Archive for April 2023
New Alarms
The sun wasn’t up yet on Saturday morning when my slumber was interrupted by a mysterious sound invading my dream. The second time the sound occurred, I felt myself floating up out of the dream toward the surface of reality. The sound was no longer mysterious, in fact, it was completely obvious, but I wasn’t yet awake enough to know where I was. The sound seemed far away like it might still be in the dream I was swiftly leaving.
Between rather long pauses, the sound continued.
“Gobble, gobble, gobble! Gobble, gobble, gobble!”
There was a tom turkey in the vicinity. Reminded me a bit of the good old days when our rooster, Rocky, would announce the impending arrival of daylight.
I scanned the woods out our bedroom window but found no visible signs of life in the early light. Coming out of the bathroom, I was startled by a clear view of the tom through the deck doors, struttin’ his stuff out in the backyard.
I watched him slowly parading toward the house until he turned and wandered into the trees. I figured he was gone but soon spotted him through the den window on the other side of the house.
The images through the glass were sub-par but still do a fair job of representing his size and his proximity to the house.
By the time I was dressed and out the door to feed the horses, there was no turkey in sight.
It’s nice to know the coyotes haven’t killed all the big birds in the area. I suspect wild turkeys have a much more effective sense of preservation against predators than our domesticated chickens did.
We also have another new alarm that goes off in the mornings on the other side of the house. There is a robin who has decided to do daily battle against its reflection in our sunroom windows at too early o’clock. Before Cyndie left she put a few Post-It note sheets on some of the windows to disrupt the bird’s-eye view.
Yesterday, I noticed he had just moved over a couple of windows. He doesn’t bother me so much because my arrival in the sunroom to put on my boots before going outside shoos him away. By the time I return from feeding horses, he tends to have moved on to other pursuits.
In honor of the first day when it was warmer outside than it was in the house, I celebrated by leaving a door to the deck open for a few hours yesterday afternoon.
All sorts of spring sounds made their way inside on the fresh breeze, including one of my new favorites: pine cones clicking as they gradually pop open. I was not aware of the sound of this phenomenon until living here with pine trees just off the deck. Yesterday, I was hearing it from the cones in the large White Pine tree by the shop garage.
The first few days of dry warmth are such a fine reward after winter finally lets loose its prolonged clenching of our senses. I’m feeling a certain kinship with the pine cones.
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Delivery Achieved
I got a phone call from the store in Prescott a few days after I learned the next available date (April 16) the delivery company would be able to pick up my new electric zero-turn lawn mower from Tractor Supply and drive it to my home. It was one of the managers. She expressed sympathy for my long wait and wanted to know if I would be around later in the day because a member of her staff had a truck and the store got a new trailer…
Even though the mix-up on the first planned day of delivery wasn’t the fault of the Tractor Supply staff, they wanted to take care of me now that they had the means to do it.
Now, that’s what I’m talkin’ about!
Mark this down as another victory in the realm of Customer Service. I asked whether the store would get credited the fee I had paid to their third-party contractor and the manager said they would. At this point, I chose not to haggle over the cost. In fact, I spent a little more cash on the deal because I couldn’t resist tipping the guy who drove his personal truck to pull their trailer.
That’s all behind me now. My pride led me to wait until the driver left before climbing aboard for the first time. My initial attempts to drive in a straight line were embarrassing and I quickly learned where the button was to select the slower speed setting. I accomplished a fair amount of squealing tires on the pavement as I experimented in my first-ever attempt at operating a lever-controlled steering system.
One of the big attractions to having the agility this mower offers is the number of obstacles there are around here. That also means I don’t have a hazard-free location where I can practice developing my control. I anticipate operating it on the slow speed setting for a while once the mowing days arrive.
In the meantime, I need to pick a location and configure a setup for the three dual-battery chargers.
Our fleet of 60-Volt Greenworks Tools devices now includes a 20″ push mower, a blower, and a 26″ hedge trimmer in addition to the new tractor. I think it would be fair to call me a fan.
Speaking of being a fan, this morning I am ready to tear up my membership in fandom for Minnesota sports after the epic failure of the UofM Gopher hockey team to match the attacks by the Quinnipiac University Bobcats in the championship game of the Frozen Four tournament last night.
