People Connecting
Our social calendar is humming lately at an uncharacteristic pace. On Friday, we went out to dinner with Cyndie’s brother, Ben, and his wife, Sara, and then they took us to see The Garcia Project at the Granada Theater in Uptown.
Commemorating the 30th anniversary of Jerry Garcia’s passing and marking their 15th anniversary as a band, The Garcia Project is featuring full classic Jerry Garcia Band setlist recreations from 1976-1995 on this tour.
It was definitely a trip back in time. Staying out late to enjoy entertainment at the expense of a full night’s sleep is also something that reminds me of my younger days.
There was no opportunity to sleep in on Saturday morning because I was heading out to meet up with my biking friends in Oakdale, MN, to ride the Gateway and Brown’s Creek Trails to Stillwater.
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It was a good chance to log time on the saddle and catch up with friends who share a history of riding the annual June Tour of Minnesota together. I felt pretty good with the 28-mile effort, but my butt is telling me I need to get more time on the bike to toughen up before the week in the middle of June. Luckily, I have a four-day ride on state trails planned in the Sparta and La Crosse area of Wisconsin with Rich Gordon to solve the time-on-saddle issue.
When I got home from biking, I had time to shower before our friends, George and Anneliese arrived with their trailer and three dogs for a three-day stay.
We kicked off their visit with the first of our ongoing CrossCribb competitions after dinner to pick up where we left off when they used to live with us for a time. The guys defended our honor against the women. A rematch is guaranteed.
I’m loving the interaction with friends, and giving up on my usual routine for a while, although the grass doesn’t stop growing while I’m off having fun. I may need to pull away for an hour or so to save the labyrinth from being swallowed by tall grass at some point today.
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Unexplained Death
I am loath to admit what is daily becoming more apparent. The maple tree that I have been gushing about for the last seven years, transplanted from our woods as a sapling in the fall of 2016, is not showing any sign of life this spring.
We keep hoping beyond hope that the stunted little buds on the branches are just delayed, but the little branch I snapped off a few days ago didn’t offer much hope, with little in the way of green life showing.
My inner pessimist has me thinking my cocky decision to begin annually measuring the circumference of the trunk to track its growth brought on this outcome. What I don’t understand, among the many things I don’t understand, is how and why this is occurring so suddenly. I have watched a lot of trees die in my lifetime, and they usually show plenty of signs they are on the way out.
This is how that maple tree looked ten months ago:
The dang willow tree in the small paddock that I cut almost to a stump and has no reason to have any real future health has sprouted a surprising amount of new branches. If this maple is failing, couldn’t it at the very least pop out a few little attempts to get some nourishment from the sun?
In the spring of 2017, we draped a sheet over the delicate new transplant to protect it from freezing temperatures.
I am so very sad and disappointed. More importantly, I am at a loss as to what happened and what we might have been able to do differently to prevent this sudden failure. When we can muster the mental fortitude to take invasive steps to inspect the roots, we would hope to learn if there is rot. Did it get too much water? Did the lack of snow and hard, hard freezes last winter have this impact?
There are no signs of insect activity or any other visible fungus. All I have is the perception of full leaves last summer, a normal fall change of color and dropping of leaves, and tiny buds that stunted and stopped this spring. It feels like going from all to none.
It sucks. I’m heartsick over it. At this point, I’m not sure I even want to bother trying a fifth time for a tree in the center of the labyrinth garden.
Maybe it’s just dormant and will make a second attempt at leafing out. I could try cutting off the limbs like I did the willow tree and see if that makes it sprout new growth.
Instead, I plan to do nothing. It is what it is. I plan to sink my oodles of tree love into all the other wonderful volunteers around our property that we didn’t need to transplant, but now are being nurtured by protectively clearing around them and frequently monitoring their well-being.
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Available Shade
It’s there when they want it.
At different times throughout the day yesterday, I spotted a horse taking advantage of the shade now available. It’s hard to describe how rewarding that is for me.
It was a relief to get their rain blankets off them first thing in the morning. They were rubbing up against everything around, and I noticed one of the metal latches on Light’s blanket catching on a hay net. Thankfully, it let loose before ripping the net apart. Seeing that, I got my explanation of how in the heck they had ripped down a board the night before.
