Breakfast Buddy
It was only a short time ago that Cyndie was visited for a day by a wild roughed grouse while gardening. A couple of days ago, we had a wonderful sighting of a brightly colored oriole in a pine tree outside our window, which is a rare event in the more than seven years we have been here.
Now, we have an iridescent blue-black starling with a very yellow beak who, for the past two days, is showing up to have breakfast with our chickens.
Arriving this morning in a branch overhead, and then making its way down to partake of the grain in the pan on the ground, the chickens only mildly appeared to question the return of this unlikely visitor.
Maybe birds are picking up on these unprecedented extraordinary times of the pandemic and seeking to make an extra connection with others around them.
Wouldn’t surprise me a bit, except for the fact the birds probably aren’t aware the novel coronavirus COVID-19 is infecting humans around the world.
Maybe it has more to do with people slowing down enough to take notice. Who knows? It could be a little bit of both.
.
.
Simplest Solution
I don’t know how many times I am going to face this lesson before I comprehend it well enough to no longer be fooled. It’s batteries. Apparently, I know just enough to fall prey to a key misperception. My understanding of electronics is deeper than many others, having attended years of technical school and working in high tech firms with engineers for most of my career, but batteries seem to be a repeating weak point for me.
The problem preventing the diesel tractor from starting which I had come to suspect was related to a missing safety interlock signal turned out to be the most obvious and likely cause of a bad battery.
Sure, the “fully charged” light came on when I connected a charger to the battery. Sure, the instruments on the dash lit up deceivingly bright when I turned the key.
It was all a facade. There was no “oomph” behind that initial twelve volts that allowed my ‘too smart for its own good’ brain to wander off after several much less likely possible component failures.
With essential assistance from Cyndie, who rose to the occasion to provide tenacious problem-solving brainpower and impressive muscle, we extracted the heavy battery from the very difficult to access front end of the tractor.
I’m particularly pleased with our simultaneous insight to use blocks of wood tucked under the unwieldy battery after lifting it just inches at a time in order to get it up where we could finally muscle it clear of the multiple obstructions.
After reversing that process to drop in the new battery, starting the tractor was easy. The afternoon project of chipping branches turned the area beside Cyndie’s new gardens into a lumberjack camp of cut branches, sawed logs, and flying woodchips.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Turning logs into split firewood and branches into woodchips are two processes I find most rewarding for getting greater value out of the material left over after the initial project of needing to remove trees.
It isn’t necessarily a simple solution, but it is a wonderful achievement of making full use of our resources.
I can only hope that I will now find it easy to recognize future occasions of weak batteries being the simplest solution in my troubleshooting of equipment failing to start.
.
.
Starting Big
In the beginning, I was asked to build a terrace wall for Cyndie to have a produce garden. Seemed like a good idea to me. We talked about creating two levels in the space she wanted to use, but decided to focus on just the upper level to start. We have never grown our own food before, so I suggested we start small and learn what works in that location.
Just a suggestion.
The other day I saw no less than 21 different names listed in a text where Cyndie described what she has planted.
So, that one terrace I started building has been dwarfed by subsequent construction Cyndie undertook on her own. Fencing and netting, all hers, three different locations.
Plants are in the ground and awaiting some mulch. Woodchips are something I can contribute to her new project. The rest has spun up so quick it makes me dizzy just thinking about it.
When Cyndie bursts headlong into her projects, I tend to get out of the way. I am inclined toward sequential thinking and prone to plotting each step in advance before taking action. Cyndie operates more randomly and takes action simultaneously to figuring out a plan.
I guess we serve as a classic example of the attraction of opposites.
Here’s hoping she meets with an incredible success that exceeds imagination come harvest time.
I’ll be watching to see if my terrace does its job. The rest will be gravy.
.
.
Two Tidbits
Two morsels from yesterday evening make today’s report, both thanks to Cyndie who contributed the images.
The person renting our fields for cutting and baling hay showed up to fertilize the acres. I sure hope the weather gives him a fighting chance this summer to get some decent bales out of his efforts.
Last year, despite his humble attempts, there were never enough consecutive dry days to achieve much success. He ended up rolling wet hay after the first cut, and only baled a fraction of his second cut after the first frost.
When Cyndie made her way down to the coop at dusk, she found evidence of an intruding prowler.
That plastic container was inside the coop earlier in the afternoon. Cyndie discovered it chewed through and outside on the ground. There were no eggs in the nest box, either, but it wasn’t clear if this just happened to be a day when the two active layers both took a break, or not.
Right now, the australorp is broody and not laying. She spent the day yesterday in the broody-breaker cage.
I’m guessing one of the local raccoons is doing some daytime foraging.
So, there you have two glimpses of our life on the edge of real farming. If I wasn’t so distracted by the day-job lately, maybe I’d devise some plot to persuade the masked bandits to leave us alone. Permanently.
Not that we don’t love wildlife and all. It’s just that we like our chickens and home-laid eggs more.
.
.
Sunlit Visibility
That low angle sunlight of early morning or late afternoon makes for some of the best photo opportunities. It can also be helpful when washing a window or dusting surfaces. Normally invisible detail becomes extraordinarily highlighted to a surprising degree.
Think about all the floating particulate in the air that suddenly becomes visible when the beam of sunlight cuts past you at an almost horizontal pitch. A second before that, breathing was unconscious and easy. After the sun lights up the parts-per-million of little particles, the brain wants to overrule that inhalation reflex.
It’s interesting how much debris we usually get away with inhaling that can be seen when illuminated, yet the much smaller coronavirus COVID-19 has become the microscopic threat that forces us to wear masks.
