Archive for August 2025
Leadership Dispute
After three days of less than adequate sleep, I found myself struggling to keep my eyes open after dinner last night. It was great to know my body was willing to make up for what I had denied it, but if I went to sleep too early, I’d wake up way too soon. Postponing sleep until closer to my usual time was worth it to get back on a more normal overall schedule again.
I arrived home yesterday to a report from Cyndie that Mix and Light had entered into a phase of heightened conflict, maybe in competition for the role of herd leader.
She described a change of increased aggression from Mix toward Light. For a while, we were seeing just the opposite between those two.
At the second feeding yesterday, Cyndie found Mix standing firmly in Light’s usual feed bucket spot, without protest from Light. That is the station we serve first, and Mix appeared to be claiming it.
Light just stood back and didn’t attempt to eat from any of the buckets.
I asked where Swings was this whole time. Cyndie said Swings has been hanging out with Mia, which she doesn’t usually do because Swings doesn’t like Mia. They were grazing grass together and showed little interest in coming up to eat grains.
I’m just fine with Mix wanting to be the herd leader. More valuable to me would be to have her demonstrate some visible leadership on a consistent basis. If Light gets relegated to the second or third rung on their level of hierarchy, I hope it doesn’t mess too much with her self-image.
Light was rescued from a kill pen on two different occasions and was spookily skinny when she came to This Old Horse. Even though she looks outwardly healthy now, I would guess she suffered enough psychological trauma to leave her mentally fragile ever since. That hasn’t been the way I have looked at her in the past, but since that last Vet visit, my perspective has been readjusted to a more realistic interpretation of the horses’ ages and the abuses they have suffered.
While discussing the horses last night with Cyndie, we jointly came to the recognition that Light’s clinginess to Swings could be a reflection of an insecurity, not a desire to lead. Although we don’t know exactly how she ended up in the kill pen, it occurred to us that she might never be sure that it won’t happen again somehow.
Whatever it is that the horses might be trying to work out among themselves, I hope they come to an arrangement that satisfies each of them soon. It’s much more soothing to have them be loving with each other than to have disputes.
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Flirting Danger
Sometimes in life’s adventures, dangerous situations are encountered. Between rainstorms yesterday, Paul, Randy, and I hit the road on our bikes –two of us only figuratively, but for Paul, it was literally.
I suspect his Parkinson’s is playing more and more of a role in his occasions of close encounters with the unforgiving earth while bike riding, but Paul ending up on the ground during bike rides has been happening for as long as we have shared time as cyclists.
Yesterday’s was one of the less forgiving instances. We had just made a decision to extend our planned route based on time available and distance involved and turned left instead of right. As we blissfully rolled along, Paul was behind me. I heard him vocalize a version of “uh oh” and felt his front tire pressing on my rear tire.
If you’ve ever watched much of the Tour de France, you’ll recognize that this situation rarely turns out good. I stiffened up to hold my bike upright as Paul unsuccessfully attempted to decouple us. I could tell by the sound of what followed it wasn’t a soft landing.
He was a bit of a mess, but dodged the calamity of broken bones. I pulled mud out of his helmet and attempted to calm his anger at himself, slowing his breathing so we could take a moment for assessment. Randy squirted some water on his wounds. We aborted our planned extension and headed straight back to the house to temporarily patch him up.
His wife, Beth, was scheduled to arrive by noon to pick him up and drive to visit friends in Upper Michigan for more cycling.
“Hello, honey…” Nice surprise for her. Beth is as stoic as Paul, and they packed his stuff up and headed off for the next adventure without much fuss. Paul texted an update that they visited the ER in Marquette, and he was given the okay to continue with ride plans after fresh applications of antiseptic and clean bandages. No stitches required.
While the more dedicated golfers forged ahead with their games for the rest of the day, despite the rain, the remaining group of us entertained ourselves with card games and a few minutes of televised golf, and a Vikings preseason game before getting in some boating action when the weather got nice.
A cruise on the pontoon led to a visit to Powell’s restaurant across the lake, where cocktails and tossing bags filled the time while we waited for a table.
I’m pretty sure that Joe’s throw fell cleanly through the hole after I snapped that photo. When I checked on the other four guys inside at the bar, I was unable to tell which group was having a better time.
