Archive for March 2025
Duty Done
Today is the conclusion of my solo duty on the ranch, as Cyndie is due to return from Florida this afternoon. That means I’ll be vacuuming, doing the dishes, changing the sheets, running a load of laundry, and hiding all evidence of the ridiculous parties I’ve been hosting while she was away. Asher has been sworn to silence, and the horses have promised to keep my secrets.
What happens in the paddocks stays in the paddocks.
What happens in the sky ends up becoming photos John captures when the clouds form interesting shapes.
If you are reading this in the northern hemisphere, spring has sprung. Yesterday was the vernal equinox. The long, dark nights of winter are becoming a distant memory.
I’m looking forward to a break from being the only person available to entertain Asher. There are too many times in a day when he seeks attention, and my dwindling reserves of energy would prefer I take a nap in the recliner. Plus, this weekend is non-stop March Madness games to be followed. Asher always seems to need to go outside when the exciting final minutes of a close game are playing out.
I take the duty of watching college basketball tournaments seriously. Having Cyndie home will take some of the pressure off of me trying to do two things at the same time. I just have to remember I’m sharing living space again and stop living like a slob around here.
I must admit, though, it can be fun to live like that for short stints every once in a while.
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False Alarm
That didn’t happen. Not only did we dodge the threat of snow, but the winds barely rose above a typical spring day. I am not complaining. It was an interesting phenomenon where the weather radar showed precipitation in the form of snow overhead for most of the day, but nothing was making it out of the clouds.
One day earlier, I captured a picture of sun rays making it through the clouds.
Yesterday wasn’t very photogenic while I was walking with Asher. When we came out of the barn after feeding the horses and came around the corner of the hay shed, we found the neighbor’s cat crouched with its attention focused on something other than us behind the shed. Asher lurched and startled the cat, who then made a hasty sprint for cover.
Poor Asher let loose with a series of his whiny barks that sound like a really distressed dog is being abused by its owner. The only abuse I was guilty of was not letting the poor guy run after the cat.
The pictures I was taking yesterday were indoors, where I captured the latest view of the new shoot on our bird of paradise plant…
Compare that to how it looked a month ago:
We’ve got another new leaf in our future with this amazing transplant and that is no false alarm!
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Awaiting Winds
A day or two ago, we were on alert for another dump of snow from a winter storm the Weather Channel has named “Nyla” that will pass over us today. As of last night, the forecast was adjusted to most likely not produce blockbuster amounts of snow but will be noteworthy for its strong winds.
I am not a fan of high winds.
Yesterday, Asher and I took full advantage of the calm before the storm and lounged against the hay shed to watch the horses and listen to the pheasant squawks and the honks of low-flying goose pairs in the filtered sunlight shining through thin clouds.
Tucked up against the nook of the shed doors, the breeze was minimal, and we were able to bask in the radiating solar energy absorbed by the metal. When you know that the following day will be dramatically less inviting for such leisurely pursuits, the value of moments like that becomes noticeably heightened.
I always wonder if the horses have any inkling of the change coming our way. I try to warn them, but I suspect they are disinclined to pay much heed to my bantering.
Yesterday afternoon, when I showed up to start my routine with cleaning up under the overhang, Swings made a rare approach to my immediate space. I greeted her and carried on with my tasks. When she twice followed my movements and then finally rubbed her entire side firmly against a hay bag as she passed it, I got the message.
I set down the manure scoop and gave her a full-body scratching and loving massages. It is one of the more precious moments with these mares since they hardly ever show interest in receiving prolonged touch from us. I was also grateful to the other three for allowing us the uninterrupted time together. That is also a rare occurrence that one of them doesn’t want to nose in on another horse getting special attention.
On one of my walks with Asher earlier in the day, I took a picture that captures the orientation of all of our buildings, although the house is still mostly obscured behind trees.
It shows how the hay shed doors capture the sunlight. You can see how the barn is positioned so the overhang is protected from winds out of the northwest, both from its orientation and the fact it is tucked beneath higher ground behind it with plenty of tall trees providing additional windbreak. Just above the roofline of the hay shed is the shop garage. Uphill from that garage and directly behind the barn from this vantage point is where our house is located.
Here’s hoping no trees suffer damage from any accumulation of snow that will add stress to the pressure of the harsh winds blowing our way today.
Hang on to your hats when you’re reading this!
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Light’s Leadership
Observing the herd yesterday, I can understand why Light might be exhausted. I didn’t catch any of the horses napping throughout the day, but I spotted repeated evidence that Light is working to deserve the role of “Boss Mare” despite not being the eldest one in the herd.
After the morning feeding, I noticed that Swings was heading out of the paddock into the back pasture. Mia and Light were all in on the idea, but Mix showed no interest and was grazing at a hay net bag near the waterer. That caused Light to pause at the gate so as not to leave a horse behind.
