Archive for the ‘Chronicle’ Category
Payback Week
All’s fair in taking turns covering the ranch while your spouse gets a break from the routine. Cyndie is out of town for a week, and I am chief cook and bottle washer, dog walker, and horse wrangler while she is gone. It’s a bit of a mixed blessing for me since I really do enjoy time on my own, but unlike my time up at the lake last week, now I am responsible for the care and feeding of our animals throughout each day.
It’s not that much different from when both of us are home, except everything tends to take a little longer alone. The benefit of getting two things done at the same time is gone. Luckily, our animals all demonstrate a respectable amount of patience with me. I think they can tell I’m on my own.
To my benefit, a January thaw has taken away a lot of the stress of doing anything outdoors.
I thought about doing some tree branch trimming, but for the life of me, I can’t remember where I put a new pruning hand saw I got for Christmas. Didn’t find it in the shop or the storage cabinet in the house garage, so it must be somewhere more ingenious that I picked so I would know where to find it later.
Think, John, think.
As long as I was rummaging around in the shop, I decided to bring a wood sculpting project to the house and spread it out all over the dining room table. It’s one of those perks of being the only one home for a week, leaving a mess out, and not having it be in anybody else’s way.
I’m ready for the week to go smoothly, so Cyndie won’t have anything to worry about while she is away. I want her to have such a great time that she will come home eager to pay me back with another chance to escape to the lake when no one else is around.
You should know that all my gleeful ranting and raving about having time alone lately is simply because it compliments the wonderful times with Cyndie when we are home together and times with my many friends when I get to let my gregarious side run wild. Don’t let my advancing age fool you into thinking I have become a crotchety old, anti-social curmudgeon.
I’ve got a couple more years left until I fully grow into that description.
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Intentional Avoidance
We are headed into a late January thaw this week, so we pulled the blankets off the horses yesterday afternoon. They seemed just fine with that.
Since we haven’t received new snow in quite a while, the intentionally avoided areas in the paddock have become ever more obvious.
The horses are staying off Paddock Lake in the distance, and the icy area in the foreground, except for that one time it looked like one of them might have slipped and fallen on it. Otherwise, all the little paw prints in those spaces are probably made by coyotes.
There might be a few less coyotes roaming our neighborhood after Saturday. There were at least six trucks, many with hunting dog cages, patrolling our vicinity, and all that activity had Asher in a tizzy. Poor dog isn’t able to ignore things over which he has no control.
My intentional avoidance of political news has proved rather effective for my mental health over the last couple of months. I’ve detected a notable uptick in messages and comments online in the last week that hinted at an increase in the nastiness I seek to evade. I’m finding it hard to imagine I could somehow keep this up for a full four years minimum, but since it’s worked well enough thus far, I plan to keep practicing this intention for all I’m worth.
Whatever will happen is going to play out whether or not I’m looking and listening. I prefer keeping my attention on the beauty and wonder of our immediate surroundings, where I have plenty of influence to make improvements and foster love.
Feel free to join me by practicing making a positive impact in the local communities wherever you live.
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My Standing
Now that we have realigned our interpretation of the hierarchy of the herd, I am very conscious of addressing Light with the authority she deserves as herd leader. I have not previously given her a lot of personal attention because she seemed rather standoffish and disinterested in my occupying space around her face.
In contrast, Mix always approached me and put her nose to my face to exchange breath in the form of a greeting. She naturally received a lot of attention from me as a result. Now, I intend to seek out Light first and greet her before checking in with the other horses.
Yesterday, I approached Light to tell her how deserving she was to lead the herd and that we wanted to honor her in that role. All the horses are taller than us, but Light is the biggest of all and towered over me as I looked up into her eyes and beamed love at her.
In that moment, Light dropped a load of fresh poo and then stepped off to the side.
Really?
I guess I know where I stand in her version of the hierarchy. And she’s not wrong.
What did I do? I immediately scooped it up, thanking her for the opportunity.
