Archive for March 2022
Slippery Stepping
It’s ‘walk like a penguin’ time out on our trails, taking super short steps and placing each foot carefully. As we started down the big hill of our perimeter trail yesterday morning, I noticed the pathway had gained a decorative border from boot prints on each side. We have both been choosing to step in the deeper old snow on the sides instead of taking our chances on the icy, packed center lane.
Icy conditions were even more dramatic on the north loop trail near Cyndie’s perennial garden beneath the big willow tree. That spot is located at the low point of the neighbor’s plowed field where runoff water pressure is high. It flows up out of the ground there during heavy rains and obviously pushes up and freezes this time of year.
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Conditions were certainly good for growing ice crystals Wednesday night. Cyndie captured these closeups as I continued ahead with Delilah on a trek to the mailbox.
We continue to experience profound swings of temperature between melting during the days and deep freezes overnight.
A sure sign maple syrup season is just around the corner.
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Wrinkle
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the wrinkle in all this
while blinking back tears
endlessly waiting
bated breath
and all that
spinning around
to take a second look
all of us asking ourselves
how
why
not again
never again
it was supposed to be
never again
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Time Ravaged
More than I can remember in my lifetime, we have been cycling above and below the freezing point this winter, taxing everything exposed to the extremes. As I’ve written many times before, everything moves, including what is often referred to as “solid ground.”
Terra firma is not so firm a.
This is the current state of a base I installed for an outdoor sink on the backside of the barn.
It used to be level.
In some places, the ground sinks. In others, it rises up. And it changes back and forth about as often as the freezing and thawing cycle is playing out. Of course, the base in the image above never happens to return to level. Oh, no.
I have no idea what happened in our pile of limestone screenings. It looks a little like maybe it regurgitated all over itself.
A while back, Cyndie posted a bunch of our furniture for sale on the local neighborhood app. Quite a lot of furniture, actually. The app offered a suggestion that she could also post it on another app to be seen by more than just our neighbors. All it took was the push of a button. So she did.
Soon we had people from far and wide contacting us to ask if everything was okay. Why was she unloading all this furniture?
It’s nice to know concerned friends will check on us if we start showing signs of distress.
The reason Cyndie is looking to jettison our old furniture is that her mother is moving from the family home of many years into a smaller unit in a senior living community. We will be taking some of the precious furnishings that didn’t make the cut for her mom’s new home.
In preparation, we have already started to move things around in our house. We took possession of the old flat-screen TV that had been in her mom’s basement and put it up in our loft, replacing the smaller one we’ve had since it was our main television mounted on the wall in our Eden Prairie home.
Here in Beldenville, the old television was in a stand on a table. In a classic domino effect of one change leading to another, we decided to relocate that TV to the bedroom to replace a smaller one in that room. There, it will be able to be mounted on the wall again. That means I needed to find the old wall mount bracket.
I didn’t know if we’d even kept it, but Cyndie remembered seeing it on the top shelf in our storage room. With her direction, I found two of the three primary pieces. The ravages of time have taken a toll on my memory and I couldn’t recall if we’d detached the base plate from the wall when we moved out of the old house.
I actually started researching online to see if I could replace just the base plate before one last double-check in the storage room, where I was actually checking old packaging for information on the name of the wall mount manufacturer. That’s when I spotted a tiny corner of the base plate on a different shelf.
As far as I can tell, we actually do have everything needed to proceed.
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Measured Gait
When I was a kid in school, I noticed there were others who walked with their feet angled toes-in or toes out and it led me to think the same thing could happen to me. It didn’t look right to me. I didn’t want to walk like that. As a result, I tried consciously aligning my feet with the seams of the floor tiles as I walked down hallways in hopes the practice would keep my gait from becoming misaligned.
How I place my feet as I walk hasn’t been something I constantly think about, but stepping straight ahead in line with those tiles did become a permanent memory that I’ve returned to thinking about many times over the years.
Fifty-some years and too-many-ankle-sprains-to-count later, I’m beginning to notice my right foot “toes out” a little bit in the prints I leave behind in the snow.
What I found interesting yesterday after I noticed my old footprints on the trail was that when I put conscious effort into paying attention to place my right foot straight, it felt like I was toeing it way too far in.
I’m not talking extremes here. The amount of difference is very small. A fraction of an inch. It’s fascinating to me that such a small percentage of change would feel so much larger than it really is.
This kind of correction reminds me of my never-ending quest to achieve an even pedal stroke on my bicycle. I’m decidedly right-side dominant in my pedaling which contributes to a “wobble” of the bike as I unconsciously push stronger with my right leg.
I dream of expending equal power with the push-pull of each leg, but if I’m not specifically thinking about it or I start to get fatigued, I can sense my effort becomes lopsided.
