Archive for the ‘Chronicle’ Category
Difficult Simplicity
Why did I come up with that silly two-word combination for today’s post title? Physical therapy exercises, that’s why. Yesterday morning I received a phone call before 7:30! Who calls anyone that early? My doctor had news about the MRI of my shoulder confirming a small tear in my rotator cuff. He has referred me to an orthopedic specialist for consultation.
Regardless, I’ve already started seeing a physical therapist to address the shoulder and (not necessarily related) sciatic pain radiating down my left leg. The initial exercises the therapist has prescribed are along the lines of “flossing” the nerve. Inherently simple. They involve only slight motions to be repeated ten or twenty series twice a day.
For something so simple, I am finding it really difficult to accomplish. It’s too easy and doesn’t feel like I am doing anything perceivable in the way of progress. It bores me and I am easily distracted from the task. I find myself inclined to rush things. The 3 or 4 routines for the shoulder and then the same number for my leg/lower back issue are no match for the energizing effort of my long-duration planking or strength poses I regularly do.
Some simple things are difficult to do.
At the same time, I am doing something very easy this weekend.
Guess where we are.
The weather is supposed to become steamy hot for a few days and there is no better place to cope with high heat than on a lake.
Maybe I’ll see how many of my simple flossing motions I can pull off while floating half-submerged in the cool water of Round Lake.
Don’t look now, but there is something going on with the trees up here that hints of a change a-coming.
.
.
Wider View
It occurred to me, after the fact, that yesterday’s post would have been well-served by a photo of the entire gazebo. I hadn’t taken such a picture when I was capturing the flower blossoms earlier so I stopped down there yesterday to remedy that.
Pause and enjoy the image for a moment. Place yourself there, virtually. Hear the quiet that is gently visited by occasional bird songs.
It’s a sound that I appreciate a little more than normal lately. I’ve been staying up well past my usual bedtime this week because I’ve become an unlikely viewer of a national political convention. The residual echoing of high energy motivational speaking happening one after another has me appreciating the soothing quiet of our natural sanctuary spaces anew.
Watching a political convention is something I can honestly say I’ve never done before in my life. I tell myself the reason I find this litany of endless partisan cheerleading so captivating is that it offers a soothing antidote to the years of stinking dreck coming from a weird doofus who lies for a living.
However, the real truth about why I would now choose to watch this convention might more accurately be that I’m just getting old.
It doesn’t hurt that Kamala Harris selected the Governor of my home state of Minnesota to run as her VP. I’m a big fan.
I sure hope their effort succeeds. If there was ever a time for logic to manifest in the universe, let it happen for this November’s US presidential election.
Just one more night of convention speeches. I’m looking forward to a return to my old person’s sleep schedule starting tomorrow.
.
.
Trumpet Vine
It appears we have succeeded in transplanting a vine to the gazebo beside the labyrinth. That metal frame used to have a canvas cover that provided shelter from sun or rain but it succumbed to the elements a few years ago. We decided to try crafting a natural roof, starting with weaving long sticks through the frame and then filling spaces by threading in old grape vines.
We have since transplanted multiple versions of vines in hopes they will climb the frame and take up residency in and around the sticks and old vinewood. The trumpet vine is showing the most vigor and recently began bursting forth with blossoms.
I suspect it may take a year or two more to fully cover that gazebo but we are in it for the long game. Heck, we’ve got a maple tree in the center of the labyrinth that I dream will command dominance over the space in a hundred years.
We can wait a little while for the gazebo to gain its full green crown. At least that can happen while I’m still alive. The maple tree… I’ll just have to imagine what that will look like when is has soared to its maximum height and largest diameter trunk.
.
.
North Loop
I spent a fair amount of time in our north loop field yesterday morning and made an energizing discovery about how many young volunteer trees are thriving there.
For years after we moved here, we mowed down the tall growth in that section to the north of the driveway to control troublesome weeds from going to seed. It seemed like the prudent thing to do. Time has brought a change of heart for me. By not mowing the field anymore, we intend to nurture a future forest. There is still an issue with weeds to be dealt with but balancing that with embracing the appearance of new trees is a challenge we’ve decided to accept.
I was wading through the chest-high growth on a quest to pull vines that were starting to climb the existing pine trees in the area.
Almost immediately, I spotted a young sprout of oak leaves.
After uprooting any vines I could see, my mission shifted to clearing space around all of the young trees I could find.
There were an impressive number of poplar shoots that didn’t need any help in reaching sunlight. I found an elm. There are a variety of long and short needle pine trees showing up.
Of particular interest to me is the appearance of two sprouts of cedar trees, of which there are none anywhere in the surrounding area. I have no idea where these seeds traveled from.
