Archive for May 2015
Quick Fix
I paid for my neglect.
Cyndie pointed out something yesterday in our back pasture as we were strolling the grounds toward the labyrinth, after visiting the horses with her parents and our kids. We had just enjoyed a scrumptious Mother’s Day brunch at our house before heading out into the cool, blustery wind. Rain had been predicted, but the pending arrival was moved to much later in the day.
It’s a good thing that most of the day was dry, because it gave me a chance to remedy a situation that occurred because my failure to follow through on a plan. When the drain tile was installed last fall, it was left up to me to place grids over the trenches in high traffic areas. I didn’t do anything about it in the days after the contractor had finished his work, and then winter arrived and it all became buried in snow and ice.
Honestly, I just haven’t been concerned enough about it this spring to take any action yet. Then Cyndie alerted me to how the recent heavy downpour of rain had washed away stones at the end of the line that runs into the pasture. That left some of the tubing exposed, which revealed areas where the weight of the horses had pushed through the wet ground deep enough to collapse the tube in several spots.
Luckily, the damage occurred at the end of the line where it just runs out into the pasture, and the installer had run the tubing far enough out that I could shorten it without putting the areas I was trying to protect at risk. As soon as visiting family departed, I set about installing the fix that was always meant to be in place.
I pulled up the portion of drain tube that had collapsed and then cut it off to make a new end. We had some of the plastic landscape grids available that were left from previous projects, so I just needed to do a bit of digging to seat the grids level with the ground surface, and then backfill them with stones and dirt to keep them in place.
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It was quick enough work to make me regret that I hadn’t been more disciplined about just getting it done before any damage occurred. The silver lining is that I now have a chance to protect the other high traffic areas before horses will be stomping around the vicinity.
The other spots aren’t as high-risk as this one in the field was. The area where the damage occurred is where the line drains to the surface, so the tubing was getting closer and closer to ground level. Nonetheless, I will be upset with myself it I don’t install the grids in the other locations before something happens again.
Wouldn’t it be nice if I found out the grids were on sale?
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Early Attention
It may not be 4 a.m., but it always feels like it when Pequenita, our cat, decides she has had enough with our being asleep and tromps on us before daylight is visible, kneading and purring, as if being cute and sweet will offset the annoyance of unwanted attention at such an early hour.
She puts her face in mine and tries a few head butts to make sure I know she’s there, but I practice the art of remaining comatose to convey to her that my sleep is not to be interrupted. It is the kneading with those front claws that I am forced to react to if the covers don’t sufficiently cover my sensitive skin.
Some mornings she decides to settle back down and join me in continued slumber, unbeknownst to me since I was practicing being comatose, and I will suddenly fling her off the bed unintentionally when moments later I realize my bladder can’t wait until sunrise for relief.
I am surprised by the amount of abuse she tolerates from me, continuing to lay and sleep at my feet as I jostle her rudely while moving my legs in search of a position my body will accept as sleep-worthy at the beginning of the night. Maybe it is because she knows she will have her vengeance in the wee hours of the following morning.
It is not entirely unlike the relationship of a mother and her child, though it was not my original intention to write all that as a segue to get to acknowledgement of all mothers and their loving sacrifices on this Mother’s Day in the US. Yet, even the title I chose for today’s post, before starting the first paragraph, could be interpreted as an homage to that which all mothers give.
Our kids are grown and gone, but with our dog and cat, we have accomplished a way to feel as though we are still parenting infants, just ones that never grow up.
Happy Mother’s Day all you moms!
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Bad Vibes
Sometimes things fail, but why would failures necessarily come in clusters? I don’t have an answer for that right now. Maybe that is because I don’t feel as though I have sufficiently moved past a current cluster yet, and am not able to perceive it from a distanced perspective that will better reveal the complete situation.
Maybe it is just random happenings. I do allow for that possibility.
Yesterday morning I didn’t feel my best when I woke up. Other than a very noticeable headache, I couldn’t identify more than a general weakness and malaise. I considered the idea of willing myself to a healthier vibrancy with mind over body, and mustered a rudimentary effort toward that end. It got me out the door.