At least I never have to worry about the position of my feet when I’m clipped into the bike pedals. While I wobble down the road on my bike, my toes on both feet are always pointed straight ahead!
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New Game
It’s like a board game for dogs! Cyndie gave Delilah a new present to challenge her intrepid canine intellect. It started slowly, with Delilah unclear about the particulars of moving the sliding tiles to uncover the treats her nose was telling her were inside.
When it comes to doggie treats, a certain sense of urgency is demonstrated. Miss D was showing little interest in learning the nuances of this “game” with her intense focus on getting another treat between her teeth no matter what it took.
A little timid at first, Delilah used only her nose to push aside the sliding covers in order to inhale the treat as it was exposed.
Then she rose to her feet for better leverage and tried gripping at the tiles with her teeth.
Before the first session with her new game was over, she was sliding some of the pieces with her paw.
When the game came out again later in the afternoon for a second session, Delilah showed impressive improvement in refining her techniques at solving the challenges of uncovering treats. The treat for us was being able to witness her curiosity and intelligence so visibly demonstrated.
That is infinitely more satisfying than when she thrashes at our windows barking endlessly at a squirrel in the yard.
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Watching War
The ugly spectacle of war has a fresh outburst staining the human experience, echoing all the wars, big and small, that have come before. I don’t have as much reason to celebrate all things Ukrainian as I do to detest the decisions of Putin’s Russia. The possibility that Russia is undertaking aggression that risks chances of becoming a world war leaves us all witnesses to history repeating itself.
It is deeply unsettling to watch insanity play out in real-time. It is frustrating to witness lies perpetrated endlessly with little in the way of consequences. In the US, we have been subjected to bizarre levels of misinformation from unbelievable numbers of misguided followers of dubious individuals for too many recent years.
This morning I saw a few clips from just a few weeks ago with quotes from Russian leadership stating that they wouldn’t invade Ukraine.
Sure they won’t.
I don’t want a world war. At the same time, it feels wrong to just watch a world power unleash its military might against any other nation-state without a unified response from the rest of the world beyond threats to economically shun them. Maybe isolating the invading nation will ultimately cripple them, but it is really difficult to endure the carnage that is being unleashed in the meantime.
It stings to see and hear the blatant misinformation and concurrent ban of world news that is being reported as happening in Russia.
If there is a lesson to be learned in becoming a well-informed person, I suggest that it should be one of developing healthy skepticism when messages become repeatedly and exclusively one-sided. Whether it be reasons to go to war, reasons to avoid mitigation actions during a virus pandemic, or reasons to blindly follow demagogues and autocrats, the exclusive messages heavily delivered should not be unquestionably swallowed.
Today, in order to purge the profusion of information showing battle-scarred people and places in Ukraine, I am striving to focus on the people rising to the occasion of supporting refugees flooding away from the war. That, and trying to remain patient in the difficult wait for economic sanctions to cause Russia to end their military aggression.
While doing so, I’m finding new reasons to celebrate all things Ukrainian with every passing minute.
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Glazy Morning
Wet precipitation when the temperature hovers around the freezing point is a perfect recipe for hazardous footing. This morning we woke to ice covering everything and faced a slippery challenge walking Delilah and making our way down to feed the horses.
To our surprise, the horses were navigating the crazy conditions with relative ease. I suspect the advantage of having four points of contact with the ground and being almost ten times our weight allows them to deal with the slippery footing better than we do.
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They were judicious about moving around and calmly settled into enjoying the feed served up in their pans on the ground. I get a sense that their ability to cope with the situation better than us is a function of their living outside in the elements. They were experiencing it as it was happening throughout the night and adjusting to conditions as they changed.
In contrast, we arose from our warm, snuggly bed and stepped out of our comfortable house into the shocking iciness that threatened to slam us to the ground with each slippery step.
I tried to prepare Delilah for the craziness on the front steps but she pretty much had to figure it out for herself when the pads of her paws couldn’t get a grip on the surface.
The outlook for the rest of the day is the opposite of sunny. There is more rain expected, possibly even thunderstorms this afternoon, but with a little warmer temperatures so maybe not as much ice.
We aren’t sure about how the horses will deal with heavier precipitation. They have shown significant anxiety about being confined to stalls in the barn so we are inclined to leave them out until they get uncomfortable enough to need a break from the weather. Maybe then they will be more interested in the indoor option.
In preparation for the possibility, we added pads to the floor of Mix’s stall after she carved up the soil something awful with pawing and kicking last time, when she kicked boards down in a tantrum. In addition to the dust storm that must have resulted, she excavated a few large stones with her aggressive gyrations in there.
