Archive for December 2024
Winter Sunbathing
After the beautiful snowfall, we got some sun, and horses know to take every advantage of a clear sky in the winter. When I glanced up from hauling bales of hay from the shed to the barn, I had to stop to take a picture of three of the mares all lined up and looking like they were all business about sunbathing.
It was interesting to me because they normally align themselves perpendicular to the rays to catch the full advantage broadside. It wasn’t that cold at that time so I figure they were more interested in bathing their minds in all the benefits of the sun’s full-spectrum energy.
Mia chose to take it up one notch and parked herself where she could also enjoy brunch while she bathed.
That’s how smart horses do sunbathing in the winter.
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As Expected
The National Weather Service warnings were spot-on for our area yesterday. Asher and I headed out for the morning walk into the snowstorm, fully prepared for the worst. It wasn’t the most difficult of conditions we’ve faced, but it was challenging. My legs got a good workout trying to keep up with Asher as he pranced through the snow with little in the way of extra effort.
There was just enough snow to make my trudging in stiff boots much less efficient.
The horses looked like they had chosen to spend the night outside the protection of the overhang despite the heavy precipitation.
There was enough snow blown into those spaces that it probably didn’t matter either way. The wind was blowing from the wrong direction for the overhang to provide its best shelter from the elements.
I spent much of the day plowing and shoveling. Got the driveway cleared just as Cyndie was pulling in, which was nice for both of us. The road didn’t get plowed until late afternoon. It knocked the mailbox off its base, which surprised me. I thought it was dry enough snow it wouldn’t pack such a punch.
I guess not everything went as expected.
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Fairy Flakes
Contrary to what is headed our way today, (…WINTER STORM WARNING REMAINS IN EFFECT FROM 3 AM THURSDAY TO 3 AM CST FRIDAY… * WHAT…Heavy snow expected. Total snow accumulations between 5 and 7 inches.) there was no evidence of precipitation visible on the radar yesterday. Yet, all day long there were perfectly formed snowflakes floating down out of the sky.
The beautiful flakes weren’t melting on the horses, which teased me to try getting some pictures. Unfortunately, none of the mares were interested in accommodating my attempts to zoom in close.
They didn’t want to stand still with me holding out my phone camera toward their backs. I don’t blame them. It did seem kind of creepy.
There were times when the clouds overhead were so thin I could see blue sky, yet those flakes kept falling. I decided to call them fairy flakes after the “fairy knots” that show up mysteriously in the manes of horses. These flakes didn’t appear to be coming from snow clouds, so fairies seemed like the next logical explanation.
I eventually noticed I could capture some of the crystalline flakes that landed on the surface of our frozen landscape pond.
If we are going to get a plowable amount of snow today, that will be too much to get a clear picture of one individual snowflake.
I mounted the plow blade onto the Grizzly ATV in preparation and pulled out snow shovels in advance of today’s activities. Wouldn’t you know it, Cyndie spent the night in the Cities after a holiday gathering with some friends. It’s probably for the best. I’d have let her help do some shoveling, and that wouldn’t look good on my record, putting her to work out in the cold so soon after her recovering from pneumonia.
Sure would be nice if there were such a thing as “fairy snow shovelers.”
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Almost Healthy
The splitting headache is no longer splitting, and her vital signs have returned to normal. Cyndie seems back to reasonably functional. She helped with horse chores and has taken Asher for a couple of walks in addition to a trip to the Post Office as Santa’s little helper. Goodies are in the mail, and the neighbors will find a bag of holiday cheer has been dropped at their doors.
At this stage of holiday preparations, it’s hard to tell that Cyndie was off her game at all.
In support of all her Elf-ish energy, I have been mining the far reaches of our Apple Music offerings to find appropriate holiday sounds. The first few notes of an Andy Williams Christmas album instantly transported me to a big old farmhouse on the border of Edina and Eden Prairie, MN, and the 5-year-old me arose from within my depths with visions of leaded tinsel being draped across branches from outstretched arms of a person standing on a folding ladder above me.
The result of that surge of nostalgia left me feeling lonesome for the clamor and banter of my siblings buzzing around me.
The branches of that family tree have sixty years of growth that have spread us out beyond the conveniences of frequent contact.
That 5-year-old me would only have his father around for 17 more years. I will always remember the time he almost convinced me that he had heard something on the roof in the minutes just before I showed my face one Christmas morning. I was old enough to know better, but I’d never experienced my dad putting on such a believable act before and was gobsmacked by it.
I like to think he was rewarded by the innocent astonishment that must have shown on my face.
Much less astonishment came over me when I stumbled upon news of a school shooting recently in Wisconsin. That innocence is long gone.
Looking at our trees, I was grateful they don’t need to know such things happen. Same with the horses. Then, I realized how attuned trees and horses are to the universe, which means they probably sense each and every atrocity through the connectedness of all things.
