Archive for the ‘Chronicle’ Category
Memorable Birthday
Yesterday was Cyndie’s birthday, and she thinks she will remember it for the stormy weather we ventured out into to pick up our kids and join her parents for a nice restaurant dinner in downtown Minneapolis. Tavola was the destination, and man, was the food tasty. I ordered a side of brussel sprouts that were fabulous, if you like brussel sprouts.
The radar looked threatening and the radio warning reports were disturbing, but our drive and our home were spared the worst of the severe weather, despite how ominous it looked as we drove toward Hudson.
That weather front’s bark was worse than its sight. I’m not complaining.
We have no idea how wild conditions were at home while we were at dinner, nor how much the storm riled Delilah. She seemed cool and collected by the time we got home, a couple hours past my bedtime. <yawn>
The other thing Cyndie might remember about this birthday is the surprise egg that showed up in one of the nest boxes.
One of these things is not like the other. That small, shinier egg in the middle is not from one of our chickens.
Who’s been sleeping nesting in my bed nest box!?
There are frequently small bird visitors to the coop throughout the day. Apparently, one of them has been paying attention to the morning activity of the hens and decided to follow suit.
That egg’s not going to make a very large omelet.
UPDATE: 7:26 a.m. 6/5/19
Cyndie just informed me she learned it wasn’t some other bird intruding on the coop, based on new information. It is a “Fairy Egg.”
The learning never stops… It’s all new to me!
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Rough Approximation
Having my bike up at the lake allowed me to put some time on the two-wheeler in an environment that can loosely be compared to the regions of northern Minnesota where we will be riding this year on the Tour of Minnesota. We are heading from Grand Rapids, MN up to Ely and back again.
The rural countryside of northwest Wisconsin isn’t that far away from northern Minnesota. We are just on the other side of the tip of Lake Superior.
I would not have been one bit surprised to have a black bear dart out of the woods and lope across the road in front of me.
It was two great weather days for biking and the scenery was superb, but there was one essential element missing that would make for perfect preparation for the middle of June Tour of MN.
I was all by myself. Solo riding in the woods can be beautiful, but a tired rider could sure use the distraction of a good conversation to while away the miles. As it was, my increasingly uncomfortable seat on the saddle grew hard to ignore and made it easier to give in to a message from my legs that they wanted to stop pedaling.
It becomes a game of stand up, sit down, pedal for a while, stand up, sit down, readjust position, pedal, stand up… you get the drill.
The ride was wonderful, despite being taxing. It’s the odd thing for me these last few years. I don’t bike regularly anymore, but I love participating in the Tour of Minnesota. So, I end up needing to put on some forced miles to prepare for the one week of constant biking.
At the end of last year’s Tour, I experienced the feeling that I didn’t really need to do any more rides. Been there, done that.
When registration time arrived in February, I found that I couldn’t resist the urge to be with my riding friends one more time, even if it meant some forced riding to prepare.
That is the one thing that makes the trials of trying to get into riding shape in a short time span so absolutely worth it.
So, ignore my whining.
I can’t wait for the trip and spending a week with some really fantastic people whom I miss dearly for fifty-one weeks out of the year!
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Big Explore
Delilah went on a great adventure yesterday, while Cyndie and her mom were shopping for flowers and groceries. We went off-trail into the woods where I let her, for the most part, follow her nose in an exploration of the developing growth. I would say the trees are about a week behind the way it looks at home, but the ferns in the woods here are definitely more advanced.
Delilah disappeared among them.
Down by the lagoon, I caught sight of the prehistoric-looking snapping turtle that has been around here forever. Poor Cyndie has yet to see it for more than a brief head sighting when it popped out of the water once, or in an underwater video her nephew, Trygve, captured last year. She’s jealous.
My camera was deep in my pocket when I noticed the old beast moving beneath the surface. When it rose up to take a breath, I scrambled to get the camera out in time and barely caught this view as it was on the way back under. I was fascinated to see it glide back down and slide beneath the matt of dead leaves on the bottom just as smoothly as if it was driving into a garage to park.
Out of sight, again.
The eagle was probably watching me the whole time. When we got around to the other side of that big pine tree, I had a clear view of him or her perched above the nest. We have seen both lingering in what we assume is the early stage of egg-sitting. I’m pretty sure there is some broodiness happening.
The geese are well beyond the egg-sitting phase. Delilah’s and my presence in their proximity forced five new families to migrate out from the shore to a distance away from her jaws that the adults felt more comfortable with. I don’t think they noticed I had her on a leash.
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I think Delilah is showing a fondness for visiting the lake, but she is spoiled this weekend because she is the only dog here. Things change dramatically when all the families are up, the majority of which don’t need to keep their pups leashed. Our girl isn’t socialized to a degree we would trust her to behave nicely with others.
She hasn’t always tested so well on the few occasions we’ve had the opportunity to try.
Delilah is staunchly protective of Cyndie and makes for a bold explorer in the woods. Luckily, under control of the leash, there was no interaction with the “squirrel” Cyndie said they saw on one of their walks. She described it as black in color, but it had a little white on it, too, and it kind of waddled away.
