Archive for the ‘Chronicle’ Category
Two Hunters
It’s getting to be that time of year when critters prepare for the harsh realities of winter survival. With that, it becomes time for me to get back to a daily schedule of setting and checking mouse traps in the garage at the house, down at the shop, and in the barn. The varmints are making their way indoors, again.
Turns out, we happen to have two “Hunters.” One is our champion horse, and the other is the wee one who has turned into a great hunter of mice! Pequenita must be paying tribute to her former house-mate, Mozyr, whom we named for the anticipated/hoped-for trait of being a mouser to protect our domicile from rodent invasion. The past three nights she has been disrupting our sleep with robust acrobatic all-night maneuvering that has been accompanied by telltale squeaks from her prey.
It seems there might be a new breach in our house somewhere, of which mice are taking full advantage. Pequenita, the wee great hunter, has shown no mercy and dispatched two in her first two nights.
Well, I should say, we have found two. Cyndie cleaned long and hard in search of evidence of the third one, but nothing has turned up. It’s hard to say whether Delilah happily picked up where Pequenita left off, however.
While Cyndie was cleaning in our bedroom, she did suddenly report, “I found a half-eaten grasshopper!”
I can’t say that I ever expected to hear that phrase in the bedroom.
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Greener Grass
There was a depression in the ground where the soil had settled along the area where, 2-years ago, we had a water line buried in a trench deep enough to get below the frost line. Since we have a never-ending supply of composting manure, I have often taken to using it as fill around the property, so it was only natural that I did so in that spot to level the ground just above the larger paddock.
Then I planted some grass seed.
Take a look at how green the grass is in the area I filled.
Next test will be to spread manure in the area of older grass to see if it responds similarly. It certainly has inspired me to look into spreading some in our hay-field. It’s why we are composting it, after all!
For now, it has just been a lot simpler to use it as fill. To spread it on the big field will require my borrowing a manure spreader from George and filling it with the loader bucket on my tractor. It’s not an impossible feat, but it does take things to another level.
Small loads by pitch fork in the ATV trailer just happens to be easier to pull off in a moments notice.
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She’s Home!
My fellow blog readers, the week-long nightmare of my whining about Cyndie being gone is over. May life return to the usual chaos that masquerades as normal around here. May Delilah go back to having two people from whom she can constantly demand attention.
There were a couple of moments last week when I began to question whether I truly have what it takes to be a responsible dog owner and caretaker. Delilah pushes me to my limits, and I haven’t put in the effort required to command the obedience from her that would allow me to relax and enjoy her company.
I am really happy to have Cyndie back to resume her role as primary dog handler. I’m a little sheepish about all the burrs that were waiting to greet Momma on her return, but in my defense, I had them all brushed out earlier in the day, yesterday.
There is a confused racoon that I have to thank for the burrs. At least now I know what Delilah was so obsessed with when I took her outside Sunday night for a failed attempt at one last pee before confining her to her Crate-bed-den for the evening.
She went nuts the second we got out the door and pulled like her life depended on it to go after something that was completely invisible to me, given the short distance my head lamp projected.
Delilah was so freaky about this that it scared me a little bit. I didn’t know what was going on. In the morning on Monday, we headed out for the sunrise walk around the property and had only taken a few steps when Delilah cornered a surprised racoon behind our backup generator.
At the sound of all the snarling and growling, I gave her leash a yank and that was all the racoon needed to sprint for the nearest tree. The weeds at the base of that tree are where Delilah picked up her first batch of burrs before I could convince her she was at a stalemate with the critter and resume a walk with me.
Fast forward to late afternoon, after I finished a battery of property management tasks during which I had let Delilah nap in her kennel outside, I headed over with tennis balls to fling so she could get a little exercise before going inside for dinner. During exercise time, I usually get away with letting her run off-leash, because she is so fixated on the toys we throw that she stays engaged.
Not this time. She completely ignored the second ball I threw and ran past it in a sprint with a mission. In a blink, she was gone. It made no sense. I circled the house, calling and whistling, wondering where on earth she went with such intense purpose. Then I heard her bark. That is not usual behavior when she runs away on us. Next, I spotted the horses running away in the pasture.
Was she chasing our horses? What’s gotten into her, I wondered. I arrived to find the answer. It was that dang racoon, again. Twice in one day, during daylight hours? I’m concerned that something might not be right with that critter. Especially that it would hang around when it is obvious there is a threatening dog that lives here.
They ended up with another stalemate when the racoon made it up a tree again.
Cyndie kept Delilah on a short leash for her evening walk last night, and experienced no further excitement, so maybe the racoon got the message that it should seek refuge somewhere else.
Today, I return to my routine at the day-job, and get to do so without fretting about how Delilah is doing at home all alone while I’m gone. It’s so nice to have Cyndie back.
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More Mowing
Does it look like the labyrinth was in need of being mowed?
I can assure you, it definitely needed it. I worked long and hard to conquer the task, but remained cool and comfortable the whole time in the September sunshine.
