Archive for the ‘Chronicle’ Category
Weather Pummeling
Our region took a pummeling from Momma Nature yesterday with high winds pushing some heavy rain sideways. I was on an errand to Baldwin to seek advice from my tractor dealership and pulled over to capture some photos of the wild sky.
With winds gusting into the 40s (mph), the bottom of the cloud cover was getting whipped into undulating waves.
Knowing it was past due time to change the engine oil of the New Holland diesel tractor, I pulled the manual to check other recommended periodic maintenance. I quickly felt overwhelmed by the list of tasks I had no knowledge or experience doing.
It didn’t take long for the Service Manager to convince me to spend some of my savings and have them do the dirty work. He had me at, “We have time to start on it early next week.”
On the way home, I stopped off to take advantage of ‘Discount Tuesday’ at the movie theater to see the four military-embedded journalists race against time to reach DC in the 2024 film, “Civil War.” I sure hope that version of a possible future for the country remains a fabrication for film and has no relationship with an eventual reality.
I returned home in the nick of time to help Cyndie tend to the horses amid the rain and wicked gales. Being immersed in the fictional world for a couple of hours had me rather disoriented in coping with the wild conditions that were turning feeding time into something of a circus that seemed to fit well with the on-screen chaos I’d just consumed.
Cyndie reported some new chaos across one of our trails through the woods.
If that is the only tree that topples under these conditions, I will be surprised. By dinner time last night, we had received over an inch of rain as measured in the gauges Cyndie remembered to put out earlier in the day.
Our soils are saturated and that makes high-wind days that much more effective at tipping tall trees.
One blessing we thoroughly appreciate is that Asher demonstrates zero stress over lightning and thunder. That’s not something I taught him. He showed up with that trait. I need to remember that gift alone should earn him a pass on other behaviors of his I find myself regretting.
Our dog staying calm during a pummeling storm contributes greatly to our quality of life.
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Helping Family
When we got the message from Elysa that she could use some help with several home maintenance projects, Cyndie and I agreed to show up without hesitation. We packed up some tools and supplies and headed to the Cities.
I’m no carpenter but I have learned how to screw boards on a deck.
We decided to pull some boards off and flip them over as a temporary fix until a more permanent solution is figured out. The original screws were rusted almost to dust which made some easy to remove and others a real battle after the heads broke off.
While I finished putting in new screws to re-secure the boards, Cyndie helped with the removal of an unwanted bush.
Now you see it.
Now you don’t.
Next, I mounted new latch hardware on the back gate to the alley that will keep their dog from muscling his way out when the urge strikes.
Mission accomplished. Temporary fixes R us.
Somehow, I solved all the challenges of the various repairs without once resorting to using duct tape. Hopefully, the new screws hold.
It is an honor to be able to lend a hand when family is in need. Especially when I was just the beneficiary of help from Julian the day before, pounding down fence posts.
Doesn’t seem that long ago that I was shoulder to shoulder with them as little kids, looking out our master bedroom window in EP at a thunderstorm and striving to dispel anxieties over the flashing and booming. We made up a rating system to judge the impressiveness of the brilliant zig-zagging bolts and loudest booms of thunder.
Now we all face home-owner ‘adulting’ type problems. It’s nice to know we’ll never stop helping each other.
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Underwhelming Opening
It was what one local meteorologist called a “San Diego weather” day for our region yesterday. Blue sky, light breeze, gentle warmth, comfortable humidity, few in the way of pestering insects. Julian graciously agreed to help me pound fence posts that our freeze/thaw cycle pushes up. 
It’s very rewarding to experience easy success when a post drops a half-inch with each strike, especially because plenty of others barely move an eighth of an inch at a time. Our main goal is to get the bottom wire of the fence back down to less than 18” from the ground, per a guideline I read for horses. Mission accomplished.
In the middle of the afternoon, Cyndie agreed to open the gates to the hay field for the horses to start adjusting their digestive systems to fresh grass again. I took a position to record their reaction to renewed access to their fields.
They didn’t even notice. Maybe they were purposely ignoring us. My video was pretty underwhelming. With a little coaxing from Cyndie, Mia and Mix started an approach. As they picked up some momentum down the slope from the barn, Light and Swings took notice and soon followed.
They barely walked beyond the wood fence to begin feasting on fresh chomps of grass. Nothing wrong with that, but we always compare it to the time they took off running like the racehorses they once were upon that first opportunity on the field in spring.
