Archive for the ‘Chronicle’ Category
Quintessential Spring
The winter snowmelt was pretty easy to deal with this year, almost to the point of leaving things too dry for a short time. Then we got a few bouts of spring rain and our ground moisture began to show signs of life. Now we are in the classic battle of grass growing so fast that it is hard to keep up with the mowing, and occasional rain storms that hit on the days when it would have been nice to mow before the grass gets too long.
The horses are doing their part to keep things mowed (when we give them time on the grass) munching down the area we have fenced off for an arena.
Since we don’t do any jumping with our herd, we may end up leaving the area in its uneven, sloping natural state. We’ll see how it works for our purposes, once Cyndie actually starts holding some seminars.
The spot we picked for that arena is within the field we have designated for hay, and the narrow lanes that resulted beside it in that corner and along the drainage swale are now isolated from what will be cut and baled. We decided we may as well make it accessible for the horses to “mow.” I just need to put up a short length of fence to contain the horses in that alleyway and keep them from venturing out into the main hay-field.
When I finished mowing the grass yesterday, I spotted the horses already out in part of that space. Cyndie had put up a rudimentary barrier and given them access to one side. I still need to get a more secure version of a temporary fence there, though, as they will certainly challenge it in time, especially as the grass continues to grow more enticing out in the greater field.
In another classic sign of spring, I got a call from my hay supplier on Friday, checking in on how many bales we’d be interested in this year. He sounded a little crestfallen when I told him the much smaller number of bales we felt we would need. Between not wanting to be short and then getting higher yield than we expected from our own field last year, we got ourselves overstocked.
Other spring milestones include my being startled by the first garter snake of the year and the number of rabbits and raccoons visible romping again. Obviously, Delilah can’t find every rabbit’s nest when she is confined to being leashed the majority of time.
The temperatures have been bouncing classically between warm and cool, appropriately mixing at times to create thunderstorms, but so far, this year we are enjoying a perfect spring climate with few unsettling extremes. It is a nice change from the previous two years.
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Flower Blossoms
Our crab apple tree is fuzzy with flowers today, and the giant allium beneath it is making its way to spectacular. The changes at this time of year are noticeable almost by the hour. A little rain, followed by warm sunshine, and growth practically explodes in every direction.
At the same time, I am discovering that we have a few late-blooming trees, maples, I believe, that look dead next to others that have already leafed out completely. This is our third spring here, and I am becoming aware of more and more about our property that escaped my attention the first two years, due to my being overwhelmed by it all. Does that imply I am becoming dulled to some of the glories of this place? That would be sad.
No, I don’t think that is the case, although there are certain aspects of managing 20-acres that tend to take less mental space when you gain the experience of a couple years. Even though I’ve seen trees die every year, I’ve seen so many more sprout, some of them at a surprising rate of growth. I am less inclined to fret over individual incidents now that I have gained the perspective of a few cycles of the growing seasons.
Even the snapping branches during previous storms, which caused me significant trauma to witness at the time, has been revealed to me to be a common and often recoverable situation. I have come across trees in our woods that look to have been severely damaged years ago, but which have simply sprouted new growth off the fractured limb and although funky looking, are functioning as much like a normal tree as all the other damage-free trees around them.
Our late-blooming maple trees are sporting buds now and will catch up in a blink. I don’t have to worry about them, which allows me to better absorb the beauty and wonder of all the blossoms decorating or fields and forest this year.
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Poisoned Again
I’ve gone and done it again. I got a new poison ivy rash on my arms just as a previous outbreak was reaching the end of its healing process. You’d think I would know better, but my vigilance tends to be inexplicably cursory. Why is that? I have no idea. I wear a seatbelt when in a car and a helmet when I ride my bike. Why would I behave so cavalierly when it comes to this poison that grows all over our property and to which I am so sensitive?
For one thing, every time I research what the plant looks like, I get so many variations of leaves of 3, all looking frustratingly common and innocuous, that I gain little to no confidence that I could know it when I see it. I suppose I could try behaving as if every growing thing around here were hazardous.
Actually, I probably just give up too easily. After looking at pictures for a couple of hours last night, I believe I may now be able to recognize enough key features that I can identify it when I see it. Seeing it becomes the challenge. Honestly, there are so many things growing all over the place here that it tends to boggle my mind.
Speaking of my boggled mind, I have no idea how I have been able to avoid getting a rash after the number of times using the power trimmer when I have been sprayed head to toe with wet green shrapnel of the growing things being mowed to the ground. It makes no sense that I have somehow been lucky enough to not have trimmed places where poison ivy was present. It is pure hubris that I have forged ahead carelessly with this and gotten away with it.
