Still Vibrating
After a day away at the rally on Saturday, life returned to normal yesterday on the ranch. Well, almost normal. Something is wrong with our furnace. I noticed the house temperature wasn’t holding on Saturday night, so I reset the power in hopes of achieving a quick resolution.
In the middle of the night, I saw the display was showing the house back up to 68° and imagined the reset had solved the problem. Unfortunately, when we looked at it first thing in the morning, it had dropped to 65° again. It being Sunday, we opted not to seek service until today, a regular business day.
I built a fire in the fireplace to take the edge off the morning chill and waited for the temperature outside to climb into the 60s.
It’s a little frustrating that we just had our annual furnace inspection a couple of weeks ago, and it was found to be in good working order. What odd timing, and during such relatively mild conditions for a problem to occur now.
There is one place where I am having just the opposite problem: too much heat.
The first compost pile of the season is cooking a little too hot already. The fertile garden soil factory is back in business.
As I was toiling in all things compost, I found my mind was still resonating with the energy and the impassioned faces that surrounded us on the Capitol Mall Saturday.
There were friends and some extended family in attendance, many of whom we weren’t able to connect with before leaving. Communication via text was made unreliable due to the sheer number of people all trying to utilize the same cell tower(s) simultaneously. Paul and Beth were near the stage. Pam and John were there somewhere. I got a text from Liz and Nick that they were there, but I only achieved a one-word reply in acknowledgement.
Cyndie was exchanging photos with friends in an attempt to establish each other’s location. Bob had a bike and never made it into the crowd near us. I was grateful we had gotten there early enough to easily find Rich and Jill, so we were able to share the experience with them. Julian and Allison took up a position more to their liking toward the edge of the main crush of people.
Between the overhead drone cameras and the State Patrol helicopter hovering, I hope they can come up with a reasonable estimate that all parties accept for the number of people in attendance. A more valuable measurement would be the level of combined invisible heart energy radiating throughout the crowd.
It was strong enough that it is vibrating with me still.
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Many People
We had a good experience in the middle of the crowd, which I’ve heard is estimated to be all the way from 50,000 to 200,000 in St. Paul, Minnesota, for No Kings Rally III. Being one short person in the middle of it all, I wasn’t able to get a sense of how many people, but I’ve been to our State Fair, and those crowds reach 200K. Regardless of whatever official number becomes agreed upon, it was a very respectable showing by the citizens of Minnesota, and it felt like the crowds at the Fair.
We skipped the marches, of which planners smartly held three from different directions, and went right to the Capitol, where we found friends standing near dead center beside the sound equipment tent. Unfortunately, we couldn’t see the speakers directly due to a scaffold filled with press personnel. Love ‘em and hate ‘em. We want the press there, just don’t want them completely blocking our views.
Thankfully, they had four large video screens and a respectable sound system. I thought each speaker did a fantastic job, too many folks for me to remember, but it did run a little longer than we were able to endure.
Governor Walz looked like he was in a flannel shirt. He always knows the right things to say. The signs were wonderful and entertaining. Most everyone was being family friendly, although there were plenty of F-bombs on signs, but at the end of one impassioned oration from the stage, a lone voice from the crowd yelled, “FUCK TRUMP!” and it was perfectly timed and met with universal approval. Sometimes you just have to say it.
Bernie was superb, yet it felt like the same speech he has been giving for decades without actually solving any of the wrongs he barks about. It was great, and depressing at the same time.
Bruce Springsteen singing his song protesting the deaths in Minneapolis at the hands of ICE goons was a special moment. By the time Jane Fonda took the stage, she was greatly rushed and commented that some of the speakers needed to leave to catch flights. That’s when Cyndie and our daughter were reaching their tolerance for standing (around 5 hours), so we started the difficult art of moving through stationary people to reach the edge of the masses. By the time Joan Baez was at the microphone, we were beyond the video screens, but we could hear some singing from the crowd.
That was a lot of staid Minnesotans showing up to uncharacteristically and unapologetically voice their disapproval very publicly. It was very moving at times. Brought a tear. Most of all, it fueled a new level of longing for the end of all the current shit and a return to true leadership that is bursting with compassion for ALL people. Every person there was wishing for the very same thing. It is powerful to be able to stand in the middle of that much combined hopeful human energy.
10/10, would do again.
Voicing Objection
It’s off to the Minnesota State Capitol in St. Paul we go today to participate in the 3rd NO KINGS! rally since the criminal administration unleashed its malfeasance. We are looking forward to hanging out with the predicted more than 100,000 people who also wish to voice their objections to EVERYTHING the bums are doing to our country.
It’s a crap shoot on whether we will find somewhere to park our car after picking up our children and driving to within a reasonable walking distance to the Capitol Mall. It would be nice to achieve a place to stand that is close enough to see the local officials and activists who will be speaking, but even nicer to spot Bruce Springsteen, Joan Baez, Jane Fonda, and Bernie Sanders. Their attendance brings this rally in Minnesota to a level of national significance.
