Archive for November 2023
Wonky Weather
When you woke up today, did you realize it was the last day of November? Our weather took a step back toward October yesterday. That served to complicate my assessment of what day and in which month we find ourselves at the moment. Of course, that confusion rides on top of the daily challenge one experiences when living in retirement and not having anywhere one is required to be on any particular day.
Warm sunshine was a welcome change and reduced our snow cover significantly.
Only the areas shaded from the afternoon sun retained evidence snow has already fallen this year. 2023/24 is an El Niño winter year for us, meaning many storm paths will shift to our south. We still may get some snow, but it is predicted we will see more occasions of mixed precipitation or even rain. Not my favorite scenario.
Yesterday’s pleasant weather made it comfortable for the farrier to trim the horse’s hooves. The horses were relaxed when I showed up to put on their halters but by the time the trimming got underway, it was precariously close to their usual feeding hour. With each passing minute, they showed an increasing impatience for feed pans to be delivered and a decreasing interest in standing around calmly for trimming.
Life’s an adventure.
My adventures with Asher were a little different. He was confined to a leash all day but I tried to give him freedom to choose his path. Unfortunately, all he wanted to do was revisit the very same off-property places that got him in trouble the day before. We’d walk a while until I stopped at the limit of our property line and then he’d do a little tugging and redirecting until he gave up and then the same thing would happen further down the line.
It wasn’t very rewarding for either of us, but at least I was able to prevent him from running off. That was a win for me.
My brain is not able to tell that 29 days of November have already passed. Maybe I should be putting an “X” on each day in a calendar as they become history to help my perception. The wonky weather sure isn’t helping me out.
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Around Again
Sitting on the cold, hard ground with a pile of dog treats beside me, I watched as Asher passionately made another manic pass around the neighbor’s outbuilding. Their cat had dashed under a tiny opening to avoid capture. Sure, I was feeling angry. He had clearly disrespected my commands for the last twenty minutes as he freely trotted along well beyond the repeatedly demonstrated limits of our property, but that wasn’t entirely unexpected.
No, what was irking me even more was the way our horse, Light, walked right up to my face while I was cutting through the back pasture and without warning, reared up on her hind legs giving me a much too close encounter with one of her front hooves. WTF, girl!
My startled audible response was enough to get all the horses to react, rearranging themselves to different positions. I didn’t have time to deal with them at the moment because I was on a mission to regain control of Asher while thinking about what model of shock collar I wanted to convince Cyndie we should buy.
When I crested the hill of the hay field, I caught sight of Asher and saw him turn toward me in response to my call. Then he crossed the road and continued his illicit sniff-fari along the cornfield’s edge in gross defiance.
I phoned Cyndie and asked her to ring the “dinner” bell at our front door because we’ve trained him to return to that and sometimes it actually works. He definitely heard it. He turned and began to run. I thought we had him and I started running for the gate near the driveway to meet him, but he kept going along the road and headed directly for the neighbor’s place with the cockapoo and the barn cat.
Did I mention it was cold? I really didn’t want to be sitting on the ground, but it was obvious that Asher was not going to allow me to catch him. I needed him to come to me. Offering food was not enough enticement. Each time he came around the building, he returned to the spot the cat had snuck under. Each time he took off around again, I moved closer to that spot.
Finally, I was able to reach him and attach the leash to his harness. I am not proud of my performance as I practically dragged him back the long walk to our house on that leash.
The ambiance in the house was warm and pleasant as I whipped dog and leash through the door before slamming it angrily to go feed the horses and pretend I wasn’t thoroughly pissed with Light’s unsafe behavior.
I was triggered, majorly. My old self would have proceeded ignorantly. I wanted to shut down. I didn’t want to look at the dog ever again. I didn’t want to be the only one feeding the horses every day. I didn’t want animals. I didn’t want to be married.
You see where this was headed. But, I know better now. My depression has been treated by professionals.
