Archive for November 2025
Choices
.
it’s not
that I’m not
waiting to hear
from you
any more than
from anyone
who understands
how and why
it’s possible to know
the choices
are ours
to keep
and making them
in harmony
with our better selves
supersedes
mistakes we’ve all made
while waiting
to hear
from everyone
else
before noon
.
.
Faint Dusting
We have officially received our first snow of the season overnight. With temperatures well below freezing, the flakes were dry enough that there was no threat of the horses getting wet, which is a relief. We hadn’t ended up putting blankets on them.
Cyndie did, however, put blankets on two of the evergreens in the labyrinth.
They are wrapped in burlap to protect them from freezer burn during the winter.
When I saw the wind chill was down in the single digits (F), I pulled out my quilted Carhartt overalls, which are a significant part of what I call my “spacesuit” against the winter conditions. It’s that time of year, I guess. I hardly needed them the last two years. Maybe this year will be different.
We have had an orange cat behaving more boldly about being on our property lately, which is putting Asher in a bit of a tracking frenzy. Two days ago, the cat showed up in our barn while Cyndie was down there to retrieve the feed buckets. Luckily, she had left Asher in the house on this occasion.
The cat kept meowing at Cyndie and approaching her, so she decided to walk toward the closest neighbor’s place to see if the cat would act like that was where it belonged.
Yesterday, the cat showed up again, this time while I was cleaning up manure among the horses, and Asher was watching behind the gates of the overhang.
When I spotted it and hollered to Cyndie in hopes of her confining Asher, the dog saw it, too. Chaos ensued.
Asher squeezed under the fence and raced toward the cat. The horses startled and took off in a sprint, just missing clobbering me. I hollered at the dog, Cyndie hollered, and the cat waited until Asher circled just enough for it to dash off for the nearest tree.
We succeeded in luring Asher away with the help of his e-collar, but the cat remained in that tree for long after.
Cyndie posted a notice on the Nextdoor app in search of a possible owner. She feels the cat was behaving less like an outdoor stray, of which there are many in the area, and more like an indoor cat with a relationship to people. I’m not equally convinced.
There was no sign of it this morning, so maybe Asher’s harsh confrontation was enough encouragement to persuade the cat to seek attention elsewhere. That would be great for my heart. Facing the possibility of getting trampled by the horses was a little more adrenaline than I care for first thing in the morning.
.
.
Fourteenth November
We are in our fourteenth November on these twenty acres and marveling over the thought that we have been tending these fields and forests for that long. Thinking back to when we first arrived, one particular vivid memory stays fresh in my mind. The very first time I ventured off-trail in our woods, I came upon the fresh, blood-red skeleton of an 8-point buck in a circle of hair and paw prints.
We had heard the excited yips of a pack of coyotes during the night a week before that, but didn’t realize how close to our house they were or what the ruckus actually meant. We’ve heard similar howling packs over the years since, sometimes triggered by an emergency vehicle siren, but haven’t come upon any similarly obvious evidence on our land like that carcass.
A stray bone is not uncommon, though.
Cyndie recently trained me in recognizing the invasive garlic mustard plant she has worked for years to disrupt, and we spent some time during an afternoon last week pulling sprouts in the areas off-trail that are less obvious. I found it a little overwhelming because it seems to be everywhere. We did what we could until my ability to cope was exhausted.
I can see why she just makes it a habit to pull whatever catches her eye when on our walks. She stuffs her pockets with plastic shopping bags to always have a way to bag and dispose of what she pulls up, an essential step in eradicating the highly destructive invasive.
There was a tiny oak sprout that caught my attention, barely tall enough to stand above the dead leaf blanket covering the ground in November. The leaves were so perfect. Apparently, too young to keep up with all the bigger trees that have the fall routine figured out.
It looks like today’s precipitation is sliding to our south, which is both good and bad. It’s nice that the horses will get a break from needing to deal with wetness in these cold temperatures. Their natural winter coats are coming in nicely, but their shaggy look quickly flattens out in the rain or wet snow.
The bad part of missing out on some rain or snow is that Paddock Lake is dry and will make for lousy skating this year. The residual growth was almost fluorescent green in the low spots.
My footprint was a result of retrieving the horses’ Jolly Ball that had rolled into the middle of the muddy remains of the “lake.” It’s always interesting to find the ball has been relocated from the spots where I place it, handle up, in hopes of enticing them to play.
We rarely have the privilege of catching them in the act. Occasionally, the ball disappears from the paddock. When it happened one time when the hay field grass was tall, we didn’t find it until the hay mower had sliced into it.
