Archive for the ‘Chronicle’ Category
Special Visitors
It was a special day. The high September heat was a bit burdensome, but the glorious sunshine provided a good opportunity to share some of the wonder and glory of our precious early autumn Wintervale sanctuary with friends. Pam and John are like family, having lived in our home and cared for Asher and the horses many times when Cyndie and I are away for a weekend at the lake or traveling to places like Iceland or, more recently, Maine and Massachusetts.
Yesterday, they came for a visit, bringing a friend, Jess, whom they met on one of their travel adventures in Egypt. If I have my facts correct, supported by her endearing New Zealand accent, Jess’ current residence in London is not where she was originally from. Having our little nook of nature and rescued horses revealed to an international audience ranks high on our scale of rewarding pleasures.
Having been clued in to Jess’s fondness for caramel rolls, Cyndie baked up her standard wide variety of versions, with or without raisins and nuts, chopped or whole.
When the company arrived, Cyndie turned over control of the kitchen to Pam, who produced a divine quiche for lunch, such that the delectable foods we were enjoying competed almost evenly with the great outdoors and interactions with Asher and the horses that were the primary draw. Pam’s key lime pie for dessert was award-worthy.
Asher was his adoring self, leaning heavily into Jess to make sure she felt well-loved while not so subtly seeking affection for himself.
Even though the horses were noticeably sweaty and likely not that happy about the heat, they were surprisingly attentive to our presence at a time of day that aligned more with them napping. Light was first to arrive and leaned her head over the top board, remaining there at length to engage and nuzzle with each of us in turn.
Mix eventually did the same over the gates before we headed back indoors.
John Bramble gave us mostly good grades on the state of things in and around the barn. He chastised me for the cavalier level of security on the gate chains, as I had only secured one of the two.
We have trained him well.
I showed off my composting process for Jess, producing the thermometer probe to display the middle of the pile was cooking away at 70°C (160°F). I should be embarrassed to be so proud of our piles of shit.
The day was a classic win-win as we felt as grateful to be able to share our love and peacefulness with them as they expressed being grateful that we did.
Putting our Wintervale “LOVE” flag at the driveway entrance to greet them when they arrived and for them to carry when they departed wraps the day up perfectly.
Travel safely, Jess!
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Custom Solution
We were moving our gas grill off the deck when one of the doors fell to the ground. Cyndie found a bolt with a nut on it lying there, but I couldn’t figure out what had broken or how it had been attached. As far as I could tell, the bolt was just functioning as a post that the door pivoted on. First impression was that a new bolt would solve the problem, but I knew it was more complicated than that.
There wasn’t a way to screw a replacement bolt back on, so the trick would be to mount the bolt in a way that would leave just the threaded portion exposed to mate with the hole in the bottom corner of the door.
Based on the space I was working with, it would likely require a very thin nut. One possibility would be to grind down a standard-width nut to something much skinnier, but I had another idea.
I found a washer with a center hole one size smaller than the replacement 1/4-20 bolt I was going to use. I planned to try tapping threads into that washer. My first challenge was how to hold that little washer in order to cut threads into it.
After a couple of failed attempts to clamp it directly into a bench vise, I pinched the edge of the washer with a vise-grip pliers and then clamped the pliers into the bench vise. The little washer was just thick enough to accept a fraction of threads, and that proved to be enough to spin it on the bolt.
I don’t know if you were able to follow all that, but in the accompanying photo, the little washer I tapped is directly between the bottom of the door and the brown portion of the grill frame. Somewhat to my surprise, it worked to hold the bolt that is coming from below to protrude up into the door.
That’s all I needed. Color me chuffed. I had paused mowing to help move things back onto the deck and then ran into this nuisance of a task. My goal was to find a quick fix and get back to mowing. Given all the steps I ended up taking, it was quick enough and successful enough, and gave me a boost of satisfaction that my ingenuity produced a custom solution that worked on the first try.
The experience acquired from a career in manufacturing continues to pay dividends in my retirement. I bought us a little more time with that old grill, but its days are numbered. It is admittedly well beyond its “Best If Used By” date.