Last Saturday, in a rush to try to finish clearing brush from the last section of our northern property line, I scrambled to cut and clear a wide variety of unidentified growth, both on the ground and as small vines and trees. With arms bare and wearing a t-shirt, I dragged through the undergrowth to cut and pull anything that stuck up. I grabbed piles of brush and branches in my arms and hauled them a short walk away to toss on a pile. It was hot, I was sweaty, and I worked hastily in a rush to finish before showering for a visit to the Walker’s bonfire gathering.
A day and a half later, I knew the rash on my arms was going to be bad. It was so head-slapping-D’oh obvious, it was embarrassing. Of course I put myself at risk with that thoughtless behavior. And I was just getting over a rash, probably from the same dang project when I started it a couple weeks before.
I’ve been treating the rash with my favorite method of super hot water, as hot as I can stand, on areas of rash to release histamine from the cells. It feels great at the time, and then calms itching for hours. In the past, doctors have treated me with the steroid, prednisone, which works really well, but I hate the side effects I experience. To avoid that, I have been taking an antihistamine, per one doctor’s suggestion, which seems to dry up the worst areas which would otherwise be oozing. Other than that, it’s simply a matter of enduring the 1-2 weeks it takes my skin to heal.
Ultimately, avoidance is the best way to deal with being sensitive to poison plants, so I intend to up my game of knowing what my nemesis looks like, and take prudent precautions when it is likely that my activity will put me at risk.
Obviously, simply trying to avoid hugging Delilah has not been a sufficient plan for keeping my skin from being poisoned again.
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Still Hoping
I wrote earlier about being on my third attempt to successfully transplant a young maple sapling to the center of our labyrinth. Each time, we have tried something a bit different from the time before, hoping to eliminate issues that contributed to those failures. This time, our method was to dig out as big a root ball as possible and transfer as much intact soil as we could, and to do so before the tree had leafed out.
We were a few days later than I had wanted, as the buds were just starting to open, but it was still better timing than the previous two attempts we had made. I was greatly relieved to see the buds continue to open and full leaves unfold about a week after we moved it.
I’m a bit like a nervous parent now, checking on it every chance I get, as if peeking in to see if our little baby is safe and sound while she naps. I thought the leaves looked a little droopy yesterday afternoon, but looking around at all the other trees of that size, plenty of them have that same look. I wondered if it might be a result of the shift back to colder temperatures.
There were frost warnings posted last night for central Wisconsin. No wonder the leaves are experiencing a little shrinkage!
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Not Again!
When it comes to birds, I don’t know why I thought I might get away with doing nothing about keeping them away, after destroying the first nest I found in the gutter downspout on the barn a week or two ago. I’m noticing a theme the last two days, having to do with my neglect to take timely action.
Washouts!
Regarding the gutter downspout, I actually talked about putting some kind of screen at the opening to the downspout, but just talking about doing it didn’t turn out to be very effective prevention.
I don’t think it rained very hard overnight Sunday, but there was plenty of evidence yesterday morning that the downspout was plugged, because the water overflowed out of the gutter and created washouts in the lime screenings on the ground in the paddock.
We received less than a half-inch of rain in the gauge up by the house, but that was enough water coming off the barn roof to make a significant impact. This is the whole reason why I wanted a drain tube attached to the downspout and buried underground down to the drainage swale outside the paddock.
A downspout nest.
With more rain likely this week, I dared not hesitate another day before doing something about this, so out came the ladder and off went the electric fence, and up in the air I did go to pull screws and dismantle the downspout. I’m proud to report that I thought to bang on the downspout before climbing up the ladder, which chased out the bird that would’ve startled me into a calamitous fall, had I not.
Immediately below the gutter there is an elbow, and then a short, straight section before another elbow. The bird had packed that straight section completely. I assume the little trouble maker must know to get out of there during the rain or it would drown for sure. The water would have filled that first elbow before backing up and overflowing the gutter.
I found some bird netting that Cyndie had used for covering her garden back in Eden Prairie and cut off enough to cover both ends of that first elbow. I will have to keep an eye out for the bird, because I have no idea if this will work or not. I suppose it could decide to just put the nest on top of the elbow at the drain cutout in the gutter, using the netting as a nice starting base.
I know better than to think they won’t try again because the sliding doors on the other end of the barn have a new nest on top of them every day. It doesn’t cause any damage, so I can forget about it for a few days if we don’t open those doors. When we finally do, it generally results in, sadly, the falling of eggs.
At least I never need to fret over cleaning up the messes that result with Delilah around. When she has eggs for breakfast, she eats the shells and all.
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Quick Fix
I paid for my neglect.
