Archive for the ‘Chronicle’ Category
Time Travel
By simply driving south on the gravel road winding along Isabelle Creek, I felt transported to the time my ancestors lived there in the second half of the 19th century. We were on our way to the Pierce County Historical Association.
Our visit to their office in Bay City was a treasure. The old log cabin they have preserved is from near the community of Esdaile where the Sleeper mill was located. Standing in that structure made it even easier to imagine we were no longer in the year 2024.
Our conversations with volunteers covered multiple subjects, including how quickly things changed when the railroad arrived. I learned how to interpret the symbols for structures on old property maps: round = log; square = frame; triangle = brick.
Something I didn’t anticipate was a tip that old newspaper information is available from the Library of Congress online through their Chronicling America site where it is possible to search historic newspaper pages from 1756-1963.
I took a stab at “S. W. Hays” in Wisconsin between 1855-1895 and found this morsel in The River Falls Journal:
Now, this is particularly cool because, in addition to my ancestor Stephen Hays, it includes mention of my 2nd-great grandfather Charles Church and refers to “C. Betcher” who owned the lumber business Stephen (S.W. Hays) worked for. The only family missing is someone from the Sleeper clan. That’s okay though because when I searched for Joseph Sleeper there are a large number of pertinent results.
In fact, I discovered there was a summons published in the Prescott Journal about a complaint between Joseph and his wife, Abagail:
Spring is the wrong time of year for me to be discovering a new resource for losing hours on end searching old newspapers for the names of my ancestors. There are acres of grass that need mowing outside!
I hope today will be a little dryer out there than it was yesterday.
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History Open
Today is the first Sunday in May. I can’t count how many first Sundays of the month have passed without me taking advantage of the regularly scheduled open house at my county’s History Society. Today will be different.
On a day when the sun is shining bright in a clear blue sky, we are going to depart from our little sanctuary and drive past the little village of Esdaile (where my Great-Great-Great Grandfather Joseph Sleeper owned a sawmill) beside Isabelle Creek, on our way to the Pierce County Historical Association in Bay City.
It will be my second visit to the main office of the PCHA. When I first discovered that my Great-Great Grandfather Stephen Hays once owned land in Pierce County, I made my way to Bay City to learn more about him.
I discovered so much more than I bargained for that day. Suddenly, it was revealed that three of my ancestral families were living in the area in the 1860s.
Recently, the PCHA announced that local Historian, Mary Beeler had published (at the age of 92) a book about logging and log buildings in early Pierce County. I want to see if there might be more information about Joseph’s mill or Stephen’s wagon-making.
The rain has ended for a day, but the over-saturated ground remains too wet to do much work of substance. A small group of hearty souls stopped by yesterday to walk the labyrinth and enjoy Cyndie’s baked treats in the lingering mist following another half-inch of accumulation.
No other visitors are expected for a while, so I can let the grass grow crazy while waiting for the ground to dry up a little.
I suppose I could pull more weeds out of the gravel loop around the hay shed today, but that’s not as enticing as exploring more local history.
Maybe, in the end, I’ll do a little of both.
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Peace Meditations
’Twas the first Saturday in May
And all through the labyrinth
Plenty of creatures were stirring
Especially the burrowing pests
Today is World Labyrinth Day. Despite the first Saturday of May always arriving too soon for our beautiful growing perennials in the labyrinth garden and the trees surrounding it to have fully blossomed, we still try to tidy it up as much as possible for the annual peace walk at one o’clock.
I had the electric riding mower out and about again yesterday in an attempt to knock down the outrageously tall and thick areas of overgrown grass in multiple places, despite several of them holding puddles of water and most of the soil being too saturated to support the tire traffic.
I had to swallow my pride a couple of times when the spinning wheels turned what had been nice grass turf into wide smears of muddy skid marks. I deemed it tolerable damage in this case, given the difficult situation we were in to get ready on the only day left when it wasn’t raining.
