Archive for December 2022
Thrown Back
The other day I was hunting for the U of MN site that offered access to a library of historic aerial images and found several different views of the farm my grandfather bought back in the early 1950s. (https://apps.lib.umn.edu/mhapo/) That property was called “Intervale Ranch” and the name became the inspiration for our choosing “Wintervale” for the land where Cyndie and I now live.
My family was living there when I was born in 1959. The farming was mostly done by then and the barns and nearby surroundings became a large playground for my siblings and me.
Looking at the various images I found of that land has thrown me back into years I recall fondly. The weather I experienced for the first ten years of my life seemed like a reliable and relatively consistent pattern of seasonal transitions. For all I knew, that’s the way it had always been and would always be.
Hah! Ten years out of the incomprehensible span of time from the forming of planets to the human-influenced environment of Earth we are experiencing today. I expect the naiveté of youth is why that time of my life seems so envious now.
In the most recent ten years we have experienced increasing instances of rainfall during winter months (instead of snow) to the extent it is no longer a bizarre occasion.
I was also thrown back to fond memories of the media commonly on in our home. There were a mere five channels of broadcast television to watch. Walter Cronkite on the national news. Dave Moore on the local station. Boone & Erickson on the radio. If you wanted to know if school was closed due to a snowstorm, you listened to WCCO radio. After they gave the ag reports, they’d read the alphabetical list of communities with school districts that were closed or running two hours late.
On my transistor radio in my bedroom I would tune in KDWB or WDGY to hear the latest hits of popular music.
We moved from the house on that property to a neighborhood of around twenty houses when I was ten years old. It was my first exposure to the fact that the world wasn’t as static my young perspective believed.
Slowly, but surely, television changed, personalities came and went, and I grew into my teenage angst.
In a way, nothing holds a candle to the first ten years of my life for the bliss of being surrounded by my family on the remnants of that farm near the border of Eden Prairie and Edina in Hennepin County, Minnesota, U.S.A.
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Disturbing Delivery
One of Santa’s elves working at FedEx has found their way onto our naughty list. I don’t know if the delivery confirmation email that was sent to Cyndie was supposed to impress us but the fact it was reporting on Thursday night that our package was delivered on Friday morning at 2 a.m. left us mildly confused.
After we were already in bed, Cyndie requested I get up to check if a package had been dropped off in the time since I had been out watching the moonrise. Seemed unlikely to me but it is the holiday season and shipping companies have been surprising us with Saturday and Sunday deliveries lately. Middle of the night hours was a possibility, too, I surmised.
Since my “pajamas” are strikingly similar to what I was wearing when I was born, I hastily barefooted my way through our dark house to the front door and checked the front step for a package.
Nothing visible.
Knowing half our deliveries get left around the corner against our garage doors, I decided I needed to go outside far enough to see if they left our package there.
Now came that moment of hesitation about how to proceed. Seconds ago I was comfortable in bed, winding down my mind, getting ready for a long winter’s nap. This tended to befuddle my decision-making prowess. I could go back and put on some clothes but that seemed like overkill for just a quick peek around the corner at the end of our walkway. And I was already standing at the door…
But, it was cold outside and I’d already left the warm confines of our bed to stand in the chilly air of the front entrance of our house. I didn’t need to push this to the next extreme. So, what’s a guy to do?
I lifted my bare toes into my boots and grabbed my insulated flannel shirt that has become my coat for most outdoor activities and hustled outside to learn there was no package in front of the garage doors. Thankfully, the delivery didn’t suddenly show up right then because my pantless condition would have made the situation a lot more awkward than it already was.
We guessed the package could have been placed at the shop/garage but after returning to our bed, I decided it wasn’t worth me going that far to check. We chose to sleep with the mystery unsolved.
In the morning, as I walked toward the barn to feed horses, I noted nothing had been left at the shop/garage. While putting out hay for the herd, I saw the garbage truck arrive to pick up our trash. On the way toward the road to retrieve our emptied trash bin, I caught sight of our package.
It was in the snow behind our mailbox. The long cardboard box had been slipped into a clear plastic bag that covered about three-quarters of the box, as if to show, albeit pathetically, their concern for protecting our package from the elements.
I’m left wondering, did they toss the box in the ditch at 2 a.m.?
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Moon Ablaze
I needed to walk our trash bin down to the road last night, a trek that would normally have been time spent with Delilah. [sad face] The moon has been so bright the last few nights, I was looking forward to seeing if we would get another good viewing. As I crested the hill before the road, there was no moon in sight.
It was too early. The sky to the west was speckled with clouds but I figured the moon would show through enough to see in the east.
By the time I had walked the rest of the way to the road and back to the top of the hill again, I turned to find the first hint of the rising moon. Having caught sight of it just as it appeared on our horizon, I decided to stand and watch the rotation of the Earth bring it higher in our sky.
