Archive for February 2024
Freaky Swing
We are living it. Is there some way to fully comprehend ‘crazy’ when we are smack dab in the middle of it? The weather drama of well-predicted impacts from a warmer climate keeps playing out right before our very eyes.
I recently watched two movies about real events that happened in my lifetime. The first was a documentary about the disastrous last flight of the space shuttle Challenger and the second was an actor-depicted retelling of the GameStop stock adventures that happened during the pandemic.
When I see these kinds of movies, I struggle to recapture my perceptions of the events at the time they were playing out. It all comes up rather blurry in my mind compared to the clear and orderly hindsight offered in such films.
If someone eventually makes a movie in the future depicting all the series of weird weather, fires, flooding, and souped-up storms we have been experiencing, will it come across as more explicitly obvious than how we perceive it now? It should.
I suspect it will make us all look bad for how slow or ultimately ineffective we were in reducing carbon emissions.
On Tuesday, it warmed to 53°F by afternoon, and then clouds rolled in bringing snow, gale-force winds, and a drop in temperature to a mere 4°F by yesterday morning.
The average high for the Twin Cities is 35 for the coming weekend. We are expecting temperatures in the 50s and 60s. What a whiplash.
The horses didn’t seem overly ruffled by the extreme temperature swing overnight Tuesday. By the time Asher and I showed up at the barn in the morning yesterday, the wild winds that made eerie sounds all night long had calmed significantly.
The surface of the driveway had a wicked glaze over it. The truck delivering bags of feed almost didn’t make the corner when turning into our driveway. Luckily, she stopped before sliding all the way off the pavement.
By noon, the bright sunshine had cleared off most of the asphalt surface.
Today is the occasion of Leap Day. February has been so unusual weather-wise, the ‘every-4-years’ addition of one day hardly seems worth mentioning.
Not that I’d notice it happened if you showed me a movie about it three years from now.
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Asher Fixates
A couple of days ago, back before weather conditions turned Arctic overnight, I let Asher lead an off-the-trails exploration through our woods. He stopped at this downed tree and began frantically chewing on it, I’m guessing because he detected some delicious-smelling critter hiding in the middle.
There was nowhere else I needed to be so I granted him full freedom to gnaw away to his heart’s content.
It was a pretty big tree. I thought it looked like a lot of wasted effort but Asher chomped away with a confidence that indicated satisfaction with the progress he was achieving.
I started to get bored watching him work so I read some news on my phone and played my turns on “Words with Friends.” Asher continued to attack the tree trunk with reckless abandon.
I thought about sitting down nearby to rest my eyes for a while. Asher looked like he was willing to bite off splinters until he reached what I assume he hoped would be a chewy center. I always respect his determination.
He outlasted my patience. I began to wonder if he was choosing to stay at it out of embarrassment over the possibility of giving up before he got to the hollow center. Maybe interrupting him is what a friend would do.
I pulled out a treat and waved it in front of his nose. When he turned in my direction, I began walking away with it. Asher followed me, but I would describe it as begrudgingly. It worked though. I saved him from any embarrassment.
We made our way toward the perimeter trail in search of other adventures.
The next day, when we found ourselves bushwhacking in that same vicinity again, that tree held no interest to him whatsoever. Maybe no critters were at home by that time.
Or maybe it’s just that Asher’s fixations are fickle.
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Crash Landing
The high temperature yesterday was another record for February, climbing into the 60s(F) in the afternoon. It is so disorienting. Stepping out to walk Asher without wearing a coat on the way to feed the horses felt so bizarre. It’s still winter here.
In fact, the forecast is showing a quick change is due, with a 70% chance of snow tonight and temperatures in the single digits by tomorrow morning. A day or two after that, the prediction is for a return to near 60° again. I’ve seen the word “rollercoaster” used several times to describe this week’s weather.
The warmth added a spring to Asher’s step as we ventured down the hill of the backyard. I often try to trot along behind him so he can exercise his legs with more than just walking. Occasionally, he gets me running a little faster than my breathing can support and I end up anchoring his fun down a notch.