I have also learned life lessons from horses. I quickly got back to grazing. Deep breaths. When Light began her spastic leg flexing that always ends up spilling her feed pan, I stood beside her and moved my hand soothingly along her chest and leg until she calmed down.
We don’t always take the time to do that for her. In this case, I was also doing it for me.
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Degrees
.
light
from the low angle
of the winter sun
creates colors
of a different hue
making the cold feel
colder
engendering exhilaration
with a resigned tightness
flexing involuntarily
against air
that lacks degrees
single digits
for the first time
in months
announce the arrival
of an icy stare
relentless in its grip
but helpless
against the glow
of warm colors radiating
through the glass doors
of a fireplace
fully aflame
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Kicked Off
Yesterday, we kicked off the post-Thanksgiving holiday season with a brunch and a show. With our kids and some of Cyndie’s family, we gathered for brunch at the Copper Hen restaurant on Nicollet Avenue in Minneapolis. The place was hopping with good energy, the ambiance was intriguing, and the food was top-notch.
From that location, it was just a short drive to Northrop Auditorium on the University of Minnesota campus where Cirque du Soleil was offering their first-ever holiday show, “Twas The Night Before…” It was a little different to see a Cirque show confined to a small stage but the quality of acrobatics was first-rate and the entertaining sense of humor and high-energy music was on brand.
Making everything feel even more seasonally festive, Cyndie and I drove through some heavy falling snow on the way to Minneapolis. As we passed through the city of Hudson, we dropped Asher off at his new favorite canine hangout, the kennel that offers afternoon daycare in addition to overnight boarding.
It seems like he is starting to recognize the route because he got increasingly excited as we approached. In the lobby, where he had previously shown some hesitation to be separated from us, he left Cyndie behind without a glance and rushed right in to be with the rest of the hounds in attendance.
Although it made it nice for us to have him well cared for while we were out, it forced us to make a hasty exit after the show. We left the family with a nod and a wink to get our car out of the parking ramp and hit the road so we could pick him back up before they closed for the day. If we didn’t get there in time he would become an unwitting overnight guest.
During the show, our phones pinged with a weather warning that icy road conditions were possible in the area. That heightened our sense of urgency in rushing off but neither time nor weather proved to be a problem and everything worked out nicely.
I think I may have kicked off a few earworms of Christmas songs that could get old real quick, but it was special this year to jump into the festive cheer with family before the Thanksgiving weekend had even ended.
December will be here before you know it. Ho ho ho. Visions of sugar plums dead ahead.
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Feeling Thankful
I’m particularly thankful on this final day of the US Thanksgiving holiday weekend. The good fortunes bestowed upon us by the universe, chance, choices, and a smattering of genuine efforts are beyond measure. As such, engaging in the exercise of naming a few that come to mind provides valuable perspective for a immeasurable phenomenon.
When I realized the automatic waterer for the horses in the paddocks was getting warmer than a hot tub, I looked up the temp control details online. Upon opening the access panel of the waterer, I found there was no thermocouple to adjust. After I got over the shock and traced wires several times, suddenly my fingers landed on the leads to the unit that was just dangling in air. I don’t know what caused it to slide out but I’m extremely thankful the fix was so easy and the water is now a reasonable temperature that won’t sting the horses’ lips.
- The surgical incisions on Cyndie’s ankle have a ways to go before the skin has healed fully. Still, already she is experiencing joyful relief over the absence of the screws and plates that once held the shattered bones together. They eventually became a problem of their own. I’m really thankful for the good work of the surgeon and staff of the hospital and Tria Orthopedic for their excellent treatment of Cyndie’s injury.
- This is an ongoing appreciation but lately, I’m feeling particularly aware of the mental benefits of successfully treating the depression that dominated much of my life from childhood through roughly mid-life. I am so very thankful for the doctors and therapists who guided and educated me, some of whom I can’t even recall names or faces. I guess I wasn’t focused on the guides but on the destination.
