Archive for May 2014
Shitty Education
In the time since our horses arrived late last September, we have been stockpiling manure in one primary location. Based on information Cyndie gathered, we roughed out a spot that we guessed would be large enough. That was about as far as we went in terms of a plan of action for manure management.
In my naiveté, I thought we could start piling at the back of the clearing we designated, and just keep dumping new loads toward the front. If it timed out right, we could access the pile from the back to remove old composted manure for use as tree food and fertilizer for Cyndie’s plants. I planned to scoop the front of the pile with the loader on our tractor, to stir and aerate the material, moving the composting manure back and making new space for fresh loads to be dumped in front again.
The more informed method involves an area divided into 3 separate sections. This allows the first pile to become fully composted and ready for use, the middle one to be in process of breaking down, and the last one for dumping fresh manure.
My system didn’t work the way I imagined because our method of dumping full-wheelbarrows ended up filling the designated space all the way to the front in a very short amount of time. Instead of dumping somewhere beyond our designated space, I chose to go up. I created a ramp and we just kept adding fresh manure on top of the previous batches already beginning to break down.
That has led to a pile with layers in varying stages of decomposition. It is obvious our pile shrinks over time, depending on how much new manure is being added, but the two key elements to accelerating the breakdown are the optimal amount of air and moisture, and our pile hasn’t been getting the correct amount of either. Our location is not covered, so I figured we would suffer from too much wetness, but the process of decomposition uses up moisture and will cause dry spots that interrupt decomposition if not stirred.
Yesterday afternoon, after I got home from the day-job, I cut deep into the back of our manure pile for the first time. I wanted to move some material from the pile that was already composting, down to the new location I created by the labyrinth. The impetus for that was our desire to give our newly transplanted tree at the center of the labyrinth a dose of horse manure fertilizer.
Even though the tree is showing signs of new buds along its trunk, there is no indication that the buds at the ends of the branches have any life in them whatsoever. It is really testing my patience.
So, I was able to cut into the main manure pile and get educated about what is going on down below, and I got enough cinder blocks stacked to create the start of a satellite pile where I will be better able to control the rate of composting.
Best of all, it will be conveniently located near the garden of plants that help define the form of our labyrinth path.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Wet Again
I have another picture for you to compare. On Sunday I posted a picture of the standing water in our paddock, and then yesterday, I posted the improvement visible after a couple of days without rain. Today, you can compare the difference a day —and 2-inches of rain— can make. We are wet, all over again.
Unfortunately, we experienced two different failures that contributed to the amount of water that inundated that large paddock. First, I wasn’t able to reconnect the hose that Legacy pulled off the trough and dragged into the paddock because he had squeezed the threaded end out-of-round. In haste, I grabbed the closest hose at hand, but it was a poor choice. It was one of those new collapsible type hoses, and for this application of draining the tank by gravity, that hose presented too much resistance. On top of that, it wasn’t long enough, so I grabbed another old hose that I figured I wouldn’t miss if it ended up a permanent fixture down there, but the reason I wouldn’t miss it is because it kinks easily. Kink, it did.
The end result was that the water trough beneath the downspout overflowed and poured directly into the paddock.
The second failure was a plug of silt and debris that dammed up my little drainage channel that runs behind the barn. It occurred right at the worst spot for the water to pour out of the channel and run into the most problematic spot of that paddock.
What that means is, all the water from that 2-inches of rain that fell on the barn roof, front and back, ended up pouring right into the paddock. This is the very thing that I established was the first and most important issue we needed to tend to in order to improve the state of our paddocks. We devised some rudimentary systems to prove the concept, and they have been working surprisingly well, up to this point.
I hate to be moping about this, especially in face of news about the level of suffering the people of the Balkans are enduring due to unprecedented flooding there. Our situation is frustrating, but it’s nothing like that. Yet.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Long Day
The horses received a good amount of attention yesterday. We were able to get into the paddocks with the ATV and do some raking. What a difference a day makes. Compare this image with the one in my previous post: —————>
There are still some spots that are too muddy to drive through. I figured that out by forging ahead into one of the worst sections and almost not making it through. After that I became more selective about which areas got raked.
I started hauling out a portion of the big pile of manure and hay that was created when we used the diesel New Holland tractor to do some clean up in late winter. A few pitch forks into that pile and I hit snow! That slowed my progress a bit. It sure will be nice when that corner is finally cleared again.
