Archive for the ‘Chronicle’ Category
Great Outdoors
It’s a beautiful day. I am going to go for a bike ride with friends.
It won’t be forest bathing, but it can be just as beneficial. I am going to breathe in the great outdoors while rolling along in conversation with precious people.
If you are in Stillwater, MN, wave at us as we pedal past on the Gateway State Trail. I’ll be the one with a huge grin on my face.
.
.
Watching Leaves
Friday morning, Asher got a little ahead of us into the woods on our walk. My eye caught sight of something dark with a huge wingspan moving through the trees, most likely in response to the dog’s presence. It was dramatically large, but I couldn’t see anything identifying beyond a total blackness.
Our first impressions were of an eagle or owl, based on the spread of those wings. When it paused briefly on a mid-height branch, it didn’t bring its wings in, giving the impression of possible injury and continuing to strike awe for how big it was to be flying among all our trees. Then it quickly flew away and up into other trees until I couldn’t find it anymore.
We arrived at the barn as the sun was beginning to be visible through the tree branches on our eastern horizon. The temperature had dropped well below freezing overnight, and the frost was significant over the grass. There wasn’t a hint of any air moving.
While I was taking care of groundskeeping in the paddocks, it suddenly sounded like raindrops were falling. I looked up to discover the warm sunshine was bathing the trees, and the sound was coming from scores of leaves letting go and falling, knocking others loose on the way down.
It was mesmerizing. I stared for the longest time without moving as the show played out. The number of leaves breaking loose from branches all at the same time, without the slightest breeze wiggling them free, was mind-blowing.
They just kept breaking away and dropping straight down, making the most interesting chorus of light tapping.
I assume the striking scene was a result of the difference between being frozen overnight and then suddenly warming up in the direct sunlight. As the minutes passed, the spectacle of the falling leaves faded, presumably as the temperature variation in the trees equalized over time.
Asher and I spent much of the day simply watching the beauty of the landscapes around us.
Cyndie took a picture of us sitting on the spot we’ve turned into a lookout at the top of the first rise of the driveway from the road.
I’d been watching the horses make their way lazily from the large paddock out to graze in the hay field.
There was a thin crust of ice on Paddock Lake before the sun appeared high enough to melt it. We have plenty of grass that could be mowed once more, but by the time it gets dry, my motivation is nowhere to be found. Instead, I watched from our perch on the hill as our neighbor mowed his.
If I never get around to it before winter arrives, it won’t be a catastrophe. Somebody seems to be loosening his standards around here. Maybe it’s a result of my recent thinking about what this place would look like if we did nothing to care for it.
Fooling around could have me eventually finding out.
.
.
Horse Happenings
For the record, my legs are feeling stiff from Wednesday’s up and down, crouching, kneeling, walking, and bending effort to clear the weeds. Just in time for a planned bicycling outing this Sunday. How soon do I get to say I’m too old for this?
I took a picture of Mix receiving a syringe of medicine in the side of her mouth from Cyndie. Mix makes ridiculous faces after Cyndie squirts the dose into her mouth, vividly demonstrating her disgust at the insult. Cyndie has taken to adding an equal amount of applesauce in hopes of masking the flavor that bothers Mix.
The reaction was less extreme with the flavor enhancer.
Maddy, from This Old Horse, was over yesterday, and she thought Mix looked like she was moving with less pain, so the icky medicine is probably helping to some degree.
The reason Maddy was here was for an appointment with a new (to us) farrier. He seemed like a young guy to me, especially considering his name was Ralph, which aligns more with my dad’s generation. Ralph came across as a man of few words, but he let his work do most of the talking. He was efficient and handled the horses’ occasional resistance with gentle patience. That is a welcome change from the previous person who was doing the job.
We were graced with a day of much-improved weather yesterday. All it takes is a clear blue sky and wind speeds of zero for the sunshine to soften the blow after a night cold enough to produce a block of ice in our rain gauge.
The low sun brought a golden glow to the dry corn stalks in the fields and cast a long shadow in the late afternoon hour.
We removed the rain sheets from the horses for a few days because of the nicer weather. As much as possible, we want to encourage the growth of the horses’ natural winter coats, and providing the artificial warmth of blankets can send their bodies the wrong signal, reducing the need for more insulation.
I don’t know if science supports that idea, but it satisfies our intuitive perceptions, so we go with it. If the horses shiver, they get blankets. In the meantime, they gotta grow more hair.
That’s some horse happenings as we reach the last week of October, 2025.
.
.
Hemp Dogbane
We did not know the name of the hemp dogbane weed three days ago, but I was well aware of a strong-stemmed tree-like weed along one of our fence lines. It grows taller than the surrounding grass and is a nuisance when trying to weed whip under the fence.