Tonight might end up being a chance to test that new floor.
As always, the weather will dictate our decisions.
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Tested Patience
If you were engrossed in a book that was an ultimate “page-turner” of a story, you might stay up a little too late reading extra chapters. A good story captures the imagination and gets in our heads. The characters hang around our thoughts all day. The fictional world merges with everything else going on in our minds.
At least the stories that are compressed into two-and-a-half-hour movies compact all the mix-up of brain interaction into one brief distraction. Somewhere between the movie and a good book lies series dramas with roughly 8 to 12 episodes per season. When well crafted, these become powerful forces for binge-watching.
Beware of what you are subjecting yourself to when you choose to check out the first episode of season 1. The best of these series build up amazing energy toward the cliff-hanging end of each individual episode such that the urge to watch the next installment is overwhelming.
It becomes a real test of patience. Do you sacrifice another hour of other things that should be getting attention to satisfy that longing to find out what happens next? You would be forced to if it was only broadcast over the airwaves one day per week. That’s not how it works anymore.
We have the entire season of episodes readily available to stream online, one after the other, or a boxed set of all the seasons can be purchased on DVDs if you are still into 2018 technology.
That’s what we ended up doing when we found ourselves addicted to “Longmire.” We streamed the first few episodes when we were up at the lake. We wanted to continue when we returned home but we don’t have enough bandwidth to stream video so we rented DVDs through the mail.
At the completion of the first season, there was a wait to get season 2 so we solved that by purchasing all six seasons to be delivered the next day.
Take that, patience.
Now we’ve stumbled upon the British crime drama, “Broadchurch” from 2013-2017. Saw the first episodes up at the lake. (When will I learn.) When the story ruthlessly tugged at both Cyndie and me on our first day back home, we found the DVDs could be rented from our online account. The thing was, though, we already had two other movies in the queue that were already being (slowly) mailed to us.
We would have to wait. That takes patience.
Checking our bandwidth usage, it looked like we could commit to streaming one episode to tide us over. Oh, but that cliff-hanger. You can’t just stream one.
Last night I ended up deleting the two discs from our queue that would have completed the season because the urge to binge was stronger than the will power to be patient.
It appears we might have our speed throttled by our ISP before the month ends on our account in 16 days.
At least there is good news for us and our powerlessness over directors who create addictive episodic series. Our electricity coop is currently in the process of installing fiber-optic high-speed connectivity along our rural roads.
Waiting for them to get service to our house has been testing our patience since last September.
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Just Lookin’
In avoidance of extending our exposure to more of the daily war news than necessary, I turned to surfing reddit on my phone to pass some time while digesting my dinner. As is the norm, scrolling past the first few posts brought up the featured live feed of the moment. I usually scroll past these with barely a glance, always with the sound muted.
However, I was shocked to discover I knew the person who showed up on the screen this time. Giving out a shout, I hustled down the stairs to show Cyndie.
“It’s Julian! Julian’s on the… he’s drumming on the… on Reddit’s live feed!” I struggled to blurt out.
How’s that for timing? My son was broadcasting a live session of playing his electronic drum set in video game fashion similar to the classic “Guitar Hero” while a synchronized LED light show illuminated the background, and I just happened to stumble upon it.
It was wonderful serendipity that I logged in at that very moment and a special treat to get to see his performance was also being watched by over 20-thousand others around the world.
You ROCK, Julian!
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More Melting
A local meteorologist on the radio pointed out the previous two days were our first pair of consecutive days of temperatures in the 40s (F) since December when we experienced a tornado in the area. Two days of melting is visibly changing our snowscape.
As we made our way around the north loop trail yesterday, I found it interesting that no old footprints were apparent along the pathway, yet the trail we repeatedly walk was clearly outlined.
I suspect that blowing snow had filled the path while we were up at the lake over the weekend and now it’s all being glazed level with the surrounding snowpack. We trudged through it seconds after I took that picture, taking the first steps toward reestablishing our typical packed trail.
The first week of March is predicted to bring us melting temperatures during the days and several chances for a mix of precipitation.
We noticed yesterday afternoon that the horses are starting to shed a little bit of their winter coat. The prospect of wet precipitation and near-freezing temperatures is an unwelcome combination when it comes to horses. As is our normal practice, we have closed some gates to separate the herd into two groups of two so there will be less competition over access to the protection of the barn overhang.
After the anxiety they showed the last time we moved them into stalls in the barn, I am not as quick to choose that option for keeping them dry. We are going to make the overhang as available as possible and leave it up to them to take advantage of it, or not.
You know the old saying… “You can provide a horse some shelter from the rain, but you can’t make him (or her, or them) use it.”
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Relative Something 