It’s too bad the prediction for this morning is at an 80% chance of more rain. Even if precipitation pauses around the middle of the day, we will likely be walking on the equivalence of wet sponges while meditating for peace on Earth.
The concept of creating a rolling wave of energy around the world by having people participate at 1:00 p.m. in each of their local time zones is an inspired one, in my opinion. I suggest that the practice needn’t be limited to people walking labyrinths. You can do this wherever you are.
At one o’clock [your time] this afternoon, pause for a time and rally your mental energies toward a focus on the possibilities of peace in every form imaginable. Heck, if you are reading this after the appointed hour, go ahead and do the mental exercise anyway. What have we got to lose?
Give Peace a chance.
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Gardening Again
The starters have had a few weeks to sprout and grow so it is time to get the garden planted for the season. I gave Cyndie a hand turning soil and hauling compost, she has done all the rest.
There were a few hours when it wasn’t raining on Wednesday, so we did as much as possible in the time allowed.
Cyndie accomplished pretty much everything except moving the starters outside into the dirt. When we woke up yesterday morning, steady rain was falling and our drainage ditches were flowing near their maximum rate. It was too wet to do anything outside.
Of course, that doesn’t mean we don’t still need to tend to the horses and walk the dog. Manure management is barely discernible from mud management. Walking reached the difficulty where an attempt to pick up one foot might leave behind your boot if you do it wrong.
You can’t try to lift your foot straight up or the suction holds the boot. You need to roll your step, heel to toe.
Our land is as wet as ever which I didn’t anticipate would happen coming out of a winter with almost no snow. That’s not all bad when it comes to growing a garden. Plants are much happier growing in wet soil compared to parched dry dirt.
I read somewhere that the British documentary series, “Clarkson’s Farm” about Jeremy Clarkson and his farm in the Cotswolds was releasing a 3rd season this month. Last week, I discovered Cyndie and I had only watched the first season. To prep for watching the new release, we binge-watched all the episodes of the Season 2 on Prime.
Even though it is very different from the experiences Cyndie and I have had for the last 11 years in our move from suburban life to 20 acres in the country, there are enough parallels to make the events of the show feel very familiar to us.
Since we haven’t had a professional television production crew following along every moment, my narration by blog posts will have to suffice for our “reality show” presentation. In my estimation, the stories of Wintervale Ranch and Clarkson’s Diddly Squat Farm would likely appeal to a similar audience.
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Splish Splashing
After a lot of rain, a large puddle forms in the larger of our two paddocks. While I was turning one of the compost piles, I heard splashing and looked up to find Swings stomping away in the water. It looked like she was either trying to make the puddle deeper or she was splashing to wash off her legs.
This got Light’s attention, who then walked over and started stomping her hoof on the ground at the puddle’s edge. Since she never joined in the water splashing, her behavior gave the impression she was doing it in encouragement to Swings.
“Do it some more! Yeah! Go for it! Do it again!”
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When Swings decided she had had enough of the escapade, she turned and walked out of the puddle. Light seemed to completely understand the task was complete and moved away with Swings, as if they were tethered together.
As soon as I stopped recording and walked back to what I was doing, Mia went over to the puddle and immediately lay down in it. I barely got my phone out in time to capture her getting back onto her feet. Then she walked over near the others and they all acted as if nothing had just happened.
Mix grazed in the foreground without paying them any attention.
Horses are so much fun to have around.
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Rolling Again
The ground hadn’t dried out all that much but the grass was growing so thick and tall along the driveway, with more rain due to arrive soon, I decided to take a chance with the heavy zero-turn riding mower yesterday afternoon. The experience I gained driving the machine throughout last year’s mowing season appears to have carried over nicely. I successfully avoided getting stuck or making muddy skid marks despite needing to drive over slippery grassless spots and navigate the challenging slope along the road.
To warm up my skills, I started with the area behind the barn where it is drier, the grass is well-established, and closer to flat than most of the rest of our grass areas.