It caught my attention recently because it stands out dramatically when the leaves turn yellow, and it appeared to be spreading farther than ever before.
I asked Cyndie to look it up on her plant identification app. When she read me the results for hemp dogbane, I realized we needed to take action before it spreads any further. It is an aggressive perennial that is tough to control, and it is toxic to animals in both fresh and dry forms. We absolutely do not want this in our hay field.
Nasty herbicides are one possible means of beating the weed back, but that method doesn’t sound as effective as it would need to be to justify using chemicals that are harmful to humans and animals. Thankfully, frequent mowing is another way to constrain its growth. That is something I know how to do.
Since it is so easy to spot right now, I set out to remove what I could see by pulling it up by hand.
Just a little back-breaking, sweat-making labor for a few hours in the middle of the day. Most of the stalks broke off at the ground, leaving the rhizome behind, but there were a few where the root came up satisfyingly, too. It was obvious that previous field mowing had chopped the stalks and triggered multiple new shoots to emerge from the existing root. Those instances were actually easier to pull the whole root than the other individual new shoots.
We will now be much more focused about frequently mowing new growth in that area in the spring and throughout the summer.
Just the other day, I wondered aloud to Cyndie around the anniversary of our arrival here, as to what this property would be like if we hadn’t done anything to manage it for the last thirteen years. There would be a lot of big trees on the ground, that’s for sure. There’d be no labyrinth garden. And hemp dogbane weeds would have a lot stronger presence in the fields.
I feel like I earned my keep yesterday after that tenacious effort to single-handedly clear out every last dogbane sprout I could find on both sides of the fence. I’m cautiously optimistic that I will be able to stand up straight and walk normally today.
I’m not so optimistic that my muscles won’t demonstrate their objection in the form of stiffness, however.
.
.
That’s October
Now, this is more like it. Although that doesn’t mean we are necessarily enjoying it. Remember how much griping I was doing about the hot weather extending well into September and October this year? There has been a change.
That is what October is expected to look like. It is chilly, rainy, blustery, and miserably dreary-looking outside. That leads to cold and wet animals, as well as the people who need to be outdoors caring for them. Just the way it should be in the tenth month of the year up here in the Northland.
We have successfully completed our most essential winterization steps while it was still comfortable outside, making days like yesterday much easier to endure. The pump was removed from our landscape pond on Monday, and the water line down to the labyrinth was drained and blown out with my air compressor.
The horses all have on rain shells to give them a thin bit of added protection from the battering wind-blown rain showers. There is little that we find sadder than a sopping wet, shivering horse. The rain shells do prevent that result, at the very least.
This blast of real October weather has allowed me to become more sloth-like than usual, and I am taking full advantage of it by doing little to nothing that could be construed as useful or productive unless one considers napping in a recliner as being useful.
At this age, I find that doing nothing produces less guilt than it did when being responsible for raising children or working for someone who was paying for my time. I’m sure that Cyndie would rather I stay as busy as she is every day, but since she sets such a high bar of comparison, I long ago proved my methods fall far short of the examples she sets.
If there are two ways to do anything in this world, Cyndie and I will always choose opposite methods. It makes it all the more special when we succeed at things as a couple. We rely on the magic (flexible) thread of love to keep us together after banging heads trying to execute any version of a metaphoric two-person lift.
The end goal always tends to be the same for both of us, so that helps.
Thirteen years after moving here, our end goal has blurred a bit. Wintervale never became an income generator that could help us cover expenses like we originally envisioned. October has a way of feeling like our beginning, but it also always ushers in the end of so many things growing outdoors.
It’s hard to think about ourselves and the big picture of another year at Wintervale when videos keep surfacing of masked thugs uncontestedly kidnapping people in broad daylight in US cities, while portions of the White House are being demolished by heavy machinery. Rather symbolic of a very scary future for our country.
I wonder how business is going at the inflatable frog costume factory these days. If Cyndie and I were going out for Halloween, we’d probably dress as a masked thug with a military vest handcuffed to an inflatable frog.
.
.
Horse Butts
The two photos I have for today are the reason for the title of this post, but the vet visit was about much more than just Mix’s butt. It’s just that I happened to snap the image while Tom was taking Mix’s rectal temperature.
Tom, from This Old Horse, has worked with Dr. Magnusson for many years, and their cooperative attention to Mix was an interesting thing to witness. There was a lot of pressure point analysis to detect where Mix was most sensitive. Dr. Magnusson also drew blood samples to be analyzed.
Mix clearly revealed she was experiencing pain in reaction to certain probing, and showed she wasn’t bothered by others. However, they weren’t able to make a definitive diagnosis of the root cause of her discomfort. After seeing the results of the bloodwork, the vet hopes to be able to rule out some possibilities.