They keep calm and carry on their existence, and so should we. I’ll pretend we are almost healthy.
And now I miss the innocence of my 5-year-old self more than ever.
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An Honor
For horses that have suffered neglect under the watch of humans, witnessing them now demonstrating trust in us is beyond precious. I know I have said it before, but it is such an honor and a privilege to stand among them while they eat the grain I have just distributed. When they allow me to encroach on their space to hang hay bags or clean the ground beneath them, it feels like they’re granting me a mystical connection.
I’ve seen them get ornery with each other, and it can look downright wicked before a quick return to calm. Some mornings, it’s not strange to find one or more of them all worked up about something until I finally get their grain served. Then, everyone settles down and focuses on the business at hand.
Yesterday morning, they were all chill as could be when Asher and I rounded the corner of the path around the back pasture into sight of the barn. They stood patiently while I cleaned everything up beneath the overhang, sometimes watching me but usually appearing to ignore me as they kept their eyes on the distant landscape.
It felt more damp than cold as the temperature hovered around the freezing point. That temperature range creates a situation where it is hard to tell if things are going to be wet or frozen. The driveway offered a little bit of both.
The circular spots were slippery, while the rest of the pavement wasn’t. It made it tricky for me to walk on. I chose to stay off to the side as Asher entertained himself by trying to maintain forward momentum when every third step would suddenly lose purchase.
In the time it took us to finish our last portion of the morning dog walking routine, the horses were done with their feed buckets, allowing me to reclaim them in avoidance of unwanted shenanigans from the mares. Given a chance, they have a knack for bending the handles all out of shape.
At that point, the horses’ attention switches to the hay bags they had just seen me fill.
As I unclip each bucket, I like to imagine the horses are thanking me for the fresh hay.
“It’s an honor,” I tell them.
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Time Out
Even though my home team didn’t play football yesterday, I watched games all afternoon and evening. The Vikings will play tonight. Might as well watch that one, too. There was a time when I wanted to be done with the NFL. I guess I’ve gotten over that.
I watch differently now, though. Outcomes are interesting but more meaningless for me. The fanaticism of some ticket buyers is almost scary by the looks featured in glimpses on the network broadcasts. I’ll wait until my team makes it to the Super Bowl to become fanatical.
If that were to actually come about somehow, win or lose, the results would still be meaningless.
Some NFL players have taken to wearing a puffy soft covering over their hard helmets. I hope it solves something for them enough to justify how silly they appear. It got me thinking: why don’t running backs wear soft outer padding over their torso? Entire uniforms could eventually start looking like the Michelin Man.
As a fan of spectator sports, I’ve developed a love-hate relationship with the NFL, but this year, I’ve been watching more games than ever. I’m not really sure why. Maybe it’s an attempt to reconnect with my youth. I grew up watching the games. I used to study the faces of the team roster in the gameday magazine programs and tear out the full-page portrait of featured players when I was a kid.
One of the things that annoys me about the present version of the NFL is the confusing variety of uniform variations for each team. Garish colors and hard-to-identify helmets disrupt continuity and mess with team identity in highlight reels. When it comes to team uniforms, I’m an old fuddy-duddy. One dark version and one light works just fine. Home and away colors. Leave it at that.
What I do appreciate about the games is that they provide a time-out from real life. It’s an escape for a few hours from things that matter. Like watching a movie or reading a good book, except it is happening live while I watch, and tens of thousands of other people are sharing the same experience simultaneously.
And sometimes, it can be a train wreck, yet I can’t get myself to look away. The NFL corporation has me under their spell despite my better judgment. And it’s because they hooked me when I was young.
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Getting Near
Christmas! The big gift-giving, family-seeing, holiday-partying extravaganza that just happens to coincide with a day on the Christian religious event calendar is only ten days away! Ho, ho, ho.
Cyndie and I have watched two holiday movies in two nights this weekend and she is currently on day two of her cookie-baking blitz. I am pleased to be able to report that she is getting near that elusive point of feeling fully recovered from the illness that has befuddled her, sapped her energy, and imposed a splitting headache for about a week now.
I am less happy to admit that my willpower to resist over-sampling the sweets coming out of her double oven has been weaker than I remember since recognizing I suffer from becoming easily addicted to sugar in my diet.
“Be gone from me, cravings!”
I’d spend more time outside to get away from the aroma of cookies fresh from the oven, except the frozen glaze covering the land has made it dangerously slippery, especially when attached by leash to a dog that doesn’t care whether it’s icy or not.
I had finally assembled the lower half of my winter “spacesuit” so that I could jump into my boots and pull up the overalls like a firefighter answering the bell when the temperatures moderated, and now I’ve been romping about outside, spacesuit-free.
