Archive for May 2016
No Fish
One of the things that seems so sad about the failure of our 3rd transplanted maple tree in the labyrinth is how many hundreds of volunteer maples are sprouting in unwanted locations around our house and yard. A less stubborn (and probably smarter) person would likely make the obvious choice of moving one of these hearty little yearlings to the center of the garden, but not me.
I have been bound and determined to get a head start on a future giant center piece for our labyrinth by planting a tree taller than me with an already good-looking crown of leaves. When Cyndie suggested buying a tree with an established root-ball, I countered that I preferred one from our property, and each time my attempt fails, I am going to pick an even taller one next, to make up for lost progress.
If necessary, in a few years I will hire a truck with a giant conical tree spade to dig up a 10-year-old beauty, I’ll dismantle rock paths to make room for it to back into the center of the garden, and they can plop down a transplant that won’t dare fail.
I’m finding that it might be easier to replace rocks for the labyrinth path than get a tree to survive being transplanted to the middle.
A few days ago, a person who shall remain nameless, to protect their anonymity, dropped off a small fish for our landscape pond. Cyndie learned about it after dark, and went out with a flashlight to check. Yep, she confirmed, there was a fish swimming in our pond.
That’s the last time the fish was seen. I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn it didn’t adjust to the move, if we had found it floating days later. I never suspected it wouldn’t survive the first night and would disappear without a trace. Did a predator —probably raccoon— really find and dispatch it that swiftly?
Maybe it is just hiding really well, like the hidden growth of roots on the transplanted tree. Maybe the tree isn’t actually dead. It might just be taking a year off to develop roots, instead of sprouting leaves.
On Monday, I went to see a home game of the MLB Twins at Target Field with Rich, Jill, and Bob. It’s not a good sign that my only photo taken that night was of the giant display screen blazing the weather radar as the PA voice announced the game was being postponed.
I’m experiencing a trend. No tree, no fish, no baseball.
One of these tomorrows, I sure hope that sun comes out, and soon!
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Makin’ Chips
One chore I did make good progress on over the weekend was grinding piles of branches into wood chips for our trails and garden.
I had hoped to have Cyndie around to help, but she was tied up with a project in the house while I was at this, so I was on my own. Turned out, she had already done such a great job of preparing the pile of branches, it was easy-peasy feeding the chipper.
It was as if she was helping, just from a different time. We have gotten good at selecting the maximum sized branches, and she did a masterful job of snapping limbs to eliminate wide “Y”s that won’t fit through the feeder.
This chipper was the best decision for us. It is an efficient way to dispose of the endless supply of branches that litter the woods and it produces a product that we have unending use for as a covering for the trails.
I love the results!
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Reconciling Melancholy
Every day isn’t always rainbows and unicorns. Sometimes transplanted trees don’t survive and balanced rocks fall. In and of themselves, individual issues are not really that big of a deal. What I noticed over the weekend was that the little things have a mysterious power to lurk below the surface and weigh down the ambiance of an otherwise wonderful series of days.
Fortunately, I have access to an incredible antidote in the form of some fine animals in a very special setting. Photos by Cyndie.
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After a short span of time, the rocks that I used the tractor to lift into place on the tall tree stump, have already fallen. Since it happened so quickly this time, I have decided not to try again. I was thinking I could cut the stump to a lower height, where I would be able to reach without needing the tractor, and then select some rocks that aren’t too heavy for me to lift. But then I remembered that we have another bird house that was given to us, and that could be a great spot for it.
It was probably a bird that landed on, and tipped, the balanced rocks anyway. What do you figure?
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Hi, Mom
It’s a tough thing to lose a parent, but my mom lived a long, full life. She was ready to go when her time came, and I was ready for her to go. It’s been many years since I’ve been able to spend time with her on Mother’s Day, and as each additional year passes, instead of getting easier, I find I miss her more and more.
Here’s to my mom.
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Then Smoke
The newest invader is smoke in the air from Canadian forest fires. Well, not just forests. I’ve been fixated lately on what it is like up at Fort McMurray, where fire is raging through the population center and destroying so many homes.