You know how doctors can be about naming symptom causes that haven’t been confirmed, but he did whisper a couple of things that could be happening. Could be an ulcer. May be a chance of Lyme Disease. Might simply be arthritis from old age.
We have a new regimen of pain relief meds to give Mix for now.
Luckily, she is not being incapacitated by pain. When we finally released her from being fenced in, she took off running to get back with the other three horses who had wandered out to graze in the hay field.
After being gone for a few days, there was a lot of manure to clean up in the paddocks, so I rolled the wheelbarrow out to tidy things up. Mia likes it when I bring the wheelbarrow out, where she can back up into it for some reason.
I tried asking nicely for her not to knock over the wheelbarrow, but she didn’t listen, so I reached out with the manure scoop to push her in the butt.
I found out Mia likes it when I push on her butt, so I turned it over and gave her a combing massage with the tines. I half expected her to startle when I poked her with it, but Cyndie was watching and reported blissful expressions from Mia.
It made me think of the Svjetiq multi-tined head massager and how good it felt the first time someone demonstrated it on me. I raked Mia’s butt long enough that I got tired of it before she did. I eventually talked Cyndie into using the rake I had with me to keep Mia happy while I moved the wheelbarrow away so I could get on with my paddock cleaning duties.
Thus ends this episode of “These Old Horse Butts.”
.
.
Early Return
Graced with a deceivingly pleasant October day of moderate warmth and plenty of sunshine, Cyndie, Asher, and I enjoyed a leisurely Sunday free of any responsibilities. I wasted some of it watching NFL football on TV, but when the game wasn’t going my way, I distracted myself with a jigsaw puzzle.
Cyndie rewarded me with photos from her first walk of the morning with Asher and their last walk of the evening.
When I took him exploring in the middle of the afternoon, I found the sunlight and the lake surface were far less captivating. During the weekend, we reached a point of successfully allowing Asher to romp off-leash, with the e-collar for prompts if needed. At the lake, since he hasn’t spent a lot of time here, we are cautious about how much freedom we are comfortable granting him.
Since the presence of other unleashed dogs is always a possibility that we don’t control, it’s a different gamble to have him running loose.
After dinner, while we were binge-watching the first few episodes of Season 3 of “The Diplomat,” Cyndie received a message that one of the owners of This Old Horse would be coming out this morning with a veterinarian to look at Mix. The cause of Mix’s occasional slight gimpiness in her hind end has yet to be confirmed. We both want to be there for the visit, so we initiated preparations for an early departure from the lake place before going to bed last night. The sooner we can get on the road this morning, the better chance we have of getting home in time for that.
It was a fun, uneventful getaway for a few days that gave us a chance to employ the two newest UWRF students who responded to our help-wanted post for feeding horses when we are away. Now it’s time to return to attend to all the activities on our weekly calendar of events.
Somehow, I have let the date of the anniversary of our move to Wintervale pass without fanfare. October 18, 2012, was supposed to be the day, but signing the paperwork was delayed by a few. We can now say we are entering our 14th year here.
It’s been a pretty good run. A lot has happened in the last 13 years, and it’s all been captured here in my ongoing memoir of a daily blog: the fun, the sad, and the embarrassing.
Here’s hoping the coming year will be filled with more fun than sadness. And lots of love, too!
.
.
Starting Small
By the end of the day yesterday, we were seeing reports of the massive gatherings that happened in cities across the country, and contemplated what it would have been like to be in a gathering that large. At the same time, we highly value the chance to contribute our energies to smaller communities of rural citizens.
We are only up at our lake place in Hayward, WI, for the weekend, and didn’t have a lot of information about the local plans for No Kings Day. The pin on the location map put it at what I thought was an odd intersection of highways 27 and 63.
When we arrived at a spot to park our car, there was no hint of any atypical activity anywhere. Undaunted, Cyndie was ready to forge ahead no matter what. Then a car pulled up with two women who asked if we were there for the protest. That made four of us, and we walked to the corner and stood tall with signs, quickly receiving supportive honks from passersby.
In minutes, five others walked up, and shortly after that, the group doubled in size again. Checking with each other, we found that everyone was visiting from Minnesota, which brought a laugh. Soon, we learned that Hwy 27 travels along Hwy 63 for a few blocks and then turns to the east. The locals were all at that intersection, roughly three blocks to the south of us.
An intersection that made a lot more sense.
The hosts of this gathering were reporting headcounts of 500 early on and then 1200 not long after, in a city with a population of around 2600. I appreciated the chance to visit with someone who has been living just outside town for years after retiring and moving from a suburb of Chicago. The number of participants in the protest was very impressive to them.