The sun was setting before our food arrived, but nobody cared. Steve had initiated a round of sharing highlight memories each of us had from the many years of this annual adventure, and a lot of love was evident.
Our last flirtation with danger was navigating our way back across the lake after dark with unofficial lighting and me as the designated driver.
I am not a natural boat captain.
With Steve’s expert guidance and help in doing the actual departing and landing, we returned safely to Wildwood, where we reconnected with the other golfers.
Oh, there was one more dangerous act to report. I sacrificed my good health by staying up way too late for the third night in a row to hang out on the deck with music, laughter, heartfelt sharing, and disgusting cigar smoke.
Sometimes it is worth living dangerously.
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Full House
Even though the golf weekend hosted by Steve and Ben up at Wildwood is an annual event, seeing so many vehicles parked in the driveway is an unusual sight.
Since I don’t golf, a short time after everybody wakes up in the morning, I find myself all alone for breakfast on the deck in the calm, quiet over the lake. Well, not entirely alone. The two young eagles and their parents nesting over the tennis court made an appearance, visiting the large pine tree between the house and the lake.
In the afternoon yesterday, Paul and David L. joined me for a short bike ride strategically routed to minimize our exposure to the strong wind that blew all day long. Almost 18 miles at an average pace of 14.4 mph. Reasonable exercise in the scenic northern Wisconsin forests.
I saw Paul pointing into the trees ahead of me and turned to look as I passed a large doe that was standing squarely beside the road. She looked like a statue except for a quick shake of her tail as I rolled by.
The highlight of the day has to be the feast we enjoyed for dinner. Jeff brought fresh salmon and halibut caught on a fishing trip the week before. Steve grilled the fish and some brats and burgers under the close supervision of a couple of interested parties, while others tended the corn on the cob and side dishes.
Seating was arranged for 14 on the deck, but half the crew couldn’t wait to dive into the delicacies and chose seats at the dining table closer to the center island in the kitchen, where the spread was laid out.
We lingered on the deck until later than a good night’s sleep dictates, listening to music and regaling each other with tales mildly embellished for effect. Even though a notable conflict on the golf course with strangers earlier in the day that included a fair number of F-bombs didn’t escalate to fisticuffs, the retelling started to expand to imply…
I made a futile attempt to find a spot upwind of cigar smoke, but the camaraderie was worth the unpleasantness. If it had kept the mosquitoes away, I would have found it a tiny bit more tolerable.
You know me, I am well-practiced at finding something to whine about. Don’t be misled. I am having a fabulous time with some great friends. It is an honor to be included.
The early morning thunderstorm has passed, and most of the guys are off already for their final day on the links. I will join any bikers who remain for a roll on the roads after I get up and get going myself. I intend to put the battery/motor module on my bike today to cope with a third day in a row of riding.
My legs feel a little bit like I’m getting to be an old man. Of course, that is why I decided to buy a bike with a motor option.
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Humid Heat
The golf weekend fellows and I find ourselves in an Extreme Heat Watch issued by the National Weather Service. Precautions may be in order.
The heat makes for excellent patio dining. I think their first day of golfing is just an excuse to rendezvous at Angler’s Bar for dinner, as has become the tradition on the first night. We took up three tables, and the server suggested we pay by table. Kevin pulled out his credit card and said he would pay for our table.
When the bill arrived, his eyes got very big. The server thought he indicated he would pay for all three tables. He was being generous, just not that generous.
I went for a little bike ride in the morning, but didn’t start early enough to avoid the heat. I think that took some of my strength. I felt great when I stopped for a brief rest and some snacks after 20 miles. Somewhere around six miles after that, I started noticing a decline in my stamina.
I’d like to say it had something to do with the elevation gain, but I had already started running low on energy before reaching the big climb toward the end. That effort did seal the decision to choose a shortcut home, despite the added time on a busy State Highway with a 55 mph speed limit.
I generally try to avoid the kind of traffic that barrels along on main arteries with high speed limits. The risk was worth it at the end of that ride because it got me out of the headwind and avoided a couple of fair-sized hills I didn’t feel up to climbing. Plus, I made it back safely despite the scare of frequent traffic.
This afternoon’s ride may be a shorter route than yesterday’s since the extreme heat will be at its worst by the time they get done with their morning rounds of golf. I intend to choose a route with a lot less climbing, as well.
At least the lake will be available for a swim to cool down when we get done riding.
