Cumulative Stress
From the National Weather Service:
Hot temperatures and high humidity may cause heat illnesses. Prolonged heat waves lead to cumulative heat stress for those who cannot adequately cool down and recover each night. Cumulative heat stress significantly increases the risk of heat exhaustion and heat stroke as time goes on.
Cyndie and I enjoy the luxury of geothermal air-conditioning that allows us to cool down and recover every night, but the horses don’t have that same luxury. We have been watching them closely during this current heat wave. So far, they appear to be coping with the hot weather just fine. Still, we try to do what we can to bring them some relief.
We already have had fans placed under the overhang where they like to stand, mainly as a way to reduce the number of flies bothering them, but fans work just as well to offer cooling, too. Although at the temperatures we are experiencing this week, it makes it more like a blast furnace to blow such hot air at them.
As an alternative, yesterday we put out a sprinkler to spritz the air with a cool water mist.
Mia was the only one to show interest. She approached very tentatively at first, then put one foot into the spray, and then the other. When she put her face down into the mist, I knew she was liking it. Eventually, she turned all the way around and let the spray reach each of her back feet.
If they didn’t cool off enough overnight last night, we’ll turn the spray on again today to see if the other’s level of interest changed.
The Extreme Heat Warning lasts until Thursday night, and we are now under an Air Quality Alert through Thursday as well. I do miss the luxury of having a lake out our door to immerse myself in for an instantaneous cooldown. Thankfully, stepping into the air-conditioned house works almost just as well.
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Hot Mowing
One way of looking at the crazy amount of overgrown grass (and weeds) that were waiting for us upon our return home made it seem almost disastrous and barely manageable. There was an Extreme Heat Warning in place that dampened my spirit about rushing out to begin mowing as soon as we unpacked the car.
I dawdled a little bit, putting some things away and grabbing a bite to eat, but the mowing really needed to get underway. I wanted to make immediate progress in catching up. To my great relief, when I set out to begin at probably the warmest time of the afternoon, it didn’t feel entirely overwhelming. On the riding mower, there isn’t a lot of effort needed. Rolling along actually augmented the light breeze at times, increasing the cooling effect. We also have a decent amount of shade from trees around most of the areas I mow, and that definitely helped to limit the heat stress.
All that remains to be cut today is the labyrinth and the areas around the house. I was able to complete 2/3rds of the total mowing by heading back out into the heat after dinner last night. It looks like someone lives here again.
Another way to look at all the overgrown grass is that it doesn’t require an unreasonable amount of work to get it back under control again.
Asher showed great affection for having us home and sat with me at our lookout spot after I finished mowing for the day, so we could survey how good everything looked freshly cut. We watched the horses for a while, and I thought Mix was moving a little better than she was in videos we received a few days ago. She is limping again, like something is hurting one of her back legs.
Cyndie took a picture of Mia (with a fly mask on) and Swings out in the hay field grass. At that time, Mix was staying in the paddock, and Light appeared to be remaining with her to keep her company. By the time Asher and I were watching them, they were all moving around together inside the large paddock to graze.
For the rest of the summer, we’ll only be away at the lake over 4-day blocks of time, so I shouldn’t have this problem of falling behind on the mowing again for the rest of the growing season. That is, if I plan correctly and the weather cooperates.
There’s still some catching up I need to do in the manure composting operation, but that can happen after I’m done with all the mowing. Even though that work occurs in a shaded area, the heat of the composting piles greatly compounds the heat stress of hot, humid days. If I don’t get to it first thing in the morning, it will probably wait until the next day. I can’t put it off too long because the horses just keep producing more by the hour, regardless of how hot it gets.
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Monday Departure
Alas, today we are leaving that fabulous air-conditioner-in-the-form-of-a-lake right outside our door and heading back home just as a hotter surge of weather is due to arrive. Looking at the predictions for both home and our lake place reveals a surprise: temperatures up north will be a few degrees hotter each day than down in Beldenville. Still, both will be in the 90s (F), so the difference is negligible.
