Archive for the ‘Chronicle’ Category
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!
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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.
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Foggy Scenes
Blocking out any problems in the world, life at Wintervale is filled with beauty, even when the weather conditions are frosty and foggy.
Ice crystals created an attractive white border around the edges of the leaves.
Did I mention it was foggy?
Despite the horses continuing to show fondness for the old willow tree in the small paddock, there continue to be signs that they are chewing it to shreds.
I used to think they were going to push it over by rubbing against it, but now I’m inclined to believe they will give it the beaver treatment and chew through the base.
Silly horses.
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Harvest Rumble
After dark Tuesday night, the familiar rumble of a harvest tractor at high RPMs revealed that we have entered the time when the neighboring farmers are bringing in their crops. They do not pause for darkness, giving evenings a sort of mythical energy not normally present.
It’s weird to walk out in the morning and see the landscape abruptly scraped clean to the soil.
I watched yesterday afternoon as they finished a field of corn just to our south. The high RPMs of the big engine reverberates across the distance when the tractor turns, pointing the raw sound directly toward us. It dulls again as the combine swings around for the next pass. A dusty cloud follows behind.
That harvest rumble is both annoying and comforting at the same time. It’s not unlike the roar of a vacuum cleaner in the house. It’s great that our floors are getting cleaned, but each additional minute of the loud, droning VROOM! ratchets up the involuntary tightening of neck muscles, inducing an unconscious angst.
It feels soooo good when that noisy motor stops.
The tractor left that field, and the sound resumed from the next one down the road. A fading harvest rumble.
While we were feeding the horses, I lingered for a moment to listen to the four of them munching away and realized the tractor rumbling had stopped. It was remarkably serene.
With the low sunshine of late October illuminating the tops of the colorful trees on the horizon, the incredible quiet settling over the land now that the rumbling had stopped, and the calm, contented feeding mares radiating their peaceful energy, it was perfectly blissful.
The harvest rumble is a good thing, but an even better thing is the sound of the silence when it stops.
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Unplanned Accomplishments
We expected yesterday to be a rainy one, so I didn’t have it in my mind to tackle any big outdoor projects. In the middle of the morning, I grabbed a pruner and took Asher for a walk in our north loop field to trim a sprout of growth that looked like a willow tree in bush form. I am trying an experiment to see if I can cut off the outer shoots to push that energy into one main trunk to get it to become more of a tree than a bush.
That took mere minutes, as anticipated, allowing my attention to turn to Asher so I could burn off some of his energy before we got stuck indoors while it rained. However, it didn’t rain. After some running around and tug-of-war, we hung out and watched the horses taking a rest out in the hay field.
After lunch, I came out thinking I’d head to the shop to work on some heart carving, but it was nice enough that I decided to hop on the mower. I’ve been wanting to make one last pass around the inside of the fence lines this season, and just needed a time when the batteries were charged and the rest of the grass wasn’t the higher priority.
Bang. Check that off the list.
The horses spent most of the day out in the fields, so there was hardly any manure to clean up in the paddocks when we showed up to serve their afternoon feeding. I took advantage of that and moved my attention to clearing out a dormant compost pile. That is another task that is rarely urgent and thus lingers in wait for an opportunity to get around to it.
We often hear comments of wonder over how we are able to take care of all the work that needs to be done around here. It occurred to me yesterday that all of the things I accomplished were unplanned, and that becomes the secret. Take small bites of the large pie of things that need doing whenever the chances arise.
The rain finally showed up after dark while we were snugged in watching the 4th game of the World Series. I was smugly enjoying unexpectedly getting multiple things done and checked off the mental to-do list.
It’s a little sweeter because none of that was in my vision when I started the day.
Truly Gorgeous
We were blessed with about as nice a day for bike riding in late October as one could hope for in our part of the world. Afternoon temperatures rose into the 60s(F) yesterday, and we enjoyed every bit of it.
Our gang of intrepid pedalers reached Stillwater in what felt like a blink of time. When we arrived at the photo frame, a mom was taking a picture of her daughter. Bob volunteered to take a picture of them both. In turn, she agreed to take a picture of us. We asked Lilly to stay and be in our picture, too. Her mom said Lilly smiled bigger for ours than when posing with Mom.