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New Boss
Contrary to what I thought possible, Brad finished his work yesterday by 2:00 in the afternoon. I decided to wrap up my luxurious getaway and drive home. After a quick load of laundry to put fresh sheets on the bed and gathering all my things scattered in each space I had occupied, I checked the weather radar. Oops. It was about to start snowing and I would be driving in the dark.
I left anyway. It was sketchy in places, but I skated through the riskiest stretches on a large dose of luck. At one spot, traffic slowed for a car on the right shoulder with its flashers on. It wasn’t until I got right upon the scene that I spotted a deer sitting in the middle of the road in the blowing snow, most likely a victim of lameness from impact. Yikes.
Back home this morning, I was able to witness the progress we have made working with the horses’ herd ranks instead of against them. I was also pleased to see the waterer in the paddocks was flowing freely for the first day in a long time. Winter has softened significantly, making morning chores so much more pleasant.
When Mia was not well, we isolated her and gave her special attention, which triggered some acting out from the others, providing us new insight into their herd relationships. A volunteer who was stopping by to check on Mia several times was receiving some unwanted aggression from Light.
As Cyndie and Michelle talked out the behaviors on speakerphone, we all arrived at the same insight. We are going to provide better support to Light as the boss mare in the herd. It has been obvious for quite a while that Light was trying to take on the role that had been held by Swings when they first arrived here.
I think I wrote about this before. Their hierarchy was a complicated one because it wasn’t a straight 1(Swings)-2(Mix)-3(Light)-4(Mia). Number 3 showed dominance over number 1, but wasn’t controlling number 2. Mix was definitely below Swings but commanded over Light. Light could move Swings around but was subservient to Mix. Confusing? It is, in a way, but we had gotten used to it and didn’t do much to interfere, figuring they would work it out for themselves eventually.
However, we have come to realize we had been unintentionally interfering. For our own purposes, we had settled into a routine of feeding Mix first and then Mia. That was giving Mix privilege and actually rewarded her poor behavior of impatience during feeding time. Mix has never shown behaviors of herd leadership. Light has shown increasing levels of responsibility to protect the safety of all of them.
After just a few days of changing our routine of feeding to give Light first attention, Mix has quickly become less aggressive and meekly waits her turn. This morning, I saw them out in the field, lined up in order: Light out front with Swings off her shoulder, followed by Mix and then Mia.
I believe the herd has settled on a new boss, and we have finally caught on to support the change.
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Morning Shadows
Yesterday’s sunrise was fun to watch through the windows overlooking the lake, but it was the golden light hitting the walls inside and the shadows cast that triggered me to pull out my phone camera to capture images.
Day two of my assignment at the lake was even easier than the one before. Our contractor, Brad, didn’t take me up on an offer to help lift or carry anything, so it was another day filled with reading, writing, puzzling, sweeping a dusting of snow off the steps, streaming movies and TV shows, and finding ways to somehow make a respectable dent in all the food Cyndie sent up with me.
I looked up from my puzzle and spotted Brad loading a tall, old gas wall heater into his truck he’d uninstalled from Cabin 3. I have no idea how he got it off the wall and down all the stairs by himself. A short while later, he was hoisting the old gas range and oven onto his tailgate that he’d wheeled down on a two-wheel dolly hand truck. He is a very independent worker.
We are done dealing with the smell of micro-leaks of propane from the vintage appliances with no plan to replace them. (I apologize in advance to Thomas, who must cringe at the thought upon reading that sentence.) The small cabin isn’t winterized, and no cooking ever happens there these days. It makes a great overflow space for sleeping in the summer with multiple beds, a full bathroom, a refrigerator, and a kitchen sink.
Don’t know if I’m heading home this afternoon or tomorrow. I won’t complain if I get to stay one more day.
