Archive for November 2023
Just Imagine
Imagine if we didn’t hear news the instant things happen. What would it be like if we could put the genie back in the bottle? Can we just download an app for that?
What if democracy worked without it being so easy for fascist threats to simmer in broad daylight for days that become months and now years? Maybe if we didn’t hear news every second, it wouldn’t seem so obvious.
I’m imagining what it would be like if our toes never got cold. How about if no addiction existed? While we are imagining, why not turn Thanksgiving into a gift-giving holiday? A brand new car could become the new tradition. I’ve seen the ads on TV. The car companies want us to accept that giving a new car is the universally accepted standard of holiday gift giving.
I’d sure be thankful if someone gifted me a new car. An electric one. Preferably, Subaru. Can I pick the color?
I’d be thankful if all criminals were instantly incarcerated and innocents set free. Like magic. No long drawn-out trials. The universe knows what is right and wrong and could figure out who did or didn’t do it.
I like to imagine that the stories are true that Billionaires paying a fair percentage in taxes would ease a lot of fiscal stress on government programs without great hardship to said Billionaires. Then, I imagine that all Billionaires suddenly paid that fair share they owe.
Same thing for the $900Millionaires and the $800M, $700M, et cetera.
What if tendons and ligaments never stretched or tore and bones wouldn’t break during athletic competition? That’d be great. Oh, and I’d like it if NFL receivers never dropped passes that should have been easily caught. Sure, it would benefit the competition as much as the home team, but I think it would make the game more fun to watch. It bothers me to see highly paid professional athletes not succeeding at the basic skill level they are supposed to perform.
At the same time, I am forever grateful to have chosen a career path that didn’t involve tens of thousands of screaming fans micro-analyzing my every action or decision. I dropped the ball plenty of times.
I saw a news flash about charges filed against a person running a brothel near Washington, D.C., with a mention that the customers were politicians, military, and business leaders. What if none of these guys lowered themselves to that level? I like to imagine being led by people who behave with the highest integrity at all times and also that no sex workers ever find themselves in circumstances that lead them to choose that line of work.
When I find myself returning to reality, I imagine myself reducing my news exposure long enough to forget all the things that send me into fantasies of people behaving better than their best selves.
But really, imagine that.
.
.
More Chews
This picture provides a great view of how Asher adores the custom homemade chew toys Cyndie has been creating for him:
After completing a craft project of her own, Cyndie wrapped leftover fabric scraps around chew toys Asher hasn’t been showing much fascination with for a while to give them new life. Adding a few morsels of smelly treats piques his interest and motivation to rip into the tantalizing new toys.
Even though they don’t last long, it’s fun to see his playful destruction occupy his mind with something creative when nothing else seems to be satisfying him for a moment.
I’m looking for all the distractions I can find to occupy him while deer hunters are out and about in our surrounding properties. Asher does not like being confined to quarters!
.
.
Rewarding Work
Taking advantage of Asher being occupied at a doggie daycare appointment yesterday, I jumped into outdoor chores that the warm November has graciously continued to make possible. First on my agenda was the most visible out the front door.
Leaves have been blown into every nook and cranny around the house after several days of crazy gusting winds. It clearly reveals air patterns as they move around objects. Massive piles of leaves accumulate in certain areas beside spots that are blown bare even though we wish a mulch of ground cover would remain.
Clearing the mat of leaves off the lawn grass offers a wonderful visual reward. Bring on the snow.
After raking, I headed into the trees to finish my annual survey for Common Buckthorn sprouts. After all the leaves of desired trees have disappeared, the Buckthorn leaves that hold their green later in the season become easy to spot.
My slow and steady method involves cutting existing trees that were too large to pull out by the roots. I saw them off at an easily visible height, returning every year to trim off the sucker sprouts that try to salvage some future life.
It only takes a year or two before the root structure gives up trying. I admit to experiencing a mean sense of enjoyment over the invasive wasting its energy on a lost cause. Instead of the root structure sending out new sprouts across the ground, it tries growing up the severed trunk.
This keeps the new growth localized and easy for me to control. Any new sprouts that I see in different locations are easy to pull by the roots at this point. I’ve been patrolling these woods for 11 years now. Buckthorn growth is doomed on our acreage, despite it having a strong presence in the neighbor’s woods surrounding us.
The success I have achieved in eliminating the invasive shrubs/trees in our woods is one of the more rewarding of my forest management accomplishments.
Today, we stay out of the woods for a week and a day while orange-clad shooters try to reduce the size of the deer herds that roam. This morning, we were greeted with three gunshots down the hill near our bedroom window before we had even gotten out of bed.
