Moving Snow
Yesterday’s weather was a wonderfully ideal day for moving snow. After all the abuse we have endured so far this winter, from extreme cold, terribly windy, to freezing rain, we finally came to a day with warm sunshine, perfect below freezing temperatures, and negligible winds.
That came in very handy following an appointment I had with an arborist from a tree-trimming service. We have so many trees that need attention that we had to devise a plan that would be affordable. It’s not based on the individual trees, but on a set amount of time. We are going to have a crew here for 2 days to do as much work as possible.
That puts responsibility on me to make it as easy as possible to reach my highest priority trees.
In order to get to the most trees in those brief two days, their truck with a boom and basket will be essential. I need to clear a lot of snow from trails to allow their very large truck to get where I need it to go.
Any time they would spend trying to drive their truck through snow, with a risk of getting stuck, will come at the expense of valuable minutes cutting branches.
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I started plowing around the barn with the four-wheeler, finishing with hand-shoveling, to widen access as much as possible. After that I headed onto our trails, trying to split the difference between plowing snow and just trying to maintain forward momentum.
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I made a good start down the trails, but there is a lot left to be done today. Our trees may think I’m nuts to be moving all this snow beneath them, but won’t they be surprised when the cutting crew shows up for the main event.
It’ll be time for them to shape up and drop all that dead wood they’ve been holding for years.
I’m looking forward to having branches come down when we want them to, as opposed to the possibility of falling unexpectedly when some unsuspecting soul happens to be strolling beneath.
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Two More
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Addendum: Why two days with no writing? Once again, I think I am following the adage, “if you can’t think of anything good to say, don’t say anything.” I don’t want to fall into the trap of over-focusing on the political, but my mind keeps getting stuck on our slow slide toward a kleptocracy which no one thus far seems able to do anything about. I’d rather focus on Love. .
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Finally Happened
It finally happened. My luck ran out. After an untold tens-of-thousands of miles commuting to and from work without an accident, my new Subaru got its bumper smashed yesterday. The first three days of this week were a mighty challenge of winter driving. On my way home on Monday, a car directly in front of me on the interstate started fishtailing on the slippery surface. While I coaxed my vehicle to a stop, I watched him spin sideways and bump the concrete barrier with the front of his car.
If I had been unable to stop, I would have t-boned his car right on the driver’s side door. I figured it was sheer luck that the car behind me was able to stop in time, as well. The guy in front of me backed his car up and turned back into our lane and we all resumed forward progress and proceeded on our way, traveling just a tad slower than before.
When the impact occurred yesterday afternoon, I felt no sense of shock. It was more shocking to me that an accident hadn’t already happened in any number of occasions when risk was high over the years. This one just proved to verify what I figured was inevitable. If I am going to spend as many hours driving in traffic as I do, then my odds of an eventual collision climb with each passing trip.
The sad irony of yesterday’s accident is that the recent precipitation had ended and roads were cleaner than they had been for days. Visibility was clear, which was a big bonus. Two of my trips in prior days involved precipitation that would freeze on contact with my windshield.
Although the roads were cleaner, they weren’t yet 100% clear. Some lanes and shoulders remained snow-covered. On my short side route to drop off a delivery to one of our customers, I witnessed two different snowplows working to clear ramps and a side road to the fullest extent.
As I navigated back toward access to the interstate, I came around a bend where the right turn lane goes downhill a bit before rising into the turn. It is an intersection with France Avenue, which is a busy main artery. It is not uncommon to meet with a backup of cars at this right turn lane while waiting for the long light which favors the primary avenue.
If there is a chance to make that corner before cross traffic resumes, it pays not to dawdle.
Yesterday, anyone making that blind approach around a corner into the downhill turn lane with too much momentum was doomed. The surface was an incredibly frictionless glazed slurry of salty, sleety slush. Go ahead and read that out loud three times fast. In the time it takes you to do that, several car bumpers will have crunched.
