Sore Arms
Friday morning there was a heavy dew and as the sun hit surfaces, things started to develop clouds of steam that made it look like they would soon erupt in flames.
The cornfield to our south and the shade sail were both looking noticeably smoky.
I started the day with a visit to our local pharmacy for vaccination shots after looking online and seeing open appointments immediately available. Why not? I’ve never had the RSV shot, so I added that to my annual flu and COVID vaccinations. I also accepted the pneumonia vaccine because we couldn’t find any record that I had received that shot in the last 5 years. Four shots at once! What was I thinking?
Well, I was thinking that I have only ever reacted one time with a mild fever after a vaccination shot, so I went in with all the positive intentions I could muster. My other life-hack with vaccination shots is to immediately work my arms and get some exercise to encourage maximum blood flow. To aid that flow, I also make a conscious effort to drink even more water than usual to really maximize my hydration. Lastly, I ramp up those positive intentions with visualizations of processing the developing immunities with minimal negative reactions.
The feeling of stiff muscles in my two arms is accepted as a reasonable outcome. That just helps remind me to use them even more.
It was a beautiful day yesterday, but since it started so wet, I found something other than mowing to do. Cyndie agreed to team up to spread some more composted manure onto the hay field. In a pleasing surprise, the horses were interested in coming out to supervise.
When I returned to the composting area to get another trailer-full, Cyndie sent me a message that I might want to come back through the paddocks, since the horses were crowding around the gate.
We were very happy to see that Asher had settled down to watch us from just outside the gate. It is so rewarding when he chooses to stay with us even though we are not giving him any attention. That rarely lasts, however. While I was mowing the north loop pathway, I noticed a car slow down on the road. Then I spotted Asher’s orange scarf and hollered at him to return. To his credit, he sprinted directly to me on the mower.
A quick phone call to Cyndie determined that she was in the barn, and I was able to have her call out to him. He ran right off toward her voice. A happy ending to an unsettling situation of him being off property and meandering in traffic.
The hybrid maple tree behind the hay shed (and next to the visibly ailing one) is halfway through its transition to maximum brilliance. Cyndie finished moving the last few hay bales out of the shed and into the barn in preparation for a delivery of a fresh batch of hay expected to arrive next Wednesday.
Too bad I was busy mowing because that would have been a good workout for my sore arms.
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Weather Dependent
Since the bike ride four friends and I did in Missouri in early September was rained out on the last day, I invited the guys to make up for it by coming to Pierce County to ride the rolling hills around our many river valleys. It’s a far cry from the basically flat, gravel, railroad-grade Katy Trail we were on during the triple-digit heat wave across Missouri, but I’ve picked a couple of routes that are only 35 miles long to compensate.
That many miles, plus the climbing, will feel more like the 50 per day we were doing on the trail. At the same time, not needing to cope with the extreme heat will make it much more tolerable.
The one intangible we are faced with is the potential for October precipitation.
Currently, the 10-day forecast looks pretty dry and surprisingly warm. We are planning to ride 4 days beyond that, so I’m anxiously waiting to see what predictions will look like next week.
It’s also hard to guess whether the trees will still have colorful leaves in two weeks, but that doesn’t make riding any more difficult. The light of October sunsets can suffice if the leaves are past peak.
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Different Worlds
One fact I have failed to report about the lake place is that the water level of Round Lake is the lowest anyone we’ve talked with can remember. The long dry months up there have taken a visible toll. Oddly, in addition to the unbelievably low water level, we’ve suddenly got beaver activity in our lagoon. There isn’t even enough water to flow all the way through to the culvert on the far end, but a beaver has started to build a dam near the entrance to the lake.
Underneath the walk bridge, there is a pile of branches that have been assembled. Nearby, the obvious tooth marks are all the way around the trunk of a good-sized birch tree. It would be a shame if it has already been doomed as a result. Our caretaker has been notified, and the proper agents are being contacted about pest management.
If it involves live capture and relocation, I hope it goes to a completely different lake. I’ve heard there are places that are seeking beaver dams to improve certain wetlands. That would be a perfect match.
Meanwhile, we have returned to Wintervale, where the horses seem content as ever, and Asher looks thrilled to be back on his usual territory.
Just as I suspected, I have my work cut out for me in controlling the growth of grass blades in all the areas that get regularly mowed. Unfortunately, I won’t get much done today, as I will be heading to the suburb of Hopkins, MN, this afternoon for a reunion of past employees of the company I was at for eighteen years at the beginning of my technical career.
I was unavailable for a gathering they held earlier in the summer, so it’s important to me to be able to make it this time. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen these folks, and I have fond memories of most everything about the place and the people who I had the good fortune of working with for so many years.
That period of my life feels like it is worlds away from where I am now. I’m looking forward to catching up with folks who meant an awful lot to me during our shared work lives at a very interesting company that manufactured high-technology surface analysis instruments used by industries (particularly semiconductor-related), universities, and government research institutions.