I don’t venture out to learn if the shooter was successful or not. Staying away, and keeping Asher leashed, are my responses to the presence of hunting rifles.
.
.
Global Weirding
The warming of planet Earth does not necessarily mean everywhere just gets warmer all the time, but unusual warmth does tend to happen with increasing frequency.
In our region, the middle of November is not usually a time when we would see someone out mowing their grass. On Tuesday, that is exactly what we saw. November is also not a time most of us associate with dandelion blossoms, but that is what’s showing up in our yard.
It was mid-60sF warm around here yesterday and once again mind-bending for the glimpses of spring-like blossoms showing up at the same time that the woods look like the farthest thing possible away from spring.
It all seems just plain weird. It’s gotten hard to remember we’ve already been completely blanketed by snow for a time earlier this month. That’s become a distant memory now.
The weather forecast for next week hints that it won’t continue to be weird with temperatures predicted to drop into the mid-teens(F) over a few nights in a row.
That will feel downright Thanksgiving-ish.
Between periods of weirdness, it makes sense that we experience a little normalcy every once in a while.
.
.
Shooting Season
This coming Saturday marks the opening of deer hunting in our state. For a week or two prior to the hunting season, we experience what I call, “shooting season.” This is the time when hunters “sight in” their hunting rifles. POW!!
Pow-pow-pow-pow-pow-pow.
With no leaves on the trees, sound carries more than usual in our valley. Not far away over hills, there is a gun range. We can hear those shots, too, in addition to neighbors shooting on their property.
It is not unusual to hear occasional gunshots year-round but in November, rifle reports ring out from every direction. I am not a hunter, so I have very little understanding of what the sound of the different gunshots reveals about the weapons being used. Some sound a lot bigger than others.
I also don’t get why we occasionally hear rapid repeated shots. Do deer hunters sometimes shoot with automatic multi-shot rifles?
Asher and I were out playing ball in the backyard while someone in the general vicinity was shooting yesterday afternoon.
He would pause and turn his head toward the sound, but thankfully, he never wanted to run toward the source.
We bought him a new vest to ensure he wouldn’t be confused with being a wild animal when he gets loose and runs through the forest.
I’m finding it makes it much easier to spot him among the trees after he runs at supersonic speeds to chase turkeys/rabbits/squirrels and I’m left behind in his dust.
I’m happy to report that our attempt to train him to come to the front door when he hears the ping of the hanging bell there worked like a charm at the end of the day yesterday. I’d say it has worked a third of the time when his location is unknown. Maybe he isn’t always hearing it.
When we know he can hear it because we are ringing it to test him, it is getting him to run in about 98% of the time. I like it better than trying to shout for him.
Yesterday was a good day for off-leash exercise. When the hunt begins on Saturday, Asher will be back on a full-time leash until the Monday after Thanksgiving.
At that point, shooting season and hunting season will both be over and we can get back to the merely odd occasional gunshot outbursts common in the rural countryside.
.
.
Good Results
Yesterday morning, our horse handler from This Old Horse and the nutritionist from Purina visited to assess the horses’ diets. It has been one year and one month since the nutritionist’s last checkup.
She calculates the weight of the horses from a measurement around their girth using a proprietary Purina tape that shows the approximate weight associated with the number of inches. She also feels for their ribs and then assigns a score designating their overall condition.
The weight of two of the horses hasn’t changed and two have dropped a little but all of them scored well within the healthy guidelines.
She had no changes to recommend for the care and feeding we have been providing.
That’s a rewarding assessment to receive. In addition, it is always fun to hear people’s glowing opinions of Wintervale as a horse paradise. We’re definitely biased and agree emphatically with positive impressions but it is always reassuring to hear others verifying our sense of things.
After their visit, Cyndie and I headed to Tria Orthopedics in Stillwater for the two-week assessment of her two incisions. We were hoping for the removal of her stitches but just like a year ago, they decided to give it one more week for her skin to close more completely.
We did get to see the X-ray of her bones, post-surgery. Here is the before and after:
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
It is easy to see the holes in her bones from the screws. With the plates and screws removed, Cyndie was already able to fit into a shoe and walked into the building for the appointment.
We are not bothered by needing to return in another week because it cuts any risk of complications from removing stitches too soon. At this point, the Athletic Trainer who looked at Cyndie’s ankle gave the healing scars a comforting level of approval.
Huzzah for healthy horses and healing incisions. We are basking in the happy vibrations of good results in both realms.
.
.