Fourteen Novembers of wonder and joy.
.
.
Making Preparations
Our health insurance provider has notified us that they will no longer offer coverage in our location in 2026. Each time I have spoken with a new provider about their plans, they have mentioned being flooded with calls from people in our county in the same situation as us.
I found a plan that appeared to fit with my needs, but it didn’t show my primary care clinic in its list of providers. Several calls led me to the option of using my regular doctor and having my clinic send the bill to the company whose plan I intend to select. All parties appeared to be in agreement.
When I tried enrolling online at Medicare dot gov, I got stuck because it didn’t have my doctor in the list of choices. When I tried enrolling at the site of the company I had chosen, it tried to direct me back to the Medicare enrollment site. I called them and explained my predicament. Their solution was to snail mail me the application to fill out and return.
It’s a good thing I’m not shopping for major coverage. All I’m looking for is the basic annual preventative checkups. I can’t imagine how crazy it must be to find complex coverage.
With phone calls done and paperwork in the mail (supposedly), I headed outside to get a little exercise with Asher. Next thing you know, I’m busy raking leaves off the front yard.
The wind was blowing in my favor; otherwise, I wouldn’t have bothered. Most of the trees, other than the oaks, have dropped the majority of their leaves. Just maybe that’s the last of the lawn raking for the season.
At this point, the next thing to do would be to locate where I stashed all the snow shovels from last year. You never know, maybe it will snow this winter. I like making preparations. It’s a little like preventive medicine. Or insurance, even, only with much easier enrollment.
.
.
Sail Down
Since we seem to be on a roll lately of preparing in advance for the coming winter, we decided to take down the shade sail yesterday. By saying, “in advance,” I am referring to how we have been taking care of things while the weather is pleasant instead of waiting until it starts getting nasty outside and we are forced to do it without delay.
I’m relieved that we barely had any wind to deal with because when a slight breeze occurred, the loosened sail suddenly pulled with surprising force. I can’t imagine trying to take the sail down every time the wind appeared to be getting too strong. Luckily, Mix showed up to hold the ladder for me when I started spinning the first turnbuckle.
When I moved the ladder to the opposite corner, Mia joined us to see if she could help, too.
It’s rewarding to see the horses remain calm while we are behaving in unusual ways. Yesterday, it was our working with the ladder and gathering up the large sail in our arms right in their midst. They showed a healthy curiosity, but didn’t startle over our strange activity.
For winter storage, I decided to hang the sail by its corners inside the barn, like I had done in the beginning, before the posts and framing were in place in the paddock.
I tightened the turnbuckles up to suspend it out of the way over our heads. It helps that Cyndie and I are both short people.
Without the sail, the framing still looks pretty good to me. It’s got character.
The extended weather forecast currently mentions a 30% possibility of a frozen mix of precipitation on Saturday. Having the sail taken down frees us from any concerns about how it will fare if that happens. It also allows us to keep our attention on how the horses will be coping in the event of cold, wet, and freezing conditions.
This time, they may be getting blankets instead of the rain sheets if it’s going to get as cold as is being predicted. The high temperature on Sunday may not even rise above freezing.
Oh my, that’s almost like the normal November weather of the good old days! Bring it on. This year, we are about as ready for winter weather as we’ve ever been. It’s kind of a reverse psychology thing. If we prepare for the worst, then maybe it won’t happen.
Especially since we also always hope for the best.
.
.
Good Life
We woke yesterday morning with a glee hangover from our amazing David Byrne show Monday night, and it lingered throughout the day. Blessed with a fabulous climate-warmed summery-feeling November morning, we danced our way through the woods with Asher before approaching the barn to feed the horses.
We found the mares luxuriating in the emerging sunlight and mellow as ever. It got me thinking about how they stand so stoically to endure the miserable conditions when the weather is gruesome, as if they are aware that it never lasts, and that there will eventually be rewarding days like this as compensation.
Lately, mornings as nice as this one was –when the horses are calmly munching their feed and the natural world is as peaceful as ever– serve as a balm, soothing and comforting us. Coming on the heels of our evening of super special entertainment, it felt like we were getting a double dose of feel-good medicine.
Asher seemed to be enjoying the unusually nice weather as well, and it had him romping playfully all over the place. When I decided to try raking some leaves, he behaved like I was making piles for him to race through and kick all over the place.
