Same Change
Things are constantly changing, but what strikes me about the feeling I get in the month of August is how familiar it is. The transition from summer to autumn is always bittersweet for me. Fall is my favorite time of year. It is one of the reasons Cyndie and I chose September for our wedding. But who wants summer to end?
It is the same change every year. In what seems like a blink of days, I find myself in darkness as I leave the house for work in the morning. The days are getting shorter. “Sweet corn ahead” signs dot the scenery of my commute, as roadside stands sprout up every other mile.
County fairs wind down as the big state fair hype revs up. The word “school” pops up with uncomfortable frequency.
Hot humid days lead to thick foggy mornings.
I love it, and I hate it. I appreciate the change, but I don’t want it to happen. I want fall to arrive, but I don’t want summer to end.
The familiar feeling of this change is the same every year. Is it possible to adjust my perception, to settle so completely into the moment that all these recognizable indicators of change don’t come across as such?
It’s just the 19th day of August. It is now. Today.
With a very familiar feeling.
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Sharing Licks
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Cyndie caught this shot of Hunter and Cayenne sharing time on a mineral block that hangs on a rope around the fence post.
Sure, they are on the block at the same time, but it looks to me like Hunter (on the left) is being as careful as possible about respecting her space.
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Cyndie’s Capture
She was simply taking the dog for a walk between evening rain showers. It just so happened to be at the perfect window of time when the sun was moving below the horizon. The scene changed dramatically over the brief 10-minutes they were out, and the cloud show morphed significantly in perfect coordination with the low sunlight blazing behind it.
I picked this one from the series of many she took.
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A short time later, as darkness settled in, the heavy roar of a downpour rumbled across our roof. It added an extra exclamation point to the exceptional serendipity of the timing of her evening’s stroll last night.
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Not New
Not anymore. My car is no longer a new car. Not only have I put over 10,000 miles on it, I now have a couple of bumps added to the mix.
Between my typical end of day fatigue and some mischievous force that took over my garage yesterday, I found myself ensconced in a comedy of errors, with my car as the hapless victim.
I usually back into my garage space so that my driver side door is on the less cluttered center aisle. I don’t exclusively rely on the view from the backup camera, but switch back and forth from that to the mirrors. That camera may have helped me to spot the small metal trash can that was lurking a little too far out from the side.
I heard it before I saw it. Something out of sight was indicating there was a problem. I pulled ahead and adjusted my angle.
Upon inspection, I was shocked to see how significantly that brief contact had pushed the bumper inward on that corner. I shuffled off to find a tool that would help me push it back out again. Thank goodness for the high tech materials used for car bumpers.
With that issue resolved as much as I was able, I turned my attention to the can that was sticking out. I pushed it with my foot to move it as far over as space allowed. There was a Rubbermaid storage rack filled with a vast array of yard tools stationed in the same spot. A metal scoop shovel was sticking out at an odd angle.
I picked it up and reoriented it in the stand. Before I could even turn around to walk away, it seemed to jump out of the friction latch, flipping to smack the handle into the side of my car.
You only notice the ding in the metal if the light catches it right to reveal the imperfection.
Adding one last poke at my sanity, I spotted the light overhead on the opener was glowing brightly throughout all this, regardless it being broad daylight outside. Too bad it hasn’t worked like that for the last two weeks during the mornings when it has been too dark to see at the time I leave for work.
I think our garage may have picked up some gremlins recently.
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Updated View
The satellite view I reference most often was finally updated to show our property after all our renovations. Back in early July, I posted about my surprise finding that the satellite view available on Apple devices was updated to 2015. I recently discovered that the view on Google maps has been updated to show our property as of this spring, 2016.
We are able to see the wild flower garden that Cyndie had started and the T-post fence we put up to sub-divide the back pasture, both of which happened in April. The trees look fully leafed out and I had obviously mowed the lawn, but the farm fields look bare.
I found particular pleasure in noticing that all 4 horses were again in view. This time they are somewhat evenly spread, grazing around the perimeter of the round pen.
We found one object that we haven’t been able to identify in the yard. The resolution stops just short of providing the necessary definition. If it were a different color, I’d guess it might be me mowing the lawn.
I may need to review my posts from that timeframe to see if there is anything that triggers a memory about something we had been up to in that spot.
I love having this overhead view to refer to. If satellite images weren’t available on the internet, I just might be inspired to get a drone, so I could take my own shots and have some control over when and how often they are done.
I’ll be interested to see how long this view is active on Google. Now that I have a good reference point, the next update will clearly reveal the duration between updates of this region.
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Multiple Designs
My poor little brain is getting a workout lately with a mixture of simultaneous design projects outside of my realm of experience. I want to build a bridge over a ravine, buy and install a signal booster for voice and data, and make a chicken coop out of found material.
At the same time, we still need to purchase and transport more hay for the winter, clear downed trees, cut and split firewood, keep the lawn and labyrinth mowed, and turn the composting manure piles.
All these latter tasks are the reason the design projects tend to get put off until later. I already know what to do to accomplish them, so I’m more comfortable filling time making progress on familiar work that needs to be done.