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Head Start
I got a head start on my next adventure by driving up to the lake place last night, a day early for the annual Golf Weekend hosted by Cyndie’s brothers, Steve and Ben. Several years ago, they started including me even though I don’t golf. Since several guys like to ride bikes in addition to their golfing, I bring my bike and let them put me through a workout of trying to keep up with them in the woods or on the road.
I’d like to use the excuse that I am getting too old for this, but they are the same age as me, so that doesn’t work.
By coming up a day early, I’m forcing myself to take a break from the groundskeeping work that never ends when 20 acres are growing at a frenetic pace.
Actually, I made great headway cleaning up the pathways and edges of trails through the woods over the last seven days. Some of the growth is beginning to take on a rather hedge-like appearance in several places around the property. That is just what I’m after.
I snuck in a few minutes of bike maintenance the other day, trying my hand at adding sealant to my tubeless tires for the very first time. I made one foolish mistake. Since I was trying to simultaneously entertain Asher, I moved my bike down by the barn, where he loves to sit in the shade of a tree and watch over his kingdom.
At that location, I didn’t have a convenient station for the bike, so I just leaned it against a barn door. I should have flipped it over, but I wasn’t thinking. When I added the sealant to the front tire after deflating it, the weight on the wheel flexed the tire, and a lot of the sealant leaked out of the bead. D’oh!
It was doubly maddening because the front tire was the one losing air faster than it should. I solved that error before doing the rear tire, and the process worked flawlessly. Luckily, the “refresh” of sealant, even though not the full amount, seems to have plugged the leak in the front tire. It’s holding pressure just as well as the rear.
Having never dealt with tubeless tires before, I was feeling a little intimidated by the whole sealant process. Now, after just one experience of adding a new amount, I see that it is not a big deal at all.
I’m going to give my tires a little road test this morning and get a head start on checking out my favorite road routes before the other riders arrive. As a bonus, I won’t be doing any mowing at all for the next few days.
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American Spirit
It would be wonderful if this music video were to go viral. Americans letting their voices be heard via this country’s roots music played as genuinely as can be.
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Many thanks to Gary Larson for sharing this video with me last night!
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Clearing Trails
The list of tasks related to fighting back the natural growth constantly threatening to overgrow our property is getting shorter and shorter. On Sunday morning, I took the chainsaw into the woods to cut up the trees and limbs that had fallen across several of our trails. Yesterday, the tool of choice was the STIHL string trimmer to clean up the paths, some of which we haven’t been walking since they’d gotten too overgrown.
Soon after I’d made it a little way down one of those pathways we hadn’t been on, I discovered another downed tree we hadn’t noticed that would require the chainsaw.
Before
After
The two plants most often cluttering the pathways are Virginia Creeper vines and wild raspberry shoots. Less often, there will be clumps of whispy grasses that tend to resist the spinning trimmer line. Shredding the growth at ground level in the woods with the string trimmer tends to kick up a lot of moist dirt that sticks all over me.
It became a toss-up between the splattering dirt or the mosquitoes as to which was most irritating.
There are two versions of trails through our woods. One is wide enough to accommodate an ATV, which is a valuable thing to be able to do sometimes. The majority of the wide trails were already in existence when we bought the property.
The rest of the trails have intentionally been left narrow to limit them to foot traffic. We have created almost all of these pathways.
This was only the second time this growing season that I have used the trimmer to mow down the trails through the woods. I’m hoping it won’t need to happen again, as growth should begin to slow soon now that we are in the dog days of summer.
There remains some branch pruning to be done to reach my ideal of perfectly well-tended trails, but we are darn close to completing the maintenance of our walkways in the woods.
Forest bathing can soon commence without obstructions.
I suspect I don’t reap the same rewards of walking through the woods when I am wielding a loud and smelly small gas engine and wreaking havoc on a wide variety of growing plant life.
I’ll just have to take follow-up walks on all the trails after I am done, which is easy to make time for since they become somewhat irresistible when they are so thoroughly groomed.
