Archive for December 2021
Snowy Footsteps
Today is the start of winter. It feels closer to the middle of winter. Although, we did just have strangely warm temperatures and a weird December thunderstorm. Still, cold temperatures have become the norm and we have a slim inch of flakes dominating most surfaces.
The labyrinth hasn’t had more than a few stray animal footprints disturbing its blanket of white.
Delilah and I have been methodically distributing our footprints along most of our trails. I have a tendency to neglect seeing the depth of our woods when I am busy plotting my footsteps to widen the traveled snow path. I catch myself staring exclusively at the ground right in front of me.
I rely on Delilah’s nose to alert me that we might have some company nearby. On Sunday afternoon, Delilah was intently focused on something in the interior of our woods. As we approached an intersection of trails, I knew she wanted to go left based on the direction her nose had been pointing.
It took me a while, but eventually I decoded the camouflaged young doe’s big eyes and ears, frozen in a stare directly at us from around the large trunk of a tree. The longer I looked back at her, the more I was able to discern the rest of her body visible on the other side of the tree, too.
If Delilah hadn’t signaled someone was there, I would have been oblivious.
I would have noticed deer hoof prints in the area, though.
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Swingsing
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winter starts tomorrow
daylight will stop getting shorter
a pendulum swings the other way
laughter will sound as good as always
maybe better
contagious viruses be damned
swingsinging rules apply
top of our lungs
without a care
regardless who might hear
running at full speed
for longer than lungs should allow
racing to be first
for no logical reason
watching the clock second hand
tick
wondering what it will be like
when time finally allows
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Single Week
Less than a week, actually. The holiday season is long but the actual day of Christmas is just a single day and it is now six days away. I am also down to a single week left commuting to the day-job. Three days, actually. It feels like a lot is happening that will hopefully lead up to a period when not much needs to happen, for the rest of my life.
For the last six months, I have only been commuting to the far side of the Twin Cities three days a week. I am already aware of the complexity of noticing what day it is when Saturdays and Sundays become blurred with Fridays and Mondays. When seven days a week all require the same attention from me, I will join the throngs of others who are in the phase of life when every day is simply “today” and not so distinguishable from all the others.
Yesterday was Cyndie’s Christmas Cookie baking day. I failed to provide much warning but the post I created in 2017 is still very applicable. Check out: Advance Warning.
Cyndie invited helpers to contribute to the extravaganza. They captured and shared some images of the frivolity…
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Cookies galore are being shared far and wide. For reference, if you ever have a chance to help Cyndie in the kitchen, you will be stocked with plenty of goodies upon your departure.
Despite this being the second Christmas season under the pandemic, glad tidings and good cheer still shine through.
Merry Christmas, everyone! Enjoy this last week.
I know that I will.
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Seem Settled
The most recent batch of wild weather is now history. Yesterday, I cranked up the chainsaw and cut apart sections of the downed trees that obstructed our trails. All of them were already dead and have inspired me to consider being more proactive about tending to the potential hazards to our fences.
Speaking of our fences, I am surprised at the resilience of our high tensile wire fence. Despite the heavy pressure on the top wire of a section where one of the larger trees landed, no damage resulted. After I cut the tree into pieces, the wire returned to its original appearance. At our cold temperatures, I expected the stretch would have remained and required re-tensioning of the top wire.
Our horses seem settled into a winter routine. Their overnight inside the barn stalls protected them from the rain that dripped off fence boards, freezing into little icicles as the warmth transformed into more normal December temperatures.
We had a dusting of snow overnight last night that revealed the horses stayed out in the open while flakes fell. They had little white blankets on their backs when we showed up to serve their morning feed.
There was just enough early sunshine to trigger their habit of standing sideways to soak up the rays. I noticed steam rising off their bodies as the snow blankets began to melt.
In the time since I returned to the house and finished my own breakfast, the sky has become overcast. At this point, the horses are more inclined to lay down and roll around to knock the melting snow blankets off their backs.
They’ve now seen a full gamut of winter conditions interspersed with an uncharacteristic warm spell and spring-like thunderstorm and appear to be handling it with minimal stress. That goes a long way to relieve us from fretting over how to provide them the best care.
It is helping us to feel settled with our late decision to keep the horses here full-time. If they are happy, we are happy.
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Not Unscathed
We did not get through the rest of the overnight Thursday without suffering wind damage. Cyndie counted at least 9 trees that toppled across our trails, a couple of which put serious pressure on fences.
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As I rolled my car to the end of our driveway in the early morning darkness, I spotted something out in the middle of the road that at first had me thinking it was a raccoon. Closer inspection revealed it to be our mailbox. The wind had pushed it right off the sliding guides of the base.
I picked up the mailbox and slid it back into position, wondering if it would just slip off again in the next powerful gust. (It didn’t.)
A mile or two down the road, I came to a giant tangle of tree branches completely covering both lanes. I was able to steer around it by driving off the pavement and rolling over a few small branches. The rest of the commute was free of any disruptions.
When Cyndie completed her survey of the corners of our property, she returned to find the tragic scene near the front door of the house.
Brings to mind the meme that circulated for a while after some big storms were ravaging the country: “We will rebuild.”
That’s humorous in this case because neither of us has made an effort to even tip it back up on its’ feet yet. Apparently, our rebuilding doesn’t start right away.
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Just East
The most severe portions of the storm front slid past just east of us last night. I can’t wrap my mind around how much snow I needed to move last weekend. Yesterday, when I got home from work, there was almost none left. The outrageously warm temperatures throughout the day and the first half of the evening were worlds away from the experience I was having just days before.
In the face of the many advanced warnings of a severe thunderstorm with extreme winds and possible tornadoes targeting our region, Cyndie decided to bring the horses inside the barn so they wouldn’t get soaked.