For what I hope is the last time this year (never say never), I got out the riding mower to mulch the leaves in the backyard grass. Most of the trees that drop leaves have finished doing that, so it seemed like a reasonable time to finish tending to the grass in back.
When I put the mower back in the garage, I moved the ATV to the front and parked the mower behind it, a symbolic gesture in anticipation of the change from mowing season to snowplowing season.
After that, I started picking off little nuisance tasks that had been nagging at me for a while. I drove my car to the shop garage to put air in the tires. Then I brought our three most-used wheelbarrows up from the barn to inflate tires on those. I attached a recently purchased battery manager to the diesel tractor battery. It instantly kicked into “charging” mode. That tractor doesn’t get driven enough to keep the battery charged.
Cyndie cleaned and mended horse blankets. I moved a fresh batch of hay bales from the shed into the barn. We moved her picnic “door table” and chairs from beneath the big oak tree in the woods into the barn for winter storage.
Working outdoors felt like we’d been given a gift to accomplish all these things on such a pleasant weather day. With all of our animals showing irrepressible joy and contentment, it felt like we were living the (really) good life.
If only I could train my brain to retain the sense of this goodness with more weight than it does with the challenging days of harsh weather and difficult problems, I would be ever so grateful. That would be living an even better life.
.
.
Fabulous Show
Last night, Cyndie and I met our friends, Pam and John, for dinner and a show in Minneapolis. We picked them up at their house after feeding the horses and Asher a little earlier than usual in the afternoon. We ate downtown at the Clay Oven restaurant for Indian food. They offer a huge selection of freshly prepared options, and luckily for us, they ask what level of spiciness you prefer for each choice. Delicious eats!
It was just a short drive away to the Orpheum theater to see David Byrne’s first of two nights on his “Who Is the Sky Tour.”
The show was fabulous. The dramatic stage projection images were really powerful. Their opening song was “Heaven,” and it looked like they were performing on the moon. Much to my liking, he performed a good number of popular Talking Heads songs throughout the set.
The visual imagery was striking. Seeing the show from the balcony allowed for a great view of the floor scenes as they changed from the lunar surface to grass, then a dirty city street, a rooftop, and even a shot of his actual apartment in New York City.
The thirteen members of the ensemble backing him up were completely mobile and moved around the whole time like a precision marching band. During the song with their names, the words followed them around wherever they went.
The packed house gave him many rousing ovations, particularly after one impressive visual extravaganza. When he stepped forward to speak after the song, the roar of the crowd picked up and was sustained for a minute or two before he could say anything.
It was a wonderful night, and the fabulous spectacle put a smile on everyone we saw leaving the theater. We had purchased our tickets late, so we were seated individually across the balcony. Waiting to meet up again after the show allowed us to stand and observe most of the folks on their way out.
David Byrne’s artistry is a welcome balm for what ails the country these days. In addition to all the smiles, it seemed like everyone had a little more hop in their step, too.
.
.
From Nowhere
Luckily, I don’t bet on my sports fan hunches. I didn’t expect the Gopher football team to snatch the victory in their game Saturday afternoon. I didn’t expect the Blue Jays to lose Game 7 of the World Series. I firmly doubted the Vikings were going to get the better of Detroit yesterday.
I was not surprised that the order to once again change the clocks back an hour to Standard Time would disorient activities associated with my sleep, the feeding times for animals, and bedtime for Asher. It seems to me that an agreement will never be reached to settle on a year-round, consistent time rule in the USA.
Humans are so intelligent, we should leave the clocks alone and change the hours of our activities if there is a need to do things only when it is light outside. Another option would be to put a big mirror out on the edge of Earth’s atmosphere to reflect sunlight on our population centers for the hours when natural daylight is shorter than our lifestyles demand.
We had some fine-looking moonlight glowing through the clouds last night after the hour-earlier sunset had transpired.
Cyndie and I spent the middle of the day yesterday seeing Jeremy Allen White’s impersonation of Bruce Springsteen in the movie “Deliver Me from Nowhere.” I went in with little knowledge of the storyline and came out much better informed about the Boss’s struggle with depression in the heyday of his early success.
It was a powerful depiction of how the weight of childhood stress can become too much to carry as adults if never addressed.
A lot of improved health can be achieved when seeking help from professionals sooner in our lives. I sure wish I had recognized my condition a lot earlier than I did.
Having successfully treated my depression has helped me immensely to cope with common stresses, like twice-a-year clock changes, for example. I might whine about it, but it doesn’t push me into the dark world of dysfunctional thinking that was a hallmark of my experiences.
Being delivered from nowhere is a precious thing, indeed.
