Archive for October 2015
Foreign Body
I have done it again. This time, I was wearing my safety glasses, but somehow it happened again anyway. A metal fragment lodged in my eye and in time began to rust, just as happened to me 30 years ago.
I knew that debris had gotten around my safety glasses while I was using a grinding stone with a Dremel tool to smooth sharp prongs of the grates I made for the slow-feeder boxes. When I showered afterward, I rinsed my eyes thoroughly.
The next day, both eyes felt a bit irritated, but I figured that was a normal reaction to the abuse of grit followed by the water-washing. Yesterday, when I woke up, my right eye was enough worse that I suspected I had more trouble brewing. Cyndie told me she could see a spot in my eye.
I couldn’t see it, but since I now need correction to see up close, I was trying to look through the lens of my glasses. It didn’t matter. I made an appointment to have it examined at our eye clinic.
First, the doctor checked my distance vision. Still 20/20. That was the good news. Then she immediately identified the foreign body that was indeed beginning to rust. I never expected to suffer that fate twice. It is time for me to buy a face shield that I can wear over the goggles that I will have over my safety glasses.
Yeah, that won’t fog up and make it hard to see what I am trying to do. I should get a welding helmet, and in place of the dark glass window I can put a x1000 magnifying lens so what I am looking at will be in focus.
After the sting of a drop of numbing potion, the tweezers came out and in less than a blink, the sliver was removed. Then came the interesting part. With a miniaturized version of the Dremel tool that caused my problem, she worked to “grind” off the rust in my eye. It took several passes, between which she had me blinking several times.
Finally, she needed to use a Q-tip to retrieve the remnants of floating rust that were left behind.
Walking out into daylight caused pain in the entire eye, which radiated all the way to the back of my head, but it was a relief to know the irritant had been removed. I could live with the discomfort.
The night before, I had created a list of things I hoped to address over my 3-day weekend. By the end of the day yesterday, I had almost finished one of the dozen tasks. That wasn’t the progress I was hoping for.
Shortly after returning from our foray to the eye doctor, George called to check if we were home because he was pulling in our driveway for an appointment to trim our horses and it didn’t look like we were around. Usually, we are waiting for him with the horses haltered and all ready to go. He could see them all grazing in the far side of the hay-field.
Oops. We forgot.
That wasn’t one of the tasks on my list. I suppose I should add it, after the fact, so I could then say I got two things done by the end of the day.
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Threatening
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coyotes called last night again
whooping siren-like howls
echoes from the dark
adding excitement
to the trip down the driveway
rolling the trash
and recycling
to the shoulder of the road
with Delilah in tow
in hopes to dissuade
any roving marauders
whose curiosity might bring near
with our vision confined
to the cone of light
that juts from our foreheads
like miners in a cave
our cave with no ceiling
just dark to the stars
and fog of the evening
the ground wet but not snowy
air temp above freezing
rattling trees with no leaves
now just skeletons of their former selves
creating a haunting feeling
befitting the season
of goblins and spooks
that show up in our heads
where the most threatening reside
not possibly real
ones we make up, instead
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White Flakes
Ladies and gentlemen, let the record state, we have snow. Ready, or not, the white flakes of winter have made their first appearance here. You can hardly see them in the image, but I had to take the picture anyway. It’s the official portrait recording proof of the occasion.
Maybe if you squint a little bit and shake your head back and forth while looking at it.
Not really. I just wanted to see if I could get you to do that.
I came home from work with the full intention of building the last of four slow-feeder hay boxes for the stalls in the barn, for Legacy’s “apartment,” but the weather had degraded early enough that Cyndie moved the herd indoors before I even arrived. He’ll eat his hay out of an open tub for the time being.
I got the night off, which was quite all right with me. I wasn’t that interested in venturing out into the cold and wet blowing mess, preferring instead, to climb under a blanket and take in one of the rented movies that came in the mail.
We had a good laugh over “Life of Crime,” with Mos Def and John Hawkes, among other notable names in the cast. It was a fun distraction from anything that matters, like …the cost increases for medical insurance, or when the chimney repair company will be able to fix it so we can burn fires in the fireplace again.