Something smells suspicious to me about her identification there.
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Lake Life
We enlisted the help of recently discovered neighborhood friends to watch over our chickens for the weekend so we could come up to the lake with Cyndie’s parents.
The chickens would be a bit much to haul with us for the trip. The hens and our cat, Pequenita, have been left behind, but Delilah came up with us.
She has only come up here a handful of times, but she seems to have adapted to the unusual surroundings without any anxiety. The first time here, the lake scared her. Now she walks in without hesitation.
Our first patrol around the property revealed eagles in their nest in the tree over the tennis court and a recently hatched turtle by the lagoon.
Cyndie should have put something in this picture to provide some size reference. Like, a thimble. Or a dime. It was a tiny turtle.
I built a fire for cooking a flank steak dinner and snuck in another hour of pedaling my bike before dinner. It was mostly sunny, with brief periods of sprinkling rain. I came upon some pavement that was freshly soaked, so there must have been a small downpour, too.
I can say that I rode in the rain, but didn’t get very wet.
After only a half day up here yesterday, I can say we’ve already settled into life at the lake. Here’s to getting sand in your shoes…
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Animal Interference
Cyndie planted marigolds around the property last week, including in a clay pot by the barn. It provided a nice splash of color in the otherwise gray-green environment on the backside of the barn. I spotted it right away as I passed by on the lawn tractor. One of the flowers had already been nipped off and was laying on the ground beside the pot.
Animal vandalism. What do they get out of biting off the blossom?
The next day, I passed the pot again on my way to the chicken coop. All the blossoms were on the ground. The only thing left in the sad pot was several stubs poking out of the dirt. Poor Cyndie, I thought. Her efforts dashed so swiftly after she had done the planting.
When she got home, I made sure she had seen the carnage. The next day, while I was at work, I received a text from her with a photo:
The culprits had returned to dig up the root bundles, too.
They really don’t want her to grow flowers in that pot.
Yesterday, I was able to claim an hour to sit on my bike seat and pedal down some country roads in preparation for my upcoming bike tour in the middle of June. I’m proud to say that my 1994 Trek 520 is performing admirably, and most important, quietly.
I love a quiet bike. Squeaky brakes, clicks, chain noise, or any repetitive sounds from rotating pedals or spinning wheels are a bane to my riding experience. Since my bike rolls quietly, any sound that does appear is evidence of a problem that needs to be checked out.
On my return leg last night, a sudden clicking arose. I stopped pedaling immediately and tried to identify the source. It was regular enough that I worried one of my tires had picked up something and a flat could be imminent. It got louder and louder, but also more defined.
It was refining into a rapidly repeating click-clack, click-clack.
I recognized that sound and it was not from my bike. I turned my head to glance over my shoulder and saw behind me, a young lady approaching on a galloping horse.
Just as she was about to come up beside me, a barking dog ran out of a driveway and interfered with our chance to exchange a pleasant greeting. She slowed her horse and I picked up my pace to put distance between me and the dog.
The rest of my ride home toward the smoky orange sunset was blissfully quiet.
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Pushing Through
It has been a long stretch of time since I played either of my guitars. Lack of playing tends to become its own feedback loop. Arthritis in my hand discouraged me from pulling out my instruments as often as I used to, and not playing regularly led to the loss of calluses on the fingertips of my left hand. Lack of calluses fed into an inclination to not bother playing and the situation dragged on and on.
Alas, recent activity to ready myself for the Tour of Minnesota bicycling and camping week triggered thoughts about bringing my travel guitar this year. Before fulfilling that idea, which I said back in February that I planned to do, I figured I should check out whether I could still form chords with my left hand.
I was a little rusty, but mostly functional. My session was rewarding enough that I felt inspired to try a second time a couple of days later. That went even better, despite the tenderness of starting the process of developing new calluses. Then I moved to reach a particular position and experienced the classic jolt of a painful joint.
(No, Mary, I have not had the surgery performed yet, despite your wise advice to not wait. The doctor preferred waiting, and I chose to not try convincing him otherwise.)
After that stab of pain, the rest of the session tended to become increasingly more comfortable. It seemed a little counterintuitive at first, but then I remembered a similar experience during a lumbar disc pain episode.
The body has a keen ability to constrict movement in the presence of pain, but remaining oblivious to what is happening in these situations can allow that avoidance of pain to become its own malady. I made a surprising discovery during an early assessment of my condition when physical therapy was prescribed.
The therapist asked me to show them how far I could bend over to reach toward my toes.
“Bend over!?”
My thinking was that I couldn’t bend at all without suffering that stabbing pain. That is why I was moving around like a stiff zombie!
So, I set about showing her how I could barely lean forward at all. To my surprise, those initial hints of possible pain that normally freeze any further motion did not get any worse as I pushed through them. I was able to bend a lot farther than I believed possible.
