Successful Foal
We learned yesterday that three of Mia’s nine foals are still racing and the last-born filly just won a race at Churchill Downs on Friday.
“Shes a Secret” is a three-year-old who ran to victory, making us all proud for Mia and her last baby. Mia’s former owners stopped by to see her and express their appreciation for This Old Horse taking care of their retired broodmare. They told us that Mia was a very good mamma.
It was hot and muggy with miserable air quality due to smoke from Canadian wildfires and the horses were standing by our fans, stomping their legs to knock off biting flies. Not ideal conditions for hanging with the horses under the overhang. Cyndie noticed that Mia was really sweaty and wanted her to be looking her best when company arrived so she choreographed an opportunity for Mia to have better access to one of the fans.
Worked like a charm.
Mia posed for a few pictures and the visitors served up cool baby carrots for all the horses to celebrate the occasion.
I ducked out to check on Asher up at the house where Cyndie had left him with a bone to occupy him. He was doing fine but wouldn’t let that bone out of his mouth for nothin’. I put his vest on over the bone and we went out for a little walk. When he found a spot he liked, he dug a hole and dropped the bone in it. Then came the classic exercise of nosing dirt and leaves over the precious snack to save it for who knows when in the future.
He appears to have that natural instinct down perfectly well.
I am impressed with his ability to cope with the heat outside lately. He is such a hot bod and his dark color must really grab those sun rays fast, yet he soldiers on without complaint. Asher is quick to drink from our landscape pond, passing up perfectly good bowls of water to get there. He shows no hesitation about going back into the house where the floors are cool to lie on for naps.
There was no napping for me yesterday afternoon. I mowed grass around the barn to spruce up the place before our visitors arrived and failed miserably at avoiding the heat and bad air. I cooled off later by watching Game 2 of the Stanley Cup finals on television.
With no prior favorite between the two non-hockey geographic location teams, I find myself leaning toward Vegas over Florida.
I won’t be placing any bets on it, though.
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Party Food
Brunch was a treat at Hope Breakfast Bar yesterday. The restaurant had a wonderfully eclectic menu from which Cyndie selected the pina colada french toast that came with very festive-looking cotton candy on the side. Yeah. Made my teeth hurt just looking at it. The egg sandwich on an everything bagel was more to my liking.
After having just watched the final episode of Ted Lasso season 3, the giant “BELIEVE” on the wall behind our table was a welcome sight.
It was a little loud for conversation at the table but the overall experience was perfect for our family party. It had a very celebratory vibe. I don’t think the birthday girl felt old at all while consuming that sugar party on her plate.
I bailed on my plans to do any weed control in the simmering heat by the time we got home. The visible haze of poor air quality helped convince me less work would be more advisable. I played with Asher, instead. The birthday girl wanted a break from going out at all so I took the pup out for some off-leash time. After he bounded into the woods close to the house, we made our way down the backyard hill where he sprinted away again.
I busied myself pulling vines growing across the trail when I heard him bouncing through the brush and looked up to see a deer leaping through the trees. That wasn’t the dog I thought I had heard. A short while later, it was Asher making the noise, following the same path the deer had just run. It was pretty obvious what the deer was running from.
When we went down to feed the horses dinner, all four were still standing in front of the fans under the overhang. Later, as the sun was setting and Asher and I went out for one last walk, we found the horses finally making a party of the freshly cut back pasture.
I knew it wouldn’t take them long to get after the shortened blades for grazing. Everything in its time.
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June Fourth
What makes June Fourth so special? It’s Cyndie’s birthday!! We are not old or anything, compared to everyone older than us, but when you qualify for Medicare in the U.S., it suddenly feels like you are older than ever. Well, older than you’ve ever been before.
It feels wrong to be doing anything other than celebrating my lovely wife today but there are weeds to be cut, you know. We are meeting Cyndie’s mom and our kids for brunch, but after that, it’s back to the battle against allowing weeds to go to seed.
I don’t know how many versions of this photo I have posted over the last ten years, but it’s a view that truly captures my experience for hours on end.
I worked the string trimmer along the fence line, around the round pen, and along the deep washouts of the drainage swale. I used the Greenworks riding mower to knock down weeds in the round pen and along the inside of the fence line. Finally, I pulled the brush cutter behind the diesel tractor to cut the back pasture. Among the multiple weeds battling for dominance against grasses in the field, thistle is the one we are keeping at bay by mowing.
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In the background of the photo with the cleanly trimmed fence line, you can spot the little maple tree that is in the center of the labyrinth.
