Archive for the ‘Chronicle’ Category
Sell By
I’m pretty sure my neglect of concern for food “sell by” dates on packaging borders on unhealthy. Last night I learned a lesson the hard way. In the four weeks that Cyndie has been in Florida with her parents, I have successfully avoided buying any new food. Admittedly, as time passed, the amount of fresh fruit and vegetables in my diet has dwindled, lately replaced by delicacies discovered in the freezer.
There are only a few clementines left in the fruit drawer in the fridge. It’s getting down to slim pickings.
With Cyndie due to fly home today, I’m claiming victory in the quest for survival on my own during her absence.
Really, yesterday’s brush with death was the only calamity worth mentioning throughout the ordeal of sheltering at home alone, and it was one of the most innocuous things you’d probably ever worry about.
With cereals and crackers, I’ve encountered plenty of stale product in my lifetime. When chips go limp during the humid season, I sneer at the people who don’t seal a bag properly. I’ve been known to continue to snack on tortilla chips noticing each bite offers a telltale hint they are on the verge of not worth it.
Desperate cravings will stoop to embarrassing levels when there are no unopened packages in reserve.
Over the previous weekend, I used up the last opened package of saltine crackers with some chicken chili soup I found in the freezer, but I didn’t use up the soup. Last night, I heated up the rest of the soup and rearranged things in the cracker cupboard to find an unopened 4-pack of Zesta saltine crackers nestled in the very back corner behind everything else.
“Huzzah!”
Saltine crackers with soup harkens back to many very fond early childhood memories of comfort food for me. It’s an affection that has never disappeared. I excitedly opened one of the four tall columns of crackers and before even sitting down, spooned some good stuff from the soup on a cracker for a quick appetizer bite before finishing to prepare the rest of my meal.
The cracker wasn’t stale. It was downright rancid! It was awful. I should have smelled it coming. I certainly did afterward. They smelled like that disgusting bite tasted.
I quickly took a taste of the soup to confirm it was just the cracker that was bad, and to wash my tastebuds of the nastiness they had just experienced. The soup was still good.
I went back to the box and looked for a date.
Oops. “Sell by May 2018.”
Lesson learned.
By the way, Stacy’s Simply Naked Pita Chips make for a great combination with chicken chili soup if you don’t have any saltines available.
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Clean Driveway
One of the really great features of a spring snowstorm is when the snow melts on the driveway as fast as it falls. When Delilah and I set out on our first walk after I got home from work yesterday, there was no snow falling. After circling the majority of our acres, I parked her in the barn while I tended to chores at the chicken coop.
While I was down with a couple of egg-laying hens, the sky opened up and poured out a downburst of snow. It quickly became a mini-blizzard with little spinning snow-tornadoes that made my trek back to the barn into a heroic expedition. From the barn, Delilah and I hustled our way up to the protection of the house and turned our focus toward each of our respective dinners.
The next time I looked out the window, the cloudburst had ended. It went from everything to nothing in about ten minutes time.
But it wasn’t done yet.
Before dinner was over, flakes started flying again. This time, it lasted much longer. So long, in fact, I started to wonder if I was going to need to shovel. Delilah started getting antsy to make her obligatory after-dinner outing, but I kept delaying her in hope of waiting long enough for the snow to stop falling.
Not only did my plan succeed, but we were subsequently gifted with an outbreak of sunshine! The icing on the cake of this whole mini-drama was stepping out to the sight of a clean driveway. It was downright photogenic.
Take that, winter snowstorms…
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Wing Wave
Well, the woods look a lot different now than they did on Saturday.
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It is mind-boggling how much things can change in one day. It is such a dramatic difference to go from walking our trails on a warm, sunny day to tromping through deep snow the next.
Yesterday, while describing my landscaping adventures, I forgot to mention the total highlight of the day Saturday. I was toiling away placing some bales along the property line when a small plane approached and made a banked turn. I pay attention when small planes show up because I know a number of pilots whom I always hope will visit when they’re in the area.