Before stopping for some lunch, we rode up and over the Hwy 36 bridge, pausing for a portrait in the middle, overlooking the beautiful St. Croix River.
On the other side, we were in Wisconsin for a short loop before dropping down a big hill to cross the old lift bridge that is now limited to bikes and pedestrians. This delivered us back to the bustling energy of families with young kids in Halloween costumes, enjoying festivities along the riverfront.
Navigating our way to a little market where a few of us purchased something to eat, we took advantage of public tables to consume some sustenance.
I brought my own lunch.
Bob gave me a thumbs-up of approval.
While sitting there, I caught sight of a very attractive woman approaching from the market with her arms full and visibly gushing with a glow of love. She was looking at an equally handsome man who was cuddling a tiny bundle that I knew had to be their beautiful baby.
I couldn’t help myself as they tucked the blanketed cherub into their pram and prepared to move on. I approached them to let them know how truly gorgeous it was to witness their obvious love and joy radiating so unmistakably. Their baby was 9 weeks old. Their happiness was such a delight to see.
I’m glad to have intruded on their space because they seemed really delighted with my gushing over them, and that rewarded me with a burst of their love energy.
The ride back to our cars was a continuation of superb cycling weather and scenery, and we reached just under 30 miles ridden by the time we finished.
I wonder if my legs will feel stiff in the next 24 hours. I hadn’t been on the bike since we did the Mickelson Trail in South Dakota.
I’m really grateful I didn’t pass up this opportunity to get out and enjoy the fabulous day and my fabulous cycling friends.
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Great Outdoors
It’s a beautiful day. I am going to go for a bike ride with friends.
It won’t be forest bathing, but it can be just as beneficial. I am going to breathe in the great outdoors while rolling along in conversation with precious people.
If you are in Stillwater, MN, wave at us as we pedal past on the Gateway State Trail. I’ll be the one with a huge grin on my face.
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Watching Leaves
Friday morning, Asher got a little ahead of us into the woods on our walk. My eye caught sight of something dark with a huge wingspan moving through the trees, most likely in response to the dog’s presence. It was dramatically large, but I couldn’t see anything identifying beyond a total blackness.
Our first impressions were of an eagle or owl, based on the spread of those wings. When it paused briefly on a mid-height branch, it didn’t bring its wings in, giving the impression of possible injury and continuing to strike awe for how big it was to be flying among all our trees. Then it quickly flew away and up into other trees until I couldn’t find it anymore.
We arrived at the barn as the sun was beginning to be visible through the tree branches on our eastern horizon. The temperature had dropped well below freezing overnight, and the frost was significant over the grass. There wasn’t a hint of any air moving.
While I was taking care of groundskeeping in the paddocks, it suddenly sounded like raindrops were falling. I looked up to discover the warm sunshine was bathing the trees, and the sound was coming from scores of leaves letting go and falling, knocking others loose on the way down.
It was mesmerizing. I stared for the longest time without moving as the show played out. The number of leaves breaking loose from branches all at the same time, without the slightest breeze wiggling them free, was mind-blowing.
They just kept breaking away and dropping straight down, making the most interesting chorus of light tapping.
I assume the striking scene was a result of the difference between being frozen overnight and then suddenly warming up in the direct sunlight. As the minutes passed, the spectacle of the falling leaves faded, presumably as the temperature variation in the trees equalized over time.
Asher and I spent much of the day simply watching the beauty of the landscapes around us.
Cyndie took a picture of us sitting on the spot we’ve turned into a lookout at the top of the first rise of the driveway from the road.
I’d been watching the horses make their way lazily from the large paddock out to graze in the hay field.
There was a thin crust of ice on Paddock Lake before the sun appeared high enough to melt it. We have plenty of grass that could be mowed once more, but by the time it gets dry, my motivation is nowhere to be found. Instead, I watched from our perch on the hill as our neighbor mowed his.