This morning we opened the gate to the back pasture, giving the horses access to all that cut grass. They took little notice after finishing the feed in their pans and lolled around near the fans under the overhang. It’s not uncomfortably hot yet this early in the day, but the humidity is noticeable and those big-body mares know the heat will build faster by the minute.
I expect we’ll find them out there soon enough. They have a good sense about the opening of gates around their confines.
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Unsettling Sight
I am not a fan of the startling movement of grass blades when a snake suddenly slithers nearby. When it occurs as I am walking, my body responds with an adrenaline surge that triggers a recoil reflex. Even if I’m on the mower when the wiggly legless reptiles make an appearance, I experience an involuntary shudder. I would not be surprised to learn I was bitten by a snake in a past life.
It brings me no joy to find the discarded skin of a snake even though I am happy to know there are rodent predators patrolling our grounds. Snakes can live here and eat as many pesky moles and mice as possible, I just don’t want to see them.
The sight of a 3-foot-long snake skin on the mowed path around the back pasture brings me no joy. If skin that long didn’t fit anymore, I don’t want to know how big it is now.
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Moody Mares
Our retired Thoroughbred mares have not presented regular behavioral signs of estrous but there have been occasions when it has happened. This week, I noticed Mix was showing evidence she was feeling it. Yesterday, it became obvious that Light is synchronizing with Mix. The horses can become less predictable and behave aggressively so we need to pay extra attention around them when their hormones are raging.
I was observing from the barn when the two of them demonstrated some of the angst they were feeling.
They were calm one second and then squealing and kicking the next.
Mix kicking up her heels…
Light responding in kind.
Mia was nearby but wasn’t the least bit perturbed by the shenanigans Mix and Light were up to. After two more episodes of flailing hooves, the herd quietly and methodically made their way out into the hay field as if nothing had happened and settled into some grazing.
Me thinks I will remain on elevated levels of awareness for the next few days or more. As long as they continue to direct their aggression toward each other and not at me, I’ll be happy to continue tending to the daily housekeeping under the overhang.
I must admit, it’s kind of fun to see domesticated animals demonstrate a little of their wild side every once in a while.
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Readjustment Required
Four days away was enough to cause a bit of anxiety for Asher upon our return. He seemed happy to see us but he also showed signs of being less confident in himself upon readjusting to the differences in our routine as compared to the sitter’s. I’m guessing Mom and Dad are a little more strict about how things should go and Asher wasn’t quite ready for a return to that.
Tuesday night he spent more time whining in his crate than he did sleeping. Unfortunately, that meant Cyndie and I didn’t get the sleep we wanted, either. Asher rallied yesterday and showed his best self during a visit to the veterinarian for a checkup and some shots. The after-effects lasted a few hours during which he laid low and napped but then all of a sudden he was back to his old self and playing with his usual vigor.
I wish I recovered that quickly when I got my last shots.
The pup officially weighed in at 70 pounds. I’ll take that. It’s ten lbs. less than the unofficial weight we’d been given by the foster mom.
I’m curious to see how he does today in session three of our obedience training class. We are expecting the barriers between dogs to be pulled back which will mean many more distractions during the lessons.
When we got home from the lake on Tuesday, the labyrinth was first on the list for mowing.
The prolonged dry spell hasn’t slowed growth everywhere, particularly in our poison ivy patches. Some areas of lawn grass are turning brown but most others are just growing with less robust energy. Yesterday, I focused on mowing just the areas that grew the most.
I need to readjust to this sudden onset of hot summer weather. It’s the first day of June and we are getting mid-July heat and humidity. It has me wondering what it will be like when we get to July.
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Asher Interviewed
An idea was born through the miracle of modern technology and the wickedly wild unveiling of ChatGPT Artificial Intelligence answering questions with increasing believability. Maybe Chatbots could ask questions, too. Add to that idea the greatest new invention ever achieved, the ability to translate barking to text.
Asher was willing to participate in the bizarre experiment to see if it could work. He donned the high-tech brain wave reader and entered into a conversation with a computer that produced the following:
AI: Mr. Asher, can you hear me through the headgear?
Asher: Whoof!
AI:Â Somebody needs to turn on the translator.
Asher: You can call me Ash for short. This thing itches.
AI:Â It works! Okay, Ash, what do you think of your new home?
Asher: I think I could get used to this. These two hoomans seem like they like me. I think one is called, “What?” and the other one answers to, “You ready yet?”
AI:Â Do you think you will be able to train them?
