Still Resonating
Our weather yesterday was about as nice as could possibly be. Whenever the humidity drops in the summer, we are rewarded with fantastic days for getting things done. I jumped on the riding mower and cut grass. That exercise leaves plenty of room for my mind to wander.
Without attempting to direct my thoughts to any particular topic, the people and events of the wedding weekend in Chicago kept spinning around in my head. I am well familiar with the way good vibes linger after a hearty dose of happy people cultivating new connections and sharing time and stories.
There is only a slim chance I will cross paths with most of them again, but having been introduced to Haley’s relatives helps me to feel more familiar with who she is. I already know Alec’s side well, now coming up toward Cyndie’s and my 44th wedding anniversary.
One positive I can take from the annoying flight delay that had us stuck in the airport in Chicago for extra hours is that Cyndie’s brother, Ben, and his boys were on the same flight. It triggered more conversation than usual with the nephews. It’s not often that I, in my mid-60s, engage in more than a brief exchange with someone in their teens and twenties.
When I was stuck with all the people in Chicago for the previous three days, I longed to be home in the solitude of our fields and forest. Now that I’m here, my mind travels back to the good times we had with them. I think that is the power of love vibrating still.
Rolling along on the mower, I found myself returning again and again to the scenes and the sounds my brain was still processing. Our arrival at the wedding venue and claiming our seats as the string quartet performed off to the side. Taking in the view of Lake Michigan sprawled out to the horizon beyond the platform where the vows would be exchanged.
Feeling tears of emotion on my cheek as I watched the groom’s reaction to his bride’s first appearance on her father’s arm. The loving touch as the bride wiped his tears with her hand when she arrived to stand with him. Flower petals blowing back in our faces as people showered the couple after they joyously stepped off the platform as newlyweds, pausing for a bent-over kiss for emphasis.
Mingling for a moment in the absolutely perfect weather with drinks and appetizers before being ushered toward the dinner tent. The incredible dance band kicked off their first set with an energy that pulled guests in, seamlessly moving them directly onto the dance floor.
Food would have to wait. One song after another without stopping until it seemed like dinner might as well be entirely skipped. Finally, the band allowed the energy to subside, and folks moved toward their assigned tables.
Precious speeches from the father of the bride, the maid of honor, and the best man. First-class service bringing top-quality salad and entrees with an orchestration so precise it felt like a Hollywood production.
All the while, the band was expertly serenading diners as they enjoyed their meals, and the bride and groom worked their way around each table to personally greet everyone who had come. After the traditional series of sentimental first dances, the band revved things back into high gear, and the high-octane dancing picked up where it left off before the food was served.
It was a celebration for the ages. A wedding that will linger long in the minds of all who were in attendance. A rather exceptional distraction for me while I steered my way around objects to mow our grass on a similarly spectacular sunny August day.
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I Survived
After a whirlwind of a special wedding weekend in Chicago, we made it home a little before 10:00 last night and were able to get a full night’s sleep in our own bed. Man, did I need that. Waking up Sunday morning after only four hours of sleep was woefully inadequate.
We endured an almost three-hour flight delay before being able to board our plane and depart from O’Hare airport. In the end, we and the Minnesota contingent of Cyndie’s family all made it home around the same time, despite half of them driving back in two different cars and half flying. Hardly seems fair.
Over the three days we were there, we attended three gala events, two of which I needed to tough out in formal attire.
Somehow, I managed to survive unscathed. It’s a good thing Cyndie was willing to dress me up for the occasion. I didn’t follow through with a threat to wear my manure composting boots with the suit to the wedding Saturday night.
All my complaining was overblown. We had a great time at all the fabulous events, despite the sad fact that Julian wasn’t able to be there with us. If I could just get over my miserly objections to the money that gets spent on dressing so fine, I could even be talked into doing it again sometime. Hopefully, sometime far in the future, though.
I’m not a guy who has any inclination toward wearing a suit on a regular basis.
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Some Wedding
That was some wedding. A classic garden party. I had the honor of being an extra in a feature-film-caliber extravaganza of an event last night at a country club on the shore of Lake Michigan because I am married to Cyndie, sister to Steve, the father of Alec, who married Haley. I have no idea how the future accomplishments of Haley and Alec will unfold, but last night and this entire weekend, they made an impression that whatever they do in life will be exceptional.
I am unable to convey the entirety of the brilliance displayed in the heartfelt messages delivered by the principals who offered toasts to the newlywed couple throughout the evening, nor the graceful and genuine attention Haley and Alec offered to each person before the tent erupted into a celebratory dance of jubilation.
