New Path

Have I mentioned lately how pleasant it is to ignore anything and everything related to the criminal-in-chief in the White House? I have also been slowly increasing my distance from any business or institution that clearly supports any policy put forth by the current administration. Doing so has been good for my mental health.

I’m not having as much luck when it comes to climate catastrophes. The disaster videos from Nepal-Tibet glacial collapse/landslide/flash flood keep showing up from differing perspectives. Headlines about the super El Niño appear on Reddit with distressing regularity. Nothing about weather will surprise me anymore, unless it suddenly stays normal for an unusually long time.

Yesterday turned out to be very hot for a day that didn’t seem like it was going to be so hot. The intensity of direct sunlight feels like it has a sharper bite lately than usual for our latitude. I received a midday alert from our electric co-op that they would be initiating a load-control event due to the high heat. That notice always helps to make me aware that I need to adjust my outdoor activities accordingly.

The morning started fine. The high dew point temperature created a hazy landscape that illuminated the sun’s rays.

I was happy to find the horses grazing in the back pasture when Asher and I emerged from the woods. The spider webs were plentiful and very visible with the combination of dew and low-angled sunlight.

After running some errands in the morning to pick up a few conveniences for my upcoming biking and tenting adventure, I put in some time out in the heat cutting a new trail through our north loop field.

It had come to our attention that our animal sitters felt a pathway across that tall growth would be a great feature. The idea had crossed our minds before, but we just never got around to putting in the effort to make it happen.

Since I’ll be away on the bike trip and Cyndie will be taking her mom to the lake for the Labor Day weekend, I wanted to surprise our friends who will be staying here while we are away by granting their wish.

.

.

Retired Life

The last day of August dawns innocently enough, unaware that yesterday was the second-to-last day and that tomorrow will be September. It’s just today. A Monday, for those of you keeping track. Cyndie and I currently belong to the category of humans (retired) for whom weekdays hold no significance over Saturdays and Sundays. It’s something we share with the horses. They are retired, too.

Not everything that happens is ever timed to perfection, even when it has been written in advance. Plots thicken and also drag on for longer than necessary.

Can you tell we have been watching a binge-worthy series again? We have found ourselves enjoying “How to Get to Heaven from Belfast” on Netflix. I’ve needed to rely on the closed captioning, and even then, I struggle to keep up with some of the faster dialogue deliveries.

I’m always grateful when Asher accommodates our two- and sometimes three-episode sittings around our dinnertime. Occasionally, Cyndie will have me pause between episodes so she can take him for one last walk, but he has grown comfortable with lying down nearby to snooze to the noises of whatever strange activity is happening in our programs.

In preparation for an upcoming bike adventure with four friends, I have pulled out the camping gear and begun making lists in my head of things to consider. Nothing functional at this point, but just enough to feel like I’m not being entirely neglectful of getting ready before it’s too late. I’ll be leaving home on Friday in advance of our actual departure on Saturday morning. It feels a little like a plot in a drama series. Missouri, here we come.

I found all four horses pausing beneath the shade sail yesterday morning. It is deeply rewarding to see them taking advantage of the shadow even if it’s only for a moment or two. It’s pretty clear that they don’t recognize any difference between days of the week; there is no planning going on for what they intend to do next week.

Heck, they don’t even care if it’s August or September. Is it hot or cold? Are the flies bothersome? What is there to eat? Should I lie down and nap now or later?

A retired horse pretty much thinks about the same things I do.

.

.

Temporary Relief

In the predawn hours yesterday morning, I emerged from a deep sleep to notice the sound of raindrops landing on surfaces. I then dropped back into the best of early-morning snoozing, hearing the blessed chorus of a prolonged shower of life-giving water in the back of my mind.

This morning, it was nice to see two raincoats hanging on the coat rack inside the front door.

One of our rain gauges collected a half-inch; the other, less so. Certainly better than nothing, but really only a tease of what is needed for the health of everything growing outdoors.

It’s not often that I find myself drawn to taking a picture of water flowing out of the downspout. It made me a really happy guy in the moment.

Elysa came for a sleepover yesterday and captured a shot of Asher and me showing our joy over the refreshing rain has carried into this morning.

