Winter Muckxtravaganza
The daytime temperature yesterday climbed well above freezing and turned that beautiful snow we received over the weekend into a soaking slop that the horses converted into a regrettable mucky mess.
As I pulled in the driveway after work, I spotted the horses in a tizzy over a loose ribbon of fence that was blowing in the wind. It was at a spot we had barricaded last spring to separate the hay-field from the drainage alley. The horses have been showing us they want to cross at that point instead of through the usual open gate because of how wet it is.
On Sunday I had hastily opened a section for them to get through, but I didn’t permanently tie off the ribbons I had pulled back. When I arrived yesterday, two of the horses were across that opening and two were still out in the hay-field, frantically trying to pass through but turned back by the scary flailing ribbons that had come loose in the strengthening wind.
I quickly realized I should have pulled all four of the t-posts on Sunday and been done with this. With temperatures expected to drop significantly in the days ahead, I decided to pull the posts while I still could and open this whole avenue to the herd for the rest of the winter.
Of course, in no time I was out of daylight and fumbling around in the dark to finish the task. While Delilah stood by patiently, I rolled up the length of ribbon fence and muscled out the posts. I hooked her leash to my pants and gathered posts and ribbon, setting off in the darkness to cross the mucky hoof-marked turf of the field and paddocks.
The footing out there is just plain miserable right now. When it freezes solid in the next day or two it will become a treacherous ankle-twisting obstacle course. It will also become much harder to keep clean with our usual routine of frequent manure scooping.
This is the point where I want a lot of snow to fall. A good 6-inches would cover everything nicely and smooth it out quite a bit.
As of last night, it was nothing but mudzilla. Mucktastrophe. Swampageddon. Mudsaster. It was a real muckxtravaganza.
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Disaster Averted
Not my eyes again! Why did it have to be my eye?
We use a retractable leash for Delilah and yesterday’s wet snow was sticking to it something fierce, occasionally plugging the return function. When I took her in the barn on my way to feed the horses, I hung the leash on the hook I use every time we go through this routine.
From that distance, Delilah can wander out far enough to see the horses while I do a little housekeeping under the overhang, prior to serving their feed pans. Before bringing out the feed, I stop to temporarily lock the retraction on the leash, after shortening the reach to a point where Delilah can’t disturb the herd while they eat.
Her past performances have dictated her fate. She can sit by herself in the barn while they munch.
With the retracting feature off, the extended wet leash was laying on the sand floor of the barn. When I was done with horse duties and ready to take Delilah for an extended walk, I grabbed the leash with an instantaneous thought that I should run it through my gloved hand to scrape the grit off it before it spooled up.
I didn’t quite think it through all the way.
With my right gloved hand, I grabbed the leash between Delilah and the ground. Leaving the spool on the hook, I reached up with my left hand to release the lock. I don’t know if it is obvious to you as you read this, but I had grabbed the wrong side of the leash with my right hand.
The result was so fast I didn’t have time to blink as the spool spun and whiplashed the wet gravelly leash across my face in the ultimate insult.
WHAP! Take that!
My right eye closed in time, but the left eye got a rude stinging slap and enough sand to wreck a day. What happens when something touches your eyeball? You close it as fast as you can! I closed mine over some grains of sand that immediately lodged under my eyelid.
It hurt to blink. It hurt to leave it open. It hurt to hold it closed. It hurt bad enough to make me cry, but I think the tear ducts were plugged with sand, because there weren’t enough tears to wash it out and end my dilemma.
Delilah was kind enough to just sit there while I flinched and cursed and cried and stumbled around. When I knew it wasn’t going to self-remedy, I had to cancel Delilah’s walk and rush back to the house for help.
It’s always wonderful when the person convalescing suddenly has to step up and become the care-giver. Cyndie didn’t hesitate to rush her walker into the bathroom with me to start hosing the eye down with her saline solution.
I really don’t like getting squirted in the eye. That stung and made my eye try to close, which hurt tremendously because there was still sand under the eyelid. I wished I could fold my eyelid like some kids used to do when I was in grade school.