Lounging in the water was the primary goal for the day after completing a few minor final preparations for a reunion with Cyndie’s Brolin cousins up here in two weeks.
We are anticipating 17 people that weekend and have arranged to use an extra room from two of our fellow Wildwood families to give each couple their own space for sleeping accommodations. Throughout the previous week, Cyndie has been doing some long overdue reconnaissance to track down towels. There are bath towels and beach towels, not intended to be used interchangeably, and color combinations that match the many bathrooms.
As of today, order has been restored.
No guarantees how long that will last.
One of my favorite features of our retirement is having weekends at the lake start on a Thursday and end on a Monday. The Sunday evenings are so serene following the typical hubbub of weekend water activities. The island near our shoreline attracts increasing boat parking every year, with all the clamor, kids screeching, and unwelcome loud music that typically accompanies it. When nobody is left there, the eagles return to roost on the tall pines, and calm settles in around our bay again.
It’s hard to begrudge the folks who don’t have the luxuries of beach property like ours, who must rely on sharing limited space around the small island to enjoy a brief taste of lake life; however, I’m not above feeling particularly grateful to have them depart. One late afternoon when Cyndie and I hit the beach for a swim, it felt a little embarrassing to be the only ones down on our expansive sandy shoreline while seven or eight boatfuls of people were sharing the limited space such a short distance away.
It’s hard to deny the elitist appearances, as much as I wish it weren’t so.
That concern will be dashed in short order as I return to shoveling manure and mowing overgrown grass this afternoon. We’ve been away for twelve days, but it barely feels like half that long. Goodbye, Wildwood and hello, Wintervale!
We’re coming home, Asher!
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Sunset Cruise
As soon as the match between Norway and England had been decided, members of five of the Wildwood Lodge Club families departed from shore on the pontoon for a slow tour around the outline of the lake. We grabbed the remaining appetizers we’d be grazing on during the match, along with preferred beverages, and settled in for a quintessential summer lake event.
When he realized he’d forgotten a hat and sunglasses, our clever captain Tom got creative about dealing with the low sun, taking advantage of a roll of duct tape conveniently in reach.
As far as ways to beat the heat go, an evening pontoon cruise with special friends on the lake is right up near the top.
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Four Versions
Here are four versions of images I captured of the surface of our lake in the order they were taken:
Take from them what you will…
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Plugging Away
It was a calm day at the lake place yesterday. Since it was an off day for the World Cup, I made a concerted effort to get out and walk the grounds after watching the 5th Stage of the Tour de France. Later today, the tourney resumes with the first of the quarter-final matches kicking off. After watching the majority of the competition to reach this point, I feel compelled not to miss any of the remaining matches. I will keep plugging away at consuming the riches of spectator sports available to me.
That continues a frustratingly large number of hours in front of a television, but that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make for entertainment’s sake. My days back on a lawn tractor will return soon enough. I’m trying not to think about how much horse manure is accumulating in the compost area that will need tending.
My survey of the grounds provided an opportunity to snap a few creative photos and witness the evidence in the gravel driveway that the storm that raged overnight between Tuesday and Wednesday created a bit of a flash flood. A significant amount of sand and gravel was removed along one slope of the driveway and poured down into the lagoon, leaving the water looking like a milky coffee drink.
The water at the beach remained clear and inviting, making for a perfect, soothing soak as the afternoon drew to a close.
A swim felt ideal after digging into a messy chore I’d been putting off since we arrived last Friday. There was a firewood storage box located on the upper deck of the house that was far from watertight. The dregs of firewood on the bottom were soaked and rotting. The plywood bottom of the box was rotting, too.
Unfortunately, that led to the boards of the deck underneath it rotting. When I looked in on it when we first got up here, I saw there was a hornets’ nest being built under the lid. It took me a few days to get around to dealing with that. Cyndie and I finally sprayed it on Tuesday night, and yesterday, I started scooping out the mess of decaying, soaked firewood left in the bottom. That process involved several trips down from the deck to dump the rotting gunk and felt an awful lot like plugging away toward accomplishing a task.