We only gave them a short first shift before bringing them back in. Interestingly, that got them running more than going out did.
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New Sound
Like a new squeak appearing on my bike, standing out like a crying baby on an airplane, a ratchety trill erupting from the vicinity of our landscape pond heralds the next phase of spring. Fresh green sprouts are bursting from dirt and branches at a dramatic pace each day. The sounds of migrating flocks of birds echo above the usual calls from resident pheasants and turkeys. Passing pairs of sandhill cranes offer a distinctly loud, rattling bugle call. But all those signs of the seasonal progress get overshadowed by a frog in the pond.
Yesterday, we pulled back the winter netting that collected fallen leaves over the last six months.
Before we even started to move the rocks holding the net, there was a very noticeable grunting chirp emanating from the immediate surroundings.
He kept it up after the net came off, as if thanking us for our service. Much of the time he was near impossible to spot but eventually, he swam out into the open and floated for a while. As Cyndie worked a net and rake to clean out old reeds and residual floating debris while I wrestled to position and hide the pump, filter, and tubing among the rocks.
The whole time, we were hearing from the frog. It began to feel like he was going to become a fixture there. I asked Cyndie if we should name him, offering “Oscar” in tribute to the famous croaker who lived up at the lake place when Cyndie and her siblings were spending childhood summers there.
She said it would need to be “Oscar Jr.” because the size of the sound he was making fell far short of fair comparison.
If he continues to hang around, I suspect I will refer to him as “Junior.”
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Future History
Our favorite network, PBS, has offered up a gem of a new series that Cyndie and I are really appreciating. “A Brief History of the Future” hosted by renowned futurist Ari Wallach, presented me with a wonderful opportunity for reframing right from the very start.
What kind of world is presented in the majority of movies about the future? If it’s not entirely apocalyptic, it tends to be overcrowded, polluted, and generally scary. If that is the only way we envision the future, we are likely to doom ourselves to achieve it.
What kind of future world would we like to live in? That is the one we should be envisioning.
“This series challenges the dystopian framework embraced by popular culture by offering a refreshing take on the future. The docuseries asks us all: how can we become the great ancestors the future needs us to be? “A Brief History of the Future” weaves together history, science, and unexpected ideas to expand our understanding about the impact that the choices we make today will have on our tomorrows.
Each episode follows those who are working to solve our greatest challenges. The series also features valuable insights from a wide range of thinkers, scientists, developers and storytellers including French President Emmanuel Macron, U.S. Secretary of Transportation Pete Buttigieg, U.S. Surgeon General Vivek Murthy, sailor Dame Ellen MacArthur, musician Grimes, architect Bjarke Ingels, climate scientist Katharine Hayhoe, legendary soccer player Kylian Mbappé, and more.”
Even though we are currently living in a climate crisis –admittedly the primary doom I allow to color my impressions of what humankind will be coping with from now until forever– some ideas for possible constructive solutions provide hope that a worst-case scenario is not a guaranteed outcome.
I’ve already taken steps to create the possibility of a giant maple tree someday standing as a stoic natural canopy over our 70-foot diameter labyrinth. I like to imagine what it might look like in a hundred years if the tree we transplanted to the center of the labyrinth survives to a healthy old age.
The increased diameter of the trunk will have forced some adjustments to the path and rocks at that point, I presume. By the time that begins to become an issue, it will be someone else’s challenge to address. I will be long gone. Unless the antidote to aging has been invented before I pass, that is.
Take a look at the preview below for a taste of what the episodes explore. I hope you will feel inspired…
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Impact Crater
Just a few days after someone alerted me to a local site of an impact crater, I got out for my first bike ride of this year and explored a route that traveled nearly through the center according to the maps.
I was exploring roads that I was unfamiliar with and ended up riding on an unpaved road for a while. It meandered through a beautiful forested area that felt far removed from the many open farm fields that dominated much of my views.
There were so many undulations on almost every road, I never got any sense of the actual geological structure of the crater that was created by the hypervelocity impact some 450-433 million years ago.
It being my inaugural ride of the season, I relied on the electric assist almost the entire time. Without the marvel of the heavy battery and motor, I would never have been able to complete over 37 miles of such hilly terrain. And at just under three hours, my butt was wishing I’d have chosen a much less arduous distance and route.