Light hovered in that spot, keeping an eye in both directions but looking like she wanted everyone together. After a bit, she chose to walk back into the paddock toward Mix, which was just enough to persuade Mix to leave the hay net. As soon as Mix showed movement, Light departed for the pasture with the other two.
I thought it interesting that Mix then ramped up her energy in an almost petulant response and bolted into the pasture at a full sprint, kicking at the air for a little added spice.
At dusk, when all sorts of night critters start coming out, Asher and I found the horses hyper-focused toward the direction of the drainage swale. Neither Asher nor I noticed any animal movement in the distance, but that’s no surprise. Light maintained watch from several different vantage points when the other three decided it was safe to munch some hay.
Eventually, Light made her way down to a hay net, but she still stayed vigilant about any possible movement to the south.
Honestly, it looks rather exhausting to keep watch with such tenacity. I don’t know if she is proving herself to the others, but Light has earned my respect for all the effort she has been putting into it.
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Didn’t Meet
I didn’t get to meet our new support person from This Old Horse yesterday as I’d hoped. For unknown reasons, he was a no-show when the delivery of hay arrived. This leaves me uneasy. Our first two experience with the new person have been non-appearances. I hope this won’t be the case when we eventually have a pressing need.
It’s not so much about us being inconvenienced, but it’s that the horses are the ones we are trying to protect from suffering whenever there is an issue.
At least we no longer have any concerns over getting low on hay. It always feels so good to have the hay shed stocked. Plus, I’ve currently got twice the regular amount of bales staged in the barn after prepping for the new delivery, so I won’t need to toss bales again for quite a while.
While we were standing around the trailer talking after all the work was completed, Light nodded off to sleep and fell to her knees like Cyndie and I had seen her do before. It was affirming to have other people also witness it.
I wish I felt more empowered to do something to help Light lay down and get some deep sleep if sleep deprivation is indeed the problem. Our previous effort of adding something to her food doesn’t appear to have done anything beneficial for her.
Lately, all the horses have seemed to have less interest in finishing their grain. Per Johanne’s recommendation, I served up smaller portions at their afternoon feeding, and there were minimal leftovers after they had eaten their fill. It didn’t appear to concern them in the least, so I will continue with that adjustment for the time being.
Earlier in the day, I enjoyed a Facetime call from Cyndie and the kids in Florida, where they were able to boast about the warm weather. When I stepped out to do morning chores yesterday, the wind chill impact made it feel 70 degrees colder than it was a day and a half earlier. It’s getting pretty complicated at the coat tree in our front hall with all the different outerwear I’ve been selecting in order to adapt to the conditions at any given time of each day.
Their decisions are more along the lines of which bathing suit to wear and whether they have applied enough sun protection.
What a difference 1700 miles makes, eh?
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Suddenly Blades
They appeared days before our daytime temperature reached 73°F. The mound of manure I have been creating all winter in the large paddock, just a short distance upslope from Lake Paddock, has sprouted blades of new grass!
The cracked grains we feed the horses don’t all get fully digested. There are also scraps of hay that get mucked and tossed on the pile that could contain seeds.
It adds proof to my theory that I can get grass to grow without even trying, in places where it is not intended. It’s a completely different story if it’s a bare spot in the middle of our yard. Then, abject failure. Yet, blades sprout through the asphalt of our driveway.
Maybe I should pave over the bald spots in the lawn. 😑
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Moving Hay
When we moved to the country twelve and a half years ago, there was a lot that I didn’t have a clue how to do. After a career in manufacturing, you’d think I would have a better perspective on inventory management, but I struggled a little bit in figuring out how to manage turning over our firewood and bales of hay.
“First in; first out” (FIFO) is a classic method of using the oldest inventory first. That can be a trick to do when stacking your wood or hay in storage. The oldest ends up at the bottom of the pile.
For our firewood, I quickly changed from stacking it horizontally across the width of the shed to short rows, back to front. I just use the rows up from right to left and stack new wood behind them as space opens up.
That method doesn’t work for our hay. Since the bales arrive in large numbers all at once, we fill up the hay shed, and the last bales stacked become the first bales used. The routine I’ve settled on requires that we use up almost all of the last delivery before ordering more, which gets a little nerve-wracking since we don’t have complete control over when the next delivery can happen or how fast the horses will be burning through bales any given week.
When we do get close and the delivery is scheduled, I then hustle to move the last of the old bales out of the way in the shed and stage them in the barn. That is what I worked on yesterday, moving the last 21 bales from the hay shed to the barn.
The chance to meet our new handler, Jeremy from This Old Horse, ended up getting postponed yesterday afternoon. However, while I was hauling hay bales, I received a call from a contractor who wanted to come out this afternoon to talk about helping me put up a shade sail. I anticipate it will be a challenge to get a firm quote since there are so many unknowns at this point, but at a minimum, I hope to gauge a level of interest, knowledge, and ability for the project as I imagine it.