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Fair Exchange
I have been given a chance for a mini-vacation for a few days this week in an advance payment for holding down the ranch solo next week when Cyndie takes a trip to visit friends. Cyndie arranged for a local contractor at our lake place in Hayward to do some work inside the main house and wanted to have someone here to let him in and be around while he worked in case he needed anything.
Her solution was brilliant, as far as I’m concerned. She offered me the chance to come up alone, and I accepted without hesitation. A solo road trip! Yahoo!
Not that I was excited or anything, but I packed the night before and snuck out the door at 5 a.m. yesterday for the drive to the lake. It felt reminiscent of my time commuting to the day job, except it took another hour and a half longer to get here than it did heading to the old workplace.
There had been just enough snow (you know, “nuisance snow” amounts) that I did a fair amount of shoveling to clean up walkways and stairs to both buildings for Brad, the contractor. He will also be doing some work for us in the little cabin while waiting for the sheetrock mud to dry.
Old seals on the hoses to the washing machine in the laundry room leaked when nobody was aware of it, and the resulting water damage included moldy sheetrock.
I took a picture while he was dismantling some shelving to show the yucky wall. After helping carry the frame and countertops out of the way, I gave Brad some space and listened to construction sounds from a distance.
With all obstructions out of the way, he made short work of ripping out the old and installing the new.
While Brad was doing real work, I enjoyed a leisurely day free of any animal duties and listened to my music library at high volume, set up a jigsaw puzzle, did some reading, took a nap, ate like a king (of course, Cyndie sent me off with oodles of good food!), and watched shows on Netflix that Cyndie won’t tolerate.
The hardest part of my day was learning that after a full day of the waterer in the paddock working fine and the temperatures moderating a bit from the most bitter cold, the line still froze again yesterday afternoon. Aaarrgh! Cyndie was able to melt it again and has the installer coming today, hopefully, to check out whether one of the heat tapes needs to be replaced.
I feel bad that the problem continued into her solo watch. One way to look at it though, maybe the added stress yesterday could help her to appreciate even more her vacation from animal responsibilities next week.
Giving each other separate turns to have an extended break from daily chores is a fair exchange. Right now, I’m soaking up my brief autonomy opportunity at the lake with maximum appreciation.
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Lost Ball
Asher’s favorite outdoor toy is a Jolly Ball with a thick rope through it. Sometimes, he just wants to chew on the rope, but mostly, he wants someone to try to take it away from him. A little tug of war, a hearty “kill shake,” and if I don’t show enough interest, he will stand to put his front paws on me to engage in some more aggressive tugging play.
Our goal is usually to get it away from him because when we throw it across the yard, Asher leaps after it with such infectious, joyful energy it fills us with the utmost glee. Then, he races back to us for another round of “please take this from me; no, don’t.”
He stopped for a moment the other day and looked around. It looked to me like he lost the ball.
If he stops playing long enough, I invite him to join me in returning to the warmth indoors since that is where I really want to be after too many minutes of this game in frigid temperatures. His usual reaction at this point is to pounce on the ball again like it’s the first time he’s seen it in weeks. It often takes several tries at ending this game before he lets us “win” and leaves the ball behind.
There are times when we aren’t ready to go in the house but intend to take him for a long walk. If he sees the ball as we just stepped out of the house and bounds after it for chewing, shaking, and tugging, we find ourselves encouraging him to walk first and play later. Yesterday, Cyndie set off down the driveway with Asher, and he carried the ball away, clenching the rope in his teeth as they walked. She said he kept it in his grip the whole way to the lookout knoll with the rocking chairs, back to the barn where Cyndie checked on the waterer, and up to the house again, finally choosing to drop it on the driveway in front of the garage door before they came inside.
He is so attached to this toy we ended up buying a smaller-sized version that we let him have indoors. He took to the little one right away, but I think he prefers the thickness of the rope in the outdoor ball. He seemed so happy to chew on the rock-hard frozen rope during this cold spell that it gave me the idea of setting one of his indoor felt Kong balls outside long enough to freeze. It made it so hard to chomp in order to squeak it that it wasn’t the thrill for him I imagined.
