Archive for July 2023
Immediate Attention
No sooner had I stepped out of Marie’s vehicle at home and sent her down the road to her home did I find myself tending to the needs of our property. Welcome home, John.
The filter on the pond pump was in dire need of cleaning as the flow was down to barely a trickle. There were more weeds than grass growing in the yard and many of them were in the neighborhood of 8” tall. There was manure to be managed and fence lines overdue for a trim. The labyrinth looks like a jungle.
I needed to drive for gas and diesel fuel and empty mouse traps of carcasses. There were also clocks to reset as there was a brief loss of power while we were away. I don’t dare inspect Cyndie’s garden but the raspberry bushes are ready for harvest so I assume beans and peas deserve some attention at the very least.
It was very satisfying to find the horses had been well cared for during our time away and the flowers Cyndie surrounds the house with look like they aren’t desperate for a drink of water. There is evidence that a heavy rain event occurred based on the flattened grass in the drainage ditches and the significant washout in the paddock.
The uphill rain gauge contained 4” and the one by the labyrinth had 2.25.”
I got the mowing completed down by the road and then trimmed down there, too. Once again, it looks like somebody actually lives here.
After a shower and some dinner, clouds boiled up, and heavy rain and a little hail made another appearance. That brought the temperature down from the high 80s(F) to the low 70s in mere minutes.
The overnight temperatures felt like I was still up north. Only thing missing is a lake, my wife, and our dog.
No wonder I got so much accomplished in half-day of work yesterday.
.
.
More Spectating
Different sport, similar passion. USMNT (U.S. men’s national soccer team) was up against Canada last night in the CONCACAF Gold Cup Tournament quarterfinals (The Confederation of North, Central America and Caribbean Association Football).
I watched the whole spectacle on television. The quality of the U.S. team’s play in the first half was rather embarrassing. The score was 0-0 at the break. Things picked up a bit in the second half and then got wild in the final minutes. 1-1 at the end of regulation.
2-2 at the end of overtime.
In the deciding penalty shootout, the U.S. goalkeeper, Matt Turner made two saves.
The final shot by Canada hit the crossbar and bounced out.
The U.S. won on penalties, 3-2.
Canada deserved better but I’ll take the win so I can watch the U.S. team play again in a couple of days.
Today, I get a break from watching sports. The Tour de France is on the first of two rest days so there is no racing. I will be driving home with Cyndie’s mom this morning and Cyndie and Asher will stay at the lake with friends for a few more days.
I suspect there are some compost piles that need to be turned and a few areas that could use some mowing after a week and a half away. I’m feeling ready to be back home, despite the time at the lake being nothing short of ideal.
Home is where I wanna be.
.
.
Watching France
For the ninth day in a row, I find myself mesmerized by the broadcast of the Tour de France bicycle race and their excellent helicopter views of the greater countryside beyond the roads of the race. I am of the mind that the vantage point of watching the riders fly past from the side of the road can’t hold a candle to the ability to see the many angles provided by the camera operators riding on motorcycles.
Combined with the overhead views from helicopters, which pan across 13th-century architecture and fascinating chateaus, I am left feeling like I have not only been watching racers but I have been watching the fabulous scenes of the country of France.
This morning’s rockin’ climb finish with a (currently as I am writing this) breakaway group over 10 minutes ahead that appears to be threatening the yellow jersey-wearing Jonas Vingegaard’s chance at a stage win on the brutal final ascent.
Jonas was looking all business as they paced along the official car toward the approach of the starting point.
I’m going to stop writing and focus on today’s race excitement for the next hour…
.
.
A Destroyer
Before I get to tales of Asher’s skills as a destroyer of dog toys I would like to self-report my successful destruction of the largest walleye fillet I have ever been served.
I made sure to put my fork on the plate for reference. Had I known it was going to be that massive I would have ordered the broiled option instead of batter-fried. I made it through half the serving at dinner Thursday night and enjoyed the rest for lunch yesterday. That was a BIG fish. Oh, and delicious, as well.
Now, Asher’s destructive skills extend well beyond his ability to annihilate bowls of his food at meal times. We have been happy to employ the trick of tossing old toys in the tub with a scattering of treat pellets but it has led to him choosing to reduce the number of toys getting in his way.
Yesterday he pulled the stuffing out of three different items. The challenge for us is that his escapades in this realm require constant supervision. When he gets wound up/bored/anxious/hangry/frustrated his behavior often drops down to biting pillows, cushions, or furniture corners.
We need to quickly steer his teeth toward sanctioned chew toys. Then we have to studiously watch for the threads and fabric shards Asher tries to eject off his tongue without pause between fresh attacks of the object of his attention.