Cyndie pointed out something yesterday in our back pasture as we were strolling the grounds toward the labyrinth, after visiting the horses with her parents and our kids. We had just enjoyed a scrumptious Mother’s Day brunch at our house before heading out into the cool, blustery wind. Rain had been predicted, but the pending arrival was moved to much later in the day.
It’s a good thing that most of the day was dry, because it gave me a chance to remedy a situation that occurred because my failure to follow through on a plan. When the drain tile was installed last fall, it was left up to me to place grids over the trenches in high traffic areas. I didn’t do anything about it in the days after the contractor had finished his work, and then winter arrived and it all became buried in snow and ice.
Honestly, I just haven’t been concerned enough about it this spring to take any action yet. Then Cyndie alerted me to how the recent heavy downpour of rain had washed away stones at the end of the line that runs into the pasture. That left some of the tubing exposed, which revealed areas where the weight of the horses had pushed through the wet ground deep enough to collapse the tube in several spots.
Luckily, the damage occurred at the end of the line where it just runs out into the pasture, and the installer had run the tubing far enough out that I could shorten it without putting the areas I was trying to protect at risk. As soon as visiting family departed, I set about installing the fix that was always meant to be in place.
I pulled up the portion of drain tube that had collapsed and then cut it off to make a new end. We had some of the plastic landscape grids available that were left from previous projects, so I just needed to do a bit of digging to seat the grids level with the ground surface, and then backfill them with stones and dirt to keep them in place.
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It was quick enough work to make me regret that I hadn’t been more disciplined about just getting it done before any damage occurred. The silver lining is that I now have a chance to protect the other high traffic areas before horses will be stomping around the vicinity.
The other spots aren’t as high-risk as this one in the field was. The area where the damage occurred is where the line drains to the surface, so the tubing was getting closer and closer to ground level. Nonetheless, I will be upset with myself it I don’t install the grids in the other locations before something happens again.
Wouldn’t it be nice if I found out the grids were on sale?
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Early Attention
It may not be 4 a.m., but it always feels like it when Pequenita, our cat, decides she has had enough with our being asleep and tromps on us before daylight is visible, kneading and purring, as if being cute and sweet will offset the annoyance of unwanted attention at such an early hour.
She puts her face in mine and tries a few head butts to make sure I know she’s there, but I practice the art of remaining comatose to convey to her that my sleep is not to be interrupted. It is the kneading with those front claws that I am forced to react to if the covers don’t sufficiently cover my sensitive skin.
Some mornings she decides to settle back down and join me in continued slumber, unbeknownst to me since I was practicing being comatose, and I will suddenly fling her off the bed unintentionally when moments later I realize my bladder can’t wait until sunrise for relief.
I am surprised by the amount of abuse she tolerates from me, continuing to lay and sleep at my feet as I jostle her rudely while moving my legs in search of a position my body will accept as sleep-worthy at the beginning of the night. Maybe it is because she knows she will have her vengeance in the wee hours of the following morning.
It is not entirely unlike the relationship of a mother and her child, though it was not my original intention to write all that as a segue to get to acknowledgement of all mothers and their loving sacrifices on this Mother’s Day in the US. Yet, even the title I chose for today’s post, before starting the first paragraph, could be interpreted as an homage to that which all mothers give.
Our kids are grown and gone, but with our dog and cat, we have accomplished a way to feel as though we are still parenting infants, just ones that never grow up.
Happy Mother’s Day all you moms!
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Bad Vibes
Sometimes things fail, but why would failures necessarily come in clusters? I don’t have an answer for that right now. Maybe that is because I don’t feel as though I have sufficiently moved past a current cluster yet, and am not able to perceive it from a distanced perspective that will better reveal the complete situation.
Maybe it is just random happenings. I do allow for that possibility.
Yesterday morning I didn’t feel my best when I woke up. Other than a very noticeable headache, I couldn’t identify more than a general weakness and malaise. I considered the idea of willing myself to a healthier vibrancy with mind over body, and mustered a rudimentary effort toward that end. It got me out the door.
Other than a few moments of reward, noticing a visible difference in tree leaves popping just hours apart and pausing the car on our street to share a greeting with our neighbor driving by, the day turned into a series of unfortunate events.
I was mowing the labyrinth path with our reel mower and about halfway through the task, the handle of the mower broke. They sure don’t make things like they used to. Sure, it is probably lighter weight than mowers of old, but lighter tubing doesn’t hold up to normal use! I finished the job by wrestling the mower forward despite the handle being attached on only the left side.
Not feeling up to doing anything particularly strenuous, I decided to take the 4-wheeler out on our trails to establish tracks in the rapidly advancing undergrowth. I guess the worms haven’t completely taken over our forest yet.