We’ve enlisted the help of some horse-care volunteers through the rescue organization This Old Horse to cover evening feedings for a few days to give me a break from this spell of solo duty on the ranch. There is no reason to rush Cyndie back into dealing with the elements again while she continues to make her way to full health, as far as she can get anyway on the continuum of what full health is for her.
Ten days, folks. The six-year-old me is getting as excited as possible for being stuck inside a 65-year-old ever-more-Grinch-like party pooper. (For the record: In my opinion, Christmas decorations are the most make-work hassle current society has ever manifested.)
Have a holly jolly next ten days, everyone!
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Creative Listing
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beginnings and endings all wrapped into one
wrinkled recipes
wastebaskets as decoration
old shingles, no longer flat
one last morsel of something
hilarious holiday movies
flames
constant vibrations not coming through our ears
sweet moments that have nothing to do with flavor
moon shadows close to midnight
lead pencil with a perfectly intact eraser
phrases no longer in use
the one thing you will never bring home from a grocery store
a houseplant that never grows, yet never dies
landline phones with actual push buttons
nerve endings that tingle
dust that never seems to settle
gusts that eventually do
settle, that is
a list with no actual purpose
prose masquerading as a poem
Saturday mornings home alone
a sigh of monumental proportions
kind words spoken in a sultry tone
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Minor Inconvenience
The cold weather arrived as predicted to grasp us in its firm grip. I suppose it is a sign of my lifetime of exposure to the harshness of season-long snow and cold that this cold snap has barely presented a minor inconvenience to my normal routine.
I’ve complained in the past about growing less and less patient with my slow and laborious effort of donning what I have taken to calling my “spacesuit” before heading out to do chores. The tedious struggle is well worth it though because the crazy cold hasn’t been a problem for me in terms of comfort.
I need to pay attention to the minutes Asher is out because the pads of his paws are vulnerable to the cryogenic extremes. Other than that, he shows no sign of having any problems with the cold.
The horses look to be coping just fine. Breakfast time almost feels warm under the cover provided by the overhang and bathed in the rays of sunlight beaming in during the morning meal.
The main challenge at feeding time in extreme cold is managing the knots on the hay bags. That and scraping away frozen pigeon droppings on the placemats under their feed buckets.
Yesterday, Asher and I even made a successful outing in the car, and the cold didn’t break the seal on any of the tires. He had a grooming appointment in Baldwin that Cyndie usually drives him to, but since she is being a good patient and staying indoors, I became the chauffeur.
I had forgotten that Cyndie mentioned there are cats roaming loose at the dog grooming place. I was taken by surprise when I noticed Asher nose to nose with a big long-haired cat just inside the door. He looked mildly curious but not the least bit threatening as I tensed up and probably triggered him to be more concerned than he initially was.
Luckily, the check-in process happened so fast, there wasn’t time for any problem to erupt.
On a cold day when my preference would be to stay snuggled in and avoid any potential for unexpected driving issues, I was sent out a second time at dusk to pick up a change of meds for treating Cyndie’s pneumonia. She developed a rash from the first prescription.
We are hoping that was just a minor inconvenience on her road to a full recovery.
My trusty car performed well despite the deep freeze. In the end, the most difficult part of the whole day for me was working through the checklist of getting myself in and out of my spacesuit every time I had to walk Asher or do the horse chores.
Remember the old saying, there’s no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing.
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Nuisance Amounts
So far this winter (even though winter solstice is still nine days away), we have only been receiving what I call nuisance amounts of snowfall. It’s barely enough to justify shoveling, yet too much to leave on steps and walkways. Last week, when Asher and I got caught in that epic snow-burst, we couldn’t see the barn. In the end, so little snow accumulated that it was all gone two days later.
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Yesterday morning, I spent a few minutes clearing the driveway closest to the house with a shovel.
I like having the cleaner pavement, but that minimal covering of snow isn’t enough to deserve firing up the ATV to plow, and I’m not inclined to push the shovel the rest of the length of the driveway to the road. I saw the township plow go by on our road, so I carried a shovel when walking Asher. That big blade didn’t throw up enough snow to make any difference.
I shoveled what little there was anyway. So now the top and the bottom of our driveway are cleared, and the middle is just a series of tire tracks and footprints until we get enough sun to evaporate whatever snow remains.
Since the temperature was forecast to drop precipitously overnight, I made sure the horses had plenty of good hay to stoke their internal furnaces. They are decidedly picky about one of the batches of bales we’ve been trying to use up on them, and they regularly ignore any amount that we mix into the hay nets. I chose to dump some of those dregs out on the ground where we are building a hay path for traction in advance of future icy conditions. That way, I could fill the bag exclusively with hay they prefer.
What’s the first thing that happens?
Mia comes over and starts eating the hay I dumped out.
I don’t blame her. Free of the netting, she can dive in and more easily scrounge out any desired nibbles mixed in with the stringy grasses she doesn’t like. She probably thinks of them as “nuisance amounts.”
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Relative Something 