If we are ever allowed to have history books that accurately portray reality in the years ahead, this event will be included in the list of resistance efforts that citizens have made over the ongoing destruction of our democracy.
At the very least, it would be nice if we could convince enough Republican officials to find their spines and stand up to the idiocracy staining our country and the rest of the world. Stopping the war mongering would be a nice gesture. Holding pedophiles accountable for their despicable crimes should be an easy decision.
Wherefore art thou, sensible Republicans?
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Watchin’ Basketball
I have trouble understanding how basketball referees decide when contact is a foul and when it isn’t. Last night’s four games of the sweet sixteen round of the NCAA Men’s were fun to watch, despite how often players “walk” with the ball and don’t get whistled for it.
Tonight, I will switch back to watching the Women play, since the lady Gophers are still alive in their tournament, having survived to the sweet sixteen for the first time since 2005. Wish us luck against UCLA.
There was a little competition for space in a chair between Asher and Cyndie yesterday. Not all sports were happening in tournaments. Our grand-nephew, Drew, stopped by for a visit from his dorm at UWRF, and that had Asher all excited and seeking nonstop attention.
Cyndie whipped up some Italian Beef sandwiches for dinner and served some fresh-baked goodies for dessert. Her buttery, super-sweet granola cookies were a big hit. I think I may have exceeded my daily sugar ration simply by looking at them. I ate several of them, just to make sure.
It’s a bad time to be consuming excess calories, since I spend a lot less time being active when there are so many March Madness games on TV, grabbing my entertainment attention. This would be a great case for powering the television with a treadmill. Then the only way I could watch would be by exercising.
In the meantime, my body at rest stays at rest.
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Healthy Complexity
The weather was gorgeous yesterday, allowing me to take on the project of clearing our trails of fallen trees that came down in high winds that accompanied recent snowstorms. There was one large poplar that we’ve been needing to step over as it landed across our most-used path on morning walks with Asher.
When it came down, it knocked another tree over, and they both landed at an intersection of two pathways, interfering with both. We don’t need the firewood. I’ve got a backlog of cut wood waiting to be split.
No problem. I have a new inspiration upon the discovery of author/forester Ethan Tapper and his advice on maintaining a healthy forest.
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I now feel we have permission to leave downed wood lying on the ground as future nutrients for the soil, cover for wildlife, and protection from overbrowsing by deer.
We just have to recalibrate our sensibilities as to what looks like neglect and start framing it as healthy complexity.
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Horses Walkabout
Just because something has never gone completely wrong before doesn’t guarantee it won’t happen eventually. Horses have an amazing ability for stealth when they so choose. If one were to leave barn doors unlatched and the alleyway gates unchained while focused on adding a few shovels of lime screenings under the overhang, like Cyndie did last night, who knows what could happen?
Cyndie had taken Asher along in the fading daylight after dinner on a trip to the barn to collect empty feed buckets. I was comfortable on the couch in the loft in my after-shower night clothes when I got a call from her, informing me that the horses had gotten out.
There is no hesitation to be had when receiving a message like this. I slipped my bare feet into boots and stepped out the front door to greet all four horses in the yard, looking rather unsettled. My presence was enough to turn them back toward the direction of the barn, where I could hear Cyndie shouting for Asher, who was darting about as if he couldn’t decide whether to herd them or prance around along with them.
Thankfully, when the horses showed a hint of interest in getting back to their safe space, Cyndie was able to open a gate to the small paddock and usher them through it with gentle encouragement.
It had only taken a few seconds of Cyndie being distracted with her task for the horses to move themselves silently up to the unchained alleyway gates and nose their way through. She spotted them as the last of the four disappeared into the barn. Asher had been out by the hay shed, but came running into the barn through the small front door to see what was up.
They must have passed each other because he popped out under the overhang to let Cyndie know something was totally out of order. The horses apparently went straight out the small front door Asher had just come in, because by the time Cyndie got in there after them, they were gone.
She told me they had headed down the driveway in the opposite direction from the house when she called me. From the high point on the driveway, near our rocking chairs on the lookout spot, Cyndie said the horses turned and sprinted on the asphalt at full speed toward the house.
I’m sorry I missed that. It must have been a raucous clamor of hooves and a spectacular sight.
The rule violation that occurred is having left both small barn doors unlatched at the same time that the alleyway gates were unchained. The inside ones can be optional, but only if the outside doors are all latched.
The odds of one, let alone all four of the horses, choosing to test and immediately pass silently through the unchained gates at a time when both barn doors were also unlatched are very unlikely.
But it could happen. They proved that emphatically last night.
Slowly Drying
Every day that it doesn’t rain or snow is a day toward drying out our land. When the overnight temperature drops below freezing, it adds a little freeze-drying effect to help things along.
Granted, it makes it impossible to clean up the overnight manure in the paddocks with my plastic tined scoop tool. It’s no match for the frozen mish-mash of mud craters left by the horses that subsequently get filled with their droppings. I just tell the horses that it’s an opportunity for them to live as most horses do for a while.