While I was tending to that, Cyndie was hard at work cleaning the automatic waterer. Delilah was hanging around offering her version of “help.” When I checked on progress, Cyndie said it was going fine, except that Delilah had made off with the rubber stopper that plugs the drain. We did our best to search the muddy hoof prints in the vicinity, hoping she dropped it nearby, but the black plug was not easy to see. There was plenty of pleading with the dog, begging her to use her nose to lead us to it, but she didn’t seem very willing to zoom in on that one task.
It made for a harrowing temporary interruption to desired progress, but in time Cyndie and Delilah came up with it and that chore was completed.
The horses received some brushing, and were given a little extra time for grazing the fresh grass surrounding the round pen. I hope they don’t think their shenanigans with the water trough and hose won them all this good attention yesterday. I don’t like rewarding bad behavior.
I am pretty confident that the blame for that stunt with the hose is not deserved by all four horses. Legacy is the prime suspect whenever it comes to grabbing things with the mouth. He is incorrigible.
After we finished with activities in the paddocks, we headed down to the labyrinth. The grass is growing incredibly fast down there, and it needs to be mowed about twice a week to keep it in check. While Cyndie pulled weeds and tended to the plants, I pushed the mower all the way to the center, and back out again, stopping to take a picture when I reached the boulders.
To make it truly a full day of chores, after I had showered and eaten dinner, I realized I had forgotten to get the pond waterfall back in operation, and headed out to tackle that. It was something I had been meaning to take care of for weeks and just wasn’t getting it done. I didn’t want it to linger one more day.
Luckily, the filter installation went well enough that I finished before sunset, however, at that point in our very long and exhausting day, I ended up using about a week’s-worth of cursing to get things flowing without a leak.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Horse Mischief
Lest you think my incessant blathering about the muddy mess we are suffering is excessive, I offer a couple of images as evidence of the saturation in which we are wallowing. After a few days without additional rain, and even some sunshine yesterday, we are enjoying some long-awaited progress in drying of the intermediate areas, but the wettest sections continue to hold standing water.
Those areas remain a magnet for Delilah, who rushes to sink her feet into the muckiest of muck when we arrive to feed the horses each morning, rendering her abolished from the house until we can get her washed. I think she measures the quality of her days by how many baths she gets in the kiddie pool stationed by our front door.
I lied in my post yesterday when I wrote that I wouldn’t get any mowing done since I would be biking and barbecuing. We had a fantastic ride in beautiful weather, and then dove into eating everything in reach as fast as it arrived to the table. It was a wonderful time that I enjoyed thoroughly, and I arrived home in time to help Cyndie get the horses fed and then do some mowing.
My main objective was to cut the back yard, but after feeding the horses, I noticed the jungle of growth on the uphill side of the big paddock behind the barn. It was twice as bad as the yard, so I decided to give that first attention before moving on.
The horses took great interest in my actions. Instead of moving away from the loud noise of high RPM tractor engine and mower, they came right up to the fence to witness the horror. I got the impression they were galled at the audacity of my cutting down the green growth right before their eyes. I guess I could have taken a moment to convey the reason we have been unable to give them access to this area outside their fence, but something tells me they wouldn’t have bought it. The growth was fresh, green, tall, and surely rich with sugars that would give them the rush they seek.
My drain hose from the trough that sits beneath the downspout on the barn was strung across that area I was mowing, and I flipped it toward the fence, out of the way after I had made the first pass. This morning, when I showed up to feed the horses, I immediately spotted that garden hose pulled way into the paddock!
Had I tossed it too close to their fence yesterday? No. When I started pulling it back out of there, I quickly discovered that it had been pulled in from the other end; the end that had been attached to the trough. How did they get a hold of that!? Lo and behold, the trough itself had been dislodged from its position. Someone had been up to some mischief overnight.
Message received. I think they were clearly letting me know how they felt about my decision to mow that area right before their eyes, at a time when we are firmly limiting their minutes of grazing on the new spring fast-growing grass.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Almost Frozen
Spring has yet to deliver a truly warm day. Just the opposite, in fact, as we are getting some very cold mornings the last two days, pert-near down to freezing again. I sure hope the plants that are down in the labyrinth won’t be harmed.
I have mowed the labyrinth one time since the snow disappeared. The growth between the paths is already tall enough to cover some of the rocks, giving it a very green look.
