Archive for January 2017
A Glimmer
I stumbled upon the television broadcast of the Golden Globe Awards show on Sunday night. Finally, I experienced a glimmer of hope that has been missing for me. My heart swelled when Meryl Streep publicly expressed some of the same sentiments I share about the prospect of our country having a President who displays boorish and bullying behavior.
I know there are a lot of people who feel these same concerns, but I just haven’t been seeing the type of response Meryl provided: non-political, public, to a large live audience, and well thought out and articulated. A moment to point out the king has no clothes.
The tweeted response —in itself, a very un-Presidential behavior— was as juvenile as usual, saying Meryl is “one of the most over-rated actresses in Hollywood…”
Really?
There are other voices expressing their views of the pending commander-in-chief, like this reference that I saw in Monday’s StarTribune Opinion page commentary:
“But there is no chance that Donald Trump can or will ever represent and nurture our best values, behavior, aspirations and ideals.
It’s an irony, for sure, that Obama — a man of discipline, dignity and intellect — will yield the office to Trump — a man of impulse, vulgarity and demagoguery.”
Dick Meyer Scripps Washington Bureau (TNS)
Reading an opinion piece in the paper doesn’t provide the same rallying hope as witnessing a public message delivered live to a wide audience.
I don’t expect any of this to alter the outcome of having the current President-elect assume the duties of leading the United States of America. His mysterious agenda will play out whether or not the universal public opinion of him suddenly becomes fully aware of who he really is.
What is his weird (scary) love for Russia and Putin all about, anyway?
Didn’t we discover who he really was when we got to hear him disparaging women? When we witnessed him bullying interviewers and other candidates? When we heard him boasting about any and every topic that he was the best, or loved (fill in the blank) more than anyone, whenever he was challenged?
Meryl explains things clearly:
“It kind of broke my heart when I saw it, and I can’t get it out of my head, because it wasn’t in a movie. It was real life. And this instinct, to humiliate, when it’s modeled by someone in the public platform, by someone powerful, it filters down into everybody’s life, because it kind of gives permission for other people to do the same thing.
Disrespect invites disrespect. Violence incites violence. When the powerful use their position to bully others, we all lose.“
No wonder I have been suffering from a losing feeling lately. The bully is using his powerful position, and we all are paying for it. Disrespect invites disrespect. That’s a chain I would gladly break.
It’s a shame that the chain of disrespect will be starting all the way from the top now.
I hope I can find more occasions with public expressions of views like Meryl shared Sunday night. More than ever, we need to sow seeds of hope and love from the bottom up, to fracture any chains of bullying disrespect coming down from the highest position in this country.
Amen.
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Dog Days
It might be the dead of winter, with sub-zero wind-chills, but I am enjoying some dog days lately while filling in for Cyndie on dog walking duties. Delilah has slowly adapted to my increased role, showing signs of gaining renewed respect for my authority, and choosing my company when she’s longing to play.
This means a lot to me, occurring soon after we intensified an effort to re-establish alpha status over her in our pack after she stole my dinner off the counter. She has responded well for the most part, and then not as well between some of those moments.
I have noticed her occasionally becoming obsessed with the flavor of our covered waste basket in the kitchen. When not that, we might find her licking the hand towels hanging on the handle of the oven door.
I think it is her way of recalibrating that uncontrollable urge which led to her making it all the way up to the counter where she could reach my dinner off the plate. She now aims a little lower.
Of course, I would have it that she respect our kitchen so much that the most she would dare do is assure there are no specks of food remaining on the floor, and only doing so after all human activity in the kitchen has been completed.
A guy can dream.
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Slow Feeding
After serving up pans of feed to our four horses, I make sure their slow feeder hay boxes are topped off and ready for the long and cold winter night. They emphatically chomp down the small dose of nutrition provided in the pellets and then move directly to the hay to fuel their internal furnaces against the sub-zero chill.
Last night the evening was so serene I paused with them and recorded the scene.
The slow feeders are a great success for us. Especially when we fill them with hay the horses like.