When the full circle of moonlight was visible, I took a picture of how it looked.
It was as if it was on fire!
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Cookie Help
A couple of Santa’s Helpers stopped by for a visit yesterday and cheerfully volunteered to assist Cyndie with baking some Christmas cookies. Sara and Althea did a heroic amount of the legwork getting loaded cookie sheets into and out of our double oven. That’s a lot of squats since the bottom oven is at about floor level.
My legs were getting tired just standing around helping with occasional cleanup. I think they baked almost ten different kinds of cookies. It seemed like that’s how many I test-tasted. Cyndie had prepared much of the dough in advance and refrigerated it overnight.
Each oven was set at a different temperature and the multiple varieties of cookies needed different baking times so it was quite a challenge for four people to keep track of pertinent details. I worked on the jigsaw puzzle while using the timer on my phone to track baking times.
Not that Sara really needed help with that. At one point, she asked me how much time was left and when I looked there was 1 second left on the timer. Her intuition was spot on. She also demonstrated a good sense of when the suggested baking time wasn’t enough. Several of the kinds of cookies took a little longer in our oven to reach the desired golden brown.
I learned that the inside light blinks on when the oven reaches the set temperature. It also emits a little tune, but I already knew about that. Sara conducted most of the orchestrations of the baking while Cyndie consulted recipes and prepped the different doughs for the cookie sheets with Althea’s support in cutting, sprinkling and spritzing.
At about the time maximum baking was being accomplished, I slipped out to feed horses and discovered a gorgeous moon illuminating the early evening. Once the horses were taken care of, I strolled down to pick up the mail. This is an activity that used to always include Delilah and it feels strange to walk down there alone.
Along the way, I took note of a variety of tracks in the snow from a prowling cat and either a fox or coyote. I could see where the snow along the driveway is getting peed on. I wonder if the local animals are noticing that Delilah is no longer marking this territory.
As a punctuation to this thought, last night our motion-sensing light popped on over the deck and I looked out to find a fox on the top step of our deck. We never saw any fox on our deck when Delilah was alive. As soon as I spotted it, it noticed me, did a hasty about-face, and “noped” outta there.
Not long after that, a pack of coyotes started howling up a noise storm from very close proximity. Maybe they were howling at the moon.
Thinking about it, that moon looked a lot like one of Cyndie’s fresh-baked Russian tea cake cookies.
Howl-worthy, indeed.
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Sports Watching
Somehow, while I wasn’t paying attention, it has become December the sixth. I blame the World Cup. It feels weird to be watching it in the winter. No matter what else I should be doing each day, chunks of the morning and afternoon have been consumed with hours of sports spectating.
On Sunday, I made accommodations for viewing a little simultaneous NFL Minnesota Vikings during the England v Senegal match.
Yesterday, the laundry was folded while Japan and Croatia were on the telly.
Beyond the Cup viewing, I wake up and head to the barn to serve breakfast for the horses. I need to go back at noon because two of our horses need an extra serving of feed. Then I return at 4:00 p.m. to serve their dinner. With Cyndie now spending a bit of time in the kitchen, I get sent downstairs to fetch needed supplies and then wash dishes when she is done.
When needed, I hop outside to clear snow off the front steps and walkway. Cyndie has done a lot of online shopping and we are receiving package deliveries daily. I don’t want the drivers to think we aren’t expecting anyone to show up.
The days are just disappearing in a blink. I’ve got about a month and a half of this routine left until Cyndie’s follow-up appointment with the trauma surgeon to find out if she will be cleared to put weight on her repaired ankle.
Once she’s back to walking, we can split the time spent tending to the horses and she will be able to drive herself to appointments. I’ll have more time for watching sports just when the NFL conference playoffs will be happening.
I’m not doing that well with living in the moment since I’ve got my sights set on weeks from now when she regains the ability to walk. I guess I’d rather not think about the current situation. It’s a bit depressing. Not thinking about the here and now is how days appear to fly past quickly.
Works for me, except it has squashed my holiday spirit down to almost nothing. We’ll be getting ready for Valentine’s Day by the time things return to the usual routine around here. That is, assuming returning to usual is a given. None of us knows what future events might occur that could permanently change what is considered normal.
Makes me think of life for the people of Ukraine right now. Caring for a spouse who broke her ankle doesn’t seem like such an onerous task compared to being bombed by a foreign country day in and day out.
Given that, my routine isn’t nearly as bad as I tend to make it out to be. I mean, heck, I’m still able to make time to watch the World Cup.
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Welcome Distraction
Despite how it feels to me lately, my role as the only fully ambulatory person on the ranch is not without occasional opportunities to pause and reset my attitude. Last week we were treated to a visit from my sister, Judy, and her husband, Scott. They came bearing a range of gifts, not the least of which was lunch for the day.
