Archive for the ‘Chronicle’ Category
Brilliant Fun
Such great fun can’t last forever, so we are driving home to Wintervale today. We will be taking a lot of good energy with us from four days of lake fun with Barb and Mike. We boated through three channels and four lakes to visit the Joyce Estate on Trout Lake in the Chippewa National Forest. On the way home, we paused to swim for a bit in each lake.
We coped with some hot and muggy weather, including strong wind on most days and a little rain yesterday. We took advantage of the precipitation to complete some planning and make reservations for our coming visit to Iceland in September.
During a pause in the rain, we parked on the north shore of Wilkus’ lake and played along the shoreline.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
We have been eating fun treats (man, I love black raspberry chocolate chip ice cream) and scrumptious meals from the creative minds of Barb and Cyndie. Mike provided his mastery on their great propane cast iron griddle to make smash burgers for dinner.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
There was broccoli steaming beneath that cover.
Evenings allowed us to catch up on the day’s Olympic competitions and marvel over the high level of athletic ability and accomplishments. Cyndie and I slept soundly and enjoyed another break from daily animal duties.
The brilliant fun with friends is done for a while but we will replace it with brilliant fun with Asher and the horses and some normal fun mowing grass this week. I’m scheduled to head back to Hayward on Thursday for a weekend cycling during Cyndie’s brothers’ annual gathering of guys who golf.
I suspect that will be brilliant fun, too.
.
.
Made It
Thursday’s goals have been achieved. I finished trimming the edges of our north loop trail.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
We made it to Mike and Barb’s lake place in time for dinner.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
[mic drop]
.
.
Hedge Wall
When we get home from the lake on a Monday and depart the following Thursday for our friends’ lake cabin, it doesn’t leave me much time in my role as Head Groundskeeper. Making things even more complicated, another rain shower cut into the limited hours available for mowing. The trail I’ve been wanting to trim has escaped attention for longer than I hoped so far this summer.
Yesterday, while waiting for the morning dew to dry so I could mow, I grabbed the hedge trimmer and tackled as much as I could before lunch.
It doesn’t stand out much in that photo, but I was working the right side of the path to achieve a clean hedge wall out of the wild growth along our property border with the neighboring farm field. It’ll look great once I finish the full length.
This is the second summer that I have been working to shape that tangle of scrub trees into a clean natural barrier. I thought it would be a little easier the second time around, but things have grown fast and thick with all the precipitation we’ve received this summer.
I hope to make enough progress this morning to finish the north loop trail all the way to the road before time runs out and we leave for Mike and Barb’s lake place which is a 4-hour drive away.
Squeezing in a few long days of landscape work is worth the extra effort to get the payoff of another weekend of lake fun, especially with friends we will be traveling with come fall. The four of us are planning a visit to Iceland in September.
For a guy who isn’t all that fond of travel, I sure have been spending a lot of time away from home lately. When we get home from the lake this weekend, I’ll only have a few days before heading up for a weekend of biking in Hayward.
Maybe I can spend a few extra days at home during August. One of my great pleasures in life is having nowhere I need to go. I am an exception to the norm of people retiring with hopes of traveling the world.
I much prefer being in my own home more often than not.
.
.
Independent Streak
It would be fair to say that each of our four horses demonstrates a bit of an independent streak on occasion, but Mix often stands out from the others for more reasons than just her coloring. She doesn’t seem to need the others’ company as often as they choose to maintain a tight proximity. It came as no surprise to me yesterday when Mix came back to the overhang when the other three ventured out to graze in the hay field.
Since I was lingering to watch from the half-door of the barn, I surmised that Mix might be coming back to check on what I was up to. When she started trying to find a firm edge to rub her muzzle against, I stepped out to see if I could provide some hand scratching to soothe an itch.
She didn’t want my hands on her head but seemed to appreciate my robust scratching everywhere else on her body.
When she’d had enough, Mix moved slowly out of my reach and then moseyed down the slope toward the hay field gate. I continued to lean on the gate in front of me to observe.
At the exit of the paddock, Mix suddenly broke into a run toward the other horses with a dramatic pounding of hooves on the turf. None of the three even flinched.
Arriving with all that energy, Mix trotted around them some, shook her neck, and looked to see if she had inspired any of them to match her excitement.
They continued to basically ignore her.
Mix gave up and lowered her head to join in the grazing.
A short time later I noticed Mix rolling around on her back in the grass. I wasn’t around when they returned from the field but the next time I looked in on them, they were all standing around together in the small paddock.
When I showed up for their second feeding of the day, Mia was the one showing some independence from the herd. She was grazing grass along the outside of the paddock fence while the other three were under the overhang.
It’s never a concern if they are not in the immediate vicinity when we show up to feed them. I busy myself with housekeeping duties beneath the overhang, raking up spilled hay, scooping poop, and sweeping off their placemats. At some point, I turn to find (in this case) Mia standing right next to me. We are always amazed when these thousand-pound beasts demonstrate the ability to close distances swiftly, yet silently and suddenly startle us by showing up at our shoulder without warning.
.
.