Cyndie worked heroically to clean it out as much as possible and added a drop of something to sooth the eye. I tried laying face down and just letting my eye rest. I figured it was possible that I had scratched my eye and that was what was hurting every time I blinked, so I was about to just wait it out.
Then I stood up again and grabbed my eyelash for the umpteenth time to pull it away from my eye. It was something of an instinctual reaction. I just felt like there was something under my eye lid.
With a blink, I determined that’s exactly what I was feeling, because the stinging pain was suddenly gone. Just like that, I was back to my old self, blinking pain-free.
Disaster averted.
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Winter Like
It is looking much more winter like around here this morning. I’d guess we received over twice the amount of snow overnight than had been predicted when I went to bed. It will be a nuisance to clear because the ground isn’t frozen yet. Plowing and shoveling require extra care to avoid digging up more than just snow when clearing pathways.
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Delilah made quick work of capturing a mole that thought it was safe relying on snow cover for concealment. Our dog smelled right through that blanket.
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The horses chose a perch out in the hay-field to experience the overnight accumulation. They looked so inviting that Delilah and I cut through the pasture to go out and stand with them for a bit.
When we headed for the barn to serve up the morning feed, the horses chose not to follow. If Cyndie wasn’t house-bound, I’d ask her to go ask them what was up. I have no idea what their motivation was in staying out of the paddock, where their water supply and shelter are available. 
I put out their pans of feed and the three chestnuts showed a lot of energy that led me to believe they might all head in, but Legacy never gave them the ‘okay’ to proceed. I walked down to the gate opening to the hay-field and invited them in, but to no avail.
Their choice. I left the pans out and cleared snow from the doorways and then headed in for breakfast. The chore list is looking very winter-like for the rest of the day. I’m going to need the fuel.
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Better Place
As happy as we were with Lakeview Hospital in Stillwater, after 2 days it was beginning to feel like a hospital and we were ready to get Cyndie home to recover in the comforts of home. There really is no place like home.
To make it seem even more like a hospital, it took several hours of waiting, and then waiting some more, for staff to process the discharge order. It’s odd how exhausting it can be to sit and wait for an unknown amount of time.
Cyndie is in a better place now. Let the mending and strengthening commence!
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December Again
Every year around this time, I notice a spike in overall number of visitors to “Relative Something” who are searching the term “December Wishes” which I coincidentally used in 2010 for the title of a post. After I re-read that post again the other day, and even though it sounds about 6 years old to me now, I’ve decided it deserves some fresh visibility.
(Full disclosure: I haven’t been “under-indulging” so much anymore. For the last few years I’ve returned to providing family a genuine updated online wish list.)
At the very least, the Pomplamoose song is worth another listen…
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December has arrived. It is the time of year when requests are made for our wish lists. What do I wish for? I wish for world peace. I wish my neighbors would never, ever, ever use their leaf blowers. I wish it wasn’t possible to hear the sounds made by a human jaw chewing food in an otherwise silent room. I wish my lungs weren’t asthmatic. But those things aren’t what the circle of family who draw names for a Christmas gift-giving exchange would like to see on my list.
They want stuff that can be purchased.
I don’t mean to be difficult, …not that I haven’t been in the past. I did resist for a time and neglect to provide any such list. I also have listed items like: shirts, socks, and underwear. Who wouldn’t benefit by having new underwear? There has also been a period of time when I gave in and put some pretty significant treasures on the list that I wouldn’t buy for myself. Since something was going to be purchased, I figured it may as well be something that I would actually use.
I also took advantage of one of those online shopping sites that allow you to save a wish list to allow your family and friends to just click and purchase. It’s like registering for wedding gifts. Look at what we have allowed technology to do to us!
A while ago, I came across that site where I had created a list and noticed there were things still on it that I didn’t even remember selecting. I had obviously been living comfortably enough without the items. It occurred to me that the only reason the items made it on the list in the first place was because I saw them while searching the site.
That is like the phrase that I am guilty of using too often regarding food. “I am fond of see food.” See food, eat food.
I could look at any number of shopping sites and discover things to put on a wish list. Yet, if I didn’t see these things, I wouldn’t even know I wanted them. Making a list, in and of itself, engenders the wish. See things, want things.