This morning, our sky is a milky gray and the sun rose as a deep orange orb over the horizon. I suppose the impression of smoke might be intensified by the fact we sat around a fire last night at George’s. When stepping in the house after being outside, it quickly becomes apparent how much our clothes absorbed the smoky aroma.
I love the smell, to a point. This is definitely one of the situations where a little is good, but more is not necessarily better. I know it is bad for our air quality, but I love the distant smell of burning wood. However, when it blows directly in my face, it becomes a bitter irritant.
I shudder to contemplate the ramifications of not just one house burning in a fire, but every house around. Yesterday in the news feeds, I came across James O’Reilly’s security camera video of the moment their house was consumed by the blaze. They had gotten out just 20 minutes earlier.
A woman named Jennifer Knuth is trying to maintain a sense of humor amid the devastation and posted the crazy things that made it into her suitcase in the last-minute desperate packing to flee.
In this time of crisis when we have lost almost our entire city and packed our whole lives into a car or a suitcase we need laughter. I urge each and every one of you, as you unpack wherever you are, to post a picture of the funniest thing you packed while fleeing for your lives. I shall go first … Cheese slices and snow pants!!!!! God bless Fort McMurray.
There are descriptions of the ways people are evacuating, including, by horse. That certainly caught my eye. It doesn’t look like the populated area was one where there were many horses being kept, but if this kind of fire happens here, we won’t be able to do anything but open the gates and let our horses flee on their own, if it is a matter of minutes to get away.
I wonder where I would go if everything is burning. I guess up to Cyndie’s family lake place, but that is just for the water. If it is extremely hot, dry, windy, and burning, there is every likelihood that the forests up there will be blazing, too.
The planet is going to become increasingly challenging to live on with the climate shifting the way it is. My preference would have been to live during a period when it is getting colder, instead.
One way to divert my attention from the heat and flames is to read up on the latest prognostications about the San Andreas fault. Seems like the kind of thing Hollywood makes movies about, and movies are all about distraction for entertainment, aren’t they?
I’m hoping for some rain here soon, before we get too dry.
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Microscopic Invaders
It’s like an itch that needs to be scratched, but you know that if you do, it will only make it itch even more. So you ignore it, most of the time. But sometimes, you just need to give in and scratch, with gusto, even when you know there is a risk you might scratch a bit too vigorously and damage the skin.
Somehow, that makes you think of your eyes, and how much they really sting. Doesn’t matter if it’s from being tired, or a reaction to all the pollen filling the air, they feel the same either way.
It’s alien invaders, so small we can’t even see. Whether it’s a fungus growing on our flesh, or an allergen floating into our nose, little things we cannot detect make a big impact on our comfort.
Meanwhile, everyday we face a risk of contracting a tick-born disease from a little troublemaker the size of the period at the end of this sentence. It can get to be daunting.
And the thing about the stinging eyes, …that can really mess with trying to write blog posts. Especially when you are sleep deprived.
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Nascent Blossom
It looks like we have some mixed success with our transplanting of last year. The maple sapling we hoped would be our 3rd-time’s-a-charm in the center of the labyrinth is not showing signs of life. For comparison, I check the trees of similar size back in the area from which we moved him, to see progress of buds and leaves. They already have a lot of buds.
Sad.
The good news is with our trillium. I’m not sure we have 100% success, but any is better than none, and we definitely have a couple groups of blossoms.
It’s a long way from the carpet of flowers we get in the woods up at the lake place, but it’s a great start! The next excitement to celebrate will be the day we see them spreading naturally and bringing up new shoots nearby. That’s what we are hoping for anyway.
Since we have success transplanting small plants, I am tempted to just transplant a little seedling of a maple tree to the labyrinth to increase my odds of success. If I would have done that a few years ago, we’d probably now have one about the size of what I keep trying to move.
It is just so tempting to see a nice crown of leaves overhead in that spot. I’ll probably try again next fall. First, we’ll find one that looks like a good candidate when it is fully leafed out this summer, and we’ll mark it. Then when it drops its leaves and goes dormant, we’ll dig it up and move it.
Hoping the 4th time will be the charm.
Place your bets on which we will achieve first: a naturally spreading carpet of trillium blossoms in our woods, or a surviving transplanted maple tree in the labyrinth garden.