I looked up at the world around me when I finished and discovered that the leaves of some of our trees had changed color in just the span of the day.
I expect it will take a couple of frosty nights to finally get the grass to take a break for the season, but trees have begun their shutdown. The autumnal equinox is just days away.
I’m lovin’ it.
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Gorgeous Here
It is absolutely gorgeous here right now. Among the reasons we chose September for our wedding, the biggest one for me is, it is my favorite time of year. The humid heat of summer is breaking, and the air is crisp, with cool nights and warm days. When the sky is clear, the blueness is exquisite and it’s no longer so necessary to avoid the toasty sunshine. In fact, it practically begs a person to pause and soak it all in.
The challenge is, there is barely a moment for pause. The daylight grows short and preparation for winter weather requires new projects be added to the list of others already underway or planned. This year, I am feeling as though the growing grass didn’t get the memo about the arrival of September.
It is hard to get ready for winter when summer won’t back off and make room for fall.
I spent most of the afternoon mowing lawn yesterday, after filling that dang right front tire on the tractor with a green slime leak sealant.
Today I face the need to work the power trimmer to knock down the robust growth along edges and fence lines. It’s a chore that resonates of mid-summer responsibilities, with one improvement:
That crisp and gorgeous September air doesn’t cause it to be such a sweaty, sticky job.
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Really Me
I watched a movie last night about a person who went undercover, and the discomfort it created for me led me to realize how much I prefer being authentic. You can ask me a question about my life and I won’t have to make up an answer, I can tell you what really happened. Or at least, the version of what happened that my mind conjured up for storage in my memories. I fully admit to the fallibility of my perceptions.
If you were to ask me what happened in my life 34 years ago today however, I would have no problem recalling the beautiful blue sky and warm sunshine that broke a chain of much less lovely weather during the week prior. 
I remember feeling a bit disoriented by all that was going on around me, because much of it was all about me. It was also all about Cyndie, as that is the day we were married in the Noerenberg Garden park on the shore of Lake Minnetonka, in Wayzata, MN.
For too many of the ensuing years, I have been the target of much grief and good-natured ridicule from my wife for the time I sought clearance from her to go away for a weekend of mountain biking with friends, having not put two and two together to determine it would mean I would be gone over our anniversary. It was an innocent oversight, but not one a husband should ever make if he doesn’t want to hear about it over and over, for many years after.
If there is any matrimonial justice in the world, a wife who chose to schedule a week away with her friends on the far side of the country during her wedding anniversary weekend would be setting herself up for an equal number of years of grief from her husband, but I don’t think it works that way.
If you happen to read this today, my dear, Happy Anniversary!
Now, if someone asked me what happened 27 years ago today, I would also know exactly what happened in my life that day. Cyndie and I received the best anniversary present we could possibly imagine. Our son, Julian was born on our 7th anniversary. I like the fact that one of my favorite memories of that day, beyond seeing his face for the first time, involves our daughter, Elysa.
I had ventured from the hospital to pick her up and bring her to meet her brother. I bet Cyndie recalls who was taking care of her and what she was wearing, but those details, I didn’t retain. I remember that little 2-year-old girl in her car seat behind me, as I pulled up to a fast food drive-through menu to fill Cyndie’s one request. She needed a specific chicken sandwich from Arby’s that she couldn’t get from the hospital’s kitchen.
I had barely completed the sentence proclaiming my order for the sandwich to the faceless wall, when, without missing a beat, a tiny voice came from behind me… “And a coke!” Elysa knew what her mother would want.
Happy Birthday, Julian!
I’m so glad I don’t have to make any of this stuff up.
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Making Prototypes
Despite the time squeeze of trying to be in two places at once, filling in for two different vacationing people, I found a way to occupy Delilah by taking her to the shop for a distraction while I tinkered on prototyping a design for grates that I can use for slow feeder boxes in the barn stalls.
She seemed to appreciate the chance to be out of the house with me, despite the confines of her leash. I decided that while Cyndie is away, I will only allow Delilah off leash if I am able to give her my undivided attention, like when I am throwing discs for her to make spectacular diving leaps toward, or flinging squeaky tennis balls great distances for her to sprint after.
Before Cyndie left for the coast, she picked up some fence panels from Tractor Supply for me to make my own grates. As nice as the ones are that I had a local welder make for the two full-size boxes I built, they were a bit pricey.
The first challenge I am facing is finding a way to add some weight to the grates. The custom welded ones are made of heavier rod and also have side plates that give it a desirable heft, so it lays firmly against the bale. The horses can pretty much ignore it and concentrate on nibbling the hay between the squares. The weight helps the grate to keep dropping as the hay is consumed.
The fence panel is made of lighter gauge wire and I fear without added weight it wouldn’t tend to fall as naturally, and the horses might become inclined to mess with it when it got hung up. They have a knack for eating down on one side at a time so that the grate can end up tilted dramatically.