The gathering was on all four corners of the intersection and stretched a long way down each of the blocks, generating an exciting amount of honking from like-minded supporters. Only occasionally did we receive scowls and middle finger gestures.
Glancing behind me at one spot, I noticed a guy sitting on a cement planter and wearing a red MAGA cap, silently holding a small sign that said, “God – Guns – & – Trump.” Eventually, he stood up but remained silent, and the people all around behaved as if they had no clue he was there.
I tried to surreptitiously snap a photo of his sign, though it meant the man remained out of sight behind the folks in the foreground.
It wasn’t a massive group we stood with in the small town, but there was no less energetic fervor shared in objection to all the offensive actions being enacted by the current administration.
It was pretty special to see the quiet little vacation community so vibrantly engaged in participating in the lawful, peaceful protest. Gosh darn, I wish all those people who didn’t vote in the last Presidential election had exercised that right when they had the chance.
.
.
Protest Day
Just show up. If you do nothing else today, especially if you are one of the millions of Americans who neglected to vote in the last Presidential election and have noticed the current administration is operating more unlawfully than any previous one in the history of our country, join with your neighbors to voice your displeasure.
I OBJECT!
I object to EVERYTHING the Republican politicians and every last one of those who support them are allowing to happen to our country. Cyndie and I will be attending a gathering in Hayward, Wisconsin, today to stand up and be counted among the citizens who are upset about the simultaneous violation of people’s rights and the unabashed profiteering via all manner of grifts and bribery. The constant barrage of “Look what my right hand is doing while I use my left hand to enrich myself at all of your expenses” is heartbreaking and crazy-making.
Here we are in our favorite getaway spot, where it is about as peaceful as possible, living a life of luxury while our fellow citizens in states across the country are under constant threat of being kidnapped in broad daylight by masked thugs masquerading as legitimately trained, law-abiding officers. Hah! As if.
It is unknown how many of the local rural residents of this community will take offense at a democratic demonstration against the racist, homophobic, and transphobic biases that the current despicable President is flaunting, but we are hoping for minimal conflict at the Hayward gathering.
We don’t prefer to leave the precious sanctity of the lakeshore to stand along a highway on a beautiful fall day, but it will only be for a couple of hours at noon, and it’s for an unprecedented cause. Today’s protests are an attempt to turn the tide and light a fire under anyone and everyone who occupies positions of power to hold this administration accountable.
We will need to leave Asher on his own at the log house overlooking the lake, where he can bark at anything that catches his attention while we are away. It will give us an extra incentive not to hang around too long at the protest, even if we find it a treasure to mingle with people who openly agree with our disapproval over what is happening to our country.
Getting back to our paradise on the lake will be a soothing chance to unwind from the intense focus on the awful things we are objecting to and reinvigorate our goal to send LOVE out into the world as a healing balm.
I hope many of you will join in making your voices heard and your wishes known on this national day of protest!
.
.
Work Dreams
After you retire, if you want to know how to start dreaming about bizarre work challenges again, just drive the commute to your old day job to walk through the workplace and visit all your former coworkers again. I did just that last Tuesday and was rewarded doubly.
I enjoyed the pleasure of seeing their precious faces again, while they applied their trade skills in a spiffed-up facility under new ownership and management. As a bonus, I was rewarded with a mostly unrealistic dream a night later, involving imagined situations I was supposed to play a role in, while having no idea how to proceed.
It was a treat to see them all looking as good as always, and have everyone still remember who I was. Of course, it helped that I brought a batch of Cyndie’s home-baked scones, fresh out of the oven, to distract them from any lingering memories of why they hoped to never have to listen to my lame attempts at humor ever again.
– Lynne, I’m sorry it took barely a few minutes before I came up with some snarky remark to poke fun at you. –
In the years since I retired, I haven’t noticed missing the work, but I frequently miss being with these people. We spend more time interacting with coworkers most weeks of a career than we do with our families. The folks I was lucky to be with for many years were a very special work family for me.
If only I could convince the staff that they should hold their next company picnic at Wintervale Ranch. I’m sure I could talk Cyndie into baking some desserts for the occasion. I would even promise not to make the manure composting area one of the main features I’d show off.
After a day up at the Wilkus’ cabin in the middle of the week, Cyndie and I have taken advantage of an opportunity to get away to her family’s lake place for the weekend. We brought Asher along, too, so we only needed to find coverage for twice-a-day horse feeding for the few days.
Since we prefer to wake up at the lake whenever possible, we drove up last night under the cover of darkness. I think it might have helped me avoid any more dreams about the old workplace.
When can I expect to start having dreams about weird situations of being retired?
.
.
Relative Something 