Archive for September 2017
It’s Curious
For as much of my life as is now committed to caring for our property and animals, I find it curious that I can still have a series of days with very little contact to them. Yesterday, in celebration of our anniversary, we went out to dinner in Hudson after I got home from work.
When we returned after dark, I dropped Cyndie off at the barn so she could make her way to the chicken coop to close their access door for the night. I parked the car in the garage and headed inside to start my evening routine.
Tonight, I will be meeting the family at a restaurant in downtown Minneapolis to celebrate Julian’s birthday. This will lead to another night of arriving home after dark, not even seeing either the horses or chickens.
During my work weeks, it can happen that I’m completely disconnected from the activities of our ranch for a few days. It’s a little disorienting for me.
Especially since the most orienting thing of all for me is when I am able to spend time with our animals.
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Let’s See
Let’s see that again. One of the conveniences of keeping a daily journal in the form of a blog is the ability to easily review what has come before. Last night I reviewed my posts for September 19th going back 8 years. I tend to pull out the same few pictures for the occasion every year.
Happy Anniversary, Cyndie!
As well, today we celebrate the birth of our son, Julian! HAPPY BIRTHDAY my son! You are truly a pride and joy for us to behold. May you have a special day and fabulous year ahead.
Remember these?
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September 19th is a very special occasion for us. Huzzah!
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Can’t Help
Despite a near-lifetime of harassing Cyndie for her penchant to state the obvious, I can’t help myself from occasionally doing the same thing. Isn’t that the way it goes? All too often, it is the very reason we nag about behaviors of others. We’re unconsciously revealing issues of our own.
But that’s beside the point.
For some reason, I can’t hold back today from gushing over how gloriously gorgeous the weather was for us yesterday. Obviously, all things being relative, it came across as more over-the-top than ever by comparison to the previous few days of: higher than normal dew point temperatures, unseasonably warm air temperatures, and at the end of Saturday, some heavy rain showers.
Yesterday was beautifully sunny, the air was freshly scrubbed, and the temperature was comfort, perfected. The icing on that cake was the continuing colorization of the turning leaves that amps up the brilliance of a September day.
A day like yesterday is exactly why Cyndie and I picked this month to be married. In fact, it will be 36 years ago tomorrow.
I recall from back then, not being able to help myself from wanting to spend the rest of my life with her –despite all the things about myself that she would reflect over the years, for my ultimate edification.
Much to my good fortune.
I am such a lucky guy. …Oh, there I go, stating the obvious, again.
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Many Hands
From the moment we arranged the two boulders in the center location of what was to become the Rowcliffe Forest Garden Labyrinth, I envisioned a third stone resting upon them. The first challenge to fulfilling that vision was finding the right stone.
It needed to be the right shape and size, which I knew would mean the perfect stone would be too heavy for me to lift.
My quest for the specific stone was complicated by the fact that, without significant disruption, I couldn’t use trial and error to decide. Dealing with a such a heavy stone would mean the first one placed in that spot would likely be the only one placed in that spot.
Over the years, I experimented with light-weight objects to assist my eye for identifying what size and shape of rock I was looking for. Perfection proved to be hard to come by among the rock piles around our property, but last year I finally found one that had good potential.
It was buried in the woods, located conveniently close to the labyrinth. Using a small piece of woven fence panel and a strap, I created a sling to move it. Then I enlisted Cyndie –back when she still had two strong shoulders– to see if two people could do it.
It worked, enough to prove the concept, anyway. We stopped after getting it to the edge of the trail. There it sat for most of the year, because I wasn’t sure how to safely get it lifted high enough to position it atop the two boulders.
Yesterday, I realized we had the many hands of adventurous strong guys available to make the work light.
It’s a whole ‘nother story that we hosted a gathering at Wintervale with the families of Cyndie’s late aunt, Joan Brolin, to celebrate Christmas in September. That tale will likely get told in coming days.
I hadn’t thought about it in advance, but conversation somehow led to the topic of my wanting to figure out how to lift the heavy stone and place it. Cyndie’s brother, Steve, shared a video about a man who could move heavy objects by himself, using simple aids.
Cyndie’s cousin, Tom, thought we had enough hands and wanted to check it out. I grabbed a tape measure for one last confirmation that this stone would be the right size for what I was hoping to accomplish.
With little in the way of complications, five of us were able to move it, lift it high enough, roll it into place, and then rock it into a position that was stable.
It was an extremely satisfying triumphant moment for me.
Thank you to Cyndie’s brothers, Ben and Steve, and cousins Tom and Mike for helping fulfill my dream. And thank you to my daughter, Elysa, for capturing the event on my phone.
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The Celebration
It is tricky to keep a surprise from someone who is the center of planning family events, but to my utter amazement, Cyndie’s family pulled off a gala celebration last night without Marie knowing about it. I gotta say, that is a load off a lot of people’s minds. Especially to those of us not prone to telling lies. For months.
Cyndie’s parents were supposedly going out to dinner with three other couples, but were going to stop by the McNamara Alumni Center at the University of Minnesota to see a new display honoring one of the friends. Cyndie and her brothers, and brother-in-law Carlos had decorated the place for a world-class event.
Spread across three rooms, there was space to stand and chat, sit and eat, or dance to live music. Even if Marie had an inkling of something afoot, she had no clue how many friends she was going to be honored by this night.