When I had the box emptied, I enlisted the help of neighbors to carry the box off the deck to a spot where I plan to unceremoniously deconstruct it. I suspect the old firewood box will become fuel for future outdoor campfires, that is, the parts that aren’t soaked and rotting, anyway.
The moral of today’s story: Water erodes gravel driveways and rots any and all wood with relentless tenacity. To avoid it, enact routine preventive measures.
You know, keep plugging away at it.
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Undefeated
.
slow
rotation
from elation
to despair
to reckless abandon
borderline panic
as time runs out
this circumstance
arises abruptly
surrounded by helplessness
hopes dashed
dripping with symbolism
for everything
relating to existence
on this plane
in this realm
at this moment
defeat
seems to matter
more than anything
except that
none of it
really matters
at all
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Suffering Sports
I’m looking at it this way: The US Men’s National Soccer Team won’t get embarrassed by Spain on Friday afternoon in Los Angeles. They took care of getting embarrassed last night in Seattle under the pressure of Belgium, which showed everyone the true level of our team on the world scale. I’m looking forward to enjoying the rest of the World Cup tournament without the extra whipped-up frenzy of hype about US soccer.
Another thing that just got wrapped up is the log work on our house and shop/garage. It is a little strange to be away from home when the project was completed, but I received a picture of the house garage doors from Ella, who is staying at our place while we are up at the lake.
They look a lot better than when we left.
I’m only functioning on half my cylinders the last two days, while my digestive system copes with some disruption that involves a fair amount of uncomfortable cramping. I’m hoping it wasn’t something I ate at the fabulous barbecue dinner of the 60th anniversary celebration Saturday night. I haven’t heard of anyone else from the event feeling ill, so it could be some other microscopic invader that I have encountered.
On the plus side, it made it easier to justify lying on the couch to watch the 3rd stage of the Tour de France cycling race yesterday. I ran into one small problem while feeling a little under the weather. After enduring many minutes of little action while the peloton reeled in the breakaway rider(s), I opened my eyes to see Slovenian star Tadej Pogačar being celebrated for his victory. I had unintentionally fallen asleep during the final, most exciting portion of the ride.
I wish I had fallen asleep during the soccer match last night instead.
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It’s Wildwood
From memory, a stab at the lyrics to a song I wrote back in the early 1980s after a particularly remarkable Independence Day weekend that lingered long after I had returned to the day job. This was shortly after the property had been divided into lots, which individual families then took ownership of. Before that change, they all shared every cabin, rotating every couple of weeks to give everyone a taste of each precious spot on the lake, along with the different quirks of each very old log cabin.
Seems just like a week or two
and 4th of July has come and gone
and I was up at my favorite place
Friends were there to have a time
but not the one we used to know
cabins have moved, and new ones are growin’
a place to sleep’s not as easily found
Sit on the porch of what was cabin three
almost see the beach you never used to see
and Tommy and Jane, and Justin, it’s true
are heard laughin’ and singin’ and workin’ too
It’s Wildwood, Wildwood!
It’s been so long, but the change is good
Wildwoo-ooo-ood
Friends had gathered to have a good time
work god done, we had a good time
we weren’t all there, it’s sad to say
but we’re fixin’ the place for another day
The old road don’t go the way it used to go
nor some people’s car the way the new one goes
but we all got together and pushed it out
who says there weren’t games this holiday
As evening came, we gathered ‘round
for the kind of picnic you’re supposed to have
and though people not present were sadly missed
there were fireworks displayed to rival all time
It’s Wildwood, Wildwood!
It’s been so long, but the change is good
Wildwoo-ooo-ood
As much as it seems as though it’s really changed
and mud has replaced the sprouts of poison ivy
the swing still swings between two big trees
from which you can still hear the Friswolds up at cabin 3
Hayward’s still a few minutes away
Round Lake crisp and clear as any day
and all the people who have made it what it really is
are all the people who will make it what it really is
It’s Wildwood, Wildwood!
It’s been so long, but the change is good
Wildwoo-ooo-ood
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Relative Something 