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Improving Outlook
It is said that one way to a person’s heart is through their stomach. I won’t deny being an easily satisfied eater. Ply me with delectable delights and I will instantly offer my allegiance. Cyndie and George hatched a plan to assuage my recent exhaustion and woe with a promise of homemade pizza and some massage.
Who wouldn’t begin to feel more hopeful at offerings like that?
I decided to take some of my own advice, choosing to turn off the sad news flowing constantly out of my car radio and replacing it with my personal library of long-cherished music for the drive home from the day-job yesterday. It was bad enough that I had to commute to the day-job on my usual extra day on the ranch. I didn’t need the added downer of endless news-feed distress.
I stepped in the door from walking the dog and tending to the horses to find George’s smiling face in the kitchen. He was working dough and creating scrumptious food art that looked as good as it smelled. And trust me, it ultimately tasted even better than it’s aroma implied.
As if that wasn’t enough to loosen my strings, Cyndie had a fire glowing in the fireplace and offered up the opportunity to have my stress headache massaged away.
Yeah, those knotted muscles in my back and shoulders were real. Real crunchy.
Right up until they weren’t.
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And as quickly as that, the ache in my head wasn’t so noticeable, either. Now that’s my kind of medication for what ails you. Turn off the news, put on good music, get massaged, and eat a special meal prepared by hand with loving care. No pills or alcohol required.
I’m feeling some hope that these steps of intervention have me well placed to carry on a search for that hope I lost somewhere along the way in November.
Cyndie is gaining strength and ability every day in her journey of healing and rehabilitation, post knee replacement surgery. I am beginning to believe once again that she will someday be able to help care for the horses and walk Delilah, which would lighten my load considerably at a time when the demands of the day-job appear to be intensifying significantly.
If I am unable to find hope in anything else at this time, I am at the very least relieved to have found hope in this improving outlook.
Here’s to the prospect of a lighter load.
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Lost Hope
I have discovered how important hope can be on the journey to optimal health. It occurred to me the other day that I have lost hope.
I’m sure it is still there, I just can’t find it right now.
Having an unfortunate first-hand experience with depression allows me to recognize how it is possible to live without hope. It is not a healthy place to live. On my journey to good health, I have learned that it is not in my best interest to reside in that space. I am regretfully comfortable in that place, maybe from having too many years of practice in existing that way, but I cannot afford to accommodate that outcome.
I will do some digging to find my hope again. It is a requirement.
Of that, I am acutely aware.
We cannot live on love alone. That is another thing I have come to realize.
I’m going to love finding my hope again.
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Special Friendship
We are richly blessed this year to have two very precious people sharing our homestead while they are in the process of relocating to Minnesota where they will be closer to family. Our combined situations have aligned such that George and Anneliese are helping us out immensely while we are giving them a temporary home-base for their varied activities.
Since Cyndie’s knee replacement surgery on the last day of November, they have been a key support in allowing me to maintain my early work shift by covering morning chores in caring for our animals. They have also been instrumental in filling in with meal preparations, grocery shopping, and kitchen management.
It has been my saving grace.
Last night, Anneliese surveyed a few recipes and whipped out a spectacular dinner of barbecue ribs, sweet potato fries, spicy beans, pineapple slices and salad. It was a taste of summer on one of the colder nights of the year that warmed our hearts as much as it filled our stomachs and thrilled our taste buds.
We hit the jackpot once again, on the lottery of precious friends. Their companionship during this period of sharing living space together has been so rewarding that we find ourselves longing for them to return whenever we are home alone for too long.
There is a saying that you can pick your friends, but you can’t pick your family. Well, we seem to keep getting around that by finding friends that very quickly become members of our family.
Thank you, George and Anneliese for taking such good care of us while we are taking care of you!
Isn’t that just the way things should always go?
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Critter Tracks
Monday night we received barely a half-inch of sticky snow, after which the temperature dropped steadily throughout the day yesterday. When I got home from work and took Delilah out for a walk before feeding the horses, there was a very clear display of fresh tracks in the snow that obviously had been created within the roughly 16 hours prior.