When I finished my impromptu tree survey, I felt inspired for the future of this field. I also felt a mild trepidation over having visibly served up these gorgeous young trees as enticing nibbles for the resident deer herds that frequently bed down in the surrounding tall growth. Since the trees all showed up naturally, I’ve decided to let nature take its course, and if deer munch the tops off of some of these, so be it.
The final project I undertook in the north loop field was to mow a new viewing area where we’ll keep a couple of chairs for taking in the vista looking south from this high spot.
This idea came about from our animal sitter, John Bramble who mentioned that spot was a favorite for pausing to observe the view. He said it would be well-served to have a place to sit. I couldn’t agree more.
.
.
Pickup Sticks
Those of us who love having trees in our yards enjoy an ongoing demonstration of how much branch-shedding is regularly happening. There are always sticks and twigs landing on the ground beneath the canopy. Often there are finger-sized branches down. Occasionally, we find bigger branches in the mix, and every once in a while, a full limb drops.
I admit to subjecting the blades of our mowers to far more sticks and small branches than they deserve due to the sheer volume always hiding in the grass. When I wait too long between mowings, the number of branches gets too big to ignore. We’ve endured several days of on-again, off-again rain that stymied my plans to cut the grass around the house as soon as I wanted. Before I finally got around to the job yesterday, I needed to pick up sticks.
It doesn’t look that bad through a camera lens, but grasping each and every one by hand is an exercise of repetitive motion. Every time I turn around, I seem to find one that got missed. A wiser person might use a rake.
There is a mental reward for taking the time to clean up before mowing: peace of mind from not abusing the mower blades.
Of course, peaceful mowing is blissful mowing. And now the backyard is looking rather sharp (and stick-free) after yesterday’s cut if, I do say so myself.
.
.
Today Arrived
It’s here! We have arrived to the day Saturday, August 17, 2024. If you haven’t been waiting for this day to happen, it might feel like just another Saturday. Maybe it is simply the first day of the weekend. I suppose a few birthdays fall on this date or maybe a few weddings were scheduled.
While I was walking this morning with Cyndie and Asher and we marveled anew over the grandeur of our surroundings. I asked Cyndie if she thought she would still be able to visualize the views along our Middle Trail in some future situation when we are no longer physically fit enough to walk these woods.
We are in our twelfth year of living on this land and I still feel awe over the fact we own a portion of a forest. This summer has been different than most since we moved here from the suburbs. It has been wetter and for longer than normal. The land reflects that in a variety of ways.
There are new levels of erosion and significant accumulation of the runoff soil downstream that disrupt our preferred flow through ditches. Meanwhile, plants and trees are growing strong. It requires a constant effort to control undesired invasives and keep vines from swallowing trees.
In that regard, today would be just another day for me.
I feel lucky to have the opportunity and the time to tend our fields and woods but I won’t be doing much of that this day. We have a lunch date in the Cities that will fill much of our time. Another luxury we enjoy of visiting with friends, some with whom we rarely spend time.
Our land will wait another day for attention from me.
I have a strong suspicion that Sunday, August 18, 2024, will be arriving soon, and with that, new opportunities galore as time keeps ticking away.
.
.
Early Hints
In the wee hours of Monday morning, I stepped out on the deck at the lake to look for evidence of the Perseid Meteor shower. I had seen one meteor flash in the predawn hours a day earlier when looking through the bathroom window. It was the weekend of peak activity so I plotted to get a better view the next night. In roughly 10-12 minutes, I saw two streaks.
At 2 o’clock in the morning, that was not thrilling enough to keep me out of bed.
The arrival of the Perseids is a hint of the waning days of summer. Yesterday I noticed another early hint scattered on our driveway.
Those aren’t healthy green leaves that have fallen. The change in sunrise and sunset is just starting to be noticeable. The combination of these two phenomena amplifies the perception of the next season looming in our future.
Cyndie recently commented about how barren some spots on our forest floor are. I pointed out the areas of local farm fields where crops didn’t grow this year. The common factor in these areas is water saturation. Plenty of the low ground in our woods understory stayed so wet it drowned new growth.
I made two trips to River Falls yesterday, which took me past tree removal happening on the property of one of our nearby neighbors. They reported emerald ash borer was killing their big old ash trees. That’s an early hint of what is to come for ash trees everywhere around here.
My trek to River Falls was to consult with my doctor about two issues that I have failed to will away with wishful thinking. The shoulder I injured in a fall last February continues to give me enough pain and weakness that I need to find out if there is a tear that can’t heal on its own. More recently, I’ve started to experience pain that matches sciatica. The doctor suspects degenerating discs in my lower back are leading to pressure on the nerve.
I’ve got an appointment for an MRI to see what is going on in the shoulder, a prescription for a short round of steroids, and orders for physical therapy to address both the back and shoulder. Are my recent problems an early hint of my next level of aging?
