Archive for September 2023
Overnight Excavation
Cyndie discovered it first and told me I needed to check out the odd hole in the backyard. Even though she described it as unique compared to any holes Asher digs, I was not expecting the depth and large circumference. More surprising, there was almost no dirt visible outside the hole.
Where did it go?
From the angle of my approach, I instantly spotted the hole in the bottom of the hole. There were bees moving around and entering and exiting the small opening.
Some critter was after the bees. Cyndie looked up what animals dig up bee nests in the ground and learned bears, skunks, and raccoons were possibilities. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a bear –we’ve seen no recent evidence of bear activity– and we hope it wasn’t a skunk. It could very easily have been a raccoon.
Still, I don’t understand where the dirt from the hole ended up.
We intend to fill the hole with lime screenings after spraying to discourage the continuation of bee activity in this spot. Cyndie read that the animals that dig up bee nests are seeking larvae. If the critter that dug up this nest was successful, maybe there wouldn’t be any future for this nest anyway.
The question remains, where did the dirt go? It’s a mystery to me.
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Mice Everywhere
Today is Cyndie’s and my 42nd wedding anniversary and our son, Julian’s 35th birthday. Other than that, it feels like a regular old Tuesday. Regular, except for the fact there are mice showing up everywhere I turn.
Sunday night I was doing dishes when a mouse walked out from beneath the stove, traveled along the baseboard and disappeared beneath the refrigerator. I put a trap along that path and it hasn’t been touched since.
Over the weekend, Cyndie called for my assistance because there were two live mice in the wash tub in the laundry room.
Yesterday, while I was eating lunch at the center island of our kitchen, I glanced over to my right and spotted a mouse walking from the dining room rug into the sunroom. Cyndie swatted and disposed of it before Asher figured out what all the fuss was about.
Obviously, our house is not sealed tight against rodent intrusion or maybe the snakes just stopped eating mice and there’s been a population explosion.
I couldn’t get away from dealing with mice when I went out to the shop to work on setting up a new water tank we bought. I needed to connect wiring for a 12V auxiliary plug on the Grizzly ATV. There had been a mouse nest under the seat long ago and back then, I disconnected wires where the insulation had been chewed. Now I needed to patch them up and reconnect them.
There was still leftover debris in the compartment under the seat so I pulled out the shop vac and turned it on. Chewed-up bits of fiberglass insulation shot out of the exhaust port of the vacuum and blew over everything in the vicinity. Somehow, an industrious mouse made its way up into the guts of the shop vac and built quite a nest.
There is probably very little insulation left in one of the walls of the shop.
Maybe for our anniversary, we could buy each other the services of a pest control company. True love.
Happy Birthday, Julian!!
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A Comparison
A thought experiment comparing the sports I watch on television with the shows Cyndie and I have been seeing lately:
First of all, I will admit to having a bit of an elitist attitude about the quality of scripts, casting, and acting for the dramas and drama/comedies we choose. One of our peeves is when an actor has to describe something like a crime scene to a colleague who would already know the information being shared. Presumably, this is done to inform the viewing audience but doing so by way of describing a legal detail to one’s partner detective who would already be aware of it just spoils the whole magic of imagining the scene was really happening.
It comes across as stupid and demeans the viewing audience.
Recently, we have been enjoying “Reservation Dogs.” At the same time, we happened to take in the first season of “Dark Winds,” because we are big fans of Zahn McClarnon who is acting in the role of Joe Leaphorn (in addition to “Big” in Reservation Dogs). “Dark Winds” started out strong but soon fell to some simplified storytelling that took away from the overall effect.
There was a scene where day inexplicably became night and the elapsed time is not justified in any way. It is a jolt that kicks us out of the drama on screen.
How does this compare to watching sports? I don’t know. But there are differing levels of drama in the team games I watch. Obviously, the players can easily be seen as parallel to actors in scripted shows. Speaking of scripts, there are designed plays that teams attempt to execute.
Some of the plays come across as brilliant, and plenty seem kind of stupid.
The coaches compare to directors. A well-coached team with good players who execute the designed scheme can perform a game that is a joy to watch and leaves me energized afterward. I noticed that my reaction was similar to the way we feel at the end of a great episode of “Reservation Dogs.” We want to talk about it after it ends and can’t wait to see the next episode when it becomes available.
Well, that is what happens with sports fans. After a good game (and sometimes the bad ones) we want to talk about what we saw, read news accounts of what happened, and immediately look forward to the next competition.