The same thing happened with my hand yesterday. The avoidance of pain had kept me from trying to play the guitar, bringing a mindset that it would no longer be possible. Pushing past that warning message of pain proved there is still some function left in the old joint.
I don’t have the strength I used to, but I can still manage a few chords for a reasonably short duration of pickin’ and grinnin’.
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Coop Life
The eight hens that have successfully braved all challenges in the last year are keeping us entertained and well stocked with eggs.
We are currently considering an enhancement in the form of an automated chicken access door so we don’t need to be home to open and close the door at dawn and dusk every day. It will probably become the most expensive feature on the coop since I built the bulk of it out of found materials, but it will increase our freedom to be away from home without a lot of preplanning.
That will give the hens even more autonomy in their shelter.
We’ve noticed lately that they have started to decorate the inside of the coop with some greenery.
Okay, so they aren’t doing it intentionally. It just feels good to imagine them bringing life to their home with the addition of live plants.
The color is a nice compliment to the maroon curtains hanging in front of their nest boxes.
The coop is becoming a real home sweet home.
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Weather Fatigue
I succeeded in getting all our grass and innumerable dandelions mowed Sunday. I have one peeve about mowing this time of year, when the lovely yellow flowering weed is at its peak and starting to go to seed.
Do you see it? All that grass so freshly cut and one 10-inch dandelion stem sticking out like a sore thumb. There were others, but that one just stood out so defiantly, I couldn’t help but stop and take a picture. Then I snapped it off by hand.
Mowing dandelions can be a frustrating endeavor for a perfectionist.
Like the meteorologists predicted, Memorial Day was a total washout. It reminds me of two years ago this month when I had tried to host a day of cycling with friends in preparation for the Tour of Minnesota.
I captured this memory from that day:
I have gotten smarter about trying to make outdoor plans that prefer sunny, warm weather. I simply don’t make them. Yesterday, we responded precisely as a cold, rainy day deserves, snuggling back in bed for some extra reading and napping.
Pequenita was all in with that plan.
She doesn’t have a problem with this weather. Personally, I am getting worn down by this chilly rain pattern we have endured so far this spring. Sure, I wouldn’t mind if I could curl up and nap all day, but the landscape doesn’t stop growing just because it’s not sunny and warm outside.
Maybe I’ll get lucky and this trend will peter out by the time the bike trip kicks off in the middle of June.
It would help my frame of mind greatly if that were to happen because we are headed far enough north for this year’s route that cold and rainy could translate into a little sleety/snowy, if you know what I mean.
That would definitely exacerbate my current case of weather fatigue.
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Weekend Alone
Cyndie is out of town with her parents this holiday weekend, so I am the sole pet guardian. Was this supposed to be easier after we no longer had horses? A certain high-energy dog has shown no problem filling in the space. The invisible protective border we need to maintain between her jaws and our flock of free-ranging chickens complicates my including Delilah as a companion for many of my projects around the property.
I let her tag along when venturing to the far side of our land with a wheelbarrow (we haven’t replaced the ATV trailer yet) to fetch some black dirt from a pile left over from the first year we moved here and had fence work done. I have been mixing dirt with composted manure to fill some holes in the yard. One was started by burrowing rodents and the other by spinning wheels of the New Holland tractor, both voids then expanded by rainstorm flowing runoff.
I need to leave Delilah behind when collecting compost because that task is a chicken magnet. They love helping when worms and other crawly critters might be involved.
Heading deep into the western woods is far enough from chicken territory that I’m comfortable hitching Delilah’s leash to the wheelbarrow, half hoping she might consider helping to pull in the desired direction. We hauled more pavers to the ever-expanding length of our trail that is messy mud.
Originally, I laid it out with a wider spread, but after walking on it and navigating the ATV on the trail, I’ve changed to more of a single file pattern. Simple stepping stones is all that’s needed in keeping up out of the sloppy muck.
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Do you see how nicely the moss adorns blocks that have been there a while?
All these small projects were diversions from mowing grass, hoping that waiting a day might allow a small fraction of drying to occur. That is despite my knowing from experience that it takes more than two days for the slow flow of excess groundwater to trickle down and out of here.
The sun can be shining bright for two days after a spell of rain and that’s when the low areas will be at their wettest. If we are lucky enough to have two more dry days, the footing starts to firm up again. Too bad that won’t be the case this week.
Delilah will be stuck in the kennel again. I gotta mow today.
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Muddy Trail
Despite all the sprouting greenery, there is more moisture in the soil lately than the growing trees and plants can absorb. That is making our trails rather treacherous. It is very advantageous to have our custom boardwalk for a short span in the middle of the woods.
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Obviously, it’s a little short on both ends. We have a greater length of mud than wooden blocks to pave over the path.
Out in the grassy field, the dandelions are thriving, despite our general shortage of warm sunshine compared to most springtimes I’ve experienced. Now I read that the National Weather Service is predicting a cooler than average summer along with more than a usual amount of rain.
It is uninspiring to envision months of weather like this dragging on throughout the summer.
I don’t blame a dandelion for giving up early.
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Relative Something 