Other than a few moments of reward, noticing a visible difference in tree leaves popping just hours apart and pausing the car on our street to share a greeting with our neighbor driving by, the day turned into a series of unfortunate events.
I was mowing the labyrinth path with our reel mower and about halfway through the task, the handle of the mower broke. They sure don’t make things like they used to. Sure, it is probably lighter weight than mowers of old, but lighter tubing doesn’t hold up to normal use! I finished the job by wrestling the mower forward despite the handle being attached on only the left side.
Not feeling up to doing anything particularly strenuous, I decided to take the 4-wheeler out on our trails to establish tracks in the rapidly advancing undergrowth. I guess the worms haven’t completely taken over our forest yet.
Click-click-click-aack-ack-ack-ack was the only sound I got out of attempts to start it. It seems to me the battery is strong enough, and that a solenoid is failing, but I could be wrong. My brain just wasn’t up to the analysis, so no actual data was collected in my crude attempts to force it to work as designed. I’ll need to return to that when in a better state of mind.
I found the landscape pond was so low that the pump for the waterfall was partially exposed. I turned off the pump and inspected for leaks in the tubing or filter. Finding nothing, the likely alternative would be a leak in the lining, which appears to be a rubber fabric they laid over the dirt and then covered with rocks. A lot of rocks. Which will need to be removed to inspect the fabric.
This morning, I walked into the bathroom in the early light of dawn and pressed the rocker switch to turn off the night-light. I turn it off during the day because that little appliance runs so hot that it discolored the plastic cover around the bulb. A moment later, I noticed the light was on again and began to question my sanity.
Luckily, I hadn’t lost my mind. I had turned it off, but somehow the switch was shorting out and the bulb was back on again. I think it wants to try to burn down our house! I toggled the switch back and forth and the bulb stayed lit in every position.
This morning, that just doesn’t surprise me as much as it should. I’m not sure if it is possible to wield mind over matter to the extent I need at this point, but I am going to set my goals well within reach today and hope for success, health, and well-being to rule the day.
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Life Giving
Despite the recent trend of precipitation missing us as waves of disjointed showers and thunderstorms have been flowing over our region, yesterday evening we finally received rain, but in the form of a dramatic gully washer. It poured as if from a pitcher, and then stopped as quick as if the pitcher had returned to upright. Just as I was beginning to consider a trip outside to tend to the horses, the downpour resumed in full gusto.
The sound of such heavy bursts of rain is dramatic enough on its own, but we also had a few booms of thunder which served to amp up the excitement. On top of that, Delilah felt the need to run to and fro, barking her 2-cents worth toward the storm. My decision to remain calm and collected despite it all made no visible impact on her confidence over our relative safety in the moment.
After the third or fourth wave of heavy rain, we received a sign that I could venture outside. The setting sun popped out from behind clouds, creating an irresistible invitation to go outside, even though some residual rain at our location was still dripping from the clouds overhead.
I chose to override my better judgement and wandered around with Delilah tethered closely to me as the lightning and thunder on the backside of this storm continued overhead, preventing Delilah from reaching anything close to calm and secure during this particular walk.
The air had the fresh smell of recent lightning strikes and the copious amount of water that fell in a surprisingly short amount of time was now rushing through our drainage swale. I felt a sense of appreciation for the much-needed moisture that was providing a life-giving treat to all our growing things.
The giant double rainbow that was filling the sky to the east served as an exclamation point to the whole sensational event. From where I stood, it shone down on the horses clustered close together in the paddock to ride out the storm.
I took Delilah into the paddock with me to open a gate that allowed the horses into the back pasture for the night, then headed back toward the house to check the rain gauge.
We had received 1.75 inches of rain in about 45-minutes time. I hope more of it soaked in than flowed away in the runoff. It just might have been a case where we got too much of a good thing.