That’s a long way from caring for rescued horses and managing 20 rural acres in western Wisconsin.
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Scenic View
Taking wise advice from a couple of other Wildwood members up here this week, yesterday we hopped in the car and drove through the multi-colored forest up to Cable, WI, to hike around Mt. Telemark Village. At the high spot where chair lifts and downhill ski runs used to be, they have transformed the top portion of the old lift into a lookout tower.
We haven’t reached peak colors up here yet, but the change is near.
Only one colorful leaf out of ten at this point, but we won’t be around for the best of the show in the days ahead. We are heading home today to resume horse care later this afternoon. Mowing grass on the first dry day will be high on the agenda.
Back to our regularly scheduled programming, so to speak, where our scenic views come at a little shorter distance than what we were able to enjoy today.
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Distinct Difference
What a difference a few hours and a little over a hundred miles made in our day yesterday. Asher and I started our day yesterday under a dramatic blanket of fog.
We could barely see Mia out in the field all by herself. When we came around the bend in the back pasture fence line, it looked like the other three horses were expecting us.
They quickly repositioned themselves as if to appear more nonchalant than they actually were. Having their sightlines reduced so significantly makes the horses a little more apprehensive about their situation. Showing up at the usual time to serve them nourishment went a long way toward easing their tension.
With the horses tended to, the only other assignment for the day was to drive up to the lake. Asher was all in for a long car ride. We were rewarded handsomely with lots of blue sky providing an ideal backdrop for the colorful trees glowing in the bright sunlight.
We arrived just a few minutes before John and Pam. Cyndie had prepared a lunch for us to enjoy before taking a walk to show them all of the Wildwood properties.
Asher seems pretty pleased to have all four of his favorite caretakers available for attention at the same time. That’s a big difference from the routine he is used to, where he only gets Pam and John when we have gone off and left him behind.
If today and tomorrow turn out gray and wet like the weather service has forecast, we will be even more grateful to have been blessed with the gorgeous day we were able to enjoy yesterday.
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Lake Bound
After a weekend of sports spectating, Asher and I are packing it in, and I’m driving us north this morning to join Cyndie at the lake. Our friends, Pam and John, will join us– a twist from the usual, since they are normally our animal sitters when we spend weekends at the lake. We wanted to share the lake experience with them for once and enjoy each other’s company over a leisurely few days.
Another friend, Michelle, will tend to the horses while we are away.
It was a heavy gray sky for much of the day yesterday. When the clouds broke open for a short time, the sunshine changed the energy dramatically. As much as I wanted to get out to enjoy it, I was in the middle of folding laundry while watching the end of the Vikings game. By the time the game ended, the cloud cover had thickened back up again.
It was just damp enough that I didn’t try to mow, but I wish I had anyway. The grass is still growing enough that it’s going to be longer than I like by the time we return home.
I’ll be mowing in October again. That shouldn’t be a surprise anymore, with the planet warming continuing unabated, but a lifetime of experience still lingers in my head. Our weather didn’t used to be like this.
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Sad Looking
Interestingly, two of our saddest-looking trees out in the open happen to be next to each other on either side of our driveway. We’ve been watching the first one die slowly for several years.
According to one of the arborists who has done work on our property, it is some hybrid version of a maple. I’ve long been suspicious of the looks of the tangle of roots at its base. It is possible that it is choking itself. There is a seam up the trunk where I believe it cracked open during one of our extreme cold snaps. A large portion in the middle that was all dead wood has been cut out.
Even though it’s not pretty to look at, I am in no hurry to cut it down. I’ll let the portions that are still living continue to show off their tenacity. I suppose it aligns with my idea of appreciating imperfection.
The other candidate for saddest-looking is the remaining 25% of the big, old willow tree.
At just a fraction of its old self, the gaping wounds on the trunk from the three large sections that collapsed really make the tree look like it is doomed. However, given my experience with the neighboring willow tree that should be long dead in the small paddock, I won’t count this one out.
Do you see where Asher is in that picture? He and I had a little extra excitement yesterday. On a walk along the path around the hay field fence, he ventured off the mowed trail to take care of some business where we don’t need to pick it up. He started to return to the path after he was finished, but something caught his attention, and he was soon rustling around in the very thick, tall grass in the middle of the drainage swale.
Suddenly, there was an eruption of angry small-animal screeching as Asher and some critter got into a battle. Not being able to see anything through the thick growth, I hollered commands at him to leave it and come to me, but there was enough noise coming from the fracas that my shouts proved fruitless. It took me a few seconds to ramp up the level of his shock collar to where I got a response, but it worked to perfection.
He let me know with a yelp and an instant sprint from the scene to beside me on the trail. He struggled mightily with a pressing urge to return to the scene, requiring constant verbal redirects from me until we got back to the house. Even then, I was highly suspicious of him taking off to check it out again if I failed to pay close attention.