I don’t understand why the Gophers tried to defend a one-goal lead for the entire third period by going into a defensive shell when their strength is as an offensive goal-scoring machine. Hats off to Quinnipiac for being such strong competition that they knocked Minnesota off their game.
The end of that game was embarrassing.
As many others have already commented online, that was such a Minnesota way to lose in team sports [MN Lynx excluded]. A quick internet search revealed the common phrase is, “Minnesota Sports Curse.” It’s a thing.
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Temporary Fix
Sometimes a girl just wants a little alone time. I don’t blame her one bit. Poor Mia holds the dubious position of being last in the herd hierarchy and frequently gets told she is not allowed to stand where she happens to be at a given moment. Constant admonishment has got to get old. I find it annoying to watch.
It makes Mia the jumpiest of the four horses. Yesterday, I spotted her laying down for a mid-morning nap all by herself way out in the front field.
The situation stood out to me because, for a horse, that vulnerability of laying down to sleep usually relies on another member of the herd watching over them. I suppose Mia had just gotten fed up with the rest of the herd and needed a little extra space.
When I got close enough to see around the barn I was relieved to find the herd wasn’t entirely neglecting to keep an eye out for one of their own.
Light was standing guard, just from a distance this time.
I always feel a little bad about interrupting a napping horse and paused for a moment, on my way to put a splint on the broken post, taking pictures while contemplating whether or not to proceed. I hadn’t even finished that pause when I saw the initial movements of the way a horse gets up off the ground. Mia’s nap had ended.
Did she feel the energy of my arrival? It wouldn’t surprise me one bit.
It isn’t pretty, and I doubt it will withstand any additional assault from the weight of a horse, but I’m thoroughly satisfied with the temporary fix of the post that Swings ran into at the gate opening.
I had grabbed the first two saved sections of 2×4 I saw leaning on a wall of the shop before hiking down to the scene of the damage. This band-aid will suffice for now. Being that it is located well out of view from most vantage points, there is a high likelihood I will let this crude “temporary” repair remain in place until a new reason triggers a need to replace it entirely. I’m in no hurry to go through the effort of unscrewing all the boards and pulling up the bottom half of the broken post to install a whole new one.
Temporary is a relative measurement, isn’t it?
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Visible Differences
Yesterday, Cyndie sent me a photo of the colorful energy in Puerto Rico where she and Elysa are celebrating Carlos reaching a birthday numbered somewhere between 65 and 85 years (I wouldn’t dare reveal that it might be ten years away from both of those numbers).
I responded to her text with a photo of my own.
Compare and contrast our respective scenery and company.
I’ll say this much, I’ve got the bluer sky. 🙂
In addition to the smiling faces of Barry and Carlos captured above, they are joined by their mom, Marie, and brother, Steve.
Looks like they are having a pretty good time, eh?
The visible differences between our worlds right now are a function of the invisible contrasts in our personalities. I am thrilled that Cyndie was able to take this trip to a faraway place to be with family. I am also thrilled that I didn’t have to figure out what to pack or deal with air travel and ground transportation. I am thrilled to be home alone for a week with all the comfort and conveniences that go along with that.
I have survived the hassles of traveling to incredible adventures during my life but in general, my preference leans very heavily toward being in my home spaces as much as possible. I am very grateful and incredibly lucky for the number of times Cyndie has been willing to fulfill her wanderlust without me.
Be it ever so [or not so] humble…
My pathway to the barn on Wednesday morning was a slippery block of leaf-pocked ice where I had compacted the snow with repeated trips back and forth throughout the snow season.
That won’t last very many more days. Then it becomes a path of slippery leaves over soft mud until the frost completely leaves the ground and things begin to dry out. That’s when the mind of this home-body begins to think about pumping fresh air into his bicycle tires and going out for a roll on local roadways.
There is no waiting in line at the TSA to go on a bike ride.
Here’s hoping the clouds don’t linger long over Puerto Rico!
¡Feliz Cumpleaños, Carlos!
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Melt Continues
Even though it felt seriously cold outside yesterday, with the wind making it seem like January again, the slow meltdown continues to progress without serious complications. The sand floor of the barn still stays wet where water has seeped in a couple of times when there was nowhere else for it to go. Beyond that, meltwater is all running calmly along our drainage swales as intended.