If I never get around to it before winter arrives, it won’t be a catastrophe. Somebody seems to be loosening his standards around here. Maybe it’s a result of my recent thinking about what this place would look like if we did nothing to care for it.
Fooling around could have me eventually finding out.
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Horse Happenings
For the record, my legs are feeling stiff from Wednesday’s up and down, crouching, kneeling, walking, and bending effort to clear the weeds. Just in time for a planned bicycling outing this Sunday. How soon do I get to say I’m too old for this?
I took a picture of Mix receiving a syringe of medicine in the side of her mouth from Cyndie. Mix makes ridiculous faces after Cyndie squirts the dose into her mouth, vividly demonstrating her disgust at the insult. Cyndie has taken to adding an equal amount of applesauce in hopes of masking the flavor that bothers Mix.
The reaction was less extreme with the flavor enhancer.
Maddy, from This Old Horse, was over yesterday, and she thought Mix looked like she was moving with less pain, so the icky medicine is probably helping to some degree.
The reason Maddy was here was for an appointment with a new (to us) farrier. He seemed like a young guy to me, especially considering his name was Ralph, which aligns more with my dad’s generation. Ralph came across as a man of few words, but he let his work do most of the talking. He was efficient and handled the horses’ occasional resistance with gentle patience. That is a welcome change from the previous person who was doing the job.
We were graced with a day of much-improved weather yesterday. All it takes is a clear blue sky and wind speeds of zero for the sunshine to soften the blow after a night cold enough to produce a block of ice in our rain gauge.
The low sun brought a golden glow to the dry corn stalks in the fields and cast a long shadow in the late afternoon hour.
We removed the rain sheets from the horses for a few days because of the nicer weather. As much as possible, we want to encourage the growth of the horses’ natural winter coats, and providing the artificial warmth of blankets can send their bodies the wrong signal, reducing the need for more insulation.
I don’t know if science supports that idea, but it satisfies our intuitive perceptions, so we go with it. If the horses shiver, they get blankets. In the meantime, they gotta grow more hair.
That’s some horse happenings as we reach the last week of October, 2025.
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Hemp Dogbane
We did not know the name of the hemp dogbane weed three days ago, but I was well aware of a strong-stemmed tree-like weed along one of our fence lines. It grows taller than the surrounding grass and is a nuisance when trying to weed whip under the fence.
It caught my attention recently because it stands out dramatically when the leaves turn yellow, and it appeared to be spreading farther than ever before.
I asked Cyndie to look it up on her plant identification app. When she read me the results for hemp dogbane, I realized we needed to take action before it spreads any further. It is an aggressive perennial that is tough to control, and it is toxic to animals in both fresh and dry forms. We absolutely do not want this in our hay field.
Nasty herbicides are one possible means of beating the weed back, but that method doesn’t sound as effective as it would need to be to justify using chemicals that are harmful to humans and animals. Thankfully, frequent mowing is another way to constrain its growth. That is something I know how to do.
Since it is so easy to spot right now, I set out to remove what I could see by pulling it up by hand.
Just a little back-breaking, sweat-making labor for a few hours in the middle of the day. Most of the stalks broke off at the ground, leaving the rhizome behind, but there were a few where the root came up satisfyingly, too. It was obvious that previous field mowing had chopped the stalks and triggered multiple new shoots to emerge from the existing root. Those instances were actually easier to pull the whole root than the other individual new shoots.
We will now be much more focused about frequently mowing new growth in that area in the spring and throughout the summer.
Just the other day, I wondered aloud to Cyndie around the anniversary of our arrival here, as to what this property would be like if we hadn’t done anything to manage it for the last thirteen years. There would be a lot of big trees on the ground, that’s for sure. There’d be no labyrinth garden. And hemp dogbane weeds would have a lot stronger presence in the fields.
I feel like I earned my keep yesterday after that tenacious effort to single-handedly clear out every last dogbane sprout I could find on both sides of the fence. I’m cautiously optimistic that I will be able to stand up straight and walk normally today.
I’m not so optimistic that my muscles won’t demonstrate their objection in the form of stiffness, however.
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Relative Something 