I’m going to keep trying to accomplish both. Practice makes perfect.
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Making Changes
On Sunday, in our 4th spring on this property, I took on the annual re-installation of the pump and filter in our landscape pond. For the first time in all those years, I went so far as to re-engineer the tubing that had been left by the previous owners, which is what I had used all the other times. Even though I knew little about it, I always felt there was room for improvement.
Initially, the pond was just one more thing on top of a multitude of issues with which I had little experience. Slowly, year by year, I began to gain confidence as I grew more familiar with the minutia of tending to our animals, acres, machines, and nature.
For the past 3 years, I simply connected a pump to the existing hose and filter and turned it on. The year we moved in, I left the filter sit, with water still in it, all winter long, not even knowing what it really was. The second year, I opened it up and figured out the charcoal media deserved to be replaced.
Sunday, I was smart enough to pull the filter out of the garage where it had been stored all winter —clean and dry— and assembled it on level ground, before connecting to the hoses below the pond and filling it with water. Got it sealed on the first try, which never happened any of the other years of putting it together inline.
Setting Stones
With the extra tubing removed, I wanted to rearrange the rocks on the back side of the pond to accommodate a shorter route from pump to waterfall, and then cover it from view. There is an aspect of this creating that goes against my natural inclination to leave things the way they are.
To build up the rocks enough to cover my latest setup, I needed to go find them from other locations, and something about doing that feels to me like breaking eggs to make an omelet. I initially found myself hesitant about removing rocks from existing locations and leaving holes in the stony landscape bordering our house.
However, after 4 years, I am getting better at seeing how quickly the landscape scenery adapts to our alterations. It will only seem like a hole for a short while. I might know it, but others walking past probably won’t notice the difference.
I’m about halfway done toward achieving what I hope to create. The plumbing appears to be all in working order, so that just leaves a few more stones to turn before I’ll be ready to cross this off the project list.
Not that the list will notice the difference of having one less thing on it.
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Teaching Manners
This weekend I was blessed to witness a brief moment of unmistakable horse-communication between three members of our herd, and Hunter had me laughing out loud. If ever there was an occasion to read human intent on animal behavior, this seemed spot-on.
We have a pile of manure in the paddock, leftover from winter, that is a few feet from the fence. Even though it creates a constricted space, the horses rarely let that interfere in their direction of travel. When I turned my attention to the horses, Hunter was intently straining to reach grass under the fence as far as his contorted neck would allow.
Suddenly, Legacy decided to pull rank and move in on that same spot. Hunter obediently walked away on command, but as I watched, he circled around the pile of manure and paused to review the situation. It seemed as though he made a decision to press on the boundaries of herd leadership, …or maybe he just really wanted back on that grass under the fence. Hunter walked around Legacy and began grazing just uphill from him, about a foot away from the spot which moments ago had been his.
Legacy didn’t get ruffled by this apparent challenge. He simply made a clear gesture that he was claiming the whole area, and Hunter needed to go, again. The youngster’s reaction seemed pretty obvious to me. Hunter obliged and stepped away, but this time he lifted his tail and let loose with a perfectly orchestrated reverberating fart toward Legacy while leaving.
Even though I laughed at how perfectly it seemed to communicate how he probably felt about the situation, I assumed it could have been a coincidental occurrence, until I saw what Cayenne did in response.
She immediately came from the far side, stepping between that pile and Legacy so she could get on Hunter’s flank, using her energy to push him away, and not just a little bit. She stayed on him for an extended time, keeping him moving well beyond where he would have chosen to stop. I was struck by her persistence. In fact, Hunter finally had to lift his leg in a gesture of preparing to kick, in order to get her to finally back off.
It was all quite a show for me. Cyndie said it is the mares who teach foals and geldings manners and appropriate behavior. I got the impression she was saving Hunter from unknowingly picking a fight with the leader over something that wasn’t worthy. It was as if she saw the pointed flatulence as so disrespectful that she needed to convey he wouldn’t want to receive what the gesture might invite.
Each individual act I witnessed was interesting, but in concert, it was fascinating and thoroughly entertaining display of the equine educational system in action.
And who knew they could use their flatulence with such obvious intent?
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Relative Something 