Sports teams have a bad game on occasion. A good television series can have a dud of an episode.
One big thing about sports that appeals to me is that the games are happening live while I watch. That easily compares to the added thrill of watching Saturday Night Live skits on television. You never know exactly what’s going to happen.
Even though I put this energy into selling the joys of watching sports by comparing it to Cyndie’s appreciation of good television series, she still does not want to watch games with me.
That’s okay. The exercise has given me a renewed zest for watching this season’s NFL games. Go Vikings! [currently 0-2]
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Overnight Construction
Our morning walks to the barn, by way of the woods so that Asher can get his needs met, always reveal an impressive amount of activity that occurs while we sleep.
Burrowing critters have been creating shockingly large piles of freshly mined dirt lately. They probably need to make new homes because snakes have moved into all their previous caverns.
I used to stomp these piles down, partly thinking I might drive dirt back where it came from and convince the rodents to choose a different location, but that just created large, flat dirt spots where nothing would grow.
After a moment of inspiration, I realized that kicking the pile far and wide spread the dirt thinly over the grass blades and avoided creating a big dead spot. I have mostly given up on trying to coerce the pests to go somewhere else.
I often complain about walking into the hard-to-see strands of spider web that span our pathways but there are many more webs being built that don’t cross the trails.
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It may look like this hand tool hasn’t been used in a long time, but the steel scrubby was getting attached too and it was in use to clean the waterer just a day before.
I wonder if the nighttime builders are surprised when they come out at dusk and discover all the things Cyndie and I have done around the place during the day. Like, maybe, the burrowing critters find their den caved in and decide to move from the lawn areas to a field or the woods.
Honestly, the more effort we put toward clearing spider webs and gopher mounds the more it seems to inspire pests to become more invested in rebuilding and expanding their developments.
There may be some form of reverse psychology potential awaiting me in the coexistence with the creatures that appear to work at odds with our daily activity, but that is probably overthinking.
Still, choosing to simply ignore their activity has some appeal, even if it won’t lead to making them go away.
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Foggy Morning
The weather app on my phone notified me that we were under dense fog conditions first thing this morning. That proved to be a spot-on analysis.
It wasn’t all that obvious in the woods where Asher and I were breaking spider webs that crossed our trails. When we reached the fence of the back pasture, it was as if none of our neighbors existed.
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The horses didn’t seem overly worried about their limited views. They were spread out with heads up when I came around the corner, appearing well aware of my arrival.
Every morning there is obvious evidence of burrowing critter activity in and around the barn overnight. There is enough spillage from the horses’ sloppy eating that barn pigeons and rodents find more than enough motivation to hang around. For some reason, this morning a couple of rodents didn’t wait until I was gone to emerge from their tunnels to scrounge. That’s the first time I have actually seen them.
Come to think of it, I haven’t seen the neighbor’s orange cat lurking around our property of late. I wonder if Asher would be okay with us getting a barn cat to keep the rodent population from exploding. In the meantime, we will be adding some traps in the barn.
One of our ash trees near the (vacant) chicken coop is proving to be our “canary in the coal mine” when it comes to the onset of autumn.
Every year it drops leaves sooner than most other trees have begun to change color. This year it stands out more than usual for being so bare-branched so soon.
Is the middle of September early for bare branches? Sure seems like it to me, especially when we have 80°F temperatures forecast for the coming week. It still feels an awful lot like summer around here, even with a cool fog blanketing the landscape this morning.
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Canine Companion
Life on the ranch with our adopted rescue, Asher, is becoming downright charming in the way he now calmly hangs around areas where we are working. Case in point:
He decided to test out the slope Cyndie had just raked.
I have taken to entertaining Asher with thrown balls for him to chase while I am working which burns enough of his energy off that he gladly lays down near me to rest for a spell.
All the while keeping a vigilant watch on the horizon for anything that moves.
He is becoming much more of a buddy with both of us and loves physical contact. I think he is figuring out the latest situation he has found himself in has the makings of becoming his permanent home.
That’s just the canine companion we were hoping for.
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Plum Jam
The volunteer wild American Plum trees growing in a bramble along our property line and along the edge of the compost area have been showing good fruit this year but have been ripening at different rates. Yesterday, we decided to take the plunge and collect a batch for making plum jam.
I suggested we bring out a sheet to capture fruit that falls when shaking the tree. Cyndie handed me the sheet and sent me into the bramble to spread it beneath the branches. Easier said than done.