About dusting, a friend offered up this quip:
“I dusted once. It came right back. Won’t fool me again.”
I can be embarrassingly fastidious about wiping the 1-inch exposed flat surface perimeters in front of me that gather dust, using one bare finger that subsequently gets brushed off on my pants. Beyond that level, I possess great abilities to feign blissful ignorance for long spans of time.
From my reclined vantage point during one of the sunny mornings the previous weekend, I looked up to discover the bright sunshine hitting the stones around our fireplace was revealing a noteworthy cobweb construction effort.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
My first reaction was to think how great it is that beyond those fleeting minutes of direct sunlight, it doesn’t look like there is anything but untarnished stone on that wall. Unfortunately, the second thought was that, if there are that many cobwebs on that little fraction that was lit up, how many of the other rocks must be similarly covered.
Then I noticed one of the crossbeam logs supporting the vaulted ceiling.
Visible in the solar high-beam was a strand for the makings of a giant spider web crossing the significant expanse of open air.
I think we should just cover all the furnishings below with white sheets and embrace the look of a vacant dwelling.
Either that or make sure we never entertain company on sunny days.
We dusted once. It came right back.
.
.
Wet Now
Over three inches in about 24 hours has definitely done the trick. It’s not dry out there at all anymore. As Cyndie put it, “There are rivers running everywhere that rivers can run on our land.”
The footbridge is doing its job nicely. The river runs under it.
Cyndie’s perennial garden, down slope of the neighboring farm field, has a river running through it.
We have grown accustomed to this routine, so it causes less anxiety than it used to. This amount of rain is pretty reasonable, actually, compared to some of the deluges we have previously faced.
The trees, shrubs, and grasses have in a matter of two days become the dominating color of the landscape and it is all about being green.
For the next day or two, green and very wet.
.
.
Changed Plans
How many times lately have we heard that plans have changed? More than a few, I dare say. It reaches a point where I’m finding myself less inclined to make any future plans of substance. My 6-month dental checkup and cleaning appointment due in March was rescheduled when the shutdowns started occurring.
I LOVE the feeling after having my teeth professional cleared of plaque and asked for the next earliest appointment. They gave me Tuesday, May 19. Last Thursday, the scheduler called me to cancel that appointment and said they can’t even guess when the next possible chance will be.
Yesterday, I had planned to connect the chipper to the diesel tractor PTO to convert those tree branches to woodchips before the coming rain arrived. The weather allowed the whole day as the precipitation didn’t begin until dusk. The tractor did not cooperate. It was rather depressing.
I am not a tractor mechanic, but I am willing to naively explore possible solutions to problems. My best guess is that one of the multiple safety interlocks is keeping the starter from working. It’s actually happened before. The very first time I tried to start the tractor, I couldn’t get it to work. The seller had just changed the battery and assured me he would pay to have a service person look at it.
That technician arrived and immediately put the tractor on his flatbed truck, but decided to try one last time before hauling to the shop. It fired right up. I asked what he did differently than me and he said he didn’t know. We assumed it was making sure the gears and PTO were properly in the off/neutral position.
Last year, this happened to me again, but I persevered and after multiple tries, it fired up. Problem was forgotten.
Until yesterday. I tried the same thing over and over again so many times I surpassed the “insanity” definition ten times over. I finally broke down and called my next-door neighbor for advice. He knows tractors as a guy who collects them, refurbishes them, and buys and sells them. He even owns the exact same New Holland model as mine, among his many International Harvester collection.
Diagnosing remotely, he worried about the battery, since I admitted I hadn’t ever cleaned the connections. Well, his concern was well placed, as the neglect was evident and cleaning was warranted. But it wasn’t the problem.
I tracked wires and disconnected and reconnected junctions. While rummaging around beneath the belly of the beast, I found how much corrosion resulted from the mess after the valve stem broke on the liquid-filled tire last year. I spent hours tinkering cluelessly, interspersed with the repeated insanity of positioning and repositioning the PTO lever that I think is the problem. Nothing changed.
Eventually, I gave in to a change of plan and moved on to something else to salvage some glimmer of accomplishment for the day. I removed 24 blocks from six pallets that got added as eight rows to our boardwalk in the woods on our main perimeter trail.
That will be valuable since we’ve already received 1.5″ of rain overnight and it’s still falling.
I plan to call a professional to service the tractor.
.
.
Rain Ready
It feels rather unusual to be saying we are ready for rain to fall after so many spring months through the years where we have battled managing too much rain. It could be because I finally built that footbridge over the drainage ravine that we have a dry spring. All our drainage swales are bone dry.
The exercise of mowing the grass yesterday was an exceptionally dusty one.
Our forecast paints a picture of soaking rain due to arrive later today and lasting through tomorrow. We could get up to two inches according to the weather folks. This morning will be a rush of completing as many outdoor chores as possible before confining ourselves indoors where Cyndie has plans to sew more masks. The face coverings have become a necessary accessory for being out and about in public spaces.
The inverted stump planter has a combination of geranium, lantana bandana, vinca vine, and potato vine installed and ready for watering. She transplanted some catmint from the labyrinth to surround the stump. They can spread out in the new location, where they were expanding problematically into the pathway in the labyrinth.
After felling all those trees under the two big oaks, one of which is in the background of the image above, we have two big stacks of wood to be converted to chips that Cyndie intends to use around all her new plantings. I may try to begin that process before lunch today, but from the looks of the sky already, I may run into a rain delay.
That won’t bother me at all.
.
.