Accepting Frustration
The feeling of frustration happens when I can’t control situations in the direction I wish for them to go. I am not a dog trainer and rarely succeed in influencing our dog, Asher, to behave in a way that will be convenient for me and safe for him. I found myself in that miserable place yesterday because of a flock of wild turkeys and a growing weariness from two weeks of being the sole person feeding horses and walking the dog.
We currently have a lot of activity around us tempting the poor dog to stray beyond our property lines. Corn fields on two sides of our property are being harvested and Asher finds the big machines and guys frequently walking between tractors and trucks very fascinating. Soon there will be deer hunters out in numbers.
For that reason, I can’t let him roam loose on walks around the property. Unfortunately, being leashed doesn’t always stop him from getting away from me. The urgency with which he bolts into tight squeezes between trees at the sight of a squirrel jars me off my feet and forces me to let go of the leash to save myself.
Not letting go of the leash is how Cyndie ended up breaking her ankle with Delilah a year ago.
After a very long time of allowing Asher to follow his nose and explore the far reaches of our property at will yesterday (sniffari), we stopped in the barn to tend to the horses. While they were gobbling feed, I decided to walk Asher up to the house. Without warning, he pulled me off balance around the corner of the garage. He flew over the large rocks by the front door and disappeared around the outside of the sunroom. I let go as my feet hit the biggest rock, sailing over it and landing in the yard on my stomach like a humiliated Superman fallen from flight.
That’s when I noticed a lot of big birds taking flight for treetops in the neighboring woods. I could hear the leaves crunching under Ashers’ bounding leaps but I couldn’t see him. By the time I made it back on my feet, it was all quiet and Asher and the turkeys were nowhere in sight.
I wanted to just wait for him to return but he was dragging a leash and the odds were high that he was going to get hung up in a tangled mess. I heard one distant bark that sounded like it could be his, so I set off on a search and rescue mission.
With occasional calls and whistles, I climbed toward a high ridge seeking the widest view and ultimately a farm road around the next field over. Soon after making my way out of the woods, I spotted Asher just as I feared, with the leash caught on a branch, passing through a rusty barbed wire fence, and wrapped twice around a small tree trunk.
Struggling to get him to walk straight home with me, I was in no mood to fight off my simmering frustration.
.
.
There’s Hope
When I think about having a dog, my thoughts are filled with visions of a companion that hangs around while I am busy with outdoor tasks, alerts us when someone comes up the driveway, playfully interacts with us, and cuddles when we sit down to rest.
I don’t spend much time thinking about what it takes to reach that level of behavior, even though that is what I’m living through. For every time Asher actually returns to us when we call him, there are too many others when he ignores our commands to pursue his whims.
After the most recent time that he crossed the road again to explore the neighbor’s property and tangle with their cat, completely ignoring my calls and bribes to get him under control, he has had to endure being on a short leash 100% of the time. That’s not fun for either of us.
Of course, this occurs while Cyndie is still recuperating from ankle surgery, leaving me as the sole dog walker. I don’t enjoy the hassles but it will ultimately provide me the benefits of a developing relationship.
Last night, Asher provided me with hope with his willingness to snuggle.
This morning I let him roam for a bit, off-leash, on our way to the barn to feed the horses. He behaved well.
I’m hoping progress continues with a change toward more successes than failures as we work toward helping Asher become the companion we think he can be.
Snuggles are a pretty good start.
.
.
Silly Victory
“I win.” Simple as that. When engaged in meaningless banter with Cyndie, particularly if my point has no basis for accuracy, I will swiftly blurt, “I win.” The debate is over.
Most accurate at that point of our back and forth is that I have totally lost. It served well for many years in introducing humor into our interactions but not so much anymore.
Pretending to win when you obviously haven’t isn’t funny after a certain grift leader managed to make it to the highest office in our country and then inspired his minions to violence in an attempt to keep his position.
One of the safeties of a home is the opportunity to be silly in ways that might come across poorly in public. [loud belch]
This morning, to occupy Asher’s mind for a moment of distraction, Cyndie assembled a hidden treat vessel from found materials. He would need to figure out a way to get to the delicious bites he could smell wrapped inside paper and resting in the 12 pockets of an egg carton.
I watched as he was trying to figure out how to open the carton, surprised that he didn’t just bite into it to rip it apart. As he picked up his head to see what Cyndie was doing, his paw rolled across the carton and it popped open. When he looked back down, there were all the wads of paper.
The exercise lasted maybe 5 minutes and certainly won’t help to discourage him from scrounging in our trash in the future, but it was something new and different to entertain his food-driven curiosity and distract from his whining for attention.
Even a mere five minutes of re-occupying his mind can feel like a silly victory sometimes.
“We win.”
.
.
Relative Something 