With the recent rainstorms that have moved through, the surface just beyond the barn overhang is once again as muddy as ever. When the last of the snow finally melts away I will miss the convenience of cleaning my boots in the lingering piles before returning to the house after feeding the horses.
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Looking in one direction along the driveway reveals plenty of newly visible ground.
Turning around to look up toward the house gives a much different impression.
On Tuesday night I watched the first of a 3-part PBS Frontline documentary series, “America and the Taliban,” and was impressed by the combination of perspectives provided from both sides. My viewing of this happened shortly after I had come upon a video interview with 9/11 survivor Pasquale Buzzelli where he described one of the ways he dealt with his survivor guilt.
With these powerful episodes resonating in my mind, one right after the other, I’m feeling an unexpected flashback to September 2001. I didn’t immediately know the attacks were happening at the time. In an office in the middle of a building, I placed a call to a person I knew about some mundane issue and was met with a strange response from her. It caught me off guard. She conveyed a sense of our issue being rather meaningless in the face of things.
In the face of what things? She just assumed I was aware of what was going on. This was when I learned planes had flown into the Twin Towers.
Pasquale Buzzelli described a point [me paraphrasing] in his psychological recovery when he put himself in the shoes of a friend/coworker who died when the tower collapsed. Imagining what the dead man would think about Pasquale surviving –or if Pasquale had died and was looking at his friend who survived– he surmised that the hope and desires of the deceased spirit would be that the survivor would get on with life and live it to the fullest possible extent. Doing so becomes a way to honor those who didn’t survive.
It helped Pasquale to move beyond the funk in which he had been floundering.
The Frontline documentary touches on the issue of Taliban bombings killing innocent Afghan citizens –women and children. It still seems unjustifiable in every way, but when the Taliban official being interviewed framed it from his view of the situation being a war to rid his country of invaders, I felt a moment of being able to perceive his perspective.
Two things on my mind from this throwback to the terror attacks:
- In 2001, terrorists worked on their plan for months and within our borders while I was unaware. Are there other long-game attacks in the works in 2023 that our intelligence is missing while threats from China, Russia, and an indicted past US President dominate the news?
- We should ALL be honoring those who don’t survive or those who are our ancestors by striving to become the best we can be.
We are no better than anyone else in the world, but we can become the best of ourselves if we sincerely put our minds to it.
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Hope Springs
Like the first sprout of green growth breaking through the blanket of leaves on the forest floor, reaching toward the rays of sunlight, I was full of anticipation for the scheduled delivery of my new electric lawn tractor yesterday. Seeking to assure my plan would work smoothly, I called the store in Prescott to check in and let them know this would be the day I was expecting delivery.
I was told they had received an email from the delivery company confirming that fact. The person on the phone said he could call me to let me know when the tractor got picked up. When my phone rang while I was out tending to the horses at noon, it was from the delivery company driver telling me he was 30 minutes from arrival.
Filled with hope for the approaching conclusion of this complicated purchase process, I didn’t question that the call came from the delivery company, not the store. Since I was already out with the horses and the driver would be arriving soon, I chose to wait with them and watch for the truck. The horses were understandably jumpy because the gusting wind was blowing the falling ice pellets with extra force and thunder overhead added dramatic effect.
Soon the precipitation transitioned into a heavy downpour that roared on the metal roof of the barn. I was happy to see the horses chose to endure the noise and stay under the overhang through the worst of the rain. It was taking the delivery driver longer than 30 minutes but in this weather, the driving would become slower going.
The SUV that finally pulled up our driveway looked too small to be bringing my tractor. The man asked where my tractor was located. I figured he was a helping hand who beat the truck to our location. No, he told me he was here to assemble my tractor (which I know simply involves bolting the seat on and attaching the steering levers). I asked if he had gone to the store first. No, he had come from Milwaukee! (300 miles away on the other side of the state of Wisconsin.)
Well, that explained why the store hadn’t called me to report the tractor had been picked up.
Too bad I didn’t just install a hitch on my car and rent a trailer to pick up the tractor myself two weeks ago.
The driver told me he would need to contact his office, reschedule my delivery, and he would call me back. Around dinnertime, while I was ankle-deep in mud scooping up manure, my phone rings with a call from Tennessee. It’s the delivery company calling to check if my tractor had arrived as scheduled. She was definitely looking forward to my happy reply and sounded totally shocked and was very apologetic to learn of the mixup.
