Archive for June 2024
For Granted
My perspectives of our surroundings have shifted back in time due to my frequent visits of late to archives of local newspapers published in the 1860s/70s. When I pedal my bike past farms, I find myself thinking about the first family to start clearing that land and how the surroundings must have looked in their eyes.
While having breakfast beside the raging Cannon River last Thursday, I tried to imagine what impression that threatening-looking torrent would have presented to people in a time when there were no bridges.
It occurred to me how much I take for granted the ease with which we traverse rivers now.
Think about immigrants who found life so difficult where they lived that they would cross an ocean with what little they could carry seeking new opportunities. Somehow, they make their way across half the North American Continent to a frontier with little infrastructure and come to a river that looks like this one.
They’d already accomplished heroic feats to make it so far, I marvel over how anyone could maintain sanity in the face of each new challenge.
If I get hungry, I walk to our refrigerator or look in a cupboard for instant gratification. If the weather is bad, I close windows, shut doors, and adjust the comfort level on our thermostat.
For every gripe I come up with about modern life, there are innumerable conveniences I am taking for granted.
My big plans for getting in some hours on my bike and using our trimmers to reclaim our trails from overgrowth yesterday did not come to fruition. As the wind shoved my car all over the road on our way to a brunch date in Edina, I appreciated that I wasn’t trying to push my bike pedals into the gales. We returned home with plenty of time to tackle any morsel of the much-needed trimming.
I opted for a nap in my hammock instead. I’m not convinced my body isn’t still working on clearing out the remnants of viral invaders.
One thing I don’t take for granted is the luxury I enjoy in choosing how and when to work on our never-ending “to-do” list in maintaining our property and when I’d prefer to rest instead.
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Not True
Just because it is written, doesn’t make it true. When it comes to marketing literature, there seems to be no art to false claims anymore. How about an asterisk? Tricky wording?
No. Just make a bold claim and bury the details on page 29 of the owner’s manual.
Zero oil? Zero maintenance!?
I love my Greenworks electric equipment, all of the multiple tools. There are way more pluses than minuses. However, what product doesn’t have something users find annoying?
In the case of my riding mower, I would be doing it a disservice if I offered it zero maintenance. The grease nipples staring at me from the front wheels beg for attention. Less visible is the level check and drain plug for gearbox oil.
If one is thorough enough to make it to page 29 of the manual, the “Lubrication” information is perfunctory at best. They offer a rough diagram pointing to the drain plug on the left side of the mower. The level check knob is clearly visible looking from the rear.
A less inclined individual, such as myself, might not make the assumption that there is a separate drain and level check flipped around on the right side which is much less visible. Thank goodness for the helpful YouTuber who pointed this out.
I have now drained and replaced the 180 ml (x2) gearbox oil (OIL!) on the zero oil, zero maintenance riding mower.
Harrumph. The thing is, I still love the machine to death.
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Imagine That
Yesterday, I gave myself a day off from conditioning my body for long-distance cycling with a plan of riding this morning. Although it would be good practice for the upcoming Tour of Minnesota, during which we ride rain or shine, I did not have it in me to go out and get cold and wet while subjecting my bike to the abuse of rain riding.
I’ll wait for another (dryer) opportunity.
At least I finished mowing all but the wettest areas of grass yesterday afternoon before this latest dose of saturating precipitation.
It was rewarding to find the horses equitably sharing space under the overhang this morning as rain poured down. Maybe it shouldn’t be a surprise to me but they were even positioned properly for their feed stations. That is not a common occurrence.
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A volunteer from This Old Horse asked if she could feed the horses yesterday afternoon. I was not completely astonished this morning to find where she dumped the manure in my compost area and had to double-check with Cyndie about who dumped it.
I tease Cyndie about her penchant for choosing the most inappropriate pile, which is what our volunteer did yesterday. The thing that I don’t understand about the choice, whenever there are no obvious piles for freshly dumped manure, is how they decide to pick the oldest, most composted, most ready to be removed for other uses pile from the five or six options.
The last thing I want is to have fresh manure mixed into it.
My response each time this happens: “Imagine that.”
I guess I have become more educated than I’d like to admit about what the differing stages of composting manure look like. Newer piles that are very actively “cooking” may be hard to tell apart but it seems to me the oldest pile that looks like the closest thing to dirt should be the last of the choices.
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More Miles
Not only did I get back on my bike for a second day in a row, yesterday I logged a new high for total miles in one outing. Sneaking out of the house a few minutes before 6 a.m., I drove down to Red Wing to ride the Cannon Valley Trail down to Cannon Falls and back.