I still haven’t gotten around to making full use of so many things I already have. I truly don’t need anything more. This year, I am seeking to UNDER-indulge. I’m choosing, see charity, give charity. I saw the invitation to “give a goat” on the 2009 video of the Christmas song, “Always in the Season” by Pomplamoose.
Now, that is what I want on my wish list. I want people to choose a meaningful gift to give me and help children and families around the world receive training and animal gifts that help them become self-reliant.
My December wish this year is for people to consider Heifer International in their gift giving plans.
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Love Works
Once again, our anecdotal evidence supports the theory that sending love to others produces loving positive outcomes in amplified proportions. Yesterday morning, while driving Cyndie through the misty-cold-gray weather to Lakeview Hospital in Stillwater, MN, we were both receiving messages of support and love for her scheduled surgery appointment for a knee replacement procedure.
Meanwhile, we were imaging thoughts of love and encouragement for the caregivers we were about to meet. Starting with the most convenient parking spot available at the entrance, all the way through the staff of every department of the hospital with which we had contact, we enjoyed the most pleasant of possible experiences.
The surgeon told me the procedure went perfectly, and by my perceptions, swiftly. Cyndie’s recovery from the anesthetics then proceeded smoothly and the big pain she felt coming on received prompt attention.
Speaking of prompt, they wasted no time in putting Cyndie to work on moving that knee and working the muscles of her leg. Within 5-hours of the completion of surgery a physical therapist was running her through 10-reps each of a variety of exercises, culminating with getting Cyndie to stand up on it and then walk out of her room to trek around the nurse’s station.
When you are in an uncritical frame of mind, it makes sense that you find less to feel critical about. As I drove into the darkness toward home later in the evening, I had a deep feeling of appreciation for how well the entire day had gone. We are so lucky to have access to such wonderful care.
It doesn’t hurt to also have some previous experience with joint replacement surgeries. Add to that, a lot of love from many directions and you end up with more grace than a human should be allowed.
In no time Cyndie will be hiking to and fro on our property again and Delilah will get back the walking partner she has been missing.
Keep sending love for Cyndie and her knee. It works wonders!
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Passenger Pilot
It occurred to me two days ago how split I feel between being the pilot who directs the activity of my body and a passenger riding along for whatever happens next. Whether it’s a virus that pays a visit or an emotion that elicits a response, there is a constant balance of submission and control.
When I was younger, I wanted to have straight long hair that would fall around my face the way Jackson Browne’s did. My hair style involved inherent waves. I worked desperately to battle my natural flip that keenly mimicked the classic women’s hairstyle of the ’60s.
Achieving 6 foot height was not in the cards for me, either. These things were not in my control. I’m a passenger to the genes determining such features.
At the same time, in the role of pilot, I was making decisions (and learning from my mistakes) on who I wanted to be and how I wanted to behave. I get to choose how I react to the world around me and decide whether I want to make healthy decisions for this body, or not.
It gets tricky at times, because there are a lot of mind/body interactions that happen unconsciously, plenty of it at a cellular level, in the areas of transition between the two perspectives of pilot and passenger. We have the freedom to choose how self-aware we are going to be. Some people think it serves them just fine to be willfully inattentive, even though they often grumble about the eventual outcomes that result.
I struggle to comprehend why our minds so easily overlook information and evidence that indicate negative consequences for our choices or behaviors. Why isn’t there a stronger drive to improve ourselves at every opportunity? It should be an integral part of our survival instinct.
Why would either the pilot or the passenger choose to settle for less than the best?
In time, I figured out a way to stop fighting my hair and instead let it do what it wants to naturally do. It curls. I even took it to the extreme for a while and dreadlocked it. I have yet to perfect the part where I choose not to settle for something less than optimal health —mind, body, & soul. There remain some days when I give in and allow myself to pay no heed to the healthiest choice.
For me, the secret to getting away with that is an intentional effort to ensure those are only temporary lapses. I need for more days than not to involve me getting off my butt and navigating down the center line of my healthy highway.
I think I’d also like to keep relearning how to integrate the two extremes of pilot and passenger that reside within me every day.