I hope to find out tomorrow what their new delivery date will be. I definitely didn’t need the mower today but if the weather forecast for high temperatures to hit the 60s(F) this weekend and 70s next Tuesday proves accurate, lawn mowing will become a thing again real soon.
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Branch Removal
The weather was pleasant yesterday and enough snow had melted at the top of the driveway that I was able to cut up the branches of the big limb that came down in the last storm. That meant I needed to fire up the chainsaw that hasn’t seen any action in months. It was a little reluctant to start which involved enough pulling that I required a break to catch my breath but the second effort was the charm.
I cut up the fallen limb to three different levels: logs to split for firewood, branch trunks 4″ or less saved for the chipper, and branch tops to pile along our north property border. I trimmed the broken stump back to the main trunk of the tree and held it up for Cyndie like it was a trophy.
Looking at the tree after I was done, the overall shape seems pretty healthy. It’s as if this limb deserved to be removed for the overall benefit of the tree. That’s the way I’m going to frame it from now on, anyway.
Today, Cyndie departs to Puerto Rico for a week with our daughter to celebrate a milestone birthday this year for Carlos. I will go on a John diet for a week. The meals I prepare for myself are a lot simpler than the feasts Cyndie serves.
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My Reality
Each day when I describe details of my experiences it is a function of a basic tenet of writing: write what you know. One thing I know about is the perceptions I have of the activities of my days. Yesterday, I turned my back on the NCAA Women’s national championship game when it became obvious to me that Iowa would not beat LSU and I went out to tend to the horses.
A glance at the reading from our outdoor thermometer surprised me with the number 51. Looking for a second source, I opened a weather app to see what it offered for a current temperature. The reading from Red Wing, MN –twenty miles to our south– was 57°F! I did not expect this level of warming yesterday. The new snow remaining on the ground from the blizzard Friday night was quickly being transformed into water. Our drainage ditches were flowing like rivers.
I have no idea how this fits into the entanglement of the quantum mechanics of our physical world, but I do know that this quick melt significantly increased the level of mud in the paddocks. At the same time, I cannot describe how I occasionally get a sense of someone in Nepal practicing an endless recitation of the mantra “om mani padme hum” as I breathe our air and take meandering steps half a planet away.
The horses were giving me the impression of being spectacularly patient about the slow melt we’ve been having this spring while they were also slipping into behaviors of being annoyingly impatient about getting served pans of feed after I showed up. The impatience is easily soothed by the arrival of their food and the quartet of munching sounds conveys a new meditative peacefulness that I gladly absorb.
It is April and there is a reason to think we might be gardening soon. Does this image look like our garden is eager to get going?:
I’m trying to absorb some of the horses’ patience about the uneven transition from the snow season to our growing season.
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Tree Scenes
After Friday’s overnight blast of rain and thunder that swiftly transitioned into a heavy blizzard dropping 1-to-2-inch per hour of snow, Saturday delivered a blue sky with enough sunshine to reduce the snow cover by half.
I was getting pelted by snow and ice chunks falling from the branches as I wandered around taking pictures of the after-effects of the spring storm. The icy tree branches caught most of my attention.
The gaping wound on this ornamental maple tree at the top of our driveway exposes the harsh reality of the toll these kinds of weather events dish out on the greatest assets we have on our land.
Similar to the way some trees hold the leaves at the very top in the fall after the lower branches have become bare, several of our trees had crowns of ice reflecting the sunlight.
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I’ll conclude with a tree that showed no sign of life last year, failing to sprout a single green needle yet still has enough structure to support the snow like a healthy tree.
There will be a lot of branch-collecting to be done across our acres after the snow finally melts away this year. I’m looking ahead to the days when our tree scenes return to their green best.
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Not Fooled
April. Really?
Fool me once…
I thought I was going to shovel snow. APRIL FOOLS!
It was more like cement. Maybe stucco. Plaster?
Just to add to the ruse, nature makes it look gorgeous.
I fear this mess will be un-plowable. How fast will it melt? I’m going to clean up around the edges and see how conditions change after the sun shines on it for an hour or two.
I don’t think the horses see much humor in this kind of practical joke. Our trees don’t think it’s very funny, either.
My new zero-turn mower is due to arrive on Tuesday.
Happy April everyone!
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Relative Something 