Archive for March 2021
Wild Commute
Yesterday afternoon I drove home through some crazy March Minnesota weather and lived to tell about it. The weather was pretty amazing but the highest threat to my well-being was a crazy driver who raced through heavy traffic at break-neck speed, weaving through four lanes of almost bumper to bumper cars and trucks, narrowly accommodated by all the other drivers who somehow braked in the nick of time to avoid catastrophe.
I can only hope the person putting everyone else in danger was facing an utmost emergency that necessitated the scary choice of behavior.
Beyond that incident, the rest of the wild drive was all weather-related. It started calmly enough with occasional random sprinkles of rain and just enough road-spray from traffic to keep my windshield messy. I hadn’t even made it halfway when brake lights started lighting up as rain started to fall with intensity. There was a flash of lightning.
In a blink, the sky became eerily dark as the heavy downpour brought visibility down to a vague glimpse of the taillights of the car in front of me.
As quick as it started, the rain stopped. The dark sky evolved to a dreary grey. In a few more miles the world took on a strange orange glow as somewhere high above the sun was bathing the blanket of clouds that were hugging the ground.
When I reached the fields around our neighborhood, the few remaining patches of snow looked like they were spewing smoke into the air above them. Clouds of moisture were rising off the cold snow as the temperature reading on my dashboard indicated 57°(F).
At the last turn onto our road, the sun was shining through broken clouds as the weather forecaster on the radio talked about the snow accumulation expected out of this system just to our north and the tornado watch issued for our county and all the others in three directions around us.
It felt like our house was in line for some of the hail and drama that was already being reported upwind of our area but in the end, the worst of the storm slid around our location.
That was a welcome outcome after the wild ride that preceded it.
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Seasonal Scenes
We are definitely in transition mode. The maple syrup producers are collecting sap as the daytime temps rise above freezing and then dip back down overnight. The ditches have started to fill with running water. Moisture is leaving the snowpack and going airborne.
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The patchy fog makes driving to work in the dark a real challenge as the visibility drops to zero in a blink one minute and becomes clear as a bell the next.
The receding snow cover unveils evidence of the rodent activity that goes on out of sight beneath the icy blanket. No wonder our dog cocks her head and looks down at the snow like an arctic fox and then leaps into the nose-first dive after whatever is making that sound that only dog and fox ears seem to detect.
The chickens are reveling in the expanding exposure of insect-rich soil. They have also amped up their egg production to record levels for this brood.
Today they may get a dose of March rain that forecasters hint could include some thunder by afternoon. By next week, the precipitation will likely be back to snow.
These are all typical scenes of our season of transition known as the month of March.
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Changing Shape
Speaking of carving hearts, I already had one started out of pine before I cut up that tree on Saturday. Given the excellent weather conditions for being outside, I spent a little time over the weekend trying to figure out what particular shape of heart this one was going to become.
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If you know me, deciding is not one of my favorite things to do.
Initially, I chose to let the features of the chunk of pine determine how things would proceed, based on the arbitrary initial chainsaw cuts when the tree was felled. Unmoved by the result I was getting, I sought out the opinion of my best advisor.
Cyndie thought it was too long and too thick. I decided she was right because that’s what I was thinking, too.
A little reshaping was in order.
We both like this better. You can’t tell by the pictures but I flattened it out as much as I shortened the length.
It still needs some refinement before I settle in and change focus to polishing out the tool marks, but now I feel happy enough with the shape to enjoy the rest of the exercise.
I find the process as addictive as jigsaw puzzling. When I finish one, all I want to do is start another.
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Necessary Evil
One of the tasks I tend to delay more than any others is cutting down trees. There are times it needs to happen and times it probably should happen, but I struggle with knowing when an ailing tree honestly has no future. I usually choose to rely on time to make the status obvious.
Waiting comes at the expense of a perfect landscape view. Cyndie admitted to not enjoying the scene out across the deck that, from her vantage point, was always filled with the brown needles of another dying pine tree. I respect that.
Yesterday, we dispatched the fading relic. A necessary evil.
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Of course, I saved a portion of the trunk to serve as a platform for balanced rock art.
While I was at it, I also trimmed a section that looked like it had potential to become a future heart sculpture.
Do you see the beautiful pine heart hiding inside there that I see?
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Conflicting Thoughts
There’s a battle raging in the available space of my brain between the wonderful goodness all around us and the repeated failings of improvement where the needs are well known. We just heard an update on progress to vaccinate for COVID-19 that lamented the low percentage of the neediest people receiving shots, despite the advanced knowledge that this should be the priority. Even when there is broad public awareness of the need to get the first vaccinations to the communities most impacted by the virus, insufficient effort to make this come about leaves things to play out as usual with the advantage going to people of privilege.