It is a source of some conflict between Cyndie and me. I struggle to figure out in my mind how each step will proceed, hoping to establish an order of assembly and final functionality. It tends to delay visible progress for a long time. Cyndie fearlessly dives into projects, solving problems as they arise and devising creative solutions in order to get things done.
I’ve heard that opposites attract.
Meanwhile, I’m chipping away at progress on the designs. We have had a long run of very poor connectivity and dreary news reports on possible plans for service upgrades. After the recent addition of a new cell tower nearby provided no noticeable improvements, a signal booster has become our next big hope.
Last week, I timidly scrambled around the portions of our rooftop that weren’t too steep, in search of a decibel reading on my phone. I am supposed to find the spot for the directional antenna that will keep it from pointing back across the house. Then I need to figure out how to get a cable from out there into the attic. Finally, I need to determine a location for the inside antenna and get it installed to beam the amplified signal to our devices.
I wish that was as easy to actually do as it was to write out.
This weekend we cleared the last of two stumps that were in the way of our perimeter path around the back pasture. That brought us to the next obstacle, the ravine. It has bumped up our interest in having the bridge installed to facilitate foot and mower traffic around the entire circumference.
Also during the week, I drove the truck to work so I could bring home a couple large panels from a crate we had received that I felt would make a good floor for a chicken coop. That has helped us lock in a plan on size and enabled progress on burying support posts.
Three design projects that I am uncomfortably unsure about how I will ultimately complete to my satisfaction, but which have some momentum in play. With Cyndie’s help, we’ll keep making progress despite my inclination to wait and think on them a little bit more everyday.
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Cloudy Skies
The weather did not cooperate with our desires to see the predicted spectacle of the Perseid meteor shower outburst Thursday and Friday nights. Cyndie held a workshop over the last two days that had been intentionally timed to coincide with the opportunity.
Our views were blocked by cloudy skies both nights.
The good news about that outcome is that I got to sleep through the wee hours of the mornings, instead of being outside star gazing or watching the NASA live stream broadcast of the events.
Workshop participants still had plenty of opportunities to enjoy all that Wintervale provides. Thursday evening was beautiful for their walk in the labyrinth. The sky looked threatening on Friday during exercises with the horses, but those sessions were completed before raindrops started to fall. That timed well for the final indoor expressive arts integration projects.
In my role as staff photographer, I showed up at the round pen when they were learning with Legacy. He was being very attentive to the preparations of this exercise.
I particularly enjoyed seeing how differently he responds to each individual who interacts with him. Part of me tends to assume the horses are just responding to a routine to which they are familiar, and that may be true to a degree, but the specifics are definitely unique.
That is the reason the exercises work the way they do, and why the horses provide these amazing opportunities for us to experience valuable insights.
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Legacy was definitely present in this moment.
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Number Stories
What more could I write to tell the stories captured by these images?
New car.
Overnight rain.
Numbers.
Oof.
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Rain Much?
It did here last night.
We are located near the back side of that Severe Thunderstorm Warning box and just east of the Flash Flood Warning box.
Between that and Olympic coverage keeping me from getting to bed at a decent hour, I am in a bit of a sleep deficit. That makes for a bear of very little brain, if you know what I mean.
And that makes for a very limited number of words today.
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Downed Trees
On Monday after work, I ripped into the task of cutting up the dead trees a storm had pushed over, and which I had recently shoved the rest of the way to the ground with the tractor.
I quickly figured out what was holding up all the wind-blown trees. Regular readers may recall that I mentioned a while back that vines seemed to be thriving this year. Well, there are vines everywhere in the area of these dead trees.
It’s unclear to me whether the vines are responsible for the demise of the trees, or not. I think most of this bunch are butternut trees, which are commonly killed by a fungal butternut canker disease, Sirococcus clavigignenti-juglandacearum. Go ahead, read that out loud.
The vines might look like they took over the trees, but they may simply have climbed up trees that were already giving up the ghost.
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My uneducated guess is that the vine is Virginia Creeper, based on image comparisons found online. One interesting data point supporting my suspicion is this tidbit:
People should be careful when they see Virginia Creeper, because there may be Poison Ivy around also. The two plants almost always grow together.
I’ve well documented there is no shortage of poison ivy growing on our acres.
The tendrils of the stalks grab and hold the bark of the trees with incredible tenacity. It is comical how the dead trees will gladly slough off the bark, but the vines maintain a grip that results in long dangling empty tree skins hanging down from the canopy.
While cutting up the assortment of trees that made it to the ground, I came upon two vine-covered dead snags still standing just behind the spot vacated by the others. They were about half the diameter of those in the ground, so I made quick work of felling them and expanding the evening’s cutting task.
So much was accomplished, yet so much remains. The 3 trees still hung up, visible in the background of the picture above, are going to be a lot more difficult to get on the ground. I’m thinking ropes and a come-along may be involved in my next attempt. These trees are not in reach of the tractor.
Better yet, maybe the next storm that hits will be blowing in the other direction, and will push them down for me.
A guy can dream.
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