- Lastly, for this exercise, I want to tell you how thankful I am that you are reading the odd chronicles I decide to post here every day on Relative Something. To the worldwide audience of WordPress bloggers who happen upon random posts and end up returning for more and the friends and family who understand I don’t use other social media and keep in touch by reading me here. Even if I don’t know you are following along, if you are reading these words right now it means something to me and I am thankful internet stranger(s).
Maybe by exercising my thankfulness muscles in this way, I will continue to gain prowess in my journey toward optimum health. Mental “planks” as compared to the back-saving core exercise I continue to employ. Thankfully, those seem to be helping me to avoid prolonged repeated episodes of debilitating pain.
Happy last day of this (U.S.) holiday weekend!
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Orange Obsession
It has come to my attention that I can obsess with relative ease. Obsession is something I prefer to avoid due to the preoccupation filling a mind constantly and intrusively to a troubling extent. It’s just not mentally healthy.
When a glimpse of blaze orange appeared from our front yard about 45 meters (50 yards) into the woods to our north, Asher and I both took notice. Asher wanted to freeze and stare while I preferred acting nonchalant and continuing as if oblivious.
Once inside, I didn’t hesitate to whip out the binoculars to see if I could verify the possibility there was a hunter crouched beyond a ridge, waiting for a deer to wander close. Unfortunately, I couldn’t improve on the basic perception of a small blob of orange. There was just too much distance for my wimpy binoculars and too many branches or tree trunks obscuring the view.
After staring for far too long in the hope of seeing some movement, I gave up and decided to check back periodically to see if it was still there. Hours eventually turned to days and I was able to convince myself it was not a hunter but more likely a hat or some other article of outdoor clothing that had been dropped and lost.
That didn’t stop me from continuing to look for it every time I walked nearby. I was curious if the hunter would return in search of the lost item, all the while reminding myself that our usual privacy was likely being invaded for random periods during the 8 days of the deer hunting season.
Eventually, enough days passed that I decided to deal with my trending obsession fascination with the blaze-orange object by taking the risk of walking into the neighbor’s woods to see what it was.
It wasn’t a hat. It is a hand warmer with a strap that wraps around the waist to secure it… unless it doesn’t. I would expect the hunter’s hands would get cold enough that he or she would have missed it and retraced steps to retrieve it at some point.
Turning around to look back at our house, I had a renewed sense of weirdness over a person walking so close to our place that is otherwise very secluded.
I picked up the hand warmer and walked a short distance to the plowed field where I hung it up prominently in view for someone to find should they come looking for it.
This morning we heard a couple of close shots from the other side of our property. It has been relatively quiet for the six days between last Saturday morning’s gunshots.
Tomorrow is the last day of the hunt. I look forward to the return of wildlife being the only creatures wandering around in the woods surrounding our house and an end to my seasonal obsession with blaze-orange sightings.
Knowing it’s a hand warmer hanging in some branches at the edge of the woods nearby will help me avoid obsessing over it, but I’ll check occasionally to see if anyone retrieves it.
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Food Thieves
A while back I mentioned the rats weren’t doing the usual tunneling under the barn walls. Maybe that’s because they were finding everything they wanted inside.
Asher had started to show extra interest around the pallet where bags of feed get stacked. I assumed it was likely rodents were leaving their scent under there and figured Asher wasn’t hurting anything since he wasn’t digging. Although, he was spending so much time there and being so quiet about it, eventually I decided to take a look for myself.
That is a shot looking under the pallet. There is a pile of horse feed from a breached bag above. The wetness on the plank in the foreground was from Asher’s mouth. He was working hard to consume every morsel he could reach.
In pulling bags off the stack to find which one was leaking, I discovered it was three bags that had been chewed open.
I salvaged some of the feed pellets but it was hard because most of it was contaminated with shards of the plastic bags the thieves had chewed through.
I’m afraid I may have spoiled the rodents’ Thanksgiving feast by cleaning it all up.