The distance between the two cities is 20 miles so I knew I was biting off at least a 40-mile day, but I figured since it was all on a relatively flat paved trail, it wouldn’t be an extreme 40. Two other factors played in my favor: the return leg of the loop would be traveling with the flow of the Cannon River, so “downhill,” and the wind would be at my back.
The wildlife creatures were out in force and showed up almost everywhere I looked. There were so many bunny rabbits darting around the trail that I feared they would end up causing a crash. Who wants to run over a little bunny?
I saw a pheasant, a turkey, deer of all ages, a couple of eagles sharing carrion of some creature in tall grass with a flock of turkey vultures, snapping turtles digging holes for eggs right at the edge of the pavement, a red squirrel that crossed inches from my front wheel, and more rabbits than I have ever seen in my entire life.
When I got to Cannon Falls, I rolled up to the Veteran’s Memorial where I was able to pause and reflect on the significance of D-Day.
I found a bench in a park beside the river to eat a little breakfast I’d brought for the occasion. The Cannon River has risen well beyond its banks and was flowing with big energy.
After my short break at the halfway point, I was feeling pretty good and kicked it up a notch to celebrate the tailwind and the downslope. That lasted almost 10 miles before my body started tiring of the routine.
When your whole body gets tired of being on a bike, it becomes really hard to find a position that feels comfortable for more than a few minutes. At first, a new adjustment seems like just what I needed, but when it only lasts for a short time, the result is an endless rotation of standing up, sitting back farther on the saddle, moving hands to new hold on the bars, coasting, stretching, and looking for any distraction for my mind.
I got a kick out of the deer that was munching greenery at head height with its butt sticking out on the trail. I had a full broadside view of this big doe. I saw her turn toward me but then she just went back to eating as if I wasn’t there. I wondered if she might not have seen me or just didn’t recognize I was approaching.
She chomped a large bite of leaves and turned toward me again. This time her eyes grew wide and she froze like maybe I wouldn’t see her if she didn’t move. I had been coasting toward her at the same speed the whole time wondering how close she’d let me get, standing stiff with a garden salad of leaves sticking out of her snout.
At maybe ten yards and closing, she bolted up into the trees with her mouth still full. I hope I didn’t give her indigestion.
I made it back home by 11:00 and spent the afternoon leaving muddy tire tracks all over the place as I mowed with the riding mower. My legs were way too tired to walk behind the push-mower.
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Finding Alternatives
I’m not making plans as much as I am reacting to the situations we are dealing with in terms of maintaining our property during the season of late spring soakings. What can I tackle between storms and accomplish while almost every area is under standing water or soft as a soaked sponge?
I’m feeling rather smug about the success I achieved yesterday in addressing multiple tasks after starting the morning with a brief bike ride. Too often, I try to get some things done at home in order to justify going riding but then I just tire myself out and never get to the bike.
This time, I put biking first and promised myself to keep it short. Never happy trying to decide on a route, I decided to focus on riding for only one hour. This ended up making my choices for roads simpler.
A basic rectangle unfolded nicely for me and I turned off my tracking app as the clock reached 1.0 hours just as I returned to the shop doorway.
Since it was still before lunchtime, I strapped on the string trimmer and worked through a tank of gas cleaning up edges and some areas too wet to roll wheels through. Even if the main expanses of lawn grass start to get long and unruly, having the edges nicely cropped does an amazing job of giving the place a well-kept appearance.
The most important reason for me isn’t that others might notice, it’s because I see it every day and am much happier seeing it look its best. I am rewarded each time I pass.
After a break for a sandwich, I was sent to River Falls to pick up Cyndie’s grocery order for the week. That allowed me a chance to finally stop by the hardware store and buy more stock of shear bolts since I used up the final spare the last time we were using the wood chipper.
There was just enough time left in the afternoon to run the push mower through the labyrinth. I had to give in and roll wheels through some standing water down there, but it was important to avoid falling behind again after Cyndie put in a heroic effort with the string trimmer last week to bring it back from being close to out of control.
We almost made it through an entire period of daylight without additional rainfall after a mean-looking storm missed us just to the north while I was on the grocery run. The dark clouds around dinnertime didn’t miss, however, and wetness was topped off anew.
The winds yesterday afternoon were frightening at times. On my drive home from River Falls, a branch struck my windshield with a sharp SLAP! against the glass but didn’t cause any damage. Anything not tied down was getting blown for a tumble. I was happy to get home and find only small branches littering our driveway.