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Worm Lesson
Yesterday I learned something that surprised me, especially for the extent of time —basically, my lifetime— about which I have been clueless. I assumed earthworms were native to my region and entirely beneficial. They provide food for our birds and other critters, and they aerate and enrich the soil.
Au contraire! I spotted an article in the sports section of a local newspaper aiming to educate people who fish about not dumping their leftover angle worms on the ground. Worms should be disposed of in the trash.
Why? First of all, the terrestrial earthworms are a non-native invasive species from Europe and Asia! I had no idea. Second, they are harming our hardwood forests. They actually disrupt the natural decomposition of leaf litter on the forest floor and turn good soil into grainy, dry worm castings (poop), which then can’t support the understory plants of our forests.
Apparently, they are welcome to help in my compost pile, but they are not friendly to our woods. Up at our lake place in Hayward, WI, our favorite flowering woodland plant on the forest floor is the trillium. Around Memorial day at the end of May, when we head up for “work-weekend” to open up the property for the summer, we often find a carpet of white blossoms covering the ground.
I have dreamed of seeing the same thing occur in our woods at Wintervale, but we can’t find hardly any here. Cyndie spotted one all by itself recently with 3 blossoms, capturing this shot with her cell phone.
According to the literature I have reviewed, trillium is one of the plants that is lost to the earthworms.
All of my life I have assumed that earthworms were a good thing. I’m afraid I will no longer think of them the same way at all. I would much rather have a thick, healthy layer on our forest floor that could support a robust undergrowth, than a dry, leafless surface of worm poo.
Anglers, contain those crawlers!
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Creatively Repurposed
We lost 8 long-needle pines in the last couple of years due to a combination of dry summers that sandwiched one long and very harsh winter. It was pretty obvious last fall that they were beyond recovery, but I just didn’t have the heart to take them down until this spring.
When the time came to finally face that chore, I decided to see if I couldn’t find some creative way to honor the memory of the pines. It just didn’t feel right to cut them all off at the ground. Of course, I have some history with this ploy of not cutting a tree to the ground and then using the remaining stump for something new.
At our home in Eden Prairie, I saved the 2-3 inch diameter trunks of a cluster of 3 choke cherry trees that had sprouted in an unwelcome spot of our yard, and then balanced rocks on them to create an interesting visual display. I liked the results enough to resurrect the concept again. In this instance, however, I have one item that will be more functional than a rock. It’s a birdhouse (Thank you, Mel & Greg!).
We have some really nice rocks here, so putting a few up on tree stumps is irresistible to me. While I was cutting down this tree which was leaning significantly, I discovered a twiggy young oak tree growing beside it. If that oak survives the abuse that some critter has enacted on the bark of its skinny little trunk, someday it may tower over the end of our house beside our bedroom in the spot where this pine was unable to survive.
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Green Grass
Our grass is growing in leaps and bounds now, which is the time when we need to limit the hours of access for our horses. That accelerated growing is a too-high-sugar fuel for our Arabians, per the doctor’s orders. I had asked how I would know when we needed to pull the horses off the pasture, and our vet said that she uses how quickly the lawn needs mowing as a reference.
I mowed on Sunday, and there are places where it already looks like I didn’t even cut it. I don’t like to mow more than one time in a week, but when it is growing this fast, it needs mowing in 4 or 5 days. I think that using this as a reference for when to limit the horse’s pasture time will work pretty well.
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Third Try
I have not been mentioning the sad lack of progress toward my dream of having a transplanted maple tree growing in the center of our labyrinth, in large part because I’m choosing to avoid framing the previous two tries as failures. Basically, if I don’t talk about them or write about them, it becomes as though they didn’t exist.
However, failure is what happened, and I am obviously now writing about it, so it is not as though I mean to pretend it didn’t occur. I just haven’t been dwelling on it publicly. The attempt we made last year involved pulling a tree up by the roots and transplanting it “bare-root” to the hole in the center of the labyrinth. The shock of the transplant caused it to lose all its leaves, but before the summer was over, it had sprouted new leaves.