I’m not asking for much. Just a rain shower every so often to lighten the mood. A little comic relief from the ongoing struggles of enduring all the catastrophic events happening on a cooking planet.

It’s important to smile while you can.

.

.

Willy Nilly

I put in a few more miles on the bike yesterday, making my way down to the Rush River valley. That is such an invigorating drop in elevation from the flat farm fields to the bottom of the tree-covered, steep-sloped valley below. The road follows the river, with multiple low bridges where the water meanders back and forth until it gets confusing which side it’s on for a minute or two.

At the turn that leads to the Vino in the Valley restaurant, I paused for a brief chat with a couple of fly fishermen who were just about to head down to get their waders wet in pursuit of the perfect casting spots.

The restaurant wasn’t open; however, there were some people who were out shooting in the open field. I pedaled up the driveway, but wasn’t able to speak with anyone. I had guessed they might be skeet shooting, but it looked more like hunting for burrowing varmints at ground level. I chose not to interrupt.

I was hoping to ask about the giant teepee of large branches out in the middle of the open field. If that is for a burn, it is going to be one heck of a bonfire. Checking their calendar of events, I see they are holding a music festival on the 5th of September. Maybe it gets burned then.

Back home, in the afternoon, I did a little mowing in a manner I call “Cyndie Style.” We have company coming for lunch today, and Cyndie wanted the grotesquely tall foxtail grass and various weeds along the edges trimmed. It’s all been neglected because I’m trying to stay off the dead grass to avoid turning it into a dusty hellscape.

So, instead of methodically mowing entire sections with straight passes, I simply drove willy-nilly to any spot that had noticeable patches of tall growth while strategically avoiding any area of scorched turf. For the most part, I think it worked. Looks good enough to me for a drought-scape.

After the exhausting effort of sitting on the mower, or maybe it was the hours of pedalling earlier in the morning, I sat down in the yard with Asher. It didn’t take long for me to conk out in the chair. I’m happy to report that Asher was still there when I opened my eyes again. But we weren’t alone.

This was the sight that greeted me just to my left:

Was he trying to sneak up on me as I slept? I shuddered at the thought. At least snakes are much easier to spot in the scalded grass. I immediately pointed the snake out to Asher, hoping he would protect me from its advances.

He was entirely uninterested. Didn’t give it a second glance.

After a looong stare-down, the snake eventually did a 180 and rapidly headed for the cover of brush at the edge of the mowed yard. I reckon wildlife around our place must be putting a lot of energy into finding a drink of water lately. Maybe desperation led him to expose himself like that.

Extreme thirst can lead to some willy-nilly decisions, I suppose. I sure am glad my little nap ended when it did.

.

.

Precious Dew

Any moisture in a drought becomes all the more precious, so a little dew in the morning takes some of the edge off how harsh it feels outside. The dew also causes all the overnight spider webs in the pasture to become highly visible in the low light of the rising sun.

The horses seem to be tolerating the dry and dusty conditions with their typical demonstration of coping skills.

In their favor, the lack of wetness has inhibited the fly populations to a significant degree. However, it has also drawn a large number of bees to hang out around the horses’ automatic waterer. Cyndie put out some apple cider vinegar-baited traps and tried a couple of bee spray applications to discourage the establishment of a hive in the body of the Ritchie waterer.

Paddock Lake has become nothing more than a dug-out depression good for dust baths.

It’s getting hard to imagine how much rainfall it will take to ever fill that crater again. With the month of September just days away, the outdoors present a distinct feeling of an early onset of fall, minus the cooler temperatures.

Maybe we’ll get a wet October, which doesn’t seem unusual at all, but I don’t recall rain in the tenth month of the year historically amounting to the level of moisture we will need to put a dent in the dryness that has occurred this summer. I’d like to hope for a lot of snow over winter to give us a kick of moisture during the spring melt next year, but the strong El Niño is expected to result in a warmer winter with less snow in the Twin Cities.

I’m getting what pleasure I can from the early morning blankets of dew until the next rain event. There’s a tease in the forecast of a 70% chance on Saturday, but I’m not holding my breath. We are hosting guests for lunch that day, so maybe that will increase the chances. One can hope.

.

.