I’m expecting new hay to be delivered on Sunday, and if all goes as planned, I hope to meet Jeremy at the same time. It would be great to have another person to help toss bales into the shed for stacking.
It feels like a lot is happening here while Cyndie is in Florida. Of course, yesterday morning, before she left, Cyndie baked oatmeal raisin cookies for me to give the folks stopping by.
The more I give away, the fewer there will be for me to resist eating. Now, that’s inventory management.
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Bathing Again
Yesterday morning, I took a picture of Paddock Lake because I liked the patterns on the frozen surface that were glistening in the sun.
In the afternoon, when I stopped by for a visit with the lovely beasts, I noticed Swings’ coat was wavy to a degree that would trigger jealousy in a lot of women I know.
It was pretty obvious to me that Swings and Light had recently been swimming and the only logical place to do that would be down at the lake. I walked down to check it out.
Sure enough, there was a lot less water in the crater, and there were enough fresh hoof prints that my suspicion was confirmed. There had been some splish splashin’ goin’ on!
It seems to me that splashing around in the water would be more likely to occur on a hot summer day, but I’m not gonna argue with the grooming choices these horses make. It occurred to me that there are probably horses whose owners would never let them get this muddy. Our mares have a lot of autonomy when it comes to grooming.
We offer to clean the mud off of them with a brush, but it is rare for them to accept. What amazes me is how often I show up and discover their coats looking clean and smooth without any help from us. They obviously know how to take care of themselves.
One thing that I have found to require an assist from us is detangling the “fairy knots” that show up in their manes. Or, more accurately, Mia’s mane. She is the one most prone to developing them.
The person who has been our handler from This Old Horse ever since the herd arrived has shared that she will be leaving the organization. This afternoon, she is bringing her replacement over to meet me and the horses. Cyndie will have already departed for the airport by the time they are planning to get here.
I’m sure the horses will have themselves looking their very best for the occasion.
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Trip Back
Not only did I make the trip back home from the lake yesterday, but I selected a route that was a trip back in time for me. I received a message that my boots were ready to be picked up at the repair shop in Stillwater, so instead of driving straight home, I cut over through Osceola to cross into Minnesota on my way home. It cost me $30 to get the flaps resewn on my boots. I’m satisfied with that outcome.
Before leaving the lake place, I checked a map to refresh my memory of the route we used to take over and over for years from the time the kids were born. We picked an alternative set of rural roads to avoid heavy traffic on the 3-plus hour drive from our Eden Prairie home to Hayward. It provided a good variety of potential places to stop when someone needed to use a bathroom or have a distraction in the form of a treat. We ended up locating a variety of off-the-beaten-path restaurants that became lifesavers when anyone became too “hangry” for the rest of us to tolerate.
When I passed the turn that would have taken me directly home, the road before me became like a weird dream of scenery I vaguely recognized mixed with things I’m certain I’d never seen before. A lot has changed in the fifteen or more years since I last drove that way to and from the lake place. There were no roundabout interchanges on that route when we used to travel in that direction.
As I approached the first of several key turns of the old routine, I sensed it, but the crossroad was labeled as a more significant state highway than I felt was right. I opted not to turn, and as I rolled straight through, I glanced to the left and recognized it immediately. That was what we called the “roller coaster road.” There were a couple of steep rises in a row that provided a second of that zero-gravity feeling if I hit them with just the right speed, which I almost always did.
I made a quick U-turn and went back to follow that road, regardless of what it was now called. Soon, I was passing familiar old farmhouses and Trollhaugen ski hills, “Ward’s Bar,” and the torn-down place that was named “Best Place by a Dam Site” that was beside a dam. I had a flashback to chanting “We’re nowhere, we’re nowhere” with the kids when we were in the middle of the bridge between Minnesota and Wisconsin. There was the gas station where we would pause for fuel and some candy bars. Julian and I recently remembered we would get a “Whachamacallit” bar. The Dairy Queen was still at the end of the bridge in Osceola.
There were many trips on the rural roads along the St. Croix River when Cyndie and I imagined what it would be like to live in a place like that compared to our tiny corner lot in the suburbs. We had no idea at the time how great a place we would eventually find.
The horses were successfully trimmed by the farrier while I was away. They are all looking their muddiest best. Where they once were making horse-angels in the foot of snow, it is now just a sloppy meltwater mess of muck that they are rolling around in.
I brought Cyndie a pizza from Coop’s in Hayward that we had for dinner. I had a great time away, but it is really precious to be home. I intentionally planned it so I will have a full day with Cyndie before she heads to Florida tomorrow for a week, just when our temps are about to climb to almost 70F. Our kids will be joining her for a visit to their grandmother’s winter getaway.
Here’s hoping they get plenty of sun and a complete lack of alligators.
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Relative Something 