I’m not sure what went wrong, but after a while the new leaves drooped and then shriveled, and I figured we lost it. I held off on ripping it out of the ground last fall in the off-hand chance all the energy was being put into the roots so it could sprout leaves this spring in a return to the normal seasonal pattern.
That didn’t happen.
When I was mowing the labyrinth last Friday, I spotted the bark on the trunk was dried out and split open. Snapping off the end of a branch confirmed it was all dried out. No visible signs of life at all. I yanked the tree out.
Last fall, in preparation for the possibility I would need to try again —and while the trees still had leaves— I located another tree I liked in our woods. Following advice I received from my helpful landscape adviser, I flagged it for future reference. Yesterday we dug it up and transplanted it, taking as much dirt around it as we could in hopes of keeping as many of the small roots intact as possible.
So, number three is now in place at the center of the labyrinth garden.
I have a plan to bury a water line from the house down to the garden, where I will install a valve and a hose spigot. The length of tubing required was not stocked at the store, so I had to order it. I sure hope it comes soon, so I don’t have to lug a half-dozen hoses out on the hill to string together like we’ve done for the last two years.
I’d like the third time to be the charm, so I certainly don’t want the poor thing to go thirsty for any length of time. It’s feeling too dry around here already this spring, which is a sad problem to have since our main complaint for the two previous years has been that this time of year had been way too wet.
Thunderstorms rolled through last night, but we barely received a measurable amount of water in our rain gauge. It’s going to take more than that to satisfy all the growing things currently sprouting forth with gusto, reaching toward the sun.
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Pill Time
It is a lazy Sunday morning and we have finished a glorious breakfast of blueberry pancakes with luscious fresh maple syrup tapped from local trees at S & S Sugar Bush. It being early in the month, we realized it was time to ask Delilah to take her prescribed heartworm pill. The first time Cyndie presented one to her when we were new dog owners, Delilah gobbled it up enthusiastically. That worked a few more times before something registered with our dear dog that she didn’t like it after all.
This confuses us to no end because we have seen the extremely wide range of disgusting things Delilah otherwise delightfully ingests. Seriously, can this pill taste worse than a mummified carcass that was lying in a farm field that had recently been covered in nasty smelling fresh manure?
This morning, Cyndie tried slipping it into a hard-boiled egg that was reaching the end of its refrigerator life. Surely Delilah would delight in an egg getting past its freshness date.
Of course she did! But the pill dropped right out on the floor. Next came some peanut butter. I warned Cyndie that the last time I tried that, Delilah licked the peanut butter off until the pill was getting slimy, leaving it behind.
I think Cyndie should try slipping it in when she is giving Delilah and Pequenita some shared treat time. It has become their favorite routine to receive cat treats on the kitchen floor together. The cat takes time to crunch hers into several bites, but Delilah gobbles the little morsels up so fast that I’m afraid for fingers that don’t get out of the way in time.
Seems to me to be the ideal time to slip in the old heartworm pill with a little slight of hand so she wolfs it down before realizing what it is. If it doesn’t work, at least it might teach her to slow down and savor this opportunity of sharing space with her sister of another species.
Cyndie enjoyed success with her peanut butter trick this time, so my idea will have to wait another month to be tested. Something tells me Delilah will never fall for it, anyway.
Sure makes me wonder what could be so bad in that little pill, compared to all the vile things our dog fights to get into her mouth at other times…
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Sleepy
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while unintentionally falling asleep
I tend to hear things in my head
voices speaking out
or a cat’s meow
which startles me awake again
and then I realize
the sound didn’t happen
didn’t come through my ears
did I make up that sound?
that voice?
why would I do that?
I was awake and thinking
when a blink failed to open
so the brain makes a switch
from thinking thoughts to making sounds
that ears cannot hear
but thoughts cannot recognize
as thoughts
just sounds
that I discover
after returning to awake
and I wonder
if I had stayed asleep
would that sound have become
a dream?
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Relative Something 