It is a lot easier to talk about what “should” happen than it is to actually enact the changes needed to achieve high ideals.
Sounds a little like the way things always go in our governmental system. Two-party politics for passing legislation advancing the lofty goals of a nation results in a lot of sounding off but very little in the way of bringing lasting positive change. Progress is slow for the poor and disenfranchised citizens of our country.
We have passed the 1-year milestone since the pandemic took over all of our lives and Cyndie and I have thus far dodged illness. Others we know have not been so lucky, including some who are currently suffering symptoms. We are sending love to those of you experiencing the virus first-hand.
News reports announcing crazy-high numbers of small earthquakes in Iceland, combined with several other notable recent quakes around the planet suggest something big is about to go boom. It’s a strange threat to contemplate from our relatively stable geographic landscape.
A strong spring melt is underway at Wintervale and the chickens are thrilled over the ever-expanding “tillable” terrain becoming exposed again.
The south-facing slopes are free of snow but the rest of the forest is still covered like the surfaces of an old-fashioned freezer. Walking the trails is a fascinating demonstration of how much chill emanates from the icy carpet below.
Delilah loves to pause and rub her face in the snow-cone texture. Her head was all wet at the end of a walk yesterday from rolling in the slushy snow.
It’s incredibly calm and soothingly optimistic with the promise of spring unfurling right before our eyes. The animals all seem giddy and I guess that is contagious.
It’s a welcome contrast to the more unsettling thoughts looming.
Here’s to visions of the days ahead when COVID sufferers can come walk our trails, breathe the health of our forest air, and hang out with our chickens for a while.
We’ll send you home with fresh free-range eggs.
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Stopping Early
We are going to throw in the towel on the latest jigsaw puzzle. All the remaining pieces are solid black and the exercise of finding the exact one that will fit lacks a key feature I truly enjoy in locating pieces: COLOR!
Last week I came close to making the same decision but then changed my mind and took another crack at progress. Finding pieces is certainly possible but requires such intense focus and more patience due to long droughts between success than I want to muster. I’m more inclined toward random brief visits when the energy is right (like when Cyndie is baking in the kitchen). Quick results are so much more rewarding for those short sessions.
Puzzling is supposed to be fun, after all.
Plus, we splurged on a bunch of puzzles all at once and have two left that we are chomping to start. In the queue are a beautiful wolf and another with more horses. The way the weather is warming and the hours of sunlight are increasing, our days of puzzling are soon going to be replaced by outdoor pursuits.
This is no time to be languishing on hundreds of similar pieces of all the same color. I can torture myself with that next winter.
We’re stopping early on finishing the expansive black void of outer space.
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Trotting Turkeys
Wild turkeys are no longer as rare a sight as when I was growing up, but it is still a special treat to have them actually pay a visit up close. Yesterday, we suddenly spotted a batch of them up near the house, out on the driveway. As I stepped toward the window, they noticed my presence and started movement off the driveway. They looked like they would be headed toward the chicken coop and I wondered how that would play out.
Still in my house slippers, I stepped outside as slyly as possible, hoping to avoid scaring them away. It was clear they were aware of me and I wasn’t able to record more than a few seconds of their visit before they disappeared into the woods, taking a path that crossed midway between the house and the chicken coop.
If you click on the image, you can spot movement by some chickens in the distance, to the left of the coop.
From my vantage point, it looked like chickens and turkeys were oblivious to one another. One of the turkeys seemed to be providing a cluck, …cluck cadence as they traversed the nearby trees into the main woods. It was decidedly different from the variety of sounds our chickens make, but with a hint of familiarity, too.
I made sure Cyndie counted only 14 birds in the coop when she closed it up for the night, in case one of those wild turkeys decided to take a crack at domestic life.
There was nobody roosting inside but them chickens.
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New Heart
It’s difficult to do a sculpture justice with a couple of two-dimensional images, but taking pictures of my projects allows me to keep a record of pieces that won’t stay in my possession forever. With that, I took these photos yesterday to chronicle the finished product of my latest woodworking endeavor.
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As I am wont to do, I’ve left the backside natural bark and shaped and polished the front into a heart shape from a piece of ash where the tree forked into two branches.
Completing this latest heart has inspired me to start over right away with another wood sculpting project from the variety of wood chunks I’ve stockpiled in the shop, salvaged from trees we’ve cut down over the years. I have a rough idea of what I feel like making next, but that vision will merge with the features of the wood I select to ultimately determine what emerges in the end.
Most often, when I put my heart into it, that is the shape that results.
I’m completely okay with that.
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Relative Something 