From there, I set off for the muddy slopes along the driveway. The thick, wet grass presented the perfect conditions for sticking to the mower deck and plugging things up. I was already prepared to deal with that situation because I made ramps last year that hook on the loader bucket of the diesel tractor. It was a sturdy surface that provided just the right height.
A clean mower deck makes for a happy mowing guy. The unfortunate thing about the task is that I get to see how abused the blades are. Okay, that is a good thing. I just don’t like seeing it.
At about the same time that darkness arrived at the end of the day, it began to rain hard enough and long enough that I felt really happy to have gotten out to mow when I did. Based on the seven-day forecast, it doesn’t look like it’s gonna get any drier around here anytime soon.
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Successful Test
We didn’t get the downpour I was expecting would show me the improvement achieved by my rerouted gutter downspout, but the daylong drizzle yesterday produced results.
A puddle was almost forming in the grass beyond the outlet of the last stretch of the downspout. That is water that would have been soaking into the dirt along the foundation from the ineffective (broken) plastic solution that had previously been in place for years.
It must have been more than a drizzle at some point in the last 36 hours because Cyndie reported over an inch of water in the rain gauge last night.
Knowing that this kind of rain was on its way, we jumped to accomplish as much as possible on Saturday afternoon during a dry spell. I pulled out the diesel tractor, rearranged equipment, and retrieved the wood chipper from the back of the garage.
Using knowledge gained from previous failures, I detached the loader bucket to reduce weight and picked a strategic route to reach the wood chip “station” by the labyrinth without a problem.
A few years ago, I got stuck and created a muddy disaster trying to drive that tractor along the fence line of the back pasture. Saturday, the tractor tires did nothing more than leave a reasonable impression on the soft earth.
There is so much I don’t know about using heavy equipment, but in the eleven years I’ve been playing the role of Wintervale’s property manager, I have figured out how to get along at a level that serves our needs. When the shear bolt broke during the session of chipping a big pile of oak branches, I wasn’t the least bit fazed.
We used that excuse to decide we had done enough chipping for the day and I simply wrenched in a new bolt when I got back to the garage. No big deal.
Before gaining these years of experience, I would have perceived a broken bolt as a sign I had done something wrong. I saw it as a failure. Something to be avoided. Now I keep stock of spare bolts and suffer no unnecessary concern when they are needed.
A successful day of using our equipment to accomplish tasks is a good test of the knowledge I’ve gained from the school of hard knocks.
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Spending Time
A zone of mental energy resonates when a jigsaw puzzler hits their stride and loses track of the world while reassembling an image, one piece at a time. I’m one of those who enjoy that mental resonation, yet I sometimes question the value of the outcome merely being a picture that will soon be disassembled and returned to a box and stored out of sight.
I recently discovered that I experience a similar mental energy reward by digging up weeds from the gravel portion of the driveway loop around the hay shed. In some ways, it provides a more powerful reward than jigsaw puzzling because the activity results are not then stored in a box on a shelf.
Every time I go past that weeded gravel and see how much better it looks, I enjoy a bonus reward from the previous effort. There is also a bonus brought on by time. The puzzle is never-ending because in no time at all, there will be new weeds available for pulling.
Actually, that image might make for a good challenge in a jigsaw puzzle.
On a rainy day when still in shock from an unanticipated dose of grief, losing myself in a repetitive routine task offers a welcome respite. It’s hard to tell if the body aches I experience at the end of the day come more from activity or sorrow.
When the heart hurts, a whole lot of the rest of us hurts, too.
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Guitar Pal
I first met him as my friend’s friend. The Honorable H. Peter Albrecht. Only knowing him for all too short a time did nothing to soften the horrible shock of learning Peter died yesterday after suffering a stroke. The primary connection I was privileged to have with Peter was playing guitar and singing songs at our friend, Gary Larson’s “music night” parties.