When the plane continued the loop and came around again, my confidence jumped that it could be one of my friends in high places. I was in a tangle of trees at that moment and chose to make a break for the most open space nearby, which turned out to be my neighbor’s field.
I looked up into the sun in hopes my sunglasses might reflect my presence and waved my arms. The plane rocked its wings in response.
It’s such a thrill to receive that acknowledgment. At the time, I still wasn’t clear who it was, but I was confident it was someone I knew.
Then my phone registered a message. It was from Mike Wilkus.
“There is a man outstanding in his field. Or at least the neighbor’s field.”
He sent me some wonderful photos.
From the road at the bottom of the picture you see our driveway climb beside the big hay-field and turn at the hay-shed and barn, rise past the shop garage to the house at top. The paddocks and round pen are clearly visible, as is the labyrinth tucked in trees above the upper pasture that was also cut for hay last year.
And zooming in for a closer view, in the neighbor’s field there is a guy waving.
Thanks, Mike!
That view would sure look a lot different today with all this snow we received.
We had about 8 inches by the time I went to bed last night. I wonder how long it will take to turn it all into water that will keep us in the mud season for an additional week or two.
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Repurposing Decay
Old, moldy hay bales and piles of downed tree limbs make for excellent raw materials to build a natural barrier along our property line. As I’ve written before, it is one of my favorite dual accomplishments to clean up and declutter while also creating something functional out of the otherwise unwanted items.
This morning, the snowflakes are flying, right on the predicted schedule, in stark contrast with the surprisingly pleasant warmth and calm of yesterday afternoon. My thermometer showed 64°(F) late in the day yesterday. This morning it is 30-degrees colder.
Taking full advantage of the nice weather while I had the chance, I finished getting rid of all but two of the old bales from our hay-shed and moved them into position along our property border.
Those bales have served as the base layer on pallets for several years, taking the bulk of the ground moisture in the protection of the many stacks of bales piled on top of them. In that time, the twine holding the bales tends to break down, making it an unpleasant adventure trying to move them.
I spent many extra minutes tying added twine to hold the moldy bales together just long enough to relocate them to my growing natural berm. Interestingly, this was the only time on our property since the COVID-19 outbreak that I have needed to wear a mask over my nose and mouth. I would hate to get seriously ill from breathing mold when lung treatments are all focused on keeping coronavirus patients alive.
The branches from the large pine tree that tipped over during the winter made for excellent added structure, upstream to the bales, allowing me to get rid of the pile we temporarily stowed beside the driveway that snowy day when I had to cut up the tree so I could plow.
I’m finding it a great inspiration that I can use branches to develop a natural fence of growth sprouting over and through the tangled skeleton of dead trees that are so plentiful in our woods.
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There is a never-ending flow of tree trunks and limbs transitioning from having reached for the sky to laying on the earth. One season, Cyndie and I worked to pick up all the dead wood and drag it out to be chipped or burned. Months later, when it looked like there was already an equal amount of new dead limbs on the ground replacing what we’d cleared, we realized how much actually falls. It was beyond us to keep up.
Now that I see the wood can be simply moved to the barrier I’m building –instead of needing the added work of chipping it every time or sawing it up to be split and burned– there is a better chance we can develop a tidier forest. At the same time, we gain much-needed material to improve the development of our natural barrier.
It’s a win-win!
Just my kind of favorable outcome.
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Snow Coming
I’m usually grateful to have advanced notice of coming weather, but sometimes I don’t like knowing we are about to receive large amounts of heavy, wet snow in April.
The snow is predicted to come in a narrow band, so it could shift a little, but we are located perilously close to the highest risk of seeing 6 or more inches of snowfall. Look to the right of the letter “e” in the word Moderate, just above Red Wing. Oh, joy.
I spent yesterday tinkering with the slowly developing berm we are constructing at the edge of our property where the neighboring cultivated farm field drains onto our land. It’s been 2-and-a-half years since we installed the latest version of erosion fencing and much of that has filled with so much topsoil the fabric is laying almost flat in some places.
