something that no one but me can perceive, and it is a special joy to experience and recognize.
It’s wild to think about the reference we siblings have to each other at our current ages, having lived together as kids in our shared childhood environments.
As descriptions of aging bodies were shared, I found myself more invested in learning details of afflictions that could just as easily impact the shared genes in my body. It is often referred to as an “organ recital” when old folks get together and share the litany of degenerating physical functions that each one is coping with.
All things being relative, we can all be thankful that none of us is facing something worse. Blessings counted.
The visit was shorter than I would have wished, and triggered an urge to look for an opportunity to revive one of our multi-day gatherings. Let me just look at the calendar.
Never mind.
It was a heck of a lot easier when we just lived together at the farm called Intervale Ranch on the border of Eden Prairie and Edina, MN, back in the good old days.
Those were some fine, long summer days…
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Pushing It
Three times yesterday, I found myself racing to finish trimming or mowing grass as raindrops began to fall. The last time, it was also thundering overhead, and Asher couldn’t understand why I wasn’t bailing out sooner. I was so close to finishing cleaning up the edges with the string trimmer that I just kept going, even though the storm had reached our doorstep.
When the first rain fell, I took it as a good justification to have lunch and stay indoors to watch the USA men’s soccer team against Australia in the second game of their group stage. Before the game even kicked off, the sky cleared, and it got sunny and beautiful outside.
I didn’t have the heart to make Asher be stuck inside, so I pulled the game up on my laptop and sat out in the yard with him to watch the first half. The home team made their country proud and achieved a clean sheet (did not concede a goal) in the victory.
The sunny weather held throughout the game, which took us right up to the time to feed the horses, so when their portions were served, I hopped on the mower to finish what had been interrupted earlier. Asher patiently waited for me to finish, as my decision to mow was cutting into his usual dinner time.
After I put the mower away, I found Asher had been occupying himself while I was unavailable to supervise by eating the pellets the horses spilled onto their placemats. He knows we don’t approve of that, but I was delaying his meal time, so I didn’t make a fuss over it this time.
We headed in for his real dinner, and I hurried to eat mine in the hope of getting back out to use the trimmer. If I had noticed how close the storm was, I likely wouldn’t have even tried.
It was a back-and-forth weather day that led to my pushing beyond my usual mode of operating. I’m glad that I ultimately succeeded in getting that portion of mowing done, given the long list of groundskeeping chores concurrently needing tending. For as many times as it rained, it is a real bonus to get any of that work done.
For the record, I got the horse waterer cleaned, too, but I forgot to check for strawberries that may need picking.
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Relative Something 