The motor was particularly appreciated when I turned into the west wind which seemed to keep increasing with the climbing afternoon temperatures. When I got home, our thermometer indicated 74°F.
It didn’t feel that warm to me, but I blame the wind. By bedtime last night, my face felt windburn and my arms and legs felt like they had been taxed to their limits. Excellent indications I had enjoyed a great adventure.
So great, I’m going to give myself a day off today from taxing my muscles any more than what it takes to accomplish some dog walking and manure management. Maybe I’ll read more about the Rock Elm Disturbance.
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Shedding Underway
’Tis the season of flying tufts of horse hair. It gets a little complicated when their heavy shedding coincides with their days confined to the massively muddy paddocks. The tufts don’t fly as much when they are caked in layers of mud.
Cyndie spent a little time yesterday brushing all four horses for as much as the mares would allow. Each horse has a different level of acceptance for being brushed.
I watched Cyndie try to win over Light with offers of treat bites with varying degrees of success. It got me laughing to see Cyndie trying to multitask brushing Light’s hindquarters with one hand while fending off Light’s face with her other hand. Light kept turning back to beg for another treat.
It is no small thing to fend off an insistent Light where treats are involved.
I leaned over Light’s back and snapped a close-up of the layers of hair.
We both knew that freshly brushed horses rarely stay clean for very long. By the time we returned to the barn to feed them in the afternoon, Cyndie reported they had all taken a roll in the mud.
Thus begins the cycle that will repeat multiple times in the days and weeks ahead.
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No Shadow
We were in the wrong place to view the eclipse yesterday. I made the assumption that 74% coverage would still dim the light through the cloud canopy blocking our sightline but we didn’t perceive any effects at the expected hour.
Before we went outside, Cyndie and I scanned the television channels to see the reports from Texas. They provided some wonderful images of the totality.
This is what it looked like for us:
We didn’t need our fancy viewing glasses.
I guess that means spring will come early this year.
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Moon Shadow
Today is the day of the solar eclipse! May those of you in the path of totality find clear skies for optimal viewing!
We are located in a region of approximately 74% coverage so the plasma of the solar winds won’t be as visible as they are from vantage points under the total shadow. We’ll take what we can get, but the odds aren’t looking good for us due to cloud cover.
I hope to loiter around outside and observe how the daylight beneath the clouds changes and whether the horses show any visible signs of awareness about the unusual phenomenon as it plays out.
No matter what transpires today, remember the advice on the cover of The Guide: “DON’T PANIC.”
It’s not like a hyperspace bypass is being created or anything.
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Confusing Days
Don’t be confused. Today is Sunday. The solar eclipse will happen tomorrow. The championship game of the Women’s NCAA Basketball Tournament tips off today.
I don’t know why I’ve been so disoriented this morning, but I mixed these up at least twice before finally realizing where I was in time and space. Maybe it started yesterday. Cyndie and I huffed and puffed to drag the tangles of vines we’d collected up to a temporary staging area.
Before I attempt to craft an entryway arbor out of them, I will need to spread them out to see the individual twists and turns.
When I went in for lunch, Cyndie stayed outside to putter on other projects weighing on her mind. I got a text from her that she came upon a pile of vines we had missed.
Absentmindedness? I thought we had gotten them all.
It’s the kind of thing that leaves me thinking, “What else have I forgotten?”
My past is getting mixed up with the present recently because we have decided to “declutter” the remaining 100 record albums from our life-long combined collection. Long ago, I sold a majority of our library in the transition from vinyl to digital music, but I couldn’t part with the works of our most adored artists and a few one-of-a-kind records that would never be re-released.
After 45-50 years of holding most of these albums, we are ready to send them back into the world. Since our collection wouldn’t bring an impressive amount of money from buyers, Cyndie sought (and found!) an interested party who would appreciate them in a spirit commensurate with how we feel.
I’m not agreeing to this step cold turkey. For one particularly rare Eric Clapton album, I checked online for the availability of every song and then created a personal playlist in the exact order for my digital library. Attaching the artwork to the file gave me the comfort of a memory that will serve as a special link between albums of my youth and the digital library I’ve switched to as I age.
We’ve successfully saved our children from any guilt they might feel if they had to throw these away after Cyndie and I die.
Now, what else am I forgetting?
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Relative Something 