I’ve found reasons to choose alternate routes on our walks for the time being. It’s a good thing we have plenty of squirrels up around the house to hold his attention. Yes, squirrels in the trees, moles tunneling in the ground, and mice hiding in stumps are his usual targets. I’m inclined to guess it was a raccoon he found in the grass, and I’d rather he not tangle with critters that can put up a fight like those masked bandits do.
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Appreciating Imperfection
With autumn comes that classic transition from a range of greens to rainbows of yellow/orange/red/purple hues. It’s beautiful and a joy to watch day by day as it happens.
There is still a green path in the woods beyond the portion already being covered with fallen leaves.
Our romantic mental image of spectacular fall colors is an amalgamation of all the greatest scenes we’ve enjoyed in person or through photographs over a lifetime. It’s a legitimate picture even though reality can be less idyllic.
It’s still a little early in the season, but the version of fall colors that we are currently seeing at Wintervale is lacking in the splendor that truly inspires wonder and awe.
For now, our treasured autumn vistas are best experienced from a distance.
That’s not to say there aren’t still some dazzling colors to be found across our landscape. This hollyhock is displaying one last gasp of vibrancy.
I’m working on my appreciation for imperfection in the changing leaves that are unlikely to make the cover of fall publications this year.
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Running Hot
With the cooler mornings lately, I don’t need to use a temperature probe; I’m getting visible evidence that the manure is actively composting.
It looks like there is a fire burning in there. By using the pallets to hold the piles into a cube shape, it’s pretty easy to get the manure to reach or even exceed the optimal composting temperature. When it starts getting too hot, I stir it up to bring the middle of the pile up to the top, and that calms things down a bit.
At this accelerated rate of composting, I need to move the pallets to a new spot after just a few days and toss the entire pile back in again because it gets too dense and dry, which interrupts the process. The outer six inches don’t compost, so stirring it up again adds air and mixes the edges back into the active middle.
The mares do a great job of making sure we never run out of raw ingredients for our compost operation.
In the afternoon, while I was waiting for the horses to finish all the feed in their buckets, I took Asher into the woods where I wanted to cut up a small tree that had fallen across one of our trails. He didn’t show up by the time I had finished, so I had to backtrack to find what was occupying him.
I’ve seen this drill many times before. He could smell critters inside a hollow, dead stump. With no need to interrupt his fun, I stood back and watched him work. He’d already been at it the whole time I was cutting up the fallen tree. To help him, I pushed the stump over, giving him full access to both ends.
Then, as he was busy on the top end, a big mouse zipped out the bottom and scampered up the trunk of the tree visible in the picture at Asher’s hip. He completely missed it. Unfortunately, the lack of a mouse didn’t end Asher’s passion for trying to get inside that stump. When my patience ran out, I called him off the stump to join me in returning to the barn to bring in the empty feed buckets.
It’s just Asher and me for the weekend, as Cyndie is up at the lake with friends. This means John will be having the sound on for weekend sports broadcasts without irritating anyone else in the household! Yee-haw!
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Manure Rake
Tractor Supply calls it a rake, but I tend to refer to it as a scoop, although fork could also work if you stretch your thinking. It is the tool I use every day to clean up after the horses under the overhang and within the two paddocks. It quickly earned its place as my favorite tool for the job. Unfortunately, it has a flaw in its design that results in a 100% failure rate over time, where the plastic breaks at three key stress points.
Once that happens, the tool’s days are numbered.
Before it even reaches this level of failure, I will have needed to bear down at least one time on the screw holding the handle to the fork basket to stop it from wobbling, but that’s an easy fix.
They aren’t cheap, but I am so attached to using this tool over all others I’ve tried that we keep buying replacements. Since I am not very good at throwing things away, I have a backlog of broken baskets and saved handles stashed around the property for other potential uses and occasional “aha moments” where I figure out a new idea for repairing them for use again.
A previous attempt to epoxy the plastic in the three places where it breaks gave out after the first use. That triggered an experiment I tried yesterday using a torch to melt the plastic. Wary of the possibility that the areas of the breaks might simply open wider from the heat, I took a trick from welding and used a single plastic tine from a different broken basket to melt into the cracks.
The plastic appeared to singe and burn as much as it melted, which wasn’t ideal, but there was enough melting that I think the idea has merit. This first attempt seemed solid, but when I used it, there was a noise that sounded like it might have cracked again, so the method may need to be improved. A wood-burning tool might be a better heat source than the open flame of a torch, but I’m not sure how I would keep the plastic from sticking to the tip.
I never learned how to weld metals, but I may end up teaching myself how to do the equivalent with melting plastic. It will be an art worth perfecting because these plastic scoops really are my favorite tool for the job, and I’ve got plenty of them lying around that are deserving of repair and to be put back into service for which they were designed. (They work pretty well for scooping up grass clippings that pile up when one has waited too long between mowings.)
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