I arrived with two horses in their stalls and two nervously pacing around in the barn, unconvinced they should enter the confined space. In the face of their large nervous energy, Cyndie looked really small and at the mercy of their willingness to cooperate.
The longer it took Light and Mia to enter their stalls, the more upset Mix became. She worked herself into a tizzy that included a lot of kicking and flailing about. Unfortunately, although we were hoping to keep them dry by bringing them inside, Mix worked up a lather of sweat in her little tantrum.
Eventually, the two chestnuts stepped into stalls but it took a bit longer for all four of them to settle down. Swings started to demonstrate some anxiety that echoed the pacing behavior she enacted shortly after first arriving here with us.
I got the sense there was a lot of post-traumatic stress triggered by the unexpected confinement.
We lingered in the barn for longer than we wanted to, hoping our calm presence would help them to settle enough to take advantage of the generous servings of feed and hay awaiting their attention. When the time seemed right, we slipped out to feed the dog and cat up at the house.
Before the storm front arrived, we did a follow-up check on the horses and found them all calm and collected, so we turned out the lights and left them in place for the rest of the night.
When the lightning became visible and the thunder triggered Delilah into a barking fit, we invited our pets to join us in the basement to await our fate. A short while later, the first intimidating gust of wind stressed the house and whistled above the chimney. A few blinks after that, the worst was over.
We took a short walk outside to check for results near the house and found nothing out of order.
Happy is having a threatening weather forecast not come to be.
Crazy is having over a foot of snow disappear in a couple of days in December along with summer-like severe weather outbreaks.
We didn’t even lose power.
Counting our lucky stars, and thinking of those who suffered damage just to our east.
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Battening Hatches
In the shadow of the storm that ravaged the middle of the U.S. last week, the prediction for our area this evening is a little intimidating. High winds and December thunderstorms after record warmth in the afternoon have us more on edge than usual.
Any time it rains here in the winter I wince. Everything about it is wrong. It will likely be a night to bring the horses inside the barn to protect them from getting soaking wet ahead of the drop in temperatures to below freezing.
The insolating properties of their winter coats don’t work so well when wet.
How come penguins don’t have that problem? Polar bears? Whatever.
If we had hatches, we would be battening them down today.
Last night’s sky at sunset was just dramatic enough to feel like a hint of what lies ahead. I will be very happy to find out our concerns were unnecessary if nothing significant materializes.
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Artful Listening
The universe is telling each one of us everything we need to know. Hearing the messages clearly is a trick because the chatter of our own minds serves as both a running distraction and a unique conduit for what the world is telling us. Sorting between the two is no simple task.
I can’t count the number of times I have found myself in the location of a tornado warning and not suffered a direct hit. Too many of those times I have neglected to go into the basement, choosing to stand at a window to observe instead. Hearing survivor stories from the incredibly damaging outbreak Friday that killed scores of people leaves me humbled.
Storms of old are no longer a safe reference for storms today.
Perception is not always reality.
That looks like old man Christmas leaning up against our house but what is up with the size of that tree he is holding?
If the tree is as big as it looks, Mr. Kringle must be HUGE!
Of course he is. His magic covers the world. His message to us is overflowing with peace, joy, love, and goodwill.
Don’t let our busy minds obscure the meaning.
Listen to the love. Send extra doses of love to the victims of the December outbreak of deadly tornadoes across portions of South-Central United States and the Ohio Valley.
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Exercising Outdoors
Arms over my head, pushing to the limits of my reach and strength, I grunted like a powerlifter to gain a morsel beyond what it felt like I was able. It occurred to me that all this effort to clear snow off our roof might look like more work than reasonable, yet a similar effort lifting weights in a gym would appear to be a noble pursuit.
Why do I work so hard outside on our property when I could just join a gym and go indoors to lift weights for exercise?
Doesn’t that question just answer itself?
It was very rewarding to have our Avalanche snow “rake” work ideally for these snow conditions. I was able to use the plastic sheet attachment to bring down perfect large blocks of snow.
Here is a shot of the Avalanche in action when we first got it back in 2019:
It performed flawlessly for me again yesterday. Of course, that’s only half the job. Where the roof snow comes down at the front door and across the deck, the densely packed piles need to be shoveled away after my arms have been exhausted by the overhead pushing of the rake.
It was a day of big exercise at my outdoor gym facility, but I’m not sure I feel any stronger this morning for all that effort.
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Snow Cope
In a day of glorious sunshine yesterday, I labored to move what felt like an endless amount of snow. I succeeded in burying the Grizzly 660 ATV over the edge of the gravel drive around the hayshed. That forced me to get the diesel tractor started, but it wouldn’t be any help unless I could get chains mounted on the tires.
Those chains have been hanging in storage on nails in the back of the shop garage for two years and are so heavy that I can barely lift them. That is one reason I have found every possible reason to avoid using them for so long. Alas, necessity forces muscles to do what it takes and chains quickly became an afterthought while attention moved to dragging the ATV out of the snow and carefully maneuvering the Ford tractor to scoop snow into small mountains without getting it stuck, too.
By the end of the day, I was about halfway done with cleanup. Today I resume clearing snow off the eaves of the house roof and then shoveling away everything that drops onto the deck.
The horses appear to be coping well with the quick transition to deep snow cover and tracks reveal they are making gradual advances on excursions out into the hayfield and back pasture.
The snow up around the overhang is well-trodden so it doesn’t seem all that deep but frozen clumps clinging above hooves provide evidence of the depth they are negotiating out in the fields.
We expect a few more days with highs above freezing and moments of sunshine that will give the horses plenty of opportunities to dry out between their journeys out into the powder.
Coping with all the snow is what we do, even when it requires effort at the limits of available strength at any given moment.
Robustness r us.
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Relative Something 