That routine did not play out so well yesterday due to a combination of factors, the most significant of which was the soft and slippery footing of the thawing ground.
Asher was perked up by the summery warmth and picked up speed down the yard’s slope. I tried to keep up with him but things quickly turned problematic. He was beginning to outrun me and by the time it was too late, I discovered I didn’t have the footing to counteract his increasing velocity. Putting it simply, my brakes were out.
Since he felt no resistance, Asher just kept gaining speed which triggered a series of “No… No… No, no, no!” cries from me as I stomped and slipped along toward my unavoidable fate. I knew I was going down and in those fractions of seconds was trying to have some say in how it would play out, but the footing just wasn’t there and I couldn’t get any control.
It was a pretty spectacular fail. Landing with so much unhindered momentum drove me into the ground hard, grinding up the wet black dirt into my belt and the pockets on the left side of my pants. I smashed my glasses against the ground and wrenched my shoulder as it took the bulk of the initial impact.
Two things probably saved me from more serious injury than just the sore shoulder that resulted: I landed on the shoulder with a permanent type III separation (old flag football injury) and the ground was thawed enough to be rather forgiving.
The clavicle on my left shoulder floats free of the scapula. The lack of a hard connection between the two meant the impact didn’t all go into my collarbone. Instead, I think the worst of the blow dissipated throughout soft tissue. If the ground had been frozen, I might have landed much harder. Of course, if the ground was frozen, I could have planted my feet to stop the momentum.
Today it feels similar to having had a vaccination shot in that arm. That’s nothing that will put me out of action, which is a good thing because Cyndie just left yesterday to visit her mom in Florida for 10 days.
I suppose I should be a little more cautious than usual until she returns.
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Friend Group
Some of my favorite summer biking friends gathered yesterday for a walk around Lake Nokomis followed by an early dinner at Italian Eatery restaurant. Turns out the restaurant is a block away from the double bungalow Cyndie and I rented when we first got married over 40 years ago. Talk about a visit to what feels like ancient history.
I arrived just early enough to allow myself a chance to walk the alley where I used to park my truck to see if it matched the fragments of my foggy memory.
That was a long time ago. I think I would need to go inside to do my memories justice, but that was not on my agenda. I circled around to the front of the house and the primary impression I was able to form was that a lot of time and a wide range of experiences have occurred since our time there.
I traveled from those fragmented memories to the immediate presence of the precious energy of my like-minded comrades. The warm sunny day I was enjoying when I left home had morphed into an overcast dreary chill by the time we set off to amass some respectable number of steps.
There were a LOT of dog walkers out and about. It was a challenge to keep Julie from stopping to meet every pup we came upon. I ended up having a pleasant visit with a woman walking in the same direction as us with a gorgeous German shepherd. A very well-trained shepherd, which is what made an impression on me.
Our restaurant destination was a perfect choice after our brisk exercise. Italian Eatery makes their pasta fresh daily. We enjoyed great food in a nice atmosphere topped off with excellent service.
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On the left, Pappardello with yam puree, whipped ricotta, honey, and sage. To the right, Baked Garganelli of wild boar meatballs, rosemary sugo, Fontina, Taleggio. Delicious.
We shared some good yucks and caught up on a few details of the Tour of Minnesota bike trip coming up in June. Just like the Birkie event this year, it will be the 50th anniversary of the bike ride. What was it about 1974 that kicked off these epic adventures?
Whatever it was, I am a richer person as a result. The friends these events have connected me with are truly priceless.
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Vine Interruption
What started as a typical walk through the woods with Asher yesterday afternoon suddenly shifted on a whim to become an industrious “de-vining” effort. Because it is easy to navigate off the beaten paths this time of year, I frequently allow Asher to wander wherever his nose takes him. Sometimes he turns me around enough that I lose my bearings. Asher can bring me to spots where I’ve never stood before.