One reason we didn’t want the plums to fall to the ground is that Asher has shown an interest in eating them and can get to the fruit faster than we are able to pick them up.
The sheet worked well enough, despite the plums falling from a wider area than it covered. That was probably a good thing that kept us from trying to process more than what we had time to deal with yesterday.
Cyndie spotted a lone plum that had landed in the crook of a bare branch.
I got my hands messy helping to pit the plums and did my best to support Cyndie during the cooking and pouring into jars.
The plums aren’t overly sweet but Cyndie succeeded in mixing in less sugar than the recipe called for and taste tests had us both agreeing the flavor was good; not too tart.
The telltale “ping” of lids popping during dinner indicated the cooling jars of jam were sealing as hoped.
Since our harvest of wild black raspberries was lighter than usual this summer, it feels good to be able to take advantage of a different free crop that nature has provided. We ended up filling 18 jars of varying sizes with homemade plum jam.
The flavor stands no chance of competing with my passion for Cyndie’s wild blackcap raspberry jam, but I intend to enjoy the plum jam plenty since the fruit is from our property and was canned with the same loving care as all the goodies prepared in Cyndie’s kitchen.
Also, because we spread it on toast, and toast is just about one of my favorite morning treats. Toasted bagels, brown bread, honey wheat, or the all-time greatest, toasted homemade bread of any type (including Gramma Betty buns).
Guess what I want for breakfast this morning.
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Beauty Sacrificed
I was clearing growth from one of our trails and came upon this wonderful sight:
Then I cut it down. [sad face] I sure love the look of those leaves.
There was a time when Cyndie and I were so invested in having as many trees as possible that we couldn’t push ourselves to cut any of the volunteer growth that sprouted. We tried hard to transplant the little oaks and maples that showed up in locations where they shouldn’t be.
Those efforts were rarely rewarded. We saw so many transplants die and so many new sprouts return every year that we finally came to our senses and allowed ourselves to cut growth that popped up where we didn’t want it. These days, I’ve become much more ruthless than I ever imagined when it comes to culling new sprouts.
Yesterday, I found myself working in the vicinity of Cyndie’s perennial garden to cut back overgrowth. There is a point in the summer when unwatched growth goes nuts all of a sudden. Junk trees must gain a foot every day or two. Weeds jump to heights taller than the trees.
Along the trail behind her garden where I had weed-whacked early in the summer, there were little explosions of growth rising out of previously cut stumps. (We don’t apply any chemicals to the stumps after cutting.) When I cut down medium-to-small diameter tree trunks to clear a trail, stumps sprout countless new replacement shoots. If I don’t return in a timely fashion to eliminate the new sprouts, what was once a single tree becomes a monstrous shrub.
If I am tenacious enough to do frequent battles against the stumps’ attempts to reclaim their former glory, follow-up pruning isn’t that big of a deal. But if I wait a little too long, it requires a lot more effort. Luckily, it only takes two or three growing seasons before the stumps finally give up and I ultimately get my way. At that point, my well-groomed trails become as visually pleasing as the beautiful surrounding trees that we didn’t need to sacrifice.
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September Morning
It was a classic September morning yesterday and a rather photogenic one, I must say. How about a wispy fog in the valley around sunrise?
Around the corner, near the barn, we just couldn’t stop gazing at the scenic landscape.
Then Cyndie remembered she was going to pick more wild American plums from a tree beside the compost area. It is entangled with a vine that has sprouted some fruit of its own. We have some grapes!
Not much for size compared to cultivated varieties but great fun to see them appear on our totally wild vines. Maybe the growth in this spot is happy to be in close proximity to whatever leaches from the piles of composting horse manure.
Before we know it, these mornings will start to get frosty and the growing season will come to an end. As the planet warms, that’s been happening later and later every year, so it’s a guess as to how soon. The shorter hours of daylight make it seem like the change to frosty temperatures is just around the corner.
I’m mentally prepared but won’t be holding my breath in anticipation. I love September mornings no matter how they come.
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Expanding
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change the length
of your inhales
by thinking about them
while inhaling
through your nose
and make them longer
even longer
to reach that pinnacle
like that feeling
when you yawn
exhale
for even longer than that
with your eyes closed
to notice the sensation
behind your face
an expansive cavern
to the molecules
sailing through
getting bigger
in your mind’s eye
with another breath
expanding
beyond the universe
of understanding
of logic
calculations
everything that made sense
because it always did before
until you focused
on a bunch
of increasingly lengthier
breaths
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Relative Something 