In my case, I spotted the vehicle in front of me struggling with loss of grip and immediately began working my car to a stop without hitting anyone. My Crosstrek came to rest at a 45° angle to the lane. I barely had time to gloat over my deft maneuvering before the car behind me made solid impact.
After moving to a spot beside the turn lane, I waited for police protection to give me a chance to remove a dangling piece of plastic and bend metal away from rubbing my tire. I was still way too close to the zone where cars continued to lose control. While waiting, I witnessed (or heard the sound of) 5 additional collisions.
Every time cross traffic forced turning vehicles to wait, a collision was imminent. It was a hard thing to watch.
The police unit that eventually arrived was followed immediately by a salt and sand truck.
While the officer tended to two cars uphill from me which looked to be tangled after impact, I jumped out and worked on my damage. When he tried to walk toward my car to check on me, it was too slippery for him to step, so he skated his way across the gap.
Hearing that I had already exchanged information with the other driver in my collision, he gladly sent me on my way. I was very happy to get out of that danger zone and back on the more manageable dangers of the interstate. With my nerves on edge, I drove home as safely as possible.
Part of me felt a fear I would go from zero accidents, to two in one day if I wasn’t extremely careful.
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A Glimmer
I stumbled upon the television broadcast of the Golden Globe Awards show on Sunday night. Finally, I experienced a glimmer of hope that has been missing for me. My heart swelled when Meryl Streep publicly expressed some of the same sentiments I share about the prospect of our country having a President who displays boorish and bullying behavior.
I know there are a lot of people who feel these same concerns, but I just haven’t been seeing the type of response Meryl provided: non-political, public, to a large live audience, and well thought out and articulated. A moment to point out the king has no clothes.
The tweeted response —in itself, a very un-Presidential behavior— was as juvenile as usual, saying Meryl is “one of the most over-rated actresses in Hollywood…”
Really?
There are other voices expressing their views of the pending commander-in-chief, like this reference that I saw in Monday’s StarTribune Opinion page commentary:
“But there is no chance that Donald Trump can or will ever represent and nurture our best values, behavior, aspirations and ideals.
It’s an irony, for sure, that Obama — a man of discipline, dignity and intellect — will yield the office to Trump — a man of impulse, vulgarity and demagoguery.”
Dick Meyer Scripps Washington Bureau (TNS)
Reading an opinion piece in the paper doesn’t provide the same rallying hope as witnessing a public message delivered live to a wide audience.
I don’t expect any of this to alter the outcome of having the current President-elect assume the duties of leading the United States of America. His mysterious agenda will play out whether or not the universal public opinion of him suddenly becomes fully aware of who he really is.
What is his weird (scary) love for Russia and Putin all about, anyway?
Didn’t we discover who he really was when we got to hear him disparaging women? When we witnessed him bullying interviewers and other candidates? When we heard him boasting about any and every topic that he was the best, or loved (fill in the blank) more than anyone, whenever he was challenged?
Meryl explains things clearly:
“It kind of broke my heart when I saw it, and I can’t get it out of my head, because it wasn’t in a movie. It was real life. And this instinct, to humiliate, when it’s modeled by someone in the public platform, by someone powerful, it filters down into everybody’s life, because it kind of gives permission for other people to do the same thing.
Disrespect invites disrespect. Violence incites violence. When the powerful use their position to bully others, we all lose.“
No wonder I have been suffering from a losing feeling lately. The bully is using his powerful position, and we all are paying for it. Disrespect invites disrespect. That’s a chain I would gladly break.
It’s a shame that the chain of disrespect will be starting all the way from the top now.
I hope I can find more occasions with public expressions of views like Meryl shared Sunday night. More than ever, we need to sow seeds of hope and love from the bottom up, to fracture any chains of bullying disrespect coming down from the highest position in this country.
Amen.