The next area that is in desperate need of mowing is the hill below the house, which I think of as our back yard. It has turned into a patchwork of spots that include grass growing fast and tall, contrasted with areas of little-to-no growth at all. In between, there are sections that have little wildflowers growing beside scattered weeds that look like they mean business. It doesn’t look much like a lawn at all right now, and will be well served by a first close-cut of the season.
Won’t happen today. I’m off to Rich’s for a day of biking, followed by a barbecue. There is so much work to be done on the ranch right now that the only way to get myself to do some cycling in preparation for the Tour of Minnesota ride in the middle of June is by making a commitment to join friends in some location far away from home.
Today’s ride is expected to enjoy some sun and nicer weather, which is a welcome change from two weeks ago, when the gathering was initially scheduled to occur. I’ll take it. It will give the paddocks another day of drying while I’m away, helping decrease the amount of mud to be dealt with when I get back in there to do some much-needed cleanup.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Dirty Pants
If I venture outside on our property, especially if I expect to traverse the horse paddocks, I will trash my pants with mud. When we walk in the door, we remove our muddy boots, but my pant legs will sometimes be just as bad as the boots. I have been known to remove my pants at the door, too.
It doesn’t make sense to me to put these in the wash every day, as the next pair I put on will get just as dirty in a single outing, so I have taken to wearing the same pair for days, or even weeks. They pretty much stand up by themselves after a day or two.
When I decide to finally wash them, I will lay the pants on the driveway and spray the mud off with a hose, before running them through our washing machine. They get that bad.
It feels a little weird to be saving my dirty pants at the end of each night. It’s even weirder to be climbing back into them the following day. I have to be delicate about sliding them up when putting my boots on, to minimize how much debris breaks loose and falls on the floor, or into my boot. When I come in for lunch, I can’t sit on the couch or nice chair, and try to step carefully around the house.
Our cat, Pequenita, isn’t bothered by the mud at all, and climbs on my leg regardless how grimy they are. As an indoor cat, it’s her chance to be close to the earth.
I suppose I could step into the kiddie pool we have out the front door for washing Delilah before she comes in the house. It seems only fair. Of course, the mud I get covered with is incidental to the tasks I get involved in, whereas Delilah’s mud is a result of her deliberately getting herself into the worst areas and marching back and forth or digging. She needs daily washing —sometimes multiple washings in a single day.
My system of keeping dirty pants gives me many more wearings between eventual necessary washes.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
It’s Alive!
We have tried to be patient about finding clear evidence that the maple tree we transplanted last fall has survived the shock. It is tall enough that we can’t do a close inspection of the tips of the branches, where we are hoping to see this spring’s new leaf buds appear, but I have been watching for signs of growth.
When other trees around us first started showing tinges of new green sprouts, I hiked down to check on our patient. The results were decidedly inconclusive. A week later, I looked again, and was frustrated over not being able to discern any progress. At that point, I decided I should use the many trees still located in the area where this little guy had come from, as reference for when they start sprouting buds.
My anxiety was calmed when I found they all looked just the same as the one we transplanted. Compared to most of the other trees on our lot, these appear to be late bloomers.
Last weekend, I spotted the first obvious signs of life. It wasn’t at the ends of the branches, it was half way down the trunk. Last evening I hiked down to take a picture and found the sprout had clearly burst out.
I think we are going to be able to make this one work. We will provide a lot of tender loving care and attention to make things as easy for it as we possibly can.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Shifting Priorities
I have not attempted to do anything with the remains of the woodshed yet. Since it wasn’t raining yesterday afternoon, I stepped out to take some more pictures.
It is too heavy to lift on my own, so I will either need a lot of helpers to pick it back up or use the power of our diesel tractor. The problem with relying on the tractor is that I can’t drive it back there until the ground dries up enough to support it. Not that it’s really a problem. I have plenty of other things to work on while I wait to be able to drive the tractor around on our property.
I have noticed a strong desire to get back to clearing the south drainage ditch, but the lawn grass that we try to keep mowed around the driveway and township road is growing so fast I was forced to make that the next priority. It is a rather challenging task right now because of how wet it is. I tried to stay off the worst areas, but still found myself getting stuck a few times, and leaving muddy tire tracks in my wake. Regardless, it looks better mowed with a few tracks, than it does not-mowed at all.