Granted, the following photos were taken at different seasons, late summer vs. early spring, but the difference is rather striking.
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The bales obviously disintegrate. Progress that may not be evident can be found in the number of volunteer plants that have taken root and naturally help to hold soil in place. The thing is, though, that helps to hold our soil from eroding, but we still get large flows of the neighbor’s topsoil washing over our property.
If I can get the berm established enough to pool his runoff, it will serve as a natural replacement for the Polypropylene fabric and, most important to my sensibilities, be a less unsightly barrier.
I have found the use of gnarly dead branches that are too big for my chipper makes for great starter material in establishing a natural barrier. The highly fertilized runoff tends to fuel thick growth of tall grasses that ultimately create a tangled wall of live plants weaving through dead wood.
Looks like I’ll have a fresh opportunity Monday to see how my latest upgrade to the barrier yesterday will impact the drainage of many inches of melting snow.
Wouldn’t you know it, I changed the tires on the ATV yesterday to swap out the aggressive treaded winter tires for plowing snow, with the smoother treads of summer tires that are kinder to our land.
I could be in for a complex day tomorrow of clearing heavy, wet snow that will be a big problem for a day or two, and then melt. Then we can get on with spring, which is on the verge of swiftly getting sprung.
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Unforeseen Complications
Far be it from me to point out another problem during this pandemic shelter-in-place directive, but I can’t be the only one facing this new dilemma. While people are panicking over the possibility they don’t have three months’ worth of toilet paper stashed somewhere in their homes, a whole nother kitchen calamity is looming large on the horizon for those not cooking new meals every day.
The Tupperware storage cupboard.
With trips to the store now a risky health hazard, I have taken to mining the depths of our freezer for containers of home-cooked meals put up in the recent past for just such occasions. Although, I don’t think Cyndie ever expected I would be dipping into these delicacies every single night for 4-weeks in a row.
After a couple of weeks of finishing each meal and washing the containers, I became aware of a growing challenge. I was starting to run out of space where the plastic containers are stored.
There’s probably never been this long a period of time where we only emptied containers without also putting some back into service again, storing leftovers.
Luckily, I quickly figured out a temporary solution until Cyndie gets home.
I don’t drink coffee, so the cupboard directly to the right where she keeps coffee mugs isn’t getting much attention. There was plenty of open space up above the coffee cups.
Overflow!
This only needs to work for six more days. Soon after, with a real chef back in the kitchen, we’ll be putting many of those stashed containers back into service again.
Last night’s dinner: Parmesan Chicken with pea pods and long rice. It was as tasty as the original night Cyndie made it and packaged up the leftovers for later.
I have been surviving this shut-in period with no other people in my home but that hasn’t been all bad. In particular, it’s allowed me to develop a great new appreciation for our freezer.
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Now This
Last night, I received notification that the single organized group-bike-tour that I participate in every June has been canceled for 2020 due to some virus pandemic. The Tour of Minnesota will take this summer off. My intuition tells me there is a good chance my pedals and spokes won’t get much of a workout this year.
That tour was the incentive to get me spinning those wheels as early as possible every spring, oftentimes against my preference to rather not.
“I’m too tired today.”
“There are too many other chores I should be doing.”
“The weather isn’t ideal.”
“I don’t feel like riding right now.”
Despite those and other excuses, whenever I overcome the resistance and get myself out on the bike, I am always incredibly happy to be riding.
Without the incentive of the impending week-long trip of high daily mileage to drive my actions, I fear my endless collection of excuses will override my pleasure of gliding along country roads, especially during times of social distancing. Riding alone is nowhere near as fun as riding with a group.
On the bright side, now I won’t be thinking about a risk of becoming symptomatic with a virus that compromises lungs while needing to pedal for multiple 70-mile days and sleep overnights on the ground in a tent.
I picture myself choosing some less-taxing adventures close to home in the months ahead. For some reason, I keep seeing tree-shaded hammocks swinging in this vision.
That must mean Cyndie will be doing the lawn mowing.
“Don’t forget to wear a mask, hon!”