Then comes the stuffing. He appears to feel great pleasure in pulling out massive wads of the cottony padding. Thankfully, he shows no interest in consuming the stuff. It leads to some comical gyrations as he works to push it out of his mouth as fast as he is pulling in the next bite he can get his teeth on.
Our hands are kept busy trying to grasp the sloppy clouds of stuffing that show up –some sticking to his chin or getting caught on a tooth– while staying clear of his busy canines.
We are not there to interrupt his project, just safely facilitate his progress and keep the disaster scene from becoming overly gruesome.
With Asher’s penchant for the total destruction of purchased toys, we have added an incentive to employ the advice we received in the obedience classes about alternatives that didn’t come from a store.
He is not allowed to take things out of the recycle bin but we are allowed to give them to him if we so choose. A few morsels of his food slipped into an empty box will provide several seconds of entertainment for us and a distraction from his urge for chewing on unauthorized items.
It feels a lot like an exercise in reverse psychology to me. Allow him to shred some trash before he surreptitiously sneaks off and does it on his own. Instead of getting in trouble for it, he finds out he is behaving as expected?
Whatever it takes to keep his mind busy solving entertaining challenges that don’t consume our life savings is worth a try in my view. We don’t want this dog to destroy our financial future. [I’m exaggerating, I hope you’ll know…]
.
.
Plenty Attention
Today will mark the completion of Asher’s first week at the lake. It’s fair to say he has adjusted pretty well to all the combinations of people and other animals that swirl around the Wildwood property in general and Friswold’s “cabin” in particular.
He is getting big love from all of Cyndie’s family and learning how to not bark at every movement of other people he can see from his lofty vantage point out on the second-story deck.
Cyndie and I have experimented with different attention exercises for Asher that we learned about in the obedience classes.
Tossing morsels of his dog food into a tub filled with toys requires that he push around items that may have fallen from his interest to find the snacks he can smell.
That tends to renew his liking for some items he had begun to ignore.
Asher has a remarkable inclination to push his squeaking tennis-style balls underneath furniture. When he tries that game out on the deck, the ball tends to roll off and fall to the ground one level below. Yesterday, I went down below and initiated a game of catch where I would throw the ball back up over the railing.
It proved to be an exception to the norm of so many other games where he tends to be the only one really enjoying it. I was having a blast trying to catch the balls he was nudging over the edge and then tossing them back up in a manner that gave him a fair chance of catching it with his mouth.
Beck devised a modified chew toy combination that has become my favorite. He forced one of the larger Kong balls in the middle of a hard chew ring.
It makes it harder for Asher to pick up but he seems interested in the challenge because he can almost get his teeth on the half of felt-covered ball that sticks out of each side.
Asher was flipping and kicking it around with great fervor yesterday. It seemed almost too hard for him to separate the two toys at first but now it is getting easier with practice.
With all the fun and attention Asher has been enjoying up at the lake this week, I’m starting to wonder if his eventual return home will become a disappointment for him.
Not that I’m projecting how we feel when we get home onto him or anything…
.
.
Top Down
With a title like “Top Down,” you might suspect my mind is stuck on the incredible and a little bit crazy escapades of the Tour de France racers making their way down the sides of mountains at ridiculous speeds. I’ll admit, the thought did cross my mind but, no, this choice of words came from the way the tree in front of the house next door is dying.
When we were up here for Memorial Day weekend, the leaves all looked healthy, but Tom told me it was going to die because squirrels (the most likely culprits) had eaten away the bark over winter.
There is no denying the accuracy of his prediction now. I was startled to see how dramatically the demise was represented in the gradual decline of life from the top down.
In circumstances that echo our experience with the maple tree we transplanted to the center of our labyrinth at home, this was the fourth tree that Tom and his dad had tried growing in that spot. This one had finally proved a success but now that achievement has ended up being short-lived.
At least a half-dozen other similar-sized trees on the properties up here suffered the same fate over the winter. I don’t know what drove critters to devour so much tree bark up here last year, but now I want to wrap the trunk of our maple at home before next winter arrives.
It’s such a helpless feeling watching a tree slowly die.
Meanwhile, the number of little oak sprouts that appear on our beach every year (only to get plucked because… it is a beach!) is mind-boggling.
I’d like to volunteer to transplant a handful of those sprouts up to the vicinity of the dying maple of the Whitlock’s and we can see if one takes.
We’ve all been marveling over how unnoticeable it is that so many trees were cut down up here last November. The remaining trees have done well to fill in the gaps that were created by the removal of ailing ones.
If the planet hadn’t just set a new record for the hottest temperature ever recorded, I’d feel a bit more optimistic about the overall health of our forests up at the lake as well as at home.
It certainly has me appreciating what we have at this moment. Here’s to all the trees that are currently healthy from the top down.
