Archive for the ‘Chronicle’ Category
New Data
Upon further review, judges have amended the egg count total for Tuesday. Yesterday, I reported that Cyndie found six eggs. Last night she updated the count.
Turns out, Jackie had collected 2 eggs herself that day. The total has increased to 8!
So, there.
With all the news frantically shouting about the hurricane bearing down on the US east coast, those of us in the middle of the continent are enjoying very summer-like conditions. My drive home yesterday brought me through fields that are changing from the deep green of summer to hues of yellow and gold.
Navigating my way around the house in the mornings before work has returned to the dark ages, and the hour of closing the chicken coop at night has moved up to around 7:30 p.m., about an hour and a half earlier than just a short while ago.
Last night, a pack of coyotes whooped it up somewhere within hearing distance of our windows. It sounded very similar to the group yelping we heard the first year we moved here, after which we discovered the carcass of the 8-point buck in our woods.
The change of seasons makes life feel more adventurous. It’s adventure that I greatly prefer, compared to an ominous threat of once-in-a-lifetime, climate-change-amplified hurricanes looming large.
Counting my blessings while I have the luxury, and sending love to those facing the challenges of preparations for evacuations, wind damage, and flooding.
Hold on to your hats.
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I’m Told
I didn’t go home last night. I’m told there were six eggs collected from the nest boxes yesterday. Sounds reasonable.
My schedule is a little askew. I shifted my hours at the day-job yesterday to work around a couple of appointments, which had me on the clock until almost bedtime last night. Instead of driving all the way home for an hour, I spent the night at the in-laws’ place.
After a few hours of sleep, I’m heading right back to the day-job to pick up where I left off. Covering for sick or vacationing staff is starting to feel like normal operating mode lately. I don’t remember what it feels like to focus on one task at a time anymore.
I missed a little excitement on the ranch yesterday evening. I’m told Cyndie and Delilah spotted a red fox on one of our trails. When it saw them, it turned around and headed back into the woods.
We know there are predators out there, but actually seeing them roaming the grounds brings on a little extra anxiety over our lack of a workable plan to keep them at bay.
Cyndie let Delilah hustle up the trail to where they had seen the fox, but in that amount of time, there was no longer anything to see. Still, maybe there is a chance the sight of Delilah alerting to the fox caused it enough stress that it will see our property as threatening.
No, I don’t actually believe that. I’m just practicing wishful thinking.
I’m also told that Delilah is looking all fit and trim after a visit to the groomer yesterday. Hopefully that doesn’t make her look less intimidating to unwelcome predators lingering on our grounds.
As tough as it was witnessing Delilah gobble up that little stunned songbird last week, I’d be just fine watching her put some teeth to a prowling fox to make a point.
Foxes not welcome! Fox sightings lead to fox bitings!
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Another Example
We’ve still got ten chickens, and they are still slowly mastering the natural art of laying eggs. It has been a common occurrence lately to have an “unshelled” egg dropped on the poop board beneath the roost.
Eventually, the shell develops, and when that first success is finally achieved, it’s relatively easy to spot.
We are not always sure which hen laid which egg, but in the days following the appearance of a small egg, the subsequent daily average number we find notches up by one.
The image above was taken by Cyndie yesterday.
How many eggs will we find today?
I’m voting for seven, even knowing that the average number of eggs our hens lay is six per week. Today could be the arbitrary day one of the already laying hens decides to take her day off.
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Sanding Along
In a minor deviation from the original weekend plan, we returned to Wintervale in the early afternoon yesterday. We had a great time seeing friends and family, but after breakfast at the Original Pancake House with Ben and Althea, all we wanted was to be back at our paradise home.
That gave me a chance to spend a few more minutes sanding my relief carving project in the sunshine on the deck.
At this point, the changes are small, but I find them very satisfying. Worth the wait.
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See how the lines of the grain move?
I love to watch the change. It’s still a mystery where those lines will be when I finally reach the final shape. That is a good part of the adventure of sanding and shaping wood.
It was a perfect project for the end of our little weekend “staycation.”
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Another Staycation
We were able to getaway in town this weekend, leaving Jackie to take care of animals at home. Cyndie and I went off to spend a couple of nights at her parents’ house in Edina. Fred and Marie were headed for a cruise in Germany with friends of theirs, and we provided transportation to the airport yesterday.
Before that, we snuck out for a convertible cruise through our old Eden Prairie stomping grounds. The fabulous September sunshine provided ideal conditions. We stopped by a park to visit folks gathered for an EP fundraising event and enjoyed live music performed by Wondercure, some life-long friends.
After leaving the airport, we headed past an even older neighborhood of ours in south Minneapolis to hook up with more EP friends. We strolled with Paul and Beth along the Linden Hills streets for dinner near Lake Harriet.
Back at their house, we were treated with other-worldly dessert creations from a nearby bakery.
It all feels so cosmopolitan!
How did we come to deserve such richness of life, friends, and food.
It is not lost on me how much the remarkable warm September sunshine and blue skies contribute to making a day seem so positively regal.
Our experiences would have been much different had it been cool, gray, and wet.
I’m just sayin’.
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Damage Found
We were pretty surprised that the dramatic hail storm we experienced last week didn’t result in any obvious damage. It took a few days, but Cyndie finally did notice some wounds to the chicken coop.