On my last walk of the night with Asher, I spotted a hay net on the ground. I picked it up and carried it back to the overhang, where I found the board it had been attached to lying on the ground. At the time, I had no idea how or why they had pulled hard enough to yank the six screws that had been holding that board. If that net had snagged on the hardware of one of their blankets, I can easily imagine them using their weight to lurch free. That’s more than enough to pop the board loose.
It’s interesting to imagine the brief drama that must have occurred, and how startling it probably was to the horses, since they were all so serenely hanging out in the vicinity as if nothing was amiss when I showed up.
They were all standing around acting as if there wasn’t a board ripped off the wall for all the world to see. None of them moved a muscle as I picked up the long, heavy board and wove my way around them to take it away.
If I were to show up carrying our Wintervale banner flag, their panicked reaction would make you think it was the scariest thing they’d ever seen.
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Probably Done
Despite the relentless drizzle saturating everything not under a roof yesterday, our contractor, Justin, showed up to complete the framing on the shade sail and remove the ground supports.
It looks a little spider-like due to the funky way I persuaded him to attach the 45° braces above and below the header boards on the four corners. I’m satisfied with the unconventional look, but wish we’d have achieved more stiffness from those additions.
There are two more things we can do to bolster the header boards, but it will take an additional lumber purchase, so I am choosing to wait and take those steps if we discover a need.
As soon as we removed the temporary lower support boards, I took down the barrier to allow the horses full access to the small paddock. They were way more interested in the grass that had been untouched for a couple of weeks than the strange canopy overhead.
Since they’ve watched it go up and probably viewed it in my head the whole time I’ve been imagining it, I suppose it’s not all that new to them.
Horses can be so matter-of-fact sometimes. Weirdly, they can also simultaneously appear somewhat flighty, so figure that one out.
I did some calculating to get an estimate of how long a braid I will need to wrap the 6×6 posts for a span of about a meter to discourage the horses from chewing on the wood or catching their tails or manes in splinters as the wood dries. I’ve completed only a third of what it will take for one post using the cut pieces of poly bale twine we have accrued.
It’s time to up my braiding game. Should have done that a long time ago.
Cyndie made use of several of the hollowed chunks I cut from the fallen maple tree.
They are becoming flower planters. I like! See why I am so smitten with her? Not just things like that, but she lets me make crazy things like the shade sail frame, and then tells me she likes how it looks when it is done.
I’m a lucky guy.
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Weather Wallop
We got smacked to a degree I didn’t anticipate yesterday with a combination of multiple inches of rain in uncomfortably cold temperatures while strong wind gusts blasted us mercilessly. We still had the small paddock closed off, which constrained the horses to having access to only one side of the overhang for shelter.
Just to keep things from being simple to deal with, on Monday, Cyndie got a COVID vaccination booster that had her feeling poorly by yesterday morning. That left it to me to tend to the horses in conditions that were teetering on completely out of control.
The poor girls were shivering desperately and very anxious to get their servings of grain to take their minds off the misery. Serving them became a crazy ad-lib as I tried to maintain some order and control while moving their serving stations on the fly to try giving access out of the rain for each horse.
Thankfully, they were moderately cooperative as they were well aware of the predicament we were all in. After doing my best to give them the bare minimum comforts available in the moment, I took Asher back up to the house for his breakfast.
A short time later, our new person from This Old Horse, Maddy, showed up with doses of dewormer for the horses. She picked up where I left off in trying to find a way to give the horses some advantage against the weather. I joined her and we decided to try moving them inside to the individual stalls.
We got them in, but we couldn’t get Mix to settle down. The other three seemed to figure out they were out of the wind and rain, they had food and water, and no other horse was trying to invade their space. Sadly, I got the impression that Mix was triggered and having a major PTSD reaction to the confinement.
Subsequently, Mix’s prolonged stress, demonstrated in kicking the walls, biting boards, and general flailing about, began to UNsettle the others. We tried changing the horse next to Mix by swapping the positions of Swings and Mia, but it didn’t make enough difference in Mix’s tantruming.