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Looking Down
I have an affinity for looking straight up or directly beneath me when I’ve got a camera in my hands. I’m also a fan of surface textures and single content features filling the frame.
Adding in the shadow of a perfect hoof print is a real bonus.
I had just been looking into the sun at Cayenne when I dropped my gaze and captured the ground in front of me. She had turned to observe my activity and then resumed the noble pose that had grabbed my attention in the first place.
I captured both.
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I think she was enjoying the last of the warm afternoon sun prior to our latest bout of cold rain. That is, cold in the relative sense, because yesterday it climbed to 50° (F) here, which is rather warm for late November.
Leaves us wondering when we will get to look down at our feet and see some useable snow. For the time being, it is mostly mud!
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Last Thing
There was one last thing I’ve been wanting to do in the paddock before the winter weather sets in for good this season. When we had the fences installed to create our two paddock spaces, the smaller side encompassed two trees. There was a gorgeous willow tree with a cottonwood close beside it.
It didn’t take long for both trees to show evidence of not being entirely happy about the new arrangement, but the willow has at least continued to show signs of life. The cottonwood gave up in the first year. It has been standing dead for quite a while now and the small branches from it have started to litter the ground with increasing frequency.
The tree makes a convenient scratching post for the horses, so I have no interest in cutting it down. I just wanted to cut off the branches and leave the snag for birds to perch on and horses to rub against.
Mark this one off as “Done.”
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Bringing all those branches down created quite a pile that needed to be dealt with. I tend to overlook that detail when I get all fired up to trim our trees. Cutting branches down ends up being a small part of the whole project.
Luckily, George was available to help and I opted to try chipping them without delay. The other option was to move the pile somewhere and save the chipping for a future opportunity. That could lead to a lot of chances for procrastination, so I felt pretty good about taking quick action on this occasion.
I cranked up both the ATV and the diesel tractor, attached a trailer to the former and the chipper to the latter and away we went. Parking the trailer beside the chipper allowed us to fill it directly from the chute and save any extra handling to convert a pile of branches into chips unloaded in our convenient storage location by the labyrinth.
That leaves me about as ready as I’ve ever been for freezing temperatures and oodles of snow to arrive for winter. Unfortunately, the weather continues to run warmer than normal and the precipitation we are getting is all rain.
Do they make galoshes for snowshoes? I might have to get me some of those so I can do some trekking in all this rain.
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Shaping Up
It has snowed and then melted again, so the ground here is well saturated, but not frozen. It was time to tend to the raised circle in the paddock before the earth becomes hard as rock. It’s been a year since I last shaped it and the definition was fading to the point it wasn’t really performing as a raised perch above the wet.
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Try as I might, I am not able to pack it firm enough to support the weight of the horses, but if I keep reshaping the circle as they stomp around on it, eventually it will become what I envision. It worked in another spot that we created when the excavator was here digging out our drainage swale.
That flat mound is visible in the corner of fence in the picture above on the left. Since it was made from slabs of turf scraped from the swale, there was a lot of grass in it that seems to have added a lot of stability. The circle I am creating in the middle has a lot of layers of hay which the horses’ hooves punch through with ease. It becomes a pock-marked uneven surface.
On the plus side, residue from the hay includes plenty of grass seed that wants to grow and will help firm up the surface over time. If I keep tending to it, I’ll get what I’m after. In the end, it’ll seem like it’s always been that way.
Good thing I’m a patient person.
Dezirea supervised my progress while Legacy grazed from the slow-feeder behind her. I get the feeling the horses recognize what I’m trying to create, and they approve.
When I came out from taking a lunch break halfway through the project, I found Cayenne standing beside the circle on the ground I had just raked flat.
It was as if she wanted to be close to what I was doing, but didn’t want to mess it up by stomping on it too soon. I appreciated her discretion, but in no time, the results of my reshaping will be hard to perceive amid the multitude of hoof prints.
Watching the horses all day long, you get the impression that they don’t really move very much. They don’t appear to cover much ground in a day. However, if you survey the ground over time, it becomes evident that there isn’t a spot where they haven’t been at one time or another.
In the long run, they are definitely shaping the ground of their confines.
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