More Wet
This may be the legacy of our summer of 2024: wet and more wet. It probably will be overshadowed by Joe Biden’s announcement of bowing out of the 2024 campaign for President and Kamala Harris rising to take over the cause boosted by an impressive groundswell of support. Compared to that, our water-logged trails, sloppy paddocks, and fast-growing plant life will likely become barely a footnote.
It was mostly dry when we got home yesterday afternoon. The puddle that we like to call, “Paddock Lake” near the bottom of the larger of our two paddocks was just a little muddy in the middle and the drying edges were already cracking. The one-and-a-half inches of water in the rain gauge explains the standing water in the tractor tire tracks in the hay field where 14 large round bales were transferred out on Friday.
The fact that the excess water in the paddocks appeared to be quickly drying offered some hope that we may be reaching that point of the summer when the ground is able to absorb the rain as fast as it falls. That might work if the rain didn’t keep falling again and again as if it was still the month of April.
Shortly after dinner last night, our weather apps began to ping messages of impending rain and warnings about lightning.
We received a good soaking. Whatever had started to dry out yesterday was freshly wetted again.
I’ll be wearing my wet boots to walk Asher and tend to the horses this morning.
.
.
Like Home
My project yesterday morning felt a little like being at home. We enjoyed a visit from Julian up here at the lake for a few days and he brought along a present that I’ve been looking forward to. He got us a new battery-powered string trimmer to add to our gas-powered Stihl model trimmer resources. I’m hoping this will give Cyndie a quick and easy option for certain jobs since she is beginning to find it difficult to pull-start the Stihl engine.
There was a perfect testing ground for the new trimmer in our mini-labyrinth in the woods up here at Wildwood.
I bundled up in long pants and a shirt with long sleeves to do battle in the mosquito’s territory. Knocking down flurries of leafy green ground cover and ferns along the pathway unleashed a crowd of mosquitos that quickly figured out my head was rather defenseless. I got a chance to practice using the trimmer one-handed while swatting away bugs with my other hand.
About three-quarters of the way to the center, the mosquitos started to figure out they could fit their proboscis through the fabric of my shirt. It got to the point that I didn’t know if the bites I was feeling were a residual itch or a new, active bite in progress. Flailing and swatting becomes a full-time effort whether or not bugs are present when it reaches a certain point.
I was close enough to finishing that I forged ahead regardless of the feasting insects so the labyrinth pathway could be re-established to completion. Now it is possible to travel the route without disturbing underbrush where mosquitos rest during the day.
As soon as I got out of the woods, I made a beeline for the lake to soak in the water and quell the sensory overload of real and phantom itchiness.
Up until that point, it was feeling a little like being home while working with the trimmer, but the one thing we definitely don’t have at home is the opportunity to jump into this refreshing lake after completing hot and sweaty projects.
.
.
Being Amazed
“It was such a beautiful day!” they said, expressing a level of astonishment over the change. A slow rumble of nearby thunder wafted through the open porch windows. I checked the radar for the umpteenth time to find the orange and yellow blobs covered in lightning bolts were still morphing amoeba-like just north of our lake. That storm cell had been hovering close for the last 45 minutes during which we sporadically received periods of just enough rain to make things wet.
The air was strikingly still.
Is it all that unusual for a thunderstorm to occur on the tail end of a beautiful day? I don’t think so.
In a way, I envy that level of becoming amazed by things that aren’t necessarily all that amazing. At the same time, it defies my sense of reality. I had just finished reading an account of the rescue operation after an incident where four people in two canoes had been swept over a waterfall in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness along the Canadian border in northern Minnesota.
It made me acutely aware of how everything can be completely fine in the moments before the onset of a tragedy.
How do we know when the calm we are experiencing at any given time is a breath away from the unexpected? In a way, it’s much more dramatic and amazing how common it is that nothing unexpected suddenly pops up. (I don’t mean to disrespect people who deal with mental health issues that involve symptoms of uncontrolled anxiety and maybe suffer a constant concern for possible looming calamities.)
People certainly have differing levels of perceptions. I can be embarrassingly oblivious to some scenery that means a lot to others. On our drive up to the lake last Thursday, Cyndie’s mom frequently marveled over the glorious summer views out the window. As we passed through the third or fourth town which triggered repeated amazement over lawns mowed or the floral arrangements displayed, it occurred to me how little I was feeling moved by the views.
From a farm just as we got started to Turtle Lake, Cumberland, and Spooner. They all elicited gleeful wonderment from Marie over the healthy displays of summery blooms. My lack of enthusiasm became increasingly apparent to me as her appreciative comments rang anew. Part of me wished to be equally amazed. The rest of me felt perfectly satisfied just the way I am.
Arriving at the lake, Cyndie’s and Marie’s first priority was assessment and care for the potted plants strategically stationed around the house.
That did not amaze me one bit.
I was much more surprised by the fact that the looming storm last night never arrived. Based on the view of the radar screen, it just lost steam and fell apart. Potential tragedy averted.
This morning, I’m feeling ready to take better notice of how amazingly beautiful our surroundings are here at the lake, rain or shine.