Instead of drying out, Mix was lathering up in her own sweat. We ended up putting blankets on them and letting them back outside after I strung another temporary barrier that at least allowed them access to both sides of the overhang.
A little over a week after setting up fans to cool them in high heat, we now have the horses wearing blankets in the latter half of May.
A windy, rainy, 40°F weather wallop, indeed.
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Much Sawing
Put gas in the chainsaw three times. Hauled six trailer-loads of branches away. I wouldn’t call the project done, but we made a respectable dent in the big maple tree clean-up, and we have it to a point where everything can just sit for a while, allowing us to direct our attention to more pressing needs for a few days.
A lot of grass deserves to be mowed, but that won’t happen today. Rain will be the dominant theme for a while, so I may get back on my braiding of polypropylene bale twine for use as a wrapping on the new posts in the middle of the paddock.
Here are some more photos from yesterday’s effort:
Thankfully, another large effort with the scariest tool I use has ended safely. Somehow, I didn’t even get the chainsaw blade pinched the whole day. That may be a first. Got startled by unexpected shifting of heavy wood a couple of times, but I came through without bumps or bruises.
I am very happy putting the saw back on its shelf for a while.
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Play
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sing
sink
syncopate
obliviate
anticipate
expectorate
fall to the ground
flailing arms
innocuous charms
shrugging shoulders
cringe
create
crest
ingest
wrest
dressed
score
more
and more
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Aftermath Dealing
I didn’t plan on coping with the work that now lies before me. When a big tree comes down unexpectedly, it suddenly claims a large chunk of one’s time.
We started in on the effort to cut up the limbs of the big maple tree in a short block of available time on Friday.
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Cyndie stood and contemplated the prospect of somehow clearing away all the branches and lumber that lay before us. Asher pitched in to do his part by gnawing the ends of branches to show them who is boss around here.
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The broken limb visible in the picture on the left above is not the maple tree. That is an example of collateral damage to nearby reasonably-sized trees, unfortunate to have been directly in the path of destruction. The photo on the right includes a thin maple tree that has been folded over with a 180° bend.
The tangle of surrounding trees adds a significant level of drama to attempts to cut the mess into workable sizes with my chainsaw. It is difficult to detect where the stored energy of torqued limbs and trees is holding things in place or tangled in a way that will suddenly spring free with great force when cut.
I experienced both in the short initial session we worked. There’s a lot more work left to be done when we can get around to it.
Yesterday afternoon, we enjoyed the great pleasure of a visit from my niece, Tricia, and her kids, Brooke and Drew. They were in the area for Drew’s orientation at the University of Wisconsin-River Falls. It will be super to have family so close next year, especially since there is a great deal of fondness between Drew and Asher.
I think they will be good for each other.
We’ve been experimenting with using an e-collar on Asher to practice recall and allow him to move around without a leash, but stay on our property. In the last few days, Cyndie has only needed to drive up to retrieve Asher from the neighbor’s place one time.
We know that learning involves making mistakes in order to figure out the corrections, but who is fond of that part of the process? I am guilty of finding it easier to just grab a leash at this point, even though I really want him to learn to stay around without one.
It’s more work for me to stay constantly poised with a finger on the button, needing to quickly decide if he is fine to chase around in our woods or quickly needing redirection to maintain contact with me. When he bolts, it happens so quickly that I can’t tell if my commands are heard and the collar tone or vibration is even being activated.
Yesterday, he came back on his own after chasing a rabbit, so I didn’t fret.
I’m definitely not a fan of dealing with the aftermath when he fails to respond to my calls. It’s so much easier to lavish him with praise when he comes as called.
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Risking It
Why did we take the risk of leaving the canopy up in the high winds of the last two days? Multiple things contributed to that decision. Admittedly, the shade sail manufacturers all caution that their sails should be taken down in high wind or heavy snow conditions, so that seems like a logical and prudent thing to do.
One problem I have with that philosophy is determining what the measure of wind is that would trigger bringing down the sail. If I wanted to get precise about it, I could mount a wind speed gauge on one of the posts and have it trigger an alert at some safe level that would give me time to get down to the paddocks. One obvious shortfall is that I would need to be home to do something about it at the time.