Click-click-click-aack-ack-ack-ack was the only sound I got out of attempts to start it. It seems to me the battery is strong enough, and that a solenoid is failing, but I could be wrong. My brain just wasn’t up to the analysis, so no actual data was collected in my crude attempts to force it to work as designed. I’ll need to return to that when in a better state of mind.
I found the landscape pond was so low that the pump for the waterfall was partially exposed. I turned off the pump and inspected for leaks in the tubing or filter. Finding nothing, the likely alternative would be a leak in the lining, which appears to be a rubber fabric they laid over the dirt and then covered with rocks. A lot of rocks. Which will need to be removed to inspect the fabric.
This morning, I walked into the bathroom in the early light of dawn and pressed the rocker switch to turn off the night-light. I turn it off during the day because that little appliance runs so hot that it discolored the plastic cover around the bulb. A moment later, I noticed the light was on again and began to question my sanity.
Luckily, I hadn’t lost my mind. I had turned it off, but somehow the switch was shorting out and the bulb was back on again. I think it wants to try to burn down our house! I toggled the switch back and forth and the bulb stayed lit in every position.
This morning, that just doesn’t surprise me as much as it should. I’m not sure if it is possible to wield mind over matter to the extent I need at this point, but I am going to set my goals well within reach today and hope for success, health, and well-being to rule the day.
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Life Giving
Despite the recent trend of precipitation missing us as waves of disjointed showers and thunderstorms have been flowing over our region, yesterday evening we finally received rain, but in the form of a dramatic gully washer. It poured as if from a pitcher, and then stopped as quick as if the pitcher had returned to upright. Just as I was beginning to consider a trip outside to tend to the horses, the downpour resumed in full gusto.
The sound of such heavy bursts of rain is dramatic enough on its own, but we also had a few booms of thunder which served to amp up the excitement. On top of that, Delilah felt the need to run to and fro, barking her 2-cents worth toward the storm. My decision to remain calm and collected despite it all made no visible impact on her confidence over our relative safety in the moment.
After the third or fourth wave of heavy rain, we received a sign that I could venture outside. The setting sun popped out from behind clouds, creating an irresistible invitation to go outside, even though some residual rain at our location was still dripping from the clouds overhead.
I chose to override my better judgement and wandered around with Delilah tethered closely to me as the lightning and thunder on the backside of this storm continued overhead, preventing Delilah from reaching anything close to calm and secure during this particular walk.
The air had the fresh smell of recent lightning strikes and the copious amount of water that fell in a surprisingly short amount of time was now rushing through our drainage swale. I felt a sense of appreciation for the much-needed moisture that was providing a life-giving treat to all our growing things.
The giant double rainbow that was filling the sky to the east served as an exclamation point to the whole sensational event. From where I stood, it shone down on the horses clustered close together in the paddock to ride out the storm.
I took Delilah into the paddock with me to open a gate that allowed the horses into the back pasture for the night, then headed back toward the house to check the rain gauge.
We had received 1.75 inches of rain in about 45-minutes time. I hope more of it soaked in than flowed away in the runoff. It just might have been a case where we got too much of a good thing.
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Worm Lesson
Yesterday I learned something that surprised me, especially for the extent of time —basically, my lifetime— about which I have been clueless. I assumed earthworms were native to my region and entirely beneficial. They provide food for our birds and other critters, and they aerate and enrich the soil.
Au contraire! I spotted an article in the sports section of a local newspaper aiming to educate people who fish about not dumping their leftover angle worms on the ground. Worms should be disposed of in the trash.
Why? First of all, the terrestrial earthworms are a non-native invasive species from Europe and Asia! I had no idea. Second, they are harming our hardwood forests. They actually disrupt the natural decomposition of leaf litter on the forest floor and turn good soil into grainy, dry worm castings (poop), which then can’t support the understory plants of our forests.
Apparently, they are welcome to help in my compost pile, but they are not friendly to our woods. Up at our lake place in Hayward, WI, our favorite flowering woodland plant on the forest floor is the trillium. Around Memorial day at the end of May, when we head up for “work-weekend” to open up the property for the summer, we often find a carpet of white blossoms covering the ground.
I have dreamed of seeing the same thing occur in our woods at Wintervale, but we can’t find hardly any here. Cyndie spotted one all by itself recently with 3 blossoms, capturing this shot with her cell phone.
According to the literature I have reviewed, trillium is one of the plants that is lost to the earthworms.
All of my life I have assumed that earthworms were a good thing. I’m afraid I will no longer think of them the same way at all. I would much rather have a thick, healthy layer on our forest floor that could support a robust undergrowth, than a dry, leafless surface of worm poo.
Anglers, contain those crawlers!
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