.
.
Bursting Hearts
Latest heart shape update: I find myself wrestling in my mind over leaving the natural imbalance of the two sides or working more intently to bring greater symmetry to the piece.
This is from the third large tree that fell last summer: the oak. It can roughly be compared to the size of a soccer ball, and as a result, it is a pretty heavy hunk of wood. Another option I’m keeping in mind is that shrinking it down to reach a more symmetrical shape would likely eliminate the remnants of the inner bark that have yet to be sanded away.
That inner bark does add some unusual aspects to the overall look, but it also obscures the appearance of the classic oak woodgrain that might be hiding just beneath. The next time I get my hands on it, I expect I’ll go with whatever my heart tells me to do next.
Yesterday afternoon, Cyndie and I gave our hearts to friends who host an annual Gopher football tailgate party memorial in honor of their daughter, who was a passionate fan.
We didn’t have tickets to the game, so our visit was just for the pre-game festivities. As soon as we located our friends, we were accosted by a loud bear of a guy from an adjacent gathering who kicked over his son’s drink in his zest to wrap us in a wonderful, loving hug.
Our next-door neighbors at the Wildwood lake place up in Hayward were tailgating right beside us. On top of that, Cyndie was able to facilitate a special introduction between the two. Her friend, Lisa, and our Wildwood friend, Tom, had yet to meet in person, even though they had worked remotely together on a memorial garden for Lisa’s daughter.
While we were all enjoying the festivities, it occurred to me that my cycling friend, Doobie, would likely be tailgating, too. I shot off a text to him with our faces in front of the Gophers canopy and learned he was already inside the stadium, volunteering at the M Club. He kindly invited us to join them because they had tickets to spare.
It was an embarrassment of friendship riches.
We had to pass up the chance to watch the game in person because we already had a date for the afternoon with our kids to hang out together for happy hour at a pub conveniently located between their two homes. So, it was a combination of friendship and family riches, for which we are greatly blessed.
We were able to achieve all this fabulous socializing due to the help of local UWRF students, who we have hired as short-term animal sitters for just such occasions.
It’s no wonder I find myself wanting to sculpt bigger-than-life heart shapes. My own is bursting with goodness via the connections with lovely people!
.
.
Sound Carries
Continuing with the theme of how serene it can be in our little paradise, particularly in the early morning, Cyndie and I caught ourselves being the “loud family” yesterday on our walk with Asher on the way to feed the horses. Sounds carry, we know that. Our immediate neighbor to the south has a phone ringer on one of his outbuildings that must be out of an old Bell Telephone rotary dial model. When it rings, it seems like it’s coming from within our paddock fence line.
When we emerged from the woods yesterday morning, the cloudy sky was particularly fascinating with a dramatic swirl directly overhead. I knew a photo wouldn’t capture the full essence of what our eyes were perceiving, but snapped a shot anyway.
When we walk and talk in the morning, it is common that one of us will get ahead or fall behind, pulling a weed or vine, so the projection of our voices picks up a bit as we carry on conversations. Suddenly, I’ll become aware that we are shouting at each other on an otherwise silent outdoor morning in such a way that the neighbors and the horses wouldn’t be able to miss.
Anybody outside yesterday would have heard us marveling over the spectacle in the sky, or how Asher was about to chase after a deer that had waited until he and I were only about four feet away before it bolted off through the trees, and our boy perfectly responded to my command to “Leave It!” and stayed with me.
The kind of conversational stories that a person can be so involved in telling that one loses track of how loud their voice has become. Yeah, way too many mornings, we are the loud family marching through the woods and along the back pasture to the barn, carrying on at the top of our lungs in the otherwise blissful serenity of our little valley.
“The Hayses are up and about,” the neighbors will announce.
With a chance of rain in the forecast and verifiably chilly temperatures, we put rain sheets on the horses yesterday morning while they were eating from their feed buckets. The precipitation didn’t show up until much later, but Light had made her own decision about being covered by the time it started to fall.
Cyndie found the blanket wadded up on the ground in the middle of the afternoon, bottom straps still clipped, and nothing ripped open. It must have been a fascinating sight to witness her Houdini performance of getting herself free of that. I’m confused about whether she pulled it up over her head or down off her butt. Had to be over her head. There’s no other way.
I’m glad to have missed it. Catching her in the middle of that would have been frightening. I wonder if she made a lot of noise while wiggling and wrangling it off of herself.
The way sound carries, the neighbors probably knew about it before we did.
.
.
Relative Something 