The vast majority happened to be easily identifiable as rabbits. I was actually surprised by the significant volume of activity attributable to the little rascals. What do they eat in the winter? Whatever it is, we must have a lot of it and they must be thriving this year.
I was about to declare rabbits as the only animals moving around yesterday until we reached about three-quarters of our travel to the barn and came upon some tracks from much smaller feet. I’m thinking they were probably squirrels or chipmunks.
Then we came upon some wonderful artistry from a little mouse or mole that was splitting time between treading lightly on top of the crust and burrowing some vivid designs through the snow.
I wonder what he was trying to spell out.
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As we turned the corner around the back pasture on our route to the barn, I noticed how the sky revealed the departing weather system that had delivered the small amount of precipitation we received. Behind it are the clear skies that make way for our descent into very cold temperatures.
The next few days will involve single-digit highs and below zero lows.
It’s a little bit like what January is supposed to feel like around these parts.
I may have to start wearing a coat again.
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Hay Preference
As if I needed any additional evidence, our horses have reaffirmed my suspicion about their dissatisfaction with one of our hay sources. Unfortunately, it happens to be from the supplier closest to home. So close, in fact, I was able to just hook up to one of his hay wagons and pull it down the road at 25 MPH to our driveway. It’s not just the miles, it’s a huge advantage of not needing to toss and stack hundreds of bales an extra time.
The other suppliers we used last summer required us to acquire a trailer and involved the stacking and strapping down of bales for much longer trips.
Exhibit A:
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On the left, you can see what is left of the bale they like. This is a typical morning result. Pretty much nothing but dust left on the bottom of the box.
On the right, they have picked at it and pulled out what they could grab, then distributed it on the ground or nosed it out of the way on top of the grate in search of the possibility there will be something better deeper in the box.
I took those pictures yesterday morning. After returning from the lake, I got fooled about which bale was which in the barn, because our house-sitter had been so thorough as to replace bales I had set out for her. Turns out she replaced them with ones from the side of the hay shed I hadn’t been using.
When I initially loaded the boxes, I didn’t realize I had used the unpopular bales. Sunday night, I purposefully filled the one on the left with a bale I knew they liked, with a plot to see if results might be any different from the last time I tried mixing the bales.
I would say they have very consistently demonstrated their opinions about the bales from our closest supplier. This was the first time we purchased hay from him, and we have no knowledge of what it might be about his hay that our horses don’t like. The grass looks really good to us, with very little in the way of weeds. They don’t smell suspicious to us, but the horses have showed me multiple times that they can sense it in an instant with one whiff.
Could he have used a chemical fertilizer or pesticide that they don’t like? We will ponder how to best inquire about specifics when we next have an opportunity to visit with our neighbor regarding his hay.
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Rain Results
We are back home on the ranch and I am walking Delilah across the slippery, crusty snow on our trails again. It is interesting to see how the water from the rain on Christmas day continued to flow beneath the snow on a journey to lower terrain. There was enough pressure behind the draining water to push it up over places where water before it had reached open air and froze, thus creating slippery mounds of ice across trails in several places.
It appears that the majority of the rain water that pooled up in our drainage swale and the lower areas of our back pasture and front hay-field has frozen in place.
Looks like I could create a little skating rink of my own right here at home.
While the trails in the woods have now frozen pretty solid, there are many spots where it is easy to see the remaining evidence of the layer of water that was underneath the snow.
My foot prints from tromping through the mess last week are now frozen proof.
It’s going to take a significant snowfall to fill the hollows of my boot prints and cover the slippery hard packed pathways left behind after that unseasonal Christmas thunderstorm.
Unfortunately, that kind of weather event isn’t showing up as likely in the weather forecast for the week ahead. That means the footing will remain treacherous for walking the dog.
Maybe I should look into a sled I could sit on so she can pull me around on her walks. It would be a good distraction for her to have a purpose other than sniffing every molecule of evidence left by critters who have shared the trails with her in the recent past.
It is pretty obvious by her behaviors that there are many of them and they are leaving their scent on branches as well as in the tracks they leave behind.
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Relative Something 