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A Struggle
Reconciling the precious and serene beauty of our little sanctuary property with the unsettling reports of the US Supreme Court decisions and White House announcements of a threatening nature is simply crazy-making. Even as I attempt to limit my exposure to the awful news of the calculated steps to erode our Constitutional guarantees, the reports get mixed in with popular culture.
My email inbox receives a constant flow of sensational clickbait subject lines that do nothing to alter the slide towards destroying our democracy. It all feels like, “Republicans Hate This One Trick That Will Stop T@#mp!” Yeah, me pledging $5 a month to “the cause.” That’s the trick they are alluding to. That’ll stop him!
Yet, life at Wintervale is as embarrassingly pleasant as ever. Cyndie and I are both retired and can pick and choose whatever we want to do each day. As caretakers of the fabulous property and the animals residing with us, we put care for both as a top priority. When that is under control, we get to put our energy toward each of our creative art hobbies.
Cyndie is currently taking a class on watercolor painting. I am sanding wood into enticing, silky smooth shapes. Asher is settling into a sweet companion with a much-reduced urge to run off without us. The horses are a dream to feed now that we have switched their offering to processed “Senior” nutrition for the morning and afternoon servings.
Cyndie got the deck sealed yesterday. I filled a couple more cracks I found in the driveway.
My brain struggles to process the great goodness we are able to enjoy while the government of this country is behaving in both petty and important ways towards destroying our rights and anyone it deems unfavorable.
If there is any possibility of confusion about my opinion on the subject, let me emphatically state that I OBJECT to everything and anything being said or done by the current administration, its advisors, and its puppet majority in the Supreme Court.
I wish to be included on any lists of enemies the government is compiling. If you succeed in taking away our rights of free speech, please arrest me without delay. My hunger strike will commence soon after.
To citizens of the rest of the world, I offer an apology for whatever ways my country has done you wrong, past or present. I’m sorry that the country that fought to stop the fascist Nazi regime has inexplicably flipped and is now acting in the very same manner as what we previously rejected.
Reconciling this is nothing but a struggle for my little brain. I try to avoid beating on this zombie of a subject, but it builds up sometimes to a level that I need to release. Also, I never want my silence on the topic to get misconstrued as acceptance.
If I somehow avoid incarceration for my objections to this administration, be assured I will sign up for the underground resistance to support whatever alliance forms to free the world from a new version of autocratic fascism led by a grifting narcissistic racist xenophobic misogynistic homophobic convicted rapist pedophile.
Such a struggle.
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Summer Heat
September is a great month for planting grass seed. Yesterday, with the high temperature reaching 86°F, the baby grass blades sprouting in the area where Cyndie had scattered seeds needed a big drink of water.
I pulled out the ATV and hooked up the trailer with our water tank and sprayer. I don’t think we’ve used this watering system in a year. The battery that drives the pump was still good, but the spray mechanism sure wasn’t.
There must have been water in it over the winter that froze and cracked the plastic. Cyndie operated it like a hand-held sprinkler. It got the job done. A replacement is on order.
Even though we got two coats of sealant on the asphalt driveway earlier this summer, there continue to be some small cracks emerging that I fear might be related to tree roots pushing up from below. I picked up some crack filler and took advantage of the high heat to apply several patches.
An 80-degree day in the fall feels a lot hotter than it would during the summer. At least we get the benefit of a quick cool-down as soon as the sun drops below the horizon.
If there weren’t so many ongoing crazy issues related to the destruction of our democracy, I might notice that the planet is still getting overcooked by the unabated burning of fossil fuels.
You’d think the fresh bit of sunburn on my nose yesterday would maybe have gotten my attention.
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Different Perspectives
Some horses get no respect.
That is Mia’s placemat. It’s hard not to interpret this scene as having been done intentionally. Especially because it tends to happen with some regularity. I’ll be embarrassed if I find out that it’s Mia who is doing it. Although I wouldn’t be surprised if it was her sending a message that she doesn’t like that spot.