When the movie was over, we put on outdoor gear that hasn’t been worn for over half a year and went down to the barn to check on the tenants. My headlamp revealed some snow was finding a way to accumulate on the leaves and grass. The horses seemed happy to be out of the elements and a lot closer to dry than they were when they came in, hours before.
I was able to watch the three chestnuts navigating the new hay boxes, while Cyndie worked around them to clean their bedroom floors. It’s nice to see them be able to eat with their heads down, in the natural position of grazing, as opposed to the old system that involved racks that held the hay up high.
I dumped the wheelbarrow of manure and wood shavings, with the thought that this was the beginning of the season where we collect significantly greater volumes to be composted. After just a few loads already this season, the space set aside for this purpose looks like it will never be enough for the whole winter. That is, unless they don’t need to come inside overnight very many times.
I’m thinking El Niño may help keep the horses outside a lot this winter. If that happens, we have plenty of compost space to support our operation for another year.
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It Toppled!
The big rock I stacked upon another last July, on the topped-off pine tree trunk, lasted more than 3 months. It toppled over last weekend.
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I think I heard it, but at the time, mistook the crash for butternuts that loudly fall onto the metal roof of the shop garage. Although, I don’t know what made the big crashing sound when the rock fell, as it landed on soft ground below.
I’m unsure about whether I want to put it back up, or not. I’m going to think about it for a while before doing anything.
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Looking Back
Last week we reached the milestone of the 3rd anniversary of making Wintervale Ranch our home. Lately, Cyndie and I have found ourselves randomly recollecting some of the early days here and marveling over the variety of things that have since changed.
It feels a little —what is it? Presumptuous? Gratuitous?— somehow inappropriate for me to request, but I urge you to sneak a peek at one or two posts from the Relative Something archive (Previous Somethings) for the month of October 2012. There are too many gems depicting our arrival for me to do justice to them by trying to produce links, or re-posting to bring them forward to current posts this week.
Barely a month after we finally closed on the purchase of this place, we adopted the cats, Pequenita and Mozyr. After about a year, we came to the realization that Mozyr was not happy with his situation, and we returned him to the shelter, but Pequenita has proved to be compatible with the random chaos that arises here from time to time.
In July of 2013 we added 10-month-old Belgian Tervuren Shepherd, Delilah, to our family, purchased from a breeder nearby. From that day on we have tended to find ourselves in a battle between her training us and us training her. It’s fair to say there have been a smattering of victories on both sides.
Just short of 3-months after Delilah joined us, in the last week of September in 2013, our horses arrived. That was a monumental occasion for us, and came after an intense effort over the previous 11-months to be appropriately prepared.
We removed rusted barbed wire, installed new fencing, built up protective cover on barn walls (previous owners had miniature horses), buried a water line to an on-demand waterer in their paddock, and built a hay shed, along with a variety of lesser noteworthy projects.
I knew so very little about horses at that time. They have taught me a lot in the ensuing years, and come to mean the world to me. Just standing among them, passing time, has become one of my favorite things to do.
I have built a wood shed, twice. After it blew down in a storm, our friends Barb and Mike Wilkus came by and helped me to put it up a second time. Any time we weren’t working on something else, we were creating the spectacular 70-foot “Rowcliffe Forest Garden Labyrinth.”
Speaking of storms, we have endured a variety of dramatic winter weather events. Two of them particularly stand out for me.
The first one involved 18-inches of heavy wet snow in early May and snapped a lot of tree branches. Two pine trees that tipped over during that storm eventually died, even though I tried standing them back up and staking them.
The second snow storm blew for days and eventually filled the space between the 4-foot banks on either side of the driveway. It took me two days to dig us out, even with the assistance from both of our closest neighbors. What did I learn from that storm? The neighbor to our south told me he had plowed his driveway twice during the storm, so it never got to the extreme that ours did.
Lesson learned.