While all that was happening, I found myself equally fascinated by witnessing the elite execution of a top-tier wedding planner and the army of staff who attended to EVERY detail with the utmost precision and professionalism. I was not in Beldenville anymore.
Somehow, I got included, admittedly a bit begrudgingly, in a gathering where there was no hint that cost imposed any limitations on outcomes. I do not feel worthy.
Luckily, I do have a currency with boundless reserves to offer to all of the fascinating people I encountered this weekend. It is love, which fits rather seamlessly with a wedding.
There was a lot of love ricocheting between the two precious people and the multitude of family and friends they managed to bring together for a matrimonial fete that will not soon be forgotten.
It was so mythically flawless that I’m not entirely sure it wasn’t just a figment of our collective imagination.
May equally mythical blessings be bestowed upon this fabulous married couple forevermore.
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So Many
So many minutes.
So many cars.
So many hours.
So many people.
After driving around the parking ramp at the airport for much longer than we hoped, looking for an open spot that we could fit the car into, we got our bags checked and headed for the security line.
I don’t know if this is happening very often these days, but Elysa and I breezed through the “standard check” and had to wait for Cyndie, because she was bogged down in the overcrowded “precheck” line. The security theater is alive and well.
Unfortunately, our short flight from Minneapolis to Chicago involved a repeatedly extending mechanical delay after everyone had boarded the plane, making the trip take twice as long as it could have been. Since Cyndie opted to rent a car, we had an opportunity to wait many more minutes for that line of travelers to be processed.
It is obvious to me that I live a sheltered life, as the throngs of people I was marveling over would be considered quaint compared to even bigger population centers around the world. So many people.
Thankfully, the families and friends who have gathered to celebrate the nuptials of Alec and Haley have thus far proved to be some wonderful people, and the gushing of love for the couple from everyone is truly adorable.
We drove for many minutes from the airport to our hotel. After a quick change into dress clothes, we rode in a shuttle for many minutes to a country club for a welcome party/rehearsal dinner, where toasts were plentiful.
So many people to meet and family members to catch up with.
Today is the wedding and all that comes with that. There is a lotta love in the air.
It is truly beautiful.
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Travel Averse
For a guy who doesn’t like to travel, the next few weeks will be a test of my stamina. Or is it patience? We are flying to Chicago today for a wedding of Cyndie’s nephew over the weekend. Less than a week after we get back, I join two friends to drive to the far side of South Dakota to bike the Mickelson Trail over five days. When I return from that adventure, Cyndie and I travel with our friends, Barb and Mike, flying to Boston to explore Beantown activities with Barry and Carlos. That will include a jaunt to Maine to spend some time at their lake place.
I get tired just thinking about it all. I already miss my bed. But looking on the (sarcastic) bright side, I will get to deal with airport TSA at least four different times and hang out for hours with many other strangers who are traveling to or from the same places as me. I will get to sleep in hotel rooms! <blech!>
I will miss emerging from the trees while walking Asher in the morning to find an amazing number of mystical-looking spiderwebs that were woven overnight, hanging vertically in the tall grasses of the back pasture.
Yesterday, we expected to be able to meet a local woman who responded to Cyndie’s ad in the neighborhood app seeking volunteers. The meeting had already been postponed by one day because she was unexpectedly called upon to care for a grandchild.
The appointed hour came and went, and we heard nothing. Cyndie sent an inquiry but got no response. It felt like we were being ghosted.
To our relief, just before dinner, Cyndie received a response from the woman. Unfortunately, her day was disrupted by an early morning phone call with the distressing news of a friend’s death. We gladly agreed to try again to meet in September after we return from Boston.
Coincidentally, we had a second meeting planned for the afternoon horse feeding with a new person who volunteers with This Old Horse. She has been helping out at a barn in New Richmond, which is 30 miles north of us. Cyndie is hoping to get coverage for horse feedings over Labor Day weekend, when I will be on my bike trip in South Dakota.
We were one for two on the day.
The adventures of establishing coverage for animal care when we are away can be as involved as the travels on which we embark. That probably contributes to my general preference for remaining at home. I feel a bit like Eugene Levy, the Reluctant Traveler.
I am inclined to label myself travel-averse.
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Receiving Notices
For almost 13 years, we have taken our trash and recycling bins down to the end of our driveway on Thursday nights. It has been a good marker for the day of the week, especially since we are no longer employed and struggle to distinguish between weekdays and weekends.