.
.
Stilted
.
still
here
waiting
in the stillness
stilted
acclimatizing
asking myself
without ever answering
looking after
intangible ideals
basking in the absence
of sound reasoning
lonely
amid the expectations
laughing silently
at an in-joke our glances shared
conspiring innocently
innocuously
with our best selves
bursting
after dark
like vivid pyrotechnical displays
barely visible
just beyond the horizon
with audible booms
that echo the same
as yesterday’s thunder
.
.
Swimming Deeper
While I was watching the third stage of the Tour de France bike race, Cyndie was outside walking Asher. I spotted them down at the beach and was happy she had him playing in the water again. Soon after, I heard Cyndie calling for him. Then I heard her calling for me to go after him from above.
Asher had decided to take off down the shoreline to our west. I had just started into the woods between our place and the next property over when I heard shouting from the island out in our bay. People there had seen our dog run up from the lake toward the house above.
Eventually, I was able to nab Asher and get him home in time to watch the finish of the day’s bike race. Later in the afternoon, at a time when the beach was sparsely populated, Cyndie and I took Asher back to the water with a 30-foot leash to keep him from running off.
It had become a very hot day and I was happy to immerse myself in the water where I could coax our pup to do the same. Asher showed great interest in coming out to meet me but quickly turned around after just a few paddles in the deep water. It was interesting to witness the look of apprehension on his face as he experimented with the new adventure.
We got him to swim further and longer with each invitation but he always wanted to turn as soon as possible to get back where he could stand again. The funniest behavior he displayed was his urge to do the classic doggy body shake to get the water off his coat even though he was still standing almost to his neck in the lake.
After a busy day of new activities, Asher showed more interest than usual in doing some power lounging on the couch in the porch.
I think he is adjusting well to the pace of life up at the lake.
.
.
Pickle Play
With our Wildwood lake place community aging out of the toddler and young children phases of family life, the Independence Day festivities have adjusted. We have shifted from the fish pond, shoe kick, water balloon toss, and watermelon eating contests of old to one large double-elimination pickleball tournament for game day.
A good time was had by all.
Teams were formed by random selection, mixing the pool of ages in ranges from a few high schoolers, a lot of college-goers, a span of parents, and several of us over 60. Weather conditions were nearly perfect with the dual mocked-up courts offering a mix of sun and shade, spiced up with occasional bursts of (often useful) wind blasts.
My partner and I jumped out to an early 5-0 lead in our first game which helped carry us to victory, keeping us in the winners’ bracket for game two. That one was an excellent challenge but didn’t end in our favor.
The trophy pickle was beginning to feel out of our reach.
Bounced down to the losers’ bracket, we had a run of bad luck and watched the score of our third game just walk away from our control. Shots fell wide or into the net and neither of us could shift the momentum of our slide.
We got pickled. Is that a phrase used in this sport?
Regardless of our two inglorious losses, the whole afternoon was a blast. It is always a treat when our whole Wildwood community gathers for specific events.
This was the second-annual 4th-of-July pickleball tournament at the lake place and it gave me the feeling that we might happily settle into this becoming routine for the foreseeable future.
We may need to look into crafting a trophy out of something other than a real pickle if that ends up being the case.
.
.
Swimming Lesson
When I took Asher to visit the shoreline of the lake for the first time on Friday he showed no interest in getting his paws wet. It was unclear whether he would find a reason to discover the joys of cooling off with a splash in the wonderfully clear water of Big Round Lake.
The first milestone accomplished for us yesterday was the successful introduction to two of the dogs of the families residing next door to us. Asher made friends with a giant Newfoundland, “Bear” and a Yellow Lab, “Lulu” without incident.
We are challenged with the trick of Asher not being reliable at obeying our calls when allowed off-leash but not being able to confine him to a leash around the free-roaming dogs he is meeting because of the power imbalance that introduces.
One positive outcome occurred in the afternoon when we coerced Asher toward the beach on the way home from a free ramble he embarked on and found Lulu fetching thrown sticks in the lake. The energy of Lulu splashing into the water was enough to pull Asher out of his apprehension about getting wet.
He slowly advanced in successive trips in and out of the water as he saw Lulu swimming after the stick, hopping in great leaps to deal with the deeper and deeper depths.
With all of us encouraging Asher, he eventually did a little swimming with Lulu when it was too deep for him to touch but then his interest in getting after Lulu and her stick forced us to call for a break before the conflict became more serious.
Today at Wildwood we have a pickleball tourney and community dinner to look forward to. Somewhere in there, I expect we will find another chance to let Asher try chasing one of his own toys out into the water to advance his swimming skills.
Depends on whether he will be alone at the beach or with other canine competitors.
.
.
Relative Something 