One thing I am considering for the stalls is that there will be no sharing. It will be one horse only that will be grazing hay, so there won’t be mixed behavior. Whatever eating tendency each horse has will define how the slow feeder works in each case.
My first shot at adding something akin to the side plates on the welded grates, was to attach a section of an old T-post that I cut to length on the band saw. By snipping off a section of fence panel so there were end wires extending beyond the area that will cover the hay, I was able to bend them over to capture the post.
In terms of weight, I think it will work adequately for what I want it to do, but I didn’t end up with the exact dimensions I had in mind. Turns out the fence panel wasn’t welded to exacting specifications. The dimension between squares varies, so I will cut another one a whole square larger and take a second stab at a method of bending the sides around a section of post.
I want it to cover an area as wide as a bale, to make it easy to fill the box with full flakes and then drop on the grate and secure it. Speaking of easy, the horses will mainly be in the barn when it is below-zero, so I’m trying to design the box so it will be possible to fill it when wearing big mittens.
That is, in case we ever again experience any below-zero days, what with the planet simmering away at a record pace now days.
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Double Double
I am doing double, double-duty this week: at home, I am covering for Cyndie while she is visiting the west coast with friends, and at the day-job, I am filling in for a vacationing employee. What an unfortunate coincidental timing for these two situations to occur.
I am taxed with not being able to leave home before rush-hour traffic builds, because I need to tend to our daily morning animal-care routine first, while at the same time, I have twice the work facing me at the day-job, which realistically requires I spend extra time there. Not gonna happen. I need to get home early to rescue Delilah from the confines of her outdoor kennel and then feed the horses their afternoon nutrition.
Somethings gotta give, and I’m afraid it’s going to be service to our customers for a few days. Maybe they won’t notice.
At home, I fear the never-ending grass growth is likely to be my ongoing nemesis. It needs mowing again already! I didn’t have time yesterday after work. Between needing to give Delilah a healthy amount of attention and cleaning up a day’s worth of manure, the ever-shorter evening daylight hours were easily consumed.
Now that I am checking the temperature of the composting manure pile every day, I am finding that I need to turn it over with the pitch fork much more often that I had been doing.
I took a picture of the thermometer displaying that it was over 160° (F) again, after I had just mixed it around on Sunday. What a fascinating phenomenon that heat generation is.
Speaking of heat, we are enjoying a spectacular rendition of warm September days this week. Yesterday felt like warmth of a summer day, but there is no mistaking the subtle clues that frame it as autumnal.
I expect that the changing angle of the sun contributes greatly, but the actuality of that is not entirely obvious. Around our place, we’ve already got enough crunchy leaves over our trails that they are contributing a distinct fall-like aroma to go along with the auditory serenade that happens beneath footsteps.
We are in a period of high winds, as well, and something about the way the rushing warm air felt on my skin last night gave me a feeling that this is something special to be appreciated. It was hot, without being hot. Seriously. That may not make sense to you, but it explains the impression that warm September air can produce.
I am challenged with needing to luxuriate in this brilliantly spectacular weather for more than just myself, but for Cyndie, too, since I’m absorbing her share of bliss while she’s gone. It’s the least I could do.
It wouldn’t make much sense to only take on the burdens her absence presents, would it?
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Barn Chores
During the previous weekend we finished creating the stone walkway out the back door of the barn. Looks good now, but I am wary of how well it will hold up to the ravages of changing seasons and expected usage. Most often, that is the route out of the barn for the wheelbarrow full of manure and soiled wood shavings, after the horses have needed to spend a night indoors during the coldest of brutal nights.
Maybe we won’t have very many severe cold nights this coming winter, what with the forecast of a super El Niño intensity unseen in 50 years. I wonder if the global climate is being impacted by human activity? (I just can’t help myself, putting a question mark at the end of my “I wonder” statements.)
I will be surprised if our stone placements survive their first winter of shoveling and freezing without needed some level of maintenance when next spring arrives, but for the minimal effort we put into the project, I think the path is adequate for now.
At the very least, it’s a heck of a lot nicer to look at.
With the stones all in place, the next task receiving our attention became the stalls in the barn. Taking advantage of some dry September air, we pulled floor mats out of the stalls for washing, and raked out the dirt floors so they could air out.
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While standing in the stalls, it occurred to me that I need to get to work designing new slow feeding hay boxes for each one. The current setup allows the horses to pull hay out freely, dumping it on the floor, where it goes to waste and leaves them with nothing to eat.
A smaller version of the two boxes I’ve already built will offer a perfect solution for that.
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Smokin’ Hot
Our fertilized dirt factory is cooking big time lately. In fact, my piles have been getting too hot. I have learned that too high a temperature will begin to kill the beneficial bacteria at work, primarily because it coincides with the point when oxygen is getting used up.
All I need to do at that point is stir the pile to aerate it.
That means I should be paying closer attention to the daily temperatures, and not just turning it weekly, as I had been doing.
The picture I took of that pile looks a bit like a volcano, but I don’t think there is any chance of it erupting.
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