They also picked up, much to my surprise, a couple of bags of my new favorite guilty pleasure snack treat [thank you, Carlos], PopCorners (BFY Brands). Cyndie had surreptitiously texted a special request to Judy after our latest grocery order wasn’t able to fulfill that line item on our order. Snack-errific!
It was refreshing to have Judy’s company on my noon trip to feed the horses where she tolerated extra time out in the elements while I made a few trips back and forth to the hay shed to restock the barn stash of bales.
The one treat that is lasting longer than the chocolate-covered pretzels Judy made is the hand-me-over jigsaw puzzles they left for us. A jigsaw puzzle is a gift that keeps on giving. They brought us three options and while eating dinner the other night, Cyndie and I debated which one to do first.
After we finished eating, I decided to just dump out the pieces of the puzzle we settled on. Without getting up from the table, we spread out and flipped up all 2000 pieces and started working on the outer border. Jigsaw puzzling soothes my brain like a Zen meditation. It is bringing order to chaos. There is a specific place for each piece and finding and placing those pieces is a series of mini-rewards set on repeat.
I woke up the next day and all I wanted to do was work on the puzzle some more.
It’s funny, the whole goal is to finish, except I don’t really want to. Going through the steps of finding and placing pieces ends up being more fun than actually completing the entire puzzle.
It’s a mental distraction that is very good for what ails me these days.
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Grief Grind
The confluence of stressors we’ve been facing this fall has combined to make my days a repeating pattern of responsibility that is almost more taxing mentally than it is physically. There is a possibility that I will be learning how to bake Christmas cookies this year as Cyndie’s able-bodied kitchen assistant.
One of the more painful repetitions I’m enduring is the lonesome walk to and from the barn three times a day. With Delilah gone and Cyndie unable, I am on my own –morning, noon, and night– on excursions to feed and clean up after the horses. I am curious about whether or not the horses recognize Delilah’s absence.
She didn’t have a close relationship with any of the horses, but I would think the lack of being barked at might seem refreshing for them.
Oh, how that repeated barking annoyed me. Too bad I am too grief-stricken to enjoy the serenity now available in its absence.
Being a little shorter on patience than my more happy self, horse shenanigans quickly raise my ire. I was granted some respite this morning as they cordially volunteered to assume convenient positions and stayed put to finish each of their own pans of feed. Cleaning up under the overhang is an imperfect science during extreme cold but the horses seem to understand my process and kindly grant me unhindered access.
They have grown more interested in eating hay from the boxes which is nice for me because putting an entire bale in a box is less work than filling multiple nets with a couple flakes from bales. I’m filling both for now since they still seem to prefer eating from the nets but there may be a day when just the boxes will be enough.
Probably not until the fields are green again next spring, but a guy can hope. Maybe by then, my heart won’t be so broken over losing Delilah and Cyndie will be able to walk on both feet.
Surviving the grind of fresh grief is helped by envisioning the future time when immediate stressors have abated. In the meantime, it’s one foot in front of the other.
My daily grief grind.
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Praising Chewy
It is unfortunately rare to hear as many stories about good customer service as there are bad experiences out in the world. Cyndie and I have a new appreciation for our primary online source of pet supplies after receiving exceptional support from the Customer Service personnel at Chewy.com.
When we struggled with treating our dog, Delilah’s mysterious illness that eventually took her life this month, Chewy was there for us before and after. Our veterinarian prescribed a special food that Chewy was able to provide, as long as we showed them the instructions from a vet.
Prior to Delilah getting sick, Cyndie had just ordered a new 50 lb. bag of dry food and a box of canned food. That package was delivered to us after Delilah started vomiting regularly. The only reason we opened the box was that it also contained some pill pockets that we tried when attempting to treat Delilah’s stomach with meds.
After nothing worked and we chose to end Delilah’s suffering, Cyndie contacted Chewy to ask if we could return the unopened box of prescribed food. The response she received surprised both of us.
Offering heartwarming condolences to start, with no return required they credited us not only for the order of special food but also for the previous purchase of foods that Cyndie hadn’t even asked about. They suggested we donate the food to a local rescue or shelter in Delilah’s memory.
A few days later, we received a delivery of roses from Chewy with further condolences for our loss.
Granted, our perception is soaked in emotion, but the understanding that Chewy as a company has demonstrated in this instance has put them on a pedestal of customer service greatness for us that is going to be hard to beat.
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Evening Color
Feeding the horses at sunset and Mia finished first. I noticed she had stepped out from beneath the overhang where her silhouette was backed by the brilliant evening colors.
I think maybe she was looking at the half-moon glowing through a thin veil of high clouds.
For all the days I might grumble about needing to step out into the harsh elements, there sure are a lot of rewards for getting outdoors as often as I do.
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Relative Something 