Clearing the south ditch is not the only thing clamoring for my attention, either. Over the weekend I started creating a spot by our labyrinth to use for storing compost that we plan to feed the growing things we have planted. I have been ever-so-slowly replacing the concrete landscaping blocks Cyndie bought for marking the first layout of the labyrinth, with stones we have been collecting from around our property. I am going to build a 3-walled nook using the landscape blocks pulled from the labyrinth, to contain the compost.
Of course, to haul manure back there I will need the ATV and trailer, but I can’t get in the paddocks with that equipment until it dries up some and Cyndie gets off crutches to open gates and manage horses while I drive in and out.
That’ll probably happen about the time I will need to switch priorities again to mow the rapidly growing lawn grass everywhere. It’s a great exercise for the part of me that wants to do everything in a sequence. I get to flex my flexibility skills, instead.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Fighting Frustration
I know that I can just give in and stop trying to make progress when barriers repeatedly frustrate my attempts to advance toward a goal, but I seem to have an ingrained attachment to that angst of repeatedly banging my head against the problems that arise. Eventually, I will go back to grazing, but for now…
Yesterday was a day to give up and go back to bed, but I forged ahead regardless, and bashed headlong into the fruitless exercise of trying to get something done anyway. It probably wasn’t as bad as I’m making it seem, but the final straw was trying to write this post live online when our internet connection was doing an endless dance loop of resetting, creating a repeating pattern of pages hanging mid-load, and slamming the brakes on any attempts to actually achieve something productive.
Talk about frustrating! We were trying to research costs for materials for our next phase of pasture fencing, to compare with the quote we have received from our fence contractor. We also got stopped in the middle of trying to do online research for information on improving the surface of our paddocks.
The reason we were indoors doing research is because it is raining outside again. Speaking of frustration, the rain gauge revealed 2 more inches fell overnight Sunday to Monday morning. The wetness around here is crazy-making!
Since I couldn’t work on anything else, I walked right down to the wettest area of our planned grazing pasture —probably out of spite— where two dead trees had toppled over in the storm that destroyed my woodshed (I think the woodshed failure is frustrating me more than I am admitting to myself), and I started cutting them up and creating a new brush pile. Man, will it feel good to ignite that bonfire. Too bad it will have to wait for months because the pile is currently located on an area of standing water.
I let my focus wander to the drainage ditch that forms the southern border of our property, where the water of the last few storms is still flowing along in an irritatingly pleasant manner. Standing in water up to my ankles, I began the work of cutting out the 1-to-2 inch volunteer trees that were allowed to grow unchecked to clutter the ditch, making a perfect snow-stop that creates dams and backs up flow during the spring melt.
The plan is to clear the ditch, and the junk trees that have been sprouting in the area just above it, because above is where we will run the southern leg of our new grazing pasture fence.
While I was down there working, our delightful dog, Delilah, was happily exploring to and fro, prancing in the running water, and generally being a sweet companion… until she wasn’t. She disappeared on me while I was engrossed in aggravating the tendonitis in both elbows, working our ratcheting pruner to cut down the forest of unwelcome growth.
After Delilah’s performance on Sunday —moments after I had received a subtle comment from our neighbor about her frequent visits to his place— where she ran away from me to interrupt that very family’s Mother’s Day picnic on their front lawn, she has me so frustrated that I have decreed that she must be on-leash now when outside and not being directly watched.
It’s all got me plenty frustrated, I tell you, but the regression to need to leash Delilah again is at the top of the heap.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Desperation Move
On Saturday we took steps to provide our horses access to some dry ground by stringing temporary electric fence around a section of the gravel drive between the barn and the hay shed. As you can see in the image, they were most enthralled by the small area of green grass that was available in one small corner.
Eventually, they spread themselves out and each nibbled on hay we distributed in 4 spots, hoping to entice them to stay long enough to dry out their poor muddy feet.
It’s not a very big space, but it is better than nothing and they seem to appreciate our effort. With rain storms continuing to roll through, the mud situation just gets worse every day. We had to come up with some option to give them a break. The areas around the feeders where they previously found refuge, standing atop the buildup of spilled hay, has started to fail them and their hooves are beginning to push through. There was nowhere else for them to go.
That area of the driveway is solid, and they can stand there to give their hooves a chance to dry out. It is a bit of a desperate move, but it is a means to an end that buys us time while we await a change of conditions that doesn’t look to be arriving any time soon.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Relative Something 