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Pain
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dull
unceasing
pain
radiating
stinging
burning
achy
sharp
waves
abrupt
chronic
reaching
unidentifiable
unfamiliar
tender
local
emotional
biting
raging
fading
grating
lasting
massive
undeniable
masked
referred
visceral
deep
squeezing
gnawing
cramping
silent
edgy
temporary
pressing
effective
protective
ignored
forgotten
unrelenting
throbbing
incapacitating
intolerable
mysterious
vanishing
changing
fleeting
processed
treated
deleted
defeated
going
going
gone
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Ugly Air
I’ve lost track of how many days in a row we’ve been suffering under a “poor” and “low” quality air alert due to wildfire smoke. This morning, it shows up as “Moderate,” but the cumulative impact is lingering to the degree that we aren’t feeling much better. The lethargy I have been experiencing has helped me to avoid doing anything that requires heavy breathing, but we haven’t stayed indoors or worn masks while outside.
The horses and Asher appear to be responding to the nasty air in much the same way as we are. 
They are moving pretty slowly. I watched as Light stepped away from her bucket this morning and turned around toward Swings’ station. She then stood there for a minute or two, as if contemplating whether it was worth the effort to walk over there. When she eventually did, Light slid her nose into the bucket without asking, so Swings lifted her head up out of the way and chewed with her mouth open directly above Light’s head. Light ended up with a little crown of grains on top of her mane, where it covers her slowly healing head wound.
Horses are masters of taking things in stride.
Asher seemed to be looking for better air underground.
One complaint we don’t have during the bout of bad air quality is high humidity. It’s really sad that the dryer air that would otherwise feel so refreshing is being tainted by the smelly smoke particles.
When Asher was taking pauses between digging toward the center of the earth, he plopped down on the cool soil in hopes it would give him a little of that refreshing feeling that we are all longing for.
We are feeling a new level of appreciation for clean air and fresh breezes. If only they would arrive in a more gentle form than the hurricane-wind thunderstorms that seem to be joining wildfires as the new normal on the planet.
I’m afraid my lethargy has me feeling a little more gloomy about the state of things in the world this morning. Luckily, we have a lunch date planned today with friends, Rich and Jill. That will do oodles to bring me to my happy place of love and laughter again.
May you all find a way to spend some time in your happy place today, despite any of the gloom that may be crimping your styles!
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New Bin
What does it say about a person when the most exciting thing in a day is a new composting bin? The plastic compost bin for kitchen food scraps, which we bought when we moved here almost 13 years ago, has succumbed to the ravages of UV radiation and the destructive forces of relentless raccoons.
We picked a different version to replace it, and the company that manufactures it is Canadian and has the word ‘green’ in its name, so no wonder I’m feeling so giddy about it.
Though the confirmation email for our order didn’t show up as expected, Cyndie reached a human support person who apologized and assured her it was out for delivery.
After reviewing the helpful information in the manual and assembling the bin yesterday, Algreen is now on my preferred vendor list. I’m embarrassed over how excited I am to generate more coffee grounds, eggshells, and vegetable scraps to feed the new bin.
While I was in compost mode, I ventured over to the manure compost piles and set about transferring one of the finished piles to our storage location near the labyrinth. That is another two-for-one exercise, as it frees up space in the compost area and replenishes the amount available for immediate use.
One thing I have learned about allowing my piles of compost to rest on the bare ground, surrounding trees are not bashful about reaching up into the piles with their fibrous root structures. When scooping up the compost from the bottom of the mounds, it becomes a battle of tines hooking on thickets of growth that don’t give in easily.
A tree’s gotta eat. I don’t blame them since I’m the one who put all that rich nutrition where they could reach it.
It’s actually a reflection of how slowly we operate around here. The pile by the labyrinth gets dug into very infrequently, giving the trees plenty of time to establish a hearty web of fine root fibers. At the compost area, I’m guilty of leaving old piles that have gone cold undisturbed for longer than is optimum.
If I were to get around to establishing composted horse manure as a cash crop, my processes would get much more attention. Early on in our adventure of transitioning from suburbanites to country folk, we envisioned marketing our special concoction of “soul soil” from the rich compost we were getting.
In reality, I am moving in the other direction now and can often be found throwing scoops of fresh manure over the paddock fences into the pastures instead of collecting the precious material for the compost piles.
Our food compost and manure compost primarily feed Cyndie’s gardens with enough left over to fulfill the requests of a few friends and family who ask for an occasional bag full.
Yet, still, I find myself excited like a kid at Christmas over the process and having a brand new compost bin. It doesn’t define me, but this probably reveals something about my nature, I expect.
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Relative Something 