That’s the kind of thing that brings sweet emotional tears of joy.
After that –and a lot of greetings and brief program to recognize 80 years– comes the dancing.
Till the night is no longer young.
If I can be so bold as to speak for Marie, I’ll say, it was a very happy birthday.
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Other Mother
When I married Cyndie, I officially gained my other mother, Marie. At the time, I had no idea what that was going to be like, but my sense was that it would be good. For the prior seven years when Cyndie and I were dating, I had enjoyed time with her family almost as much as with her alone.
Now, thirty-six years later, I can report that my mother-in-law experience has been infinitely better than I could possibly have imagined.
Cyndie’s mother, Marie, is celebrating a milestone birthday today. This morning we are gathering for breakfast at a restaurant to honor the occasion. This is particularly fitting, because family breakfasts under Marie’s skillful direction have been a priceless treat over the years.
If anyone ever happened to express a preference for something, maybe commenting about how they like their eggs prepared, Marie would notice and remember, serving up a perfect variety of versions every year after to assure everyone always gets what they want.
Marie’s balance of being exceptionally adventurous while also nurturing an organized routine of most activities have added depth, and provided stability, to my life as an in-law. We share enough traits to be in sync often, and clash only rarely.
Probably best of all for me, Marie has a keen sense of humor. She is ever so gracious in allowing herself be the target of jabs, while also being wily enough to play along with ever-present silliness and get in a few of her own pokes along the way.
It’s considered bad manners to reveal a lady’s age, so I will avoid blurting it out in public, but let’s just say it’s a good round number that just might have an 8 in it.
Happy Birthday, my other mom. You are terrific!
Keep up the good work.
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Adding Bales
We made a run to our favorite hay supplier after I got home from work yesterday in the high heat of the day.
Our little truck fits 41 small squares per trip, which isn’t much, but turns out to be a good quantity for ease of loading and unloading.
We recently discovered that the bottom bales that we place on pallets in the shed are getting moldy from moisture that comes up from the ground. Since we still have a batch of old bales that the horses don’t like and that were bleached dry by the sun, we decided to use those for a base layer on the pallets for now.
I did an accounting of inventory and discovered we don’t have as many on hand as I assumed, which I guess is what happens when you only buy them in small pickup loads per time.
Somehow, the horses keep eating, so that ongoing issue of the constant drain on inventory needs to be considered, too.
No matter how many bales we have, it always feels rewarding to finish the task of putting up new bales in storage.
Especially when the old truck survives another load without any problems. That poor beast has its best days behind it now. The rust is making inroads on multiple fronts, which always has us wondering what piece might fall off next.
Now it’s not just bales I worry about losing each trip on the way home.
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My Choice
The other day I picked up a pitchfork and worked up a sweat stirring compost. It was late afternoon and I was already tired from a full day of chores, so my energy was waning. My arms sent a notice of complaint to my brain.
“Tired. Don’t feel like working anymore.”
It occurred to me that, despite a prevailing mindset to use machines to do all our exhausting tasks, I prefer the precise control I can achieve with hand tools. I’m not as fast as a machine, and I tire easily, but I get more satisfaction.
In my head, I imagined someone interrupting my effort to suggest I use the bucket on the tractor, because I was huffing and puffing, straining at the effort, and breaking a good sweat.
I actually like the exercise, despite my body complaining that it is tired.
How hard is it to convince yourself to get up early and go to the gym for a healthy workout? The body would rather remain at rest, for sure. But to be physically fit, we have to push ourselves out of that resting comfort zone.
Next, I imagined myself at the gym, huffing and puffing at the effort to work my arms, lifting weight. Would someone suggest that there is a machine to do that for me, so I don’t have to work so hard?
I choose my pitchfork.
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Long Goodbye
We are thoroughly enjoying what is turning out to be a superb stretch of end-of-summer weather this week. It makes me realize how many times earlier in the season we were subject to rainy days that interfered with our plans. Summer is showing us some mercy and executing a precious long goodbye with warm sunshine bathing the leaves that are transitioning to their brilliant fall colors.
Now if we only had some big plans scheduled for these gorgeous days. Instead, our next event is happening this coming Saturday, when the forecast changes from all sunshine to chances of rain. Timing is everything.
In the mean time, we are soaking up the beauty and relishing the picture-perfect summery-ness of these waning days.
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Doesn’t this just make you want to sit a spell?
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Preferred Space
Watching how our three surviving chickens explore the world beneath the horses, it surprises me they have yet to be squished beneath a hoof. For as much as our horses have taken a liking to the space beneath the overhang of the barn, the chickens seem to like it even more.
Maybe it is because the chickens are so darn social, preferring to be hang out wherever there is the most company. Luckily, the horses showed no animosity toward the new inhabitants, accepting their presence without complaint.
We’ve chosen not to fight their interest. In fact, we’ve added some amenities to accommodate them. To keep them from poaching pellets from the feed the horses get twice a day, we set out a pan of their own feed to hold their attention.
Since they have food, Cyndie decided to set out some water, too.
With plenty of sand to bathe in, and a roof to protect from rain or sun, the chickens have all the makings of a great hangout spot.
I don’t blame them a bit. Hanging out with the horses has become one of my favorite places to be, too.
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Relative Something 