Before hitting the shower, I ran through my planking and stretching routine and am beginning to feel like I’m making good progress toward getting back to where I was before getting sick and suffering from that bulging disc.
I don’t blame me for feeling smug.
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Hanging On
It feels like we are waiting for the grand chorus of an epic chart-busting anthem to crescendo and meld all the disparate elements of our lives into a satisfying resolution of peaceful bliss. Another way of saying, “another day, another dollar.” Every day is unique but it feels like the same things keep happening in each different day.
Bright sunshine. Big booming dark clouds. Gushing flood of rainfall. Bright sunshine. Hot steam evaporating. Insects hatching. Humidity rising. Big booming dark clouds return.
Between the dramatic downpours, we try to chip away at one or two outdoor projects that we can achieve despite the swampy conditions left by the cloudbursts.
Being quarantined on our property for the last three weeks has served to make me aware that it is unusual for us not to go out for some reason this many days in a row. Oh, wait, we drove up to get Asher last weekend. I already forgot. Never mind.
I’m just getting punchy because I haven’t felt like doing much of anything, yet innumerable things deserve to be done. I include getting some extended hours on my bike seat which hasn’t happened in far too long despite the Tour of Minnesota week of riding starting in just ten days.
Weather, or not. [it’s a battle to play with words with autocorrect on]
And you can bet we will see some weather while pedaling the pavement and camping in tents. In the 25 years I’ve ridden this adventure in June, there was only one time that the weather was gorgeous every single day. It was my first year in 1994.
I am doing my best to hang on to my sensibilities and accept whatever happens next. Planning has become optional.
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Birthday Today
I don’t have enough candles for the cake I wish I’d already bought to mark the occasion of my partner in life’s crimes today but the years are just a number. Cyndie was born on this day some sixty-mumble years ago and that day is the most important day of my entire life, which didn’t even start until a year later.
We met as teenagers and somehow survived the myriad differences between us that never permanently broke the mystical attraction that drew us toward each other like the strongest rare-earth magnet in the known universe.
Whenever I pause to contemplate how special Cyndie is and how lucky I am that she has stuck with me through thick and thin, I feel a special appreciation for the therapist who saved us at a critical time in our marriage.
Every good thing in my life has come to me due to my relationship with Cynthia Ann (Friswold) Hays.
It makes the date of her birthday, June 4th, a day worthy of emphatic celebration! This year, however, we will be a bit subdued in our quarantine situation at home alone with Asher.
Cyndie has been making art and I have been serenading her with a shuffled mix from my music library while remarkable amounts of rain from thundering cloudbursts interspersed with bright sunshine are making life outdoors rather chaotic.
We will look back someday and reminisce about the year her birthday was so wet we needed paddle boards to navigate our trails.
I am so, so lucky that I get to be on this adventure with this marvelous person.
Happy Birthday, my love!
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Unanswered Questions
Most U.S. political opinions in 2024 are locked in two opposing camps with very different views of reality. On Sunday morning, CBS presented a segment with Ted Koppel that was recorded at a rally in Pennsylvania back in April. Koppel and crew provided a handful of supporters of the Republican candidate for President an opportunity to express themselves without challenge.
It left me with questions. These are not new questions for me, but each time I re-hear the heartfelt lamentations of people who sound so aggrieved, I become more curious about what is causing their suffering.
Bless CBS’s media heart for not asking for explanations. I can only imagine how quickly they would have lost willing interviewees among the crowd if they had displayed any judgment about the group’s logic.
When asked why they would endure cold and windy weather all day long to support their candidate, one person expressed, “We want our freedoms.”
My question: What freedoms are being denied them? They freely gather at a rally where they freely speak their minds. What rights have they lost in the years since their candidate lost the 2020 election?
“Nobody cares about the working class. …You want your ratings on CBS and you want to lift up that idiot in the White House. …You have been lying to the American people long enough.”
My question: Nobody cares? What is their candidate doing to help the working class? Does this interviewee know anything about The American Families Plan announced by Biden in 2021? What is the media lying to the American people about?
The rally interviews were recorded long before the 34 New York guilty verdicts were announced but Mr. Koppel asked about opinions regarding the trial.
“He’s not guilty. If anybody is guilty, it’s Biden.”
My question: Out of anybody, what is it they believe Biden to be guilty of?
Not being able to ask for a logical explanation of the emotional gripes held by people who seem to approve of the violent January 6, 2021 insurrection leaves the same bad taste as listening to the inflamed untrue rhetoric spewed at the rallies that become media sound bites with little in the way of verifications for accuracy.