I have been swayed away from being that obsessive about it by hearing from other people who have shade sails and paying attention to sails that exist in commercial settings. Our farrier told us she NEVER takes her shade sail down. In winter, she just knocks the accumulated snow off it to keep it from getting stretched out. Of course, if I choose to go that route, I would need to be home during snow events.
Yesterday’s high wind gusts seemed like a chance to watch for possible weaknesses in our post installation. I stood beneath the canopy as it was being buffeted up and down, and could hear where the braces creaked against the pressure. I’m very pleased to find that there was no indication of movement at the ground level of each post where the soil had been packed against the wood.
Having survived the gusts yesterday, I’m less worried about winds on an average day. One factor that’s harder to pin down is how much of a difference the stresses might be depending on which direction the wind is coming from. That spot is somewhat tucked away from direct exposure in every direction, so high wind at the house doesn’t necessarily translate to high wind below the barn.
After a few days of walking around the property and getting a variety of views of the structure we erected, I will be talking with Justin about making some minor adjustments to the geometry. He did all the calculating to determine our heights and take into account the slight slope that puts things at different levels. I want to discuss deviating from the calculated level a little bit to compensate for the visual appearance to the naked eye, with the ground as reference.
We are particularly thrilled with the lack of any negative reaction from the horses to this flapping new distraction in their midst.
It’s a risk, but we will never know what the limits truly are until we pass them. If a tornado strikes, we will lose a lot more than this canopy. Short of facing that level of calamity, I’m comfortable waiting to see how the whole setup withstands the usual variety of weather conditions we experience.
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Early Test
The shade sail had barely been up for 24 hours when a line of thunderstorms closed in and weather watches and warning alarms started pinging our phones. As the wild-looking radar scans reached our area, I stepped outside to see if the sky looked as spooky as the Doppler readings and warning boxes on our screens. Rain had started to fall, but I was outside during an early pause in the precipitation.
When I came back inside, it was announced that our county was under a tornado warning for the next half hour. Did we run to the basement? No. We were hardly getting any rain, and there was very little wind. The sky seemed to be getting lighter instead of the expected threatening darkness.
When the line of storms had moved beyond us and all the warnings had expired, we went out for a walk. The asphalt of our driveway beneath the trees wasn’t even wet. Not only did we dodge a severe storm, but we didn’t even get enough rain to water our plants. We thought it was going to be a big test for the new canopy in the paddock. A thunderstorm wasn’t the test.
Behind this line of storms, we got slammed with heavy, gusting winds. Serious gusts. Suddenly, I heard the distinctive sounds of wood cracking and raced to look out our back doors to witness the top of one of our big maple trees crash to the ground in a cloud of shredding branches and leaves. Wind gusts were reported around 40mph.
The tornado didn’t materialize, but we still suffered the loss of a big tree. So many maple leaves that just popped open in the last week, snuffed out in an instant.
We went for a walk to check on the shade sail. It was holding its own amid the gusts.
I took some pictures showing more details of the turnbuckles we are using to anchor the canopy and how we ran the eyebolts diagonally through the corners of the posts.
Here is a shot from Wednesday showing the level of shade the canopy provides in the hot part of the afternoon. The old willow tree never offered that amount of solid UV protection in its heyday.
Speaking of the old willow, I noticed the other day that it is refusing to give up entirely.
I don’t think it will be offering much in the way of shade this summer, but it is probably making a statement about what it thinks of the new shade-maker taking its place.
First thing yesterday morning, we finished reconnecting the electric fence and took down the temporary barrier between the two paddocks, which gave the horses access to the automatic waterer again.
I’ve been waiting a long time to get that stretch of wood fence standing straight up again. It’s very rewarding to see.
Throughout the evening, I frequently checked on the canopy through our surveillance camera down at the barn as the wind continued to blow. It was definitely being pushed down or puffed up at different times, but not in a way that looked worrisome.
Since I’ve heard from several people with shade sails that they leave them up in the wind, I’m feeling less skittish about taking our chances with it.
Yesterday was a pretty dramatic first test. So far, so good.
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Relative Something 