Our trash hauler recently decided to switch the day of the week that they will service our street. It is now one day earlier. No big deal, right? Well, it shouldn’t be, in my mind. However, readjusting a habit that has been in practice for so many years is causing me to feel more confused than ever in sensing where we are in the days of the week.
The weekend keeps feeling one day closer than it actually is. Today is only Thursday, and our trash bin is down by the road, ready to be picked up.
I was busy all day yesterday, mowing grass and weed-whipping around the edges. Toward the latter half of the afternoon, my eyes were driving me nuts. I had to stop several times to remove my sunglasses to rub and wipe my eyes. When I got in the house at the end of the day, my phone had an alert from my weather app. It indicated that any eye irritation occurring during the day was likely due to a high pollen count.
Noted. I was impressed that the app specifically addressed the situation I was dealing with.
We received a notice yesterday that our iCloud storage is getting close to full for the plan we are on. Apple conveniently offers options to address the issue, including ways to delete files we may not need to keep.
It was very easy to eliminate duplicate images in our photo storage. I found it painfully difficult to delete videos. I needed to watch many of them to figure out what they are. After watching a few, I didn’t want to delete any of them.
I’m pretty sure we will end up buying more storage capacity. The declutterer in me scoffs over the thought of paying for a garage space to store excess stuff. Apparently, I don’t hold myself to the same standard when it comes to digital data.
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Shouldn’t Compare
We had a wonderful lunch opportunity yesterday. It was a first-time visit to the home of friends who live just a few miles north of our place. It’s not fair to compare our worlds, but it is hard not to, and it has given us a fresh perspective about everything that we have accomplished on our 20 acres.
It feels like they have achieved a dizzying amount more on their 40 acres, particularly in the realm of landscape plants and an incredible garden of vegetables and flowers. After lunch, we got a tour of their gorgeous log home –with an impressive finished basement that they did themselves– and then walked some of their property.
They hired a crew to burn one of their fields to replace it with a variety of healthy prairie plants. Many of the grasses and beneficial pollinator plants are as tall as me or taller. It is beautiful.
I am humbled by how many impressive improvements they have achieved on their land, even though they have lived there half as long as we have been at Wintervale.
I was particularly inspired to see the number of new plantings they’ve put in, including quite a few apple trees that are producing fruit for the first time this year. The produce in their garden, and the developing squash and pumpkins out beyond their modest stand of field corn, look bigger and better than anything I’ve seen in a grocery store.
When it came time for us to go, they loaded us up with pickles, green beans, carrots, purple cauliflower, basil, cucumbers, and two varieties of apples, plus an arrangement of flowers.
As soon as we got home, I went out and mowed some grass. Suddenly, that feels like much less of an accomplishment to me than it did the day before.
If it ever seems like we get a lot done around here in terms of upkeep, just know that it’s a drop in a bucket compared to what plenty of others around us out here in the country are doing.
The best takeaway for me from the revelations we saw yesterday is that I am not alone in tending to a little piece of this planet by nurturing nature. We are both helping desirable trees and plants succeed and controlling the spread of troublesome invasives.
It is great to have found such a close neighbor with a similar mindset. It will be good for me to keep in mind that it’s not a competition.
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Return Assessment
Our drive home yesterday took us through one downpour that lasted about two minutes, after which I needed to switch the wipers on and off to intermittent for the rest of the way home. The total in the rain gauge upon arrival at Wintervale read five inches.
Our grass was desperate for a cut, but it was soaking wet. Cyndie’s brother, Steve, met us at our house to pick up their mom and transport her the rest of the way to her place in Bloomington. We were thrilled to see that he brought along his new Havapoo puppy, Vern, for us to meet.
I’m sad we didn’t take any pictures of Asher timidly inspecting the little pup. He showed no concern over the appearance of a strange creature in his territory and acted as if he recognized that this young dog deserved special respect. Before they left, Steve let Vern explore a bit in the grass, and the little guy appropriately used the opportunity to poop.
Cyndie said Asher investigated that spot after Steve had picked up the droppings and left it alone to walk over to the other side of the driveway to pee. I think he already senses that Vern is family.
Before I headed to the barn, I stopped by the piles of composting manure to see how things looked after a weekend away and multiple downpours of rain. It was easy to turn over the most active pile and reshape the others to bring everything up to my overly-tended standard.
The paddocks and the horses weren’t as much of a muddy mess as we feared possible. Paddock Lake was full to overflowing. The friends we employ to stay at our home and care for our animals while we are away do a fantastic job of maintaining order regardless of the challenges the weather throws their way.