Asher: Oh, yeah. I’ve got them going to a class in the big city where they practice and practice figuring out how to react to my every need. It’s wild because as they do their drills I get to eat non-stop treats. It can be exhausting but I’m able to take a nap while they pilot the go-fast machine back to our house.
AI:Â Are you getting used to all those acres of forest and field?
Asher: In fits and starts. Sometimes they free me from that dang leash and I can race after the tree rats that run rampant. The hoomans get all excited about it and try to convince me they’re called “skwerls.” The backyard is good for zooming but the hill tends to tire me out sooner than I like. If I don’t keep running the hoomans tend to take me back in the house. Not that it’s bad in there. Every time I roll a ball under the furniture they just give me a new one. I’ve got so many squeaky things to chomp on stashed around the place, I’ll never be able to destroy them all.
AI:Â Sounds like you are living a life of luxury.
Asher: Oh, it’s not all bully sticks and squeaking toys. The hoomans are outside every day working on something and their progress gets so pathetic I can’t help myself but help them out. Digging up diseased bushes? I can help dig. Planting new plants? I can dig those up, too. Cutting out dead branches? Oooh, I can chew ’em to bits.
AI:Â Our batteries are running low. Is there anything you want your humans to understand before we have to shut down the translator?
Asher: I’m sorry I chewed up both pads and both covers you guys put in my crate and the cool tapestry you had draped over it, too. It’s just… well, somethin’ has to give. When I get all riled up, I do what I do best… chew.
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Consciousness
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waves of brain
conscious and not
driving decisions
unthinking actions
breathing mindlessly
sighing furtively
acting as if everything’s
endlessly wafting
after absolute atrophy
neuroblasts grasping
clasping ideas
vastly vaguer than asking
toward aspects largely reactive
in milliseconds always amassing
forgotten purely by habit
without effort
like a thought
that never
got thunk
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Community Dinner
It’s Memorial Day holiday in the U.S. today, honoring our nation’s war dead. I have not directly experienced this kind of loss so my observance is generalized to the memories of all those who never returned home.
Our holiday weekend at the lake shifted from working together to socializing outside the lodge. Despite having ridden my bike past the sign announcing our high fire danger earlier in the afternoon…
at dinner, we lit the wood in the fire pit in the hope some smoke would keep the mosquitos at bay. Those pesky blood chasers are more troublesome this year than I remember them ever being before.
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The gentle breeze off the lake was supposed to help reduce pressure from the flying bloodsuckers, too but it died down shortly after we gathered. It didn’t take long for the skeeters to get the upper hand. The lack of breeze made for less smoke from our fire, too.
At least that meant less fear of losing control of the flames in our fire pit.
The evening socializing was cut short as we all were chased indoors. At our place, a few more card games broke out on the porch.
It is feeling an awful lot like this is a holiday weekend.
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Aging Club
Wildwood Lodge Club started in 1966. The first generation is dwindling and of the six current families, only three are original. 
The club is in its 57th year but the buildings have been around since 1919. It was a fishing lodge when the eleven original Twin Cities families bought it and formed the club. The children of the first generation have taken over decision-making responsibilities, significantly increasing the number of minds that need to come to a consensus on management.
One of the biggest issues looming is the integrity of the main lodge building which has kitchen facilities and restaurant-style seating. The foundation is failing and the floor is rotting. The repair costs are unpredictable and hard to justify.
The ramifications tend to ripple all the way out to shaking the visions of what the future of the club might be like for the 3rd generation and beyond. With each generation, the added number of invested people complicates almost all decisions, particularly ones needing consensus for managing association business.
There are no easy answers and we can feel that. Gathering at the beach yesterday to remove the winter’s worth of leaf accumulation and arrange chairs, paddleboards, kayaks, a canoe, a small fishing boat, and several sailboats, talk informally wanders to the issues that aren’t easily resolved.
Thank goodness the precious people who are the extended family of Wildwood are the true core of what defines this club. There is no shortage of fun and laughter despite all the tough decisions looming. Dinner at each house is a delicious mix of wonderful stories and good food. Wandering next door for a visit is a guaranteed party. The north woods surrounding the lake is a vacation paradise.
Last night’s corn on the cob tasted like August. I don’t know where it was grown or how long ago it was picked, but someone did an amazing job of providing an end product that defied my sense of time and logistics.
My luck at our multiple card games has been nothing but bad, however, the fun quotient is as present as ever.
We don’t know what the future may bring, but just because the club is aging doesn’t mean it can’t last. There are plenty of possibilities and I am confident this group will eventually figure out a way to adapt and endure.
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Relative Something 