In one such spot, I noticed a trunk of grapevine that was thicker than my wrist. We have a general policy of favoring our trees over opportunistic vines but some of these in the center of thick growth have evaded our notice long enough to become monstrosities. The problem is that the rare times I discover such huge vines I don’t have the tools with me to do anything about it.
Yesterday, I decided to act on my chance. With Asher unknowingly tagging along, we marched the long walk back to the shop to get the small chainsaw trimmer and then back again to take on the large, woody vine trunks.
There were more than I realized. In every direction I turned, there were additional branches of the serpentine limbs either climbing another tree or putting new roots into the ground. With the power of that saw, I severed the link between every large chunk I could find.
I’m not sure what I will do with them, but I brought back a couple of trophies from the wildly twisting large sections.
I had tethered Asher to a nearby tree while I worked to find as many of the aggressive tree-climbing troublemakers in sight. Upon exhausting myself of the effort and returning to collect him, I found Asher gnawing on a bone he had found near a large hole he had dug.
I sensed we both headed back to the house with a similar air of accomplishment.
Now, if I can somehow maintain the surveillance in that thicket throughout the coming growing season, that would be just great. Otherwise, they will just return with a gusto unmatched by all the many plants we actually prefer to see thriving in our forest.
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50th Birkie
I have never skied the American Birkebeiner race up in Hayward/Cable, Wisconsin but I have been a long-time fan as a spectator. Today is the 50th anniversary of the great winter spectacle and they have worked hard to make a race of it despite the absence of winter weather.
The course has been reduced to a 10k loop of man-made snow that will be raced in multiple laps to reach the multiple competitive race lengths.
Having stood many times on the edge of the track as skiers make their way, I am able to virtually feel the thrills from the live-streamed video on the Birkie’s website, but it’s not the same.
I was looking forward this year to seeing the feed presented from the back of the new electric snowmobiles that were purchased with donations from supporters but they can’t use them for this lap race. The main race will be five laps around the loop and I assume it will become like the snake swallowing its tail as elite leaders catch up to stragglers.
Yesterday, the coverage of the 20k Kortelopet offered overhead views from a drone that allowed a view of the leaders on their first lap. That was nice to see except for the absurd views of the snow-white path winding through the otherwise brown landscape everywhere else.
It is sad to see this wonderful spectacle of winter being reduced to a fraction of its former self on the milestone of the 50th year. It says something to me that I find myself captivated and almost hypnotized by the live-streamed views available, very likely a function of my memories of seeing it before in person.
I’ll watch today’s elite skiers race and lament the unfortunate timing of their 50th race happening on this 2024 “winter that wasn’t.”
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Too Short
That all-too-brief taste of winter last week has left me wanting. It certainly isn’t all about me and what I want, but another 50°F day in February kind of made me sad yesterday, even as I luxuriated in an easy stroll down the driveway with the trash and recycle bins without wearing a coat.
I’m well aware of the break this offers to people who drive a lot or struggle to cope with cold and snow. I don’t begrudge the pleasure they must be feeling about the minimalist version of winter we are experiencing.
Scenes like these lasted too short for me…
I suppose if I would just pull out my bicycle and take advantage of the dry roads I might get over my mopey attitude.
I don’t know why, but I’m finding my mindset of longing for a more wintery winter is a difficult one to shift.
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Cracking Cones
With spring-like weather showing up way too soon, we have changes going on that are very un-February-like.
The moisture of the melting snow rises in the morning to create a mystical haze in front of the pines in the distance.
The remains of the melting plowed snow on the edge of the driveway are smeared with the dirt that got scraped up by the blade.
Most uncharacteristic of February is the clicking sounds of pine cones popping open in the warm sunshine.
My poor brain is wrestling over reveling in the luxury of the gentle weather at the same time as fretting over the complications this odd warmth could bring about.
In the moments between mental wrangling, the craziness offers plenty of opportunities for me to busy myself taking pictures of scenes that catch my eye.