News reports recently have featured a scientific study that claims people don’t age at a steady gradual rate. Apparently, we experience bursts of rapid aging in our mid-40s and early 60s. Oof.
The fact that I needed to show my new Medicare card at my clinic visit certainly helped to make me feel not as young as I used to be.
.
.
Giant Paradise
Back in June, Cyndie received a present from Elysa and Ande of a giant bird of paradise plant they were repotting. Elysa had rescued the root-bound plant from her workplace when it was about to get discarded. Ande worked determinedly to untangle the mass and turn one pot into several.
It was quite a challenge for Elysa and Ande to tip down and fit our new transplant into her car for the trip to our house. It was also a challenge for us to find a place where it would fit indoors and keep it standing without an established root structure yet.
After it continually leaned too much, we decided to tie a line to the wall to hold it up while hoping the roots would soon get a grip to stabilize the tall shoots. I don’t know if that stability is happening yet, but this weekend a new shoot burst up and began to unfurl to a surprising degree.
This is one vigorous tropical beauty.
We are thrilled to see this new evidence of that vigor and feel optimistic about the future of this beauty of an indoor plant in the corner where it now resides.
.
.
Extra Day
Since circumstances led to Cyndie and me each having a car up at the lake over the weekend, we didn’t need to go home at the same time. I asked for an extra day at the lake and Cyndie headed home to relieve the animal sitters. With no responsibilities, I opted for a bike ride in the middle of a Monday in the north woods of Wisconsin.
There are some wonderful stretches of good pavement passing through wooded acres that offer a rewarding combination of forest bathing while sailing along on two wheels. It feeds my mind, body, and soul.
Returning to the Wildwood driveway brought me up to the empty house where I could enjoy the best of everything it provides in precious solitude. After a quick dip in the lake, followed by a shower, I stretched out diagonally across the bed under the sunshine coming through the skylight window for a luxurious nap.
For those of us who don’t live alone, having a spare day every so often when you can leave a trail of your belongings anywhere you please and eat and sleep when the whim arrives is invigorating. I also chose to watch a movie in the middle of the afternoon while eating a sandwich and some West’s Dairy Praline and Caramel ice cream.
Sure, having pets can add a lot to a person’s life, but being free from any need to tend to precious critters often gives me just as much joy. I wouldn’t have been able to finish a full-length movie while devouring delicious bite-sized portions of ice cream if Asher had been staring up at me with his big eyes and whining to play.
How do you describe eating ice cream from a spoon (I’m not usually a cone person), but not ever biting it? I don’t actually lick it. Am I lipping it? Sliding the spoon back out from my mouth while silently scraping a portion of the creamy goodness with my lips to be held back for my tongue and mouth to absorb it with glee. The spoon then goes back in for a second pass, maybe a third before it is clean and ready to be reloaded for another iteration.
Maybe there is a word that better describes the technique. If I weren’t so inclined to avoid interacting with AI sites, I might find such a descriptor by searching.
The movie I watched lasted much longer than my ice cream and it was almost as much fun, given the subject of Sherpas and Mount Everest. I highly recommend the documentary film, “Mountain Queen – The Summits of Lhakpa Sherpa,” which I found on Netflix.
Lhakpa was the first Nepali woman to climb Everest and survive. She holds the record for most Everest summits by a woman. What she has accomplished in her life outside of climbing is maybe even more remarkable. She is an inspiration of great strength, both physical and emotional.
She and her children deserve much broader recognition, which I hope this film will bring.
.
.
Modest Wealth
I saw a headline referring to MN Gov. Tim Walz as having “modest wealth” and it struck me as a good description for the luxury Cyndie and I enjoy of having enough retirement income to cover our very comfortable lifestyle. I would also apply the modest wealth phrase to my physical and mental health. Staying just healthy enough to function effectively, but short of excessive riches in either realm.
What average person doesn’t feel some covetousness for the physique of Olympic swimmers, divers, or gymnasts’ bodies? I’m probably more active than the average 65-year-old but still maintain more of a “dad-bod” middle than the sculpted exposed torsos we get repeated views of every 4 years of the summer games.
Mentally, I’m happy to have learned the value of hearing the tone of my self-talk and quickly altering the direction when it slants toward the dysfunction of depressive thinking, but the fact I need to repeatedly practice the skill reveals a shortage of infinite mental health wealth, as if there were such a thing.
I like the concept of modesty when it comes to wealth, wherever it is measured. Today, I feel extremely rich in entertainment value because I get to watch the US Women’s Gold Medal Olympic Football match. It wouldn’t surprise me if such a simple joy were overlooked by others for its wealth.
It’s all relative, but the measurement of “modest” is one that I like as an offset to any embarrassment of riches.
.
.
Relative Something 