This week, we have a time scheduled to meet a new volunteer willing to feed the horses for us when needed. That would be a real boon if she chooses to accept the responsibility.
Mix appeared to be telling us about how well the shade sail stood up to all the wild weather that bombarded the place over the weekend.
I am so happy that we don’t need to panic and pull it down every time there is a threat of high winds. I think that having it nestled in a low spot between the barn and the hill of the hay field protects it from suffering the brunt of harsh conditions.
The only issue reported as a result of the heavy rain was a couple of dripping spots from the ceiling of our bathroom. It reminds me that we should be shopping for a roofing company to quote replacing our 15-year-old shingles.
They aren’t completely shot, but they’ve suffered a bit of abuse over the years. We think the leak over the bathroom might be related to the plumbing vent or exhaust fan coming through the shingles there. It only appears during exceptionally heavy downpours and has never amounted to much.
Overall, our assessment of things upon returning home was rewarding. We are very grateful to have superb house sitters who take such great care of our home and animals.
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Sunday List
Yesterday, we enjoyed a classic Sunday at the lake… forgive me for choosing to simply list the ways:
- wife on the deck powering her way through to the end of a book
- an inspiring song popping up on the random shuffle of my entire music library
- the success of a reply to a broadcast message seeking volunteers to occasionally feed horses
- hummingbirds returning to the freshly filled feeders
- the ping of an alert informing us of a flood watch issued for overnight at home
- acorns randomly bouncing on the deck from the branches of the oak tree overhead
- dew point in the 50sF and air temperature in the low to mid 70s
- a single loud and clear loon call in the middle of the afternoon
- meditative progress on sanding out tool marks from a sculpted wood shape
- using up all the food we brought from home without needing to shop or eat out
- allowing ourselves an exception to buy fresh corn cobs from a street vendor on the way up
- mentally winding down a weekend at the lake
- not leaving until Monday morning to avoid Sunday’s usual travelers returning to their homes
- sheets and towels washed in advance to facilitate an early morning departure
We head home this morning, where we will learn how wet it got after the series of deluges that rolled over the region while we were up north. Only one of those downpours made it to Hayward. The rest of the time, we enjoyed pleasant mid-August at-the-lake weather.
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Dream Driven
I haven’t got a clue. I’m feeling a little shaky about trusting my intuition after the dream I experienced last night. It was classic in how real it seemed compared to how obviously unreal it proved to be upon my waking. The way it mixed time and locations should have helped my sleeping mind to recognize it was a fabrication.
It has left me wondering if I will be savvy enough to sense when I am reading a message from a Russian bot or a genuine American citizen with a hairbrained opinion lacking any factual basis. If the President of the United States looks like he is buddying up with Putin, can anything healthy possibly result from it?
My dream had nothing to do with world politics. It involved someone with whom I am close. It involved death.
What is up with that? I’m not sure. I don’t want to delve into it.
Nothing to see here. Carry on.
I spent a little time shaping my latest wood piece yesterday while sitting on the shore of the lake, listening to the sound of the water lapping against the sand.
It is a cutting from the Y of two branches of the oak tree section that crashed to the ground in front of our eyes on an otherwise calm morning. We don’t know why it fell at that time. It was the kind of thing that could have happened in a dream.
As is often my style, I am leaving the bark on one side of my sculpture. I try to come up with words to explain the symbolism I assign to this, but I’m not entirely sure it isn’t just a way to get out of needing to finish all the surface area. Although, a smooth side and a rough side can be a pretty easy metaphor for a lot of things/people/situations.
Meanwhile, I hear the fearful leader has called out our military to control D.C. Talk about a disconnect between some people’s dreams and reality.
The delirium of this kind of thing happening in our country is a travesty. No wonder I find myself drawn to intense focus on precisely shaping a heart out of the solid wood of an old oak tree, bringing out the splendor of the beautiful woodgrain.
The symbol of a classic heart shape is a universal representation of love, and genuine love is the only thing that will get us out of any mess the world is in. When enough people of influence get around to fully embracing that, we might see that our best dreams can actually come true.
My dream last night has me wanting to soak up as much of my immediate reality as possible today. Maybe even hug the ones I love. Retune the vibrations of my intuition. Hold a heart-shaped piece of an oak tree and feel its strength and the love it symbolizes.
It’s our last full day at the lake this weekend. We drive home tomorrow morning.
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Relative Something 