Cyndie and I drove to her brother’s home in Edina, MN for a fabulous feast of Thanksgiving-worthy flavors. I shouldn’t need to eat again for a few days.
It is official now. Christmas decorations can legally go up and carols are allowed. I will do no shopping today as an intentional snub to the rampant over-commercialization of the holidays. I did charge a few dollars on Wednesday night to rewatch “Planes, Trains, & Automobiles” to get me in the spirit of the season, though.
It worked. Gobble, gobble, gobble.
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Dazzling Display
In the middle of being distracted by how much Asher was fixating on the scent he was manically following along our North Loop trail’s pathway, I noticed the sunset was ablaze in this spectacular deer-hunter orange glow. I wanted to see if I could get a picture of the scene but would need to redirect Asher somehow to allow me to move beyond pine trees that were obscuring the view.
With time of the essence, I resorted to my tried and true obedience technique of yanking him unceremoniously by the leash to break the spell of the (I assume cat) smell he was following and drag him in a 90-degree direction past the trees.
Asher is so sweet to accept the rude disruption and allow himself to be reluctantly forced to follow me against his will. We must look like such a smooth-functioning team.
Bam!
Got it.
I struggle to comprehend the angles involved in illuminating the clouds overhead that look so low in the sky and so far from the horizon, especially with Earth already turned past the point of being able to see the sun. I assume it is that the clouds are higher in the sky than I perceive.
It seems like an optical illusion because so much of the rest of the cloudy sky lacks any sunny color. How are the sun’s rays missing the rest of the cloud deck but hitting clouds below?
One minute later, the show is over and the color disappears. The evening becomes a dull gray that soon fades to black.
It’s such a treat to witness dazzling displays like this that happen for such a brief period. I didn’t wish to be walking Asher at that hour but look at the reward I got for doing so.
I’m going to need to ruminate on the lessons available for me in that experience.
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Different World
In the middle of rambunctious wrestling play in the backyard, Asher suddenly dropped the large JollyBall and cocked his head as if someone had called to him. Something had grabbed his attention from the direction of an aging pile of woodchips.
An aroma. One to which I was entirely oblivious. It was beyond the level of perception that my olfactory system could detect. I am well aware that dogs have a better sense of smell than people, but in that moment it struck me how different his world is from mine.
A couple of days ago on a walk around our property, Asher suddenly grabbed something in his jaws and I could immediately tell it was a dead something. It was a prize. The surprisingly large fur blob had broad, clawed feet that I identified as one of the biggest burrowing moles I’ve seen.
I decided to play coy and not battle with Asher to drop the critter against his wishes, even though that is precisely what I wanted. Watching his behavior, I sensed right away that he wanted to bury it somewhere of his choosing. He picked the pile of woodchips.
Just like that, he dropped his precious find and I didn’t need to get involved. I would come back later to collect the carcass and dispose of it surreptitiously. Indeed, I tried to do just that, but when I checked the pile yesterday morning, there was nothing but woodchips. I wasn’t sure, but it’s possible the top of the pile showed evidence of recent traffic.
When Asher sprinted for the pile, it was the top of the pile that grabbed his attention, not the spot of his prior burial exercise. From probably 50 yards away he picked up the scent of activity on the spot where he had buried that dead mole.
His perception of the world is so different from mine.
A few days ago I granted him full freedom to dig away on the path around the horse fence where new mole activity recently appeared. He dug with impressive fervor for the longest time which I assumed reflected he was smelling a scent that indicated prey was close at hand, or paw, as it was.
He didn’t come up with anything. Each time we’ve walked that same path in the days since, he has shown no interest at all. Must not smell like a mole anymore.
I’m guessing the rat activity in the barn has ended for the season because he no longer digs passionately in there.
He laid down and waited patiently while I braided scraps of polypropylene twine as we waited for horses to finish emptying their feed pans in the afternoon.
Okay, maybe our worlds aren’t that different.
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Relative Something 