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Dog Days
It might be the dead of winter, with sub-zero wind-chills, but I am enjoying some dog days lately while filling in for Cyndie on dog walking duties. Delilah has slowly adapted to my increased role, showing signs of gaining renewed respect for my authority, and choosing my company when she’s longing to play.
This means a lot to me, occurring soon after we intensified an effort to re-establish alpha status over her in our pack after she stole my dinner off the counter. She has responded well for the most part, and then not as well between some of those moments.
I have noticed her occasionally becoming obsessed with the flavor of our covered waste basket in the kitchen. When not that, we might find her licking the hand towels hanging on the handle of the oven door.
I think it is her way of recalibrating that uncontrollable urge which led to her making it all the way up to the counter where she could reach my dinner off the plate. She now aims a little lower.
Of course, I would have it that she respect our kitchen so much that the most she would dare do is assure there are no specks of food remaining on the floor, and only doing so after all human activity in the kitchen has been completed.
A guy can dream.
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Slow Feeding
After serving up pans of feed to our four horses, I make sure their slow feeder hay boxes are topped off and ready for the long and cold winter night. They emphatically chomp down the small dose of nutrition provided in the pellets and then move directly to the hay to fuel their internal furnaces against the sub-zero chill.
Last night the evening was so serene I paused with them and recorded the scene.
The slow feeders are a great success for us. Especially when we fill them with hay the horses like.
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Improving Outlook
It is said that one way to a person’s heart is through their stomach. I won’t deny being an easily satisfied eater. Ply me with delectable delights and I will instantly offer my allegiance. Cyndie and George hatched a plan to assuage my recent exhaustion and woe with a promise of homemade pizza and some massage.
Who wouldn’t begin to feel more hopeful at offerings like that?
I decided to take some of my own advice, choosing to turn off the sad news flowing constantly out of my car radio and replacing it with my personal library of long-cherished music for the drive home from the day-job yesterday. It was bad enough that I had to commute to the day-job on my usual extra day on the ranch. I didn’t need the added downer of endless news-feed distress.
I stepped in the door from walking the dog and tending to the horses to find George’s smiling face in the kitchen. He was working dough and creating scrumptious food art that looked as good as it smelled. And trust me, it ultimately tasted even better than it’s aroma implied.
As if that wasn’t enough to loosen my strings, Cyndie had a fire glowing in the fireplace and offered up the opportunity to have my stress headache massaged away.
Yeah, those knotted muscles in my back and shoulders were real. Real crunchy.
Right up until they weren’t.
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And as quickly as that, the ache in my head wasn’t so noticeable, either. Now that’s my kind of medication for what ails you. Turn off the news, put on good music, get massaged, and eat a special meal prepared by hand with loving care. No pills or alcohol required.
I’m feeling some hope that these steps of intervention have me well placed to carry on a search for that hope I lost somewhere along the way in November.
Cyndie is gaining strength and ability every day in her journey of healing and rehabilitation, post knee replacement surgery. I am beginning to believe once again that she will someday be able to help care for the horses and walk Delilah, which would lighten my load considerably at a time when the demands of the day-job appear to be intensifying significantly.
If I am unable to find hope in anything else at this time, I am at the very least relieved to have found hope in this improving outlook.
Here’s to the prospect of a lighter load.
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Lost Hope
I have discovered how important hope can be on the journey to optimal health. It occurred to me the other day that I have lost hope.
I’m sure it is still there, I just can’t find it right now.
Having an unfortunate first-hand experience with depression allows me to recognize how it is possible to live without hope. It is not a healthy place to live. On my journey to good health, I have learned that it is not in my best interest to reside in that space. I am regretfully comfortable in that place, maybe from having too many years of practice in existing that way, but I cannot afford to accommodate that outcome.
I will do some digging to find my hope again. It is a requirement.
Of that, I am acutely aware.
We cannot live on love alone. That is another thing I have come to realize.
I’m going to love finding my hope again.
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