On Tuesday, as we sat down to dinner during the early stages of that night’s flooding rain storm, Cyndie remembered to tell me about her find. She showed me a picture on her phone that was taken so close I couldn’t completely discern the angle of what I was seeing.
She said there were holes in the plastic on the coop and my mind jumped immediately to the roof panels. I freaked. How could she be so calm when there were holes in the roof and it was raining like crazy?
She said she didn’t think it would be a problem. I couldn’t understand her reasoning and hopped up from dinner to run out in the rain and see for myself. I was thinking we had to, at the very least, try putting a tarp over the roof.
It wasn’t the roof.
It was the window cover.
They are much thinner plastic than the roof panels. Actually, I’m impressed that the roof panels withstood the beating by such large hail stones.
Since only that one window cover was damaged, we now have a pretty good idea of the angle from which the hail fell.
Cyndie was right. Those holes weren’t a problem during the overnight deluge.
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Surprising Find
Fresh lobster is the last thing we ever expected to harvest from our property. Tuesday night’s flash flood of rain must have washed more than just water through our drainage ditches.
Okay, it’s not a lobster. Research suggests it is likely a Red Swamp Crayfish.
Cyndie and Delilah happened upon this large surprise while walking along our pasture fence line. When Delilah challenged the strange creature, it snapped its claws at her. This critter was big enough that it looked a lot more like what we normally see as lobster than it did the small crayfish we are familiar with in local lakes.
Cyndie watched it climb along in the grass, wondering where it could have come from, and where it might be trying to go next. There aren’t really any water bodies nearby that we associate with crayfish habitat.
The ditch it was closest to certainly moves the most water around here after a storm, but for the majority of time throughout the year, it remains a dry bed.
I wonder if it would have found favor in our landscape pond.
Cyndie wasn’t interested in picking it up, so I guess we’ll likely never know.
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Photo Explained
Mary was the only one to question the picture I tossed into yesterday’s missive about my aging, regardless how fiendishly intriguing I was trying to be. I consider the night that photo was taken to be one of my masterpieces of creative interpretation.
A little over thirty years ago, when I had only my father as a reference to what my future appearance might become, Cyndie and I received an invitation to a very special event celebrating her mother’s birthday.
On the occasion of Marie’s 50th, there was going to be a rousing sock hop dust-up on the reserved second floor of the highfalutin Jukebox Saturday Night nightclub in downtown Minneapolis. Of course, the theme was “The Fifties!”
We were to come all dolled up in our best 50s getup.
So, I did.
Then I acted genuinely shocked and embarrassed when I walked in and found out I had misinterpreted the theme.
Didn’t fool Marie one bit.
For some reason, none of the guests whose years were already into the fifth decade seemed all that impressed with my attempt to appear their age. Especially as they stood dressed as if they were wearing outfits they had saved from high school or college thirty years earlier.
Obviously, I wasn’t quite as cute as I imagined myself to be.
Frankly, that fact hasn’t changed as much as it probably should have.
For the record, Cyndie tells me she was wearing one of her mother’s dresses from back in the day. I just thought she was trying to look fifty, too.
<*Ducking and running…*>
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Instant Aging
I have developed an unmistakable hunched-over gait that instantly adds years to my appearance. Even though I have been able to carry on with a wide variety of chores, my recent disc flare up has slowed my motions dramatically.
I didn’t have too much discomfort mowing the lawn on the small tractor. I did mostly okay using the power trimmer to cut back the overgrowth along the trail outside our southern fence line. I raked. I used the pitchfork to turn composting manure.
Oh, the chickens love that task. We uncover a lot of crawly insects when disturbing the compost piles. We do the scratching for them. They just show up to reap the rewards.
Funny how they turn those creepy bugs into eggs we find irresistibly delicious.
Regarding my difficulty with standing straight after I’ve been sitting for a while, I’ve got a hunch. Without actually being able to see how the degenerating disc is causing me pain, I can only guess using the sensations I feel.
For the most part, there is nothing more than a dull sense that something is amiss. I never know what movement or gesture is going to result in the feeling of electric shock, when I presume the bulging disc suddenly reaches a nerve.
It seems to me that my body takes it upon itself to protect me from the possibility of the shock by locking up the muscles in the vicinity. This happens unconsciously, and when I try to stand up, those frozen muscles are no help. The remaining muscles have to do all the work, and my movements look incredibly labored.
Eventually the rest of my back, neck, and shoulders become stressed and fatigued from essentially fighting against the frozen lower back muscles that are trying to protect me from the feeling of being stabbed.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy my body is trying to save itself from the stabbing shocks, but it reaches a point where the protection is as bad as the injury.
Today, I have new respect for the stilted shuffle of an old body. It’s probably busy protecting itself best as it knows how.
I’m hoping the continued addition of yoga strengthening and stretching positions will provide added information for my body to reign in the extreme reaction of seizing up completely.
Have you ever noticed how easy it is for aging to come on instantly, but regaining youthfulness requires a lot of effort over a relatively long period of time?
I fail to see the harmonious balance of nature in that.
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Labor Day
It is a U.S. holiday today. I am going to take the day off. I still might get out and do a much-needed chore at home, but I don’t need to commute to the day-job today! Woot!
Here is a “Words on Images” first posted nine years ago. Speaks to this time of year…
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Words on Images
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