An awful lot has changed in the last three years. It is hard for me to imagine what might be different, three years from now, but I expect the changes won’t be near as dramatic as what transpired when we first arrived and worked to establish the infrastructure to support having 4 horses and fulfilling a dream of creating our Wintervale Ranch & Retreat Center.
What fun it is to look back once in a while.
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Never Sure
Every time I come upon a view of our horses and find one or more of them lying completely flat on the ground, there is a moment of apprehension. I’ve grown accustomed to the sight of them resting off of their feet, but the number of times when they drop the entire body, including their heads, flat to the ground, are few.
Yesterday, I was turning a pile of composting manure and could see them in the distance in the hay-field. One of the chestnuts was sitting on the ground and the other two were busy grazing. Legacy appeared to be on full-time watch.
They were on a ridge of the hay-field, which is not a spot where I usually find them resting, although it is a place where they have a good perspective to see in all directions, without obstruction. More often, when I find them lying down it will be inside the additional fence that defines the arena, or in a lower spot where they are less visible to passersby.
The next time I looked up from what I was doing, I found the horse that had been on the ground had risen to his or her feet and Legacy was the one lying down, …all the way down. He was so flat, I wondered if he was still alive.
It is jarring when they lay so flat. There would be no difference in position if they were dead.
Being unsure, I watched the scene for a while to get a read from the other horses. When I moved to get in position to take a picture, Dezirea honed in on me and stared. She was definitely on watch duty.
After about 5 minutes, Legacy picked up his head and dispatched my apprehension. He sat upright for a bit before eventually getting back on his feet. He hadn’t napped for very long, but he was all the way out when he did.
Horses really know how to power-nap when conditions allow. Whenever I am fortunate enough to witness it, it brings me joy that our herd demonstrates a feeling of being safe enough to get the sleep they need, even though I go through that initial phase of not being sure about the dramatic scene.
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Well Supervised
When the rain finally moved beyond our location yesterday, I headed out with the intention of spreading the rest of our composted manure.
Since the horses were in their stalls overnight Friday, we now have several wheelbarrows-full of soiled wood shavings to be removed, and need to have the space to dump them.
Cyndie needed to make a run to the drug store, so I took Delilah with me and meandered toward the barn. The piles of compost looked a little wet, so I decided to delay digging into them and turned my attention to the uninvited sprouting trees that show up in the hay-field.
What transpired next is something that I wish could be experienced by everyone who comes to Wintervale to see our horses. Delilah and I entered the paddock through one of the gates, clanking the chain on the metal in the process, which inevitably draws the attention of the herd.
I had no intention of disrupting the herd from whatever was occupying their attention at the time, as I was focused on seeking out the sprouting trees. Delilah and I walked out into the hay-field where I released her to roam and then set about my task.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the horses made their way over, in the process of their grazing. Hunter led the way, eventually becoming the most obvious. It took probably around 15 minutes, maybe more, of me ignoring them while focused on my project, for them to close the distance and make their intention transparent.
They wanted to be with me, to check on what I was doing, to engage with my presence.
It’s an amazing thing to experience. Four horses grazing peacefully, but purposefully in your proximity. Occasionally, one will break from eating and step right up to smell me, share an exchange of breath, and invite me to scratch them.
It is a slow process that happens silently and takes both time, and lack of expectation on my part. That is the primary reason it is so difficult to make happen on demand when visitors stop by. It is a priceless experience.
After I had dispatched all the volunteer sprouts, I turned my attention to spreading the compost. This time I remembered to pause to take pictures of the ATV and tipped trailer ready to go in the field. As soon as I stopped, Legacy stepped up to inspect my activity.
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Horses In
Last night we brought the horses inside the barn overnight for the first time this fall. It was a decision we struggled with a couple times, because the conditions weren’t extreme enough to help make it an obvious choice. In the end, we tried giving the horses equal say in the decision, and their timely arrival and behavior at the door of the barn helped to seal the deal.
When Cyndie came back from turning them out this morning, her report cast some doubt over the satisfaction of at least the elder two horses about being confined all night long, regardless the chilly, blowing precipitation that fell.