Nobody we are aware of would spend the kind of time we do to create such a vast expanse of manure-free paddock space for four retired horses. Well, this time of year, our mares get to witness a lot more composting in place.
The surface dries in a gradient, but not entirely linearly. Partway down the slope tends to dry the fastest, while the area uphill from there, just beyond the barn overhang, stays muddy a little longer. Just this side of the chopped willow tree that can’t figure out how to completely die, stays wet the longest. That water needs to travel from around the driveway loop all the way across that paddock to get to the drainage swale crossing our property from north to south.
The process can take days. I guess we’ve gotten used to it, so I am rarely surprised to find it’s still wet. What is surprising is that one day we will find the ground suddenly seems bone dry. Like it had never even been wet. Like it hadn’t been absolutely saturated for days on end. Nope. It becomes dry and dusty, hard as a rock.
Until the next time it rains. Or, bite my tongue, snows twelve inches.
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Week Apart
At the risk of belaboring the point, here are two images of our home, one week apart:
Sunday, March 15
Sunday, March 22
The temperature swing from Saturday to yesterday was a drop of more than 40 degrees. March weather can be dizzying. I won’t deny an enduring urge to stay snuggled in bed instead of getting up to slog through all the mud on our trails and in the paddocks.
Thank goodness we’ve got the horses to warm our hearts, no matter what version of early spring weather is dished out. They don’t let the mud underfoot bother them. No, they consider it a valuable asset for skin and hair treatments.
Cyndie found that two of them were ready to have their caked-on hair brushed out, while the other two preferred to keep wearing their mud packs. To each their own.
A week from now, it will just as easily be the other way around.
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Weather Swings
What a remarkable difference a week can make this time of year. Last Sunday, we were being blasted by a blizzard that disrupted much of normal life for a day or two. Elysa was supposed to fly home from Florida on that Sunday, but after her flight was canceled, the next available seat on a plane was the following Thursday. Cyndie and Marie were able to make their scheduled flight on the Monday after the storm, but reported that a fellow who had a first-class seat on a canceled flight ended up sitting behind them in the cramped back of their plane.
Yesterday, we enjoyed record-setting warmth with temperatures in the upper 70s (F) that forced us into T-shirts to cope. Overnight, everything swung back in the other direction, and we bundled up against the wind chill to tend to the horses this morning.
The swift change back to chilly air had the horses a little “hangry” when we showed up at the barn. Even though they most often demonstrate impressive patience with us when we are going through the paces of our feeding routine, there are days when they clearly communicate their wishes for us to deliver with a little more urgency.
Yesterday’s beautiful weather was ideal for our adventure in St. Paul with Barb and Mike. After a short walk around Landmark Plaza and Rice Park, we had burgers at Herbies, where I was able to catch the third period and overtime victory by the Wild over Dallas on their many TV screens.
Our dinner location was strategically chosen because it is right next door to the Ordway, where we had tickets to see Classic Albums Live for the third time since we discovered them.
We were thoroughly wowed by this concept the first two times we saw them performing Abbey Road and Sticky Fingers. Last night’s crew performing the Eagles’ Greatest Hits 1971-1975 came up a little short of the level of perfection we had enjoyed the first two times. Still, the concept is brilliant, and the entertainment value is top-notch.
Now I can switch back to the March Madness basketball games mode. I’ll need to catch up on what I missed yesterday and prepare for the women’s Gopher team playing their second round game today. Staying indoors to watch sports on TV is a lot easier to justify when the weather isn’t so inviting outdoors.
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Doing Nothing
For the most part, I spent yesterday doing nothing but watching college basketball tournament games. Up until this week, I had not watched an entire basketball game yet this season. However, it’s March Madness time, so basketball it was, all day long.
Asher did a good job of helping me do nothing but watch multiple channels of overlapping basketball games on television.
I took a short break from the NCAA Men’s tournament to watch the #4-ranked Minnesota Gophers Women’s team win their first round game over Green Bay. That game was a little shaky until the 4th quarter, when the Gophers took over, ultimately winning strongly.
In two brief excursions into the great outdoors, I enjoyed a short walk with the dog and then some quality time cleaning up around the horses. By afternoon, all the ditches were filled with flowing meltwater. That hefty blanket of snow that fell 6 days ago has disintegrated into just a few residual piles.
Today, we plan to take full advantage of the first full day of spring to meet separately with two couples we haven’t seen in a while. We’re having breakfast with George and Anneliese in Hudson and dinner with Barb and Mike in St. Paul. After dinner, the four of us have tickets to see Classic Albums Live for the third time at the Ordway Theater. Tonight, they will be recreating the Eagles album, “Their Greatest Hits (1971-1975).”
Based on the past performances by the Classic Albums Live musicians, I am more than happy to be trading watching some second-round basketball madness for high-quality live rock performances of the music of my youth.
Not that I need reminders that I am getting old.
Watching college basketball today reveals a glaring difference between what referees whistled for traveling or palming the ball violations when I was a kid, compared to the sport these days. This is no longer our daddy’s basketball.
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Relative Something 