We know she prefers being at the nook just beyond the overhang, but when it rains, we specifically don’t want her standing out in it. For the most part, she copes well enough there.
My gut tells me it’s other horses soiling her mat, but I have no idea whether any message is intended. As a general rule, their distribution of manure is pretty random. I have always thought that animals had a natural aversion to pooping where they eat. These horses long ago learned that I pick it all up, no matter where they dump it, so maybe they figure it’s not something they need to concern themselves with.
I took a couple of photos yesterday to share that we have a tree showing signs of color in its outer leaves, and Asher was supervising my mowing job. When I looked at them on my computer screen, I noticed something interesting about the way the hay shed looks.
From that view, it appears to be tipped backwards. Perspective is everything.
Same hay shed from a different angle. Straight up. And color showing up on the fringes of the maple tree!
Maybe perspective explains the horse apples landing on Mia’s placemat. It could be that the horses just don’t see it from their angle.
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Living Good
This weekend, I am home alone with our animals while Cyndie is up at the lake place with friends. I’ve only lost track of Asher twice so far while I have been tending to the horses or mowing some grass. After walking to the house across the road up the hill, around our home, and up and down our driveway without finding him, I went back to what I was doing, and he showed up soon after both times.
I’m claiming, “no harm, no foul.”
We are getting along like a couple of guys home alone for the weekend. He lets me watch football games with the sound on too loud, and I have been keeping him entertained with his squeaky chew toys and Kong balls.
We both have taken naps.
The weather has been about as fine as September can offer, making it a joy to be outside, and as I mentioned yesterday, the horses have been looking as calm and contented as ever.
This morning, Asher hung around the barn the whole time while I went through the usual routine, cleaning up after and feeding the herd.
We are enjoying the good life for the moment. It’s what all creatures crave, no?
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Not Solved
It was probably wishful thinking on my part to believe the barking dog issue was permanently solved.
3 a.m.
4 a.m.
5 a.m.
Then it stopped. In my semi-conscious wish to be still asleep, I imagined maybe the closer neighbor had reached their limit and called for official intervention in the predawn darkness when spiders are manically spinning spectacular orb webs.
At 6:11, it started again. Poor dog. Doesn’t take a breath between yips anymore. Just constantly screams for something.
If the cops got them to bring the dog inside, it only lasted for a short time after they’d left. Of course, this is all my addled, sleep-interrupted mind making up one scenario. It’s equally possible the dog just got tired and shut up for a spell.
Since we live out of sight from the source of this angst, I don’t have a vision of where this dog is located while endlessly yapping for attention.
In supreme contrast, I walked pleasantly with Asher through our woods and on to the barn, where the horses were serene as could be. They appear to find the new senior feed much to their liking compared to the corn and oats that were being served prior. We have completed the transition, and they get 100% processed pellets.
They gobble it up much more quickly, licking the buckets clean and spilling much less on their placemats.
We are looking forward to having less “food” lying all around for the critter pests that consider the area around the overhang to be their free buffet.
The senior feed looks to be a change that does solve at least a couple of issues for us. The distant neighbor’s barking dog problem remains a work in progress.
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Barking Dog
After multiple nights and too many mornings of an unhappy dog endlessly barking somewhere in our valley, it was quiet last night. Was it something I did that finally brought peace? Possibly.
Due to a variety of weather conditions, the sound of the barking changed a few times between seeming far away and almost within our property border. Asher got worked up several times in the night, barking back from his bedtime crate.
Yesterday morning, I walked to the corner of our property to get a better read on where the barking was coming from. I deduced it was a property on the other side of the road, between two closer neighbors whom Cyndie and I had initially suspected.
It occurred to me that there was a possibility the owner could need help, and the dog was sounding an alarm. Cyndie and I talked about asking the Sheriff for a welfare check at the home.
At the same time, I felt some responsibility to check ourselves before involving the police. Cyndie decided to drive by the property and possibly stop in to talk with them directly. She returned with a report that the place didn’t look the least bit inviting and there was nobody out and about. She chose not to pull into their driveway.