Yesterday started with us moving the horses inside to their stalls first thing, before even serving them the morning feed, because they had a date with the veterinarian for their annual fall check up. It is a time when their teeth get filed, if needed, and the geldings receive some assistance with personal hygiene. Both procedures involve a bit of sedation to facilitate cooperation from the patients.
After enough time passed for the horses to recover their full senses, we put them back out in the elements. It wasn’t exactly cold out, but the thick grayness of the October sky and periods of rain and wind were enough to put a chill on Cyndie and me. It sapped most of our motivation to do anything constructive outside and tugged on my eyelids all afternoon, begging for a nap.
When darkness fell, it was 50/50 over bringing the horses indoors overnight, but Cyndie felt it was something the horses would want. We puttered in the barn under lights, to prepare for the possibility, and when the horses hustled up to the doorstep out of the damp darkness, we brought ’em in.
At dawn this morning, Cyndie found the two younger chestnuts, Hunter and Cayenne, happy as could be. Legacy and Dezirea were another story.
The elder two showed every sign of wanting to be back outdoors immediately. Cyndie said that Dezirea almost ran her over in her haste to be out of that stall. No surprise though, as it sounded as if she had made a complete mess of her space.
The weather this morning isn’t any more inviting than yesterday was, but the forecast offers hope, and at least the temperature is well above the freezing point at the start.
We’ll be spending some extra time doing barn stall cleaning today, and I (and a couple of horses) will be gladly looking forward to having them stay outdoors overnight again, and hopefully for a long spell before the next dose of cold overnight rain.
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Dream On
I recently had one of those dreams where I awoke with the feeling that it had actually happened. When you dream about someone you know, do you find yourself inclined to tell them about it?
“You were in my dream!”
I struggle with that urge. I usually want to tell the person. It was so real!
But they weren’t involved. It was my mind conjuring a depiction of them. I could just as well imagine a scene with another person while I am wide awake, and then go tell them the details. Seems rather creepy when considered like that.
At the same time, we are all connected. When we think of others, we can strengthen connections with them. Spending time with someone in our dreams creates a strong feeling of connection, but I figure it probably is a lopsided one.
When I experience a dream connection with someone, it ends up commanding my attention for a long time. When I am able to recall the details of a dream that involved a perception of a person I know, it will seem no different to me from memories I have acquired about experiences while awake.
It is not surprising to hear someone questioning themselves over whether they are remembering an actual event or something they dreamed. People have even come up with the generally accepted and universally understood phenomenon of pinching, to establish whether an experience is a dream, or not.
At this point in my life, I don’t usually want to know.
Why spoil the unlimited possibilities of a dream state by checking for reality?
Dream on, I say.
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Kicking Cats
If you own a cat, and you walk around, you probably already know about this phenomenon. I don’t like doing it, and I don’t do it intentionally, but I kick our cat, Pequenita. Seriously.
Just two days ago, she stealthily slipped between my stride as I headed down the hallway from the bedroom and I caught her like football. I think she even let out a grunt as her body lurched sideways, but that may just have been an echo of the sound coming from me in a burst of surprise and remorse.
Much as I wish to avoid the unpleasantness of booting our favorite feline, her stupendous cat-like movements exceed my ability to track her location. In the time it takes me to move my gaze from where she was behind me, to where I intend to walk, she can easily (and frequently does) overtake me, so that I find her already present in the bathroom when I arrive.
She was behind me, and then in a split second, completely undetected, she is around the corner ahead of me. If that were always the case, it wouldn’t really be a problem. However, for some strange reason, she occasionally chooses to not race all the way ahead, and instead elects a pace closer to mine, with a route that crosses my path.
I am inclined to envision it as her playing a daredevil game to see how close she can come to the threat of impact —giving her the benefit of the doubt that she is oblivious to the risk of tripping me she poses in so doing. She would never choose to put me in danger while seeking her thrills.
Except maybe the times when she lets her claws inadvertently meet my flesh during her frenzied escapades of pretending to defend herself from imagined enemies, foreign and domestic.
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Relative Something 