For the record, no ball was actually lost in the activities described in this post. This is Asher I’m writing about. He knows exactly where all his dropped toys are at all times.
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Wicked Cold
One hard part about surviving a bitterly cold winter night is when the following day and night offer no relief. In fact, the second night proves to be even more harsh. Ouch. It would be great if we could just hunker down inside beside a warm, glowing fireplace during extremes such as -20°F with crazy windchill numbers making it feel much, much colder.
Wisps of deep-freeze ice crystals decorate the driveway.
With outdoor animals that need to be fed and a pet dog that needs to be walked, we don’t have the luxury of staying inside. Adding insult to the brutal conditions, yesterday afternoon I discovered there was no water in our Ritchie waterer in the paddock. Something was frozen. The question was, what to do about it? Of course, Cyndie had the right idea.
She placed a call to the guy who originally installed it and who also repaired the leaking valve last fall. He was at a funeral. She left a message and called the office. The owner answered (which is how she learned our guy was at a funeral), and he tried to offer some suggestions. It was just enough to help me with an idea.
I dug up a heat lamp that was stowed in the vacant chicken coop. Meanwhile, our guy at the funeral checked his messages and called Cyndie back. He provided more specific instructions about where the most common freezing occurs and how to address it. She heated water and came down with an insulated carafe. While the heat lamp was pointed into the inner workings from a side access panel, we chipped away at the frozen cover.
When the cover came loose, Cyndie slowly trickled hot water on the exposed float valve and feeder tube until the carafe was empty. When she returned to the house to get more, I held the heat lamp strategically over the valve. In about one minute, I heard some action. The water was starting to move. The heat lamp was doing the trick, and soon, water filled the metal pans of the double-sided waterer.
Earlier, we had put out electrically heated buckets of water under the overhang to encourage the horses to drink more water during the cold spell. Now, they were showing curiosity about what all the fuss was down at the waterer. I’m hoping they will keep drinking from it because that will move water through the valve, and maybe slow any refreezing likely to re-occur at these wicked cold temperatures.
If it is frozen again this morning, at least we know exactly what we can do to solve it.
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Inspired Leadership
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“Love will have the final word.” Wise words from an inspired leader.
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Counting Leaves
It is not impossible to function at -14°F (-25°C), but it can be a bit of a hassle to tie up hay nets and distribute buckets of grain –one of which now gets watered down— in such extreme conditions. I am very happy that Asher showed a keen sense of efficiency and adapted perfectly to my plan to shortcut our morning walk and get his business out of the way as swiftly as possible.
The horses were equally focused on their tasks and offered no resistance to assuming their positions and chomping grain with their frozen whiskers getting messier by the minute.
The feelings of accomplishment when returning to the house and getting the feeling back in our fingers and toes don’t entirely dispel the intense urge to have remained under the warm covers of our bed instead.
We tell ourselves these extreme cold snaps that are difficult to survive help to control the populations of pest animals and insects, as well as the number of added people who might consider moving into our region when their homes prove to be inhabitable.
I looked up at the leaves in the big oak tree over our driveway and had two thoughts.
There aren’t many leaves left clinging to all those branches. On the other hand, there are still more leaves up in that tree than I could count.
In contrast, there is a young oak nearby that looks as though it still is holding all its leaves after they dried up and turned brown.
There is also a birdhouse with a birch bark roof that features an opening that wasn’t there when initially built.
I think the residents left for a warmer climate a long time ago.
As harsh as this weather is, the forecast indicates the bite will be even more intense tomorrow. The critters that survive this will have something to brag about.
I have no conclusion that wraps these contemplations this morning into a logical theme. That would involve more thought than I have to muster. With what little energy I have, I intend to curl into a ball like Asher is doing right now on the couch beside me and save what I can for the next foray into the Arctic elements outside later this afternoon.
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Relative Something 