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Especially Content
It is hard to ignore the precision I employ in cleaning up beneath the horses when comparing the area around the barn overhang after a weekend of someone else taking care of things. My obsessiveness becomes much more obvious after I find how much manure is scattered in places I normally clean up but the “real” horse people disregard.
I’ve seen no clear evidence that the horses care either way, but I tend to believe they appreciate my fastidiousness. It’s kind of cute when they make a clear gesture of walking over to stand and poop where I am working. They can be so helpful that way. However, the fact that they so often step in the piles and kick them around every which way when I’m not there makes it seem like they might be sending me a different message.
It was really great to have a few days away from horse duty but the amount of pleasure I’m finding from being back with them again tells me I might be more attached to them than I was aware.
Oddly, I had a rather extreme dream where I was rubbing my face against Mix (like I do when wrestling with Asher) and found myself having a too-close encounter with her teeth.
No close encounters in real life yesterday while I was moving amongst the herd before bringing out their rations. They seemed especially content. Like they were happy to have us home.
The un-winter-like weather may have had something to do with that, too, I suppose.
Not much seems to fail when nature serves up its finest versions of non-threatening conditions.
I’m feeling especially content to be able to enjoy the horses while they are all getting along and radiating the ultimate in equine peacefulness. It’s a pretty special thing to return to after a weekend away.
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Honorable Mention
There were many, many pictures taken over the weekend, most of which didn’t even make it into the photo contest. Some that were entered into the contest were overshadowed by those the panel of judges selected as winners. Today, I’d like to feature one such image from the most enthusiastic photographer in the contest.
Honorable Mention, Category: Nature by Abby S. (12yrs)
I’m a little partial toward it because I also submitted a view of the same frozen lake for the Nature category. Abby and I share a similar perspective when it comes to photography.
Even though the saying holds true that what happens at the lake stays at the lake, there are a few tidbits that are bound to leak. I figure that if I get out front of any rumors that may spring up, I have a better chance of controlling the narrative.
No one can blame me for drinking all the orange juice. And those cheese puff balls that only lasted a short time never once passed my lips.
One particularly noteworthy situation that I adored sprung up when Elysa showed off the fraying thumbs of her fancy knitted mittens. We’d hardly returned indoors when I found my sister, Mary, hand-spinning some yarn for use to repair those knitted thumbs. Faster than made sense to me, Elysa was showing off that her mittens looked as good as new. Way to go, Mary!
For four days, it seemed as though there was constant activity but it never once seemed like too much. With very little pre-planning, wildly entertaining games seemed to blossom out of nowhere.
I had never seen most of the games and found them to be equally enjoyable whether I was in the middle of the actions or calmly observing from a safe distance. Off the top of my head, here are a few wonderfully descriptive titles:
Ouisi- Trash Pandas
- Tripoley
- Sushi Go Party
- Happy Salmon
- Cribbage
- Code Names
- Pokemon
- Twister (outdoors)
- Golf (with playing cards)
If we weren’t playing games or editing photos, we were eating. Smoked bbq meatballs, white chicken chili with cornbread, breakfasts with gooey caramel rolls, spicy biscuits and gravy, fruit salad, pizza from Coops, scrumptious salads, and dessert treats that shall not be named so no one has to think about those calories.
Additional honorable mentions go to Tim for his seamless ability to light pilot lights that inexplicably needed lighting, for tightening a loose toilet seat, cleaning the kitchen to exceptional levels, and for helping Nick on a run to the liquor store that included a stop at a hardware store for a wing nut I needed.
To top off all that fun, conversations flowed amiably in a wide variety of directions that included precious memories, humorous stories, and thoughtful considerations.
Now I miss everyone almost more than I can stand. Stopping all that brilliant sweet family fun so abruptly is not an easy thing to do. It’s really hard to explain to Asher where everyone disappeared to now that we are home where it’s just me, Cyndie, and him.
Hey, family… let’s not wait so long to plan another sleep-over gathering event next time!
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Relative Something 