I verified the address of the place and then found a phone number for one of the people who live across the road from there. The neighbor acknowledged the problem property but didn’t have any relationship with the owner either. The barking had kept them from sleeping well for several nights and they had already reported it to the Sheriff’s office once.
I sympathized with their plight, because if it was bothering us on the far side of the valley, it must be exponentially worse for them to listen to the unhappy dog constantly barking. She encouraged me to add my complaint to the Sheriff at the non-emergency number.
The dispatcher was very nice about gathering as much information as necessary and then confirmed she found a record of previous complaints. She assured me an officer would stop by to make a welfare check on the dog and the property owner.
It’s funny, but after the call, I found myself hoping the dog would keep barking so the deputy would hear the problem. I conveyed to the dispatcher that there are moments of quiet between the long periods of barking that have been carrying on into the nights and early mornings for more than three days.
The only evidence I have that my call might have led to a solution is the blissful peace and quiet that commanded the evening as darkness settled over our valley last night. The lack of barking made it a lot easier for me to hear the owls conversing in the woods around our house.
Here’s hoping the dog and owner are both okay and that something good will come from this for everyone who has been coping with it for days.
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Horse Care
One of my favorite sightings these days is finding horses taking advantage of the shade sail shadow. More often than not, it will be Mia positioning herself wherever the shade falls.
She’s no dummy. That, and the fact that the other three generally disrespect her, so that she has a habit of making her own space wherever they are not. Still, there are also plenty of times lately when I have seen her standing nose to nose with the herd, so the animosity among them is not absolute.
I haven’t noticed many times when they have all decided to hang out under the sail, but this summer we haven’t had many periods of oppressively hot days. They are all aware of the option, and I’m sure they will make use of it when it suits them.
Yesterday, we interviewed a second person from UWRF who spotted Cyndie’s notice on the job board. I tend to align with the belief that if something seems too good to be true, it probably is. In this case, the something is a person, and her personality and experience appear to be ideal for our needs.
The only risk I sense initially is that our one dog and four horses will be too simple for her, which isn’t all bad. She described having taken care of a LOT more animals, large and small.
One of the difficulties we have encountered with students from the University is how busy their schedules can be, making it hard to find someone available to help us when an unexpected need arises. By interviewing multiple candidates, Cyndie hopes to expand the number of animal sitters from which we can choose.
Finding energetic young people who have grown up owning horses, are currently eager to earn money to pay for school, and are only 10 miles away from us is a blessing that relieves the burden of worry about the care of our rescued animals when we are away from home.
Occasionally, we have had volunteers help out through This Old Horse, but paid sitters add a level of coverage that allows us to plan more outings with greater certainty.
We are excited about both the recent “applicants” and are hopeful about building a relationship that proves beneficial for all of us in the near future. It’s so great to meet people who are as fascinated with horses as we are.
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Mirrored Hearts
Progress on the set of mirrored hearts from the oak branch I cut with the bandsaw has come close to even between the two. I’ve never worked on two pieces at the same time like this, so it is a new challenge for me to switch back and forth as the shapes become more refined.
I’m not fully satisfied with either one enough to move from shaping to the highly polished finish sanding that I like to do, but I’m getting close.
On the second heart, I worked initially to shape it with my mini-grinder that has a flexible shaft with sandpaper sleeves that fit over an inflatable drum. It definitely speeds up progress, but doesn’t allow the level of control I prefer, so I soon switched back to hand sanding.
It’s always hard for me to decide I am done shaping, so in this situation, it is doubly hard. I can always find something about the shape I’d like to tweak a little more to get it just right. As a result, pieces never feel completed. Doing two at once is definitely compounding this dilemma for me.
I really like that they are mirrors of each other, and as such, would like them to end up very similar in size, as well. It will be a struggle for me to allow for more than a little variation, but I need to be realistic about it. Thinking about each one as a unique heart will help me to go with the flow of however the ultimate dimensions happen to work out.
The ideal shape is there within each piece. I just need to be patient while letting each one be slowly revealed to me.
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Relative Something 