Peter was fun, funny, friendly, gracious, witty, a jokester, I’ve heard prankster, and did I mention fun? He also was a collector of guitars. Peter described keeping an old empty guitar case at his office so he could purchase a new (to him) instrument and bring it home without revealing he had added another guitar to his collection.
He didn’t exclusively play and collect guitars. Some nights after dinner at Gary’s, Peter would pull out a gorgeous mandolin or less often, a banjo. As thrilling as that was for me to see the greater extent of his musical passions, it left me struggling to follow along without being able to see what chord he was playing on songs I didn’t know.
We all tend to struggle with remembering lyrics at times. When Peter clicked into a song, I found myself mesmerized by the many verses he was able to deliver with ease. Suddenly, he would nod my way and invite me to improvise a lead up the fretboard, jarring me back to needing to connect my head with my fingers.
I cherish the stories from Gary and Peter’s years together working as judges that I was able to hear over so many dinners. It was not enough though. I was playing my guitar yesterday to polish up my underused skills in preparation for the latest occasion of Gary’s music party scheduled for tonight.
Receiving that shocking message from Gary yesterday afternoon introduced a finality that I’m wrestling to comprehend. How can Peter be gone? Why didn’t I play more songs with him when I had the chance?
It has instantly made every memory of playing together with Peter and Ned Wahl on those music nights a pure treasure for me.
I wrote a song for Gary to commemorate his many years of hosting these parties. Peter was such an influence on me he made it into the lyrics, good-naturedly poking fun at him for his bad jokes.
look what Gary has created
he’s done it again
gathered all of us together
to feast among friendsthen we revel with some music
and lush sing-alongs
well maybe not so lush
we can’t remember the songsChorus: hail, hail our friend Gary
it’s a wonderful thing
he gets all of us together
and inspires us to singwe pause to remember
all the times come before
then relish this fine moment
singing with friends we adoresome say it’s penance we’re paying
for being so well-fed
or a way to forget the worst jokes
Peter has saidbut the truth is that we’re happy
to sing when it comes time
it’s a precious thing to be here
mixing with folks so divine
Into the light, Peter. I will think of you every time I flip the latches open on my guitar case.
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Over Top
This is a test. For the next period of substantial rain, I will be testing a new downspout configuration from the gutter along our entry walkway. I have rerouted it overhead.
If it appears to work, I will continue with the next phase of creating an arbor to camouflage the aluminum a little bit. That work will probably commence after I tackle the masonry crack repairs and re-grade the landscaping along the foundation.
When I started contemplating a change in the way that downspout drains, almost everything I searched dealt with burying the drain beneath a walkway. The total lack of information about routing a downspout drain overhead had me assuming there was a functional reason that isn’t done.
However, like all online search exercises, you need to ask the right question to get the answer you seek. When my search refinements finally provided images of others doing what I was considering, I gained the confidence to take a crack at it.
I won’t take long to observe this new setup in action. Rain is in the forecast for the next five days.
Sure wish I’d gotten more mowing done before this next wet spell. There are areas where the grass really needs trimming but the ground hasn’t been dry enough to support the weight of the lawn tractor. I’ve been chipping away as time allowed, using the hand mower in certain areas but it will go much quicker when I can use the rider.
When the rain finally stops, it takes about three days here for the wet zones to drain enough to make mowing feasible. Meanwhile, during those three days, the blades continue to get taller by the minute.
It would be great if someone would design a flying drone that cuts grass in wet areas. Just need to figure out how to keep the propeller down draft from flattening the grass you are trying to cut. Oh, the drone could fly high enough that it wouldn’t affect the grass and the cutting sickle bar could hang on a long suspension line.
Look at that. We are almost done inventing it. Just a couple of minor details left to work out. What color should it be?
Okay, that’s a little over the top. Well, so is my gutter downspout. Do you think it will be a viable solution to get the water away from the house without obstructing the walkway? I’m favoring function over form here. It might look a little hokey at this point, but it is better than the (broken) plastic setup that it’s replacing.
Bring on the rain. This is only a test.
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Relative Something 