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Big Moon
Like my really big yawn at bedtime last night, the latest supermoon was a commanding presence in the evening sky.
That’s about all I saw of it, as my exhaustion knocked me out shortly thereafter for a precious night’s sleep.
Latest word from Cyndie in Florida is that plans are now in place for her return in one week. That might give me just enough time to get the house straightened up from all the wild partying that has been going on in her absence.
I checked with her last night to make sure she wasn’t missing out on the big moon. It was just as big and bright in Florida. Hope you got a chance to enjoy it wherever you are in the world.
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Incremental Change
Like a slow train crawling along a track, I am seeing multiple signs of the changing seasons unfolding with an unstoppable impetus. I wish it would all take a pause long enough to give us added time cleaning up fallen trees and branches that are clearly visible in our woods now that the snow is gone. The clock is ticking toward the explosion of green leaves that will quickly obscure the views on either side of our trails.
What looks like a relatively simple effort now will soon become too thick with growth to effectively navigate for cutting and hauling.
On the drive home yesterday I noticed many of the farm fields are already being prepped with applications of manure fertilizer. One neighbor was out on his lawn tractor dragging something across the yard that looked like a way to break up the gopher mounds and molehills to smooth things out for that first mow of the season.
New shoots of green groundcover leaves are making an appearance all over the floor of our forest. It won’t be long and we will get a chance to see how many of our transplanted trillium plants are still surviving.
Even though there are still many places along our trails where there is standing water from the complete saturation of the soil, there are areas where some quick-growing grasses are sprouting taller than what my mower would cut off if I was able to be out mowing already.
The changes in the natural world are ongoing, day and night. Every walk around the property reveals something new that is growing or drying out. The trees are beginning to form the early hint of leaf buds that will soon create a fresh tint of yellowish-green crowns that are the precursor to the burst of actual leaves.
Many years of commuting have provided repeated evidence of how that new green glow shows up across the treetops in a matter of a day. One day, nothing. The next day, visible buds everywhere!
Every day the natural world is evolving, but I sense the locomotive of change from winter to spring is gathering much more spring-like momentum at our latitude this week.
Maybe we should start getting ready for summer while there’s still time.
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Gettin’ Out
It is very easy to be out and about on 20 acres while maintaining appropriate social distance from other people, especially when our property is surrounded by fields and forest. Yesterday afternoon when the sun warmed things up a bit, I took a crack at a few chores in the great outdoors.
My first order of business was to do something about the increasingly dilapidated ramp to the chicken door. I don’t know whether the main culprit is the hens or some other critter, but somebody doesn’t like my weaving of willow branches.
I tried monitoring the ramp with the trail cam, but there is so much chicken activity that I get a couple of hundred photos during the day while capturing nothing after dark. I haven’t had the patience to keep trying long enough to see what animals are nosing around during the nighttime.
I think part of me doesn’t want to know and part of me doesn’t really care. My fix will be the same, regardless of whoever is messing with it.
I had collected a bag full of downed branches beneath the willow tree with a plan to redo the bad parts of the ramp but ended up having a change of heart. I decided to try cutting some finger-sized trees from our forest to weave bigger green wood through the existing frame.
A lot of the willow branches I originally used were dead, so they just dried out more and got brittle, making them easy to break. I think the thicker and greener sticks will stand up much better to abuse.
Around the shop garage, I chopped down the dried shoots of tall ornamental grass, pulled out the failed sheet of plastic water barrier that was supposed to redirect drainage, and then detangled the broken cedar post and bird feeder from the cage of vines that covered it.
It felt a lot like warm weather yard work, which was strange just a day and a half after the blast of snow we had received. At the same time, it was a glorious distraction from the mindset of sheltering in place and the unending gloom and doom news that is the other hard to avoid attention-getter of the moment.
My health is still good, my hands are washed, and I’m physically isolated all weekend at home. Today, I return to the day-job and will strive to avoid infectious invisible droplets.
I hope you all find an opportunity to get out wherever you are to spend some time beneath the open sky. It’s good medicine for long-term in-place sheltering.
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