Luckily, I don’t lose too much mental energy to these types of questions because I’ve got more pressing immediate issues that remain unanswered. Case in point: When will the ground around here dry up enough to stop my riding mower from leaving behind muddy tire tracks?
One of these days, I hope. So many questions that might never be answered.
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He’s Home
Of all the issues clouding our activities of late, this one feels like the most tangible: Asher is home with us again.
He seems pretty pleased to be back in the comforts of his previous territory and free from the constant distractions of other canines needing to be assessed. One clear thing the trainers noted was his constant need to determine the potential threat of the various other dogs coming and going at the kennel. That is not an unusual behavior in a dog but it did clarify that inviting visits with other dogs at our place may be a challenge.
Progressing from the assessment time with the professional trainers, we plan to now work on helping Asher to more consistently respect commands outdoors and learn that the boundaries of our property are non-negotiable. There may be a series of 3 to 5 on-site visits from one of the trainers to supervise the process.
Basically, that means she will be here to teach us more than to teach Asher. I’m sure he already knows what is expected of him. He’s just waiting for us to figure out who the bosses are in our relationship.
An unexpected outcome from two fresh COVID test kits yesterday morning indicated Cyndie’s previous positive result probably wasn’t a fluke. She still looks to be infected and intends to remain isolated from contact with others as much as possible. Thankfully, she is not feeling much worse than any other normal spring day with her allergies to practically everything in our environment, especially hay and molds, in addition to the pollens from every growing plant.
My test came out almost perfectly clean.
The instructions say to look VERY closely because even the faintest hint of a line should be considered a positive result. There is a faint hint but compared to my other test results that were clearly positive, we take this to indicate the virus is losing its command over me.
I’m left with a residual cough that has been my reality for most of my life after an illness. Based on past experience, it will linger for longer than seems reasonable but I’ll eventually get over it.
The tropical rainforest conditions we have been experiencing have the air around here filled with spores from molds, mushrooms, and every manner of flying insects.
Areas of our lawn grass that aren’t beneath standing water will get mowed with brand-new blades that I installed yesterday.
This afternoon we will install flags to mimic the installation of an invisible fence along one of our borders to use in training Asher. In hindsight, it seems so simple after we met with impressive success fencing off our landscape pond and the composting manure piles to train him that those were off-limits.
He has respected that training ever since. (knock on wood)
We are optimistic about the likelihood that Asher will respond equally well to instructions about our property borders once Cyndie and I master the art of being consistent and clear with our leadership.
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Not Necessarily
Things are not always what they seem, especially when we allow our unconscious biases to run willy-nilly throughout our activities unchecked. Cyndie and I now think there may have been a flaw in our testing procedure last Wednesday that allowed for cross-contamination of our results.
She continues to try testing with kits that are beyond their shelf-life between occasions when using new tests. Last night her results were clearly negative. We both agreed that her symptoms that showed up almost instantaneously upon seeing that positive result on Wednesday could well have been psychosomatic.
In a parallel to that, last night’s negative result had her feeling surprisingly healthy. Her mind can be very persuasive.
So, if your gut has been telling you something a little different than what I describe happening in our lives, your intuition is worth acknowledging. If you have been reading my writing for some time, you may sometimes know me better than I know myself.
This morning, we finally have an appointment to retrieve Asher from the training kennel. After tending to horses, we are going to take fresh tests in separate rooms to find out if I should stay home and how careful Cyndie should be about contact with people at the kennel.
If she gets an all-clear, we will assume she never was infected. If I get a clean result, I will be baffled about how the virus works and how/when I have been shedding the virus at a measurable level. Granted, research we have reviewed indicated most people are no longer contagious after 10 days.
It is expected that my vaccinations would have significantly shortened my infection time, along with the length of time I was contagious.
I have no concept of how my sudden flare-up of a bulging disc and subsequent few days of head cold symptoms interrelate to the COVID infection that showed up in the middle of May.
I am ready to put all of it behind me. It is a new month and I am beginning to feel like my old self again, emphasis on old.
My, how quickly a few extra doses of sugar, suddenly becoming sedentary, and plenty of Cyndie’s lovingkindness in the form of “eating therapy” thickens my middle. I’ve got just two weeks to get into biking shape for the Tour of Minnesota week.
That’s not necessarily a hard thing for me to achieve, but past experience does not guarantee future results. Be assured, you will be able to read the play-by-play with each passing day.
Happy June Everyone!
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Relative Something 