.
.
Dust Gathers
Sometimes I pretend not to notice. Often I fail to resist an urge to slide my finger across a surface to smear dust away. That action simply makes it more obvious that the rest of the surrounding surfaces are still covered with dust. The keyboard of my laptop is a constant example of the unceasing accumulation of fine particles.
I am unable to keep it clean. The variety of solutions available in the marketplace reveals I am not alone in the ongoing struggle to maintain cleanliness. There is a gooey gel to press on the keys and pull up. Better known are cans of compressed air made for cleaning electronics.
If there was a way to incorporate that blast of compressed air from within the laptop’s body, that would be great. Better yet, the laptop itself should generate a static field that consistently repels dust particles.
Just some creative ideas to solve a situation of constant annoyance.
Much less annoying is the second to last stage of the 2024 Tour de France. I’m going to tune into the end of that and watch the dust of that race to the top of the last mountain of this year’s competition.
Congratulations, Tadej Pogacar.
.
.
Reclaiming Pathway
One place that suffers when we get behind during periods of fast-growing grass is the labyrinth. I tend to leave it until last when trying to mow all the other grass areas. In addition to the front, back, and side of the house, I cut grass beside the shop garage, along both sides of the driveway to the road, between the road and our hay field fence, around the hay shed, around 2 sides of paddock fences, around the perimeter of the back pasture fence, the space in front of the labyrinth, and two pathways: the north loop and the south side of the hay field fence.
When that is done, I roll the push mower down to the labyrinth and remove the grass discharge chute to close the mulching cover. That’s required to fit between the rocks of the labyrinth pathway but it also provides the bonus of eliminating grass clippings.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
The grass that the mower can’t reach is beginning to swallow the rocks. At least the pathway becomes clearly evident upon a fresh cut.
We have experimented with different techniques (no hazardous chemicals allowed) for trimming grass and pulling weeds around the rocks but haven’t found anything more effective than the time and labor-intensive hand-cutting/weed pulling. When things are growing at this crazy pace that we’ve been experiencing this summer, we can’t dedicate the time it would require to focus solely on the rocks of the labyrinth for a few days.
Maybe if we didn’t go galivanting off to the lake so often, it would be easier to manage the entire property to the level it deserves. We leave this morning with Cyndie’s mom for another dreamy 4-day getaway to Wildwood. [First World Problems®]
Horse Behavior
Both Cyndie and I have noticed that, for the most part, the horses appear to be ignoring the recently mowed back pasture since I opened that gate. I’m hoping our perception is off and they are spending time out there when we aren’t looking. Still, the amount of manure we find beneath the overhang offers reasonable evidence that they are lingering by the barn more often than not.
It could be they are waiting for the hay field to be opened back up to them instead. It may be available soon if the baling happens today as planned. Then we will be able to open all gates like they are normally granted, giving them full access to go wherever they want, whenever they want.
It won’t surprise me if the back pasture needs a second round of mowing by the time we return home from the lake. I’ve decided we should plan to mow that field regularly since it is obvious there’s no interest in cutting it for baling.
More tractor time!
Sorry, labyrinth. You may be waiting even longer between trimmings.
Don’t worry, though. I’ll still keep the pathway open for you.
.
.
Board Replacement
It’s the second time in a week that I was able to make use of old deck boards that I saved after we refinished the deck however many years ago. The floorboards on Cyndie’s prized face-to-face wooden swing have seriously rotted so yesterday we replaced them.
She plans to apply a much-needed water sealant to see if we can’t extend the life of the swing for a few more seasons.
On the edge of the woods we put our lives at risk to complete this job because of the mosquitos. Teeny, tiny, or full-sized, they show up in droves. They find their way behind our eyeglasses and into our ears. Bites on my neck and the backs of my arms. I can’t tell if the itch is from an old bite or one currently happening. It sure hampers the experience of forest bathing.
In addition to getting several deluges of rain last week, we had days when the dew point reading matched the air temperature. That spells 100% humidity. The level of wetness around here is worthy of April more than a normal July. That would be, an April after a snowy winter. We just had an almost snowless winter and still the amount of standing water in low areas has been consistent for the last four months.
The mosquitos have never had it so good. We have come a long way since last year’s drought conditions.
Of course, this is all making the grass grow like it’s the first greening of spring. Two days after mowing, it looks like it’s already overdue for another cut.
The recent rains have foiled the baling of the hay that finally got cut in our field. Word is they hope to try for Thursday, weather permitting. What a difficult year to be a hay farmer. We just received a fresh batch of small squares of grass hay for our horses from a new supplier. They shared a lot of horror stories about how business has been for them so far this year.
They describe battling both the weather and difficult “clients.” Cyndie and I did our best to not find ourselves being labeled as difficult. It isn’t that hard since Cyndie gifted them some lemonade cake right as they arrived.
Food is one of the big ways she shows her love. Last night while dinner was heating, she baked a peach tart that became a peach crisp with the sweet crumble topping she ended up adding.
I definitely feel loved.
.
.
Relative Something 