What Joy?
What joy is there to be had when terror is sown to disrupt normalcy in places defenseless and random?
Is it possible to feel joy over the vast number of young people who do not fall prey to the sickness of mind that leads a person to justify becoming a terrorizing murderer? Most people are actually sane, after all.
Oddly, yesterday, almost as if in reaction to the illness that revealed itself in the acts of terrorism in Paris, Delilah spent the day vomiting, over and over. Her energy dwindled with each episode, eventually culminating in her putting herself to bed two hours early.
Yet, healthy joy continues to exist, despite the never-ending ripples that disrupt it. It started for us this morning with the happy expression on Delilah’s face and her ability to eat some scrambled eggs.
Yesterday afternoon, I stood in the paddock while the horses finished their afternoon feed, and absorbed their calmness. They didn’t exude joy in that moment, but they offered peace.
The world recoils in horror for the moment, but joy and peace rise from the dust. If it starts in distant rural areas, like ours, it can make its way back to the cities and people who live on the front lines of conflict.
There is joy. Feel free to allow it to sprout again and blossom for you. Let it glow and grow for the rest of the world.
The world will feel it.
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Visiting Stray
We came upon a stranger on the perimeter trail through our woods yesterday morning. Cyndie and I were walking Delilah when I spotted a dog facing us on the trail ahead. We paused and started a dialogue with the mutt, but I got the feeling he wasn’t hearing us. He simply stood his ground, no matter what we did, so I decided we shouldn’t approach.
We turned around and headed back in the direction from which we had come, which pretty much involved dragging Delilah sideways, because she did not want to take her eyes off the stranger.
By removing the pressure of our presence, the stray was able to let its guard down enough to turn its back on us and head off in the direction from which he had come. With that, we reversed ourselves again and followed to observe where he would go.
At our southern border, the visiting dog crossed under the old barbed wire fence and kept going on our neighbors property. We finished out our walk and then got the wood chipper hooked up on the tractor to grind downed branches into wood chips for the labyrinth.
While we were working, the stray dog showed up again, this time exploring around our house. I headed after him, trying to sweet talk him into letting us check out his tag, but he didn’t want to have anything to do with me.
I went back to work, but Cyndie continued to try making a connection, eventually succeeding in getting a leash attached. The dog’s tag included an ID number and contact info for a local veterinarian. They checked their records and provided the name and a phone number for the owner. Cyndie left messages and then put the dog into Delilah’s kennel.
Eventually we learned the dog’s name was, “Blue” and he was very old, and hard of hearing. He had been missing from home since Wednesday night’s “Flash-Boom” event of a thunderstorm. He ran off to catch that booming invader, and ended up in our neighborhood a day-and-a-half later, over 2 miles from home.
By the way, it wasn’t until yesterday that I checked our rain gauge and found 3 inches to add to the 1.5 that Cyndie had dumped out Wednesday night.
Maybe Blue just floated here on the runoff.
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A Picture
A portrait today, of our Hunter, on his own in the sun.
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Flash Booms!
Holy cow, did we experience a flurry of lightning and thunder last night. If I didn’t know better, I would have guessed we were in the month of June, based on the lightning laced downpours I traveled through on my commute home after work.
By the time I pulled in our driveway, Cyndie already had the horses in the barn for the night. Subsequent checks on them through the evening revealed signs they were appreciative of the shelter, yet still needing to manage some nervousness over the fireworks of the storm.
Someone else was failing miserably at managing her nervousness about the cracking and booming that repeatedly burst forth overhead. Poor Delilah couldn’t keep herself from trying to out-shout the mysterious noises erupting from the high heavens.
We reacquainted her with her Thundershirt and let her sample some doggie downers in hopes of saving her heart from premature failure. There was no pausing the thunderstorm, so she needed other sources of relief.
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Dinner time occurred at one of the storming peaks, but she soldiered through the inhalation of her meal (which actually should have required some chewing) and kept up her “defense” against the noisy invader without hesitation.
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Mary Returns
Looch is back! Honestly, I didn’t realize how much pleasure I had been missing out on during her absence from the airwaves, until I experienced an hour of her first day back and everything, …everything! around me seemed to have a glow of happiness around it.
Mary Lucia is an afternoon host on my preferred public radio station, 89.3 The Current. Cyndie and I are founding members of the station, and have maintained a sustaining membership every year since the start. Public radio broadcasts, devoid of the noise of commercial advertising, with an eclectic mix of contemporary music, is a dream come true for me.
It was an added bonus that I ended up truly appreciating almost all of the KCMP on-air voices that moderate the playlists. Mary has always been my favorite, for reasons both obvious, and mysterious. Certainly the sound of her delivery, the way her splendid personality radiates with a mixture of warmth and brilliance upon every uttered genuine thought that she shares, is captivating to me. But there is something more, and I can’t quite put my head around what it is.
On Monday, while I was smiling with joy over how much pleasure I was getting out of having the radio on again in the background while I puttered away on my laptop, I mentioned to Cyndie that I was even getting a kick out of the song that was playing at the time.
It was something that didn’t appeal to me, at all. I recognized that I was liking a song that I normally wouldn’t like, and it was because I knew Mary had selected it for her first day back. She was having fun. You could hear it. I could feel it.
I was having fun, because she was having fun.
If Bill DeVille had played that same song, I would have hated it. Probably even if he was having fun in doing so.
Somehow, that it was Mary’s doing, made it appealing to me. It’s not entirely logical, but I understand why she might have that effect on me.
I have been a rather sad radio fan for quite some time now. Within a very short time frame, 3 of my favorite radio voices vanished from the airwaves: Steve Seel, Mark Wheat, and Mary. Mark made it back first, and much later, Steve did too, though he didn’t reclaim his old role in the morning slot.
The station has had other personality changes occur, as well, beyond just those three, and the lineup of who I was hearing seemed juggled to the point I felt like every person was filling a temporary role, whether they were, or not. I began to lose interest. My iPod on shuffle replaced the radio in my car. I stopped turning on the radio at home.
I felt no incentive to listen. The thrill was gone. For some reason, I couldn’t even appreciate hearing Wheat back in his normal slot. His glory was diminished, but not by anything of his own doing. It was simply by the absence of the others that evenings with Mark just weren’t the same.
My, how quickly that has changed, and I have Mary to thank. I couldn’t wait to get my radio on yesterday for the drive home. It didn’t even matter what music she chose.
I liked whatever she spun, even if I didn’t.
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Quick Work
When you only have a limited amount of daylight in which to get your work done, you find a way to work quickly.
After seeing how nice the front yard looked after I mowed it to a close cut on Sunday, I desperately wanted to have the same result in the back. With the beautiful weather blessing us for another day, I made a point of rushing home from work and changing into grubby clothes.
There wasn’t much that needed to be done in preparation, so in no time I was on the back hill mowing all the leaves that had fallen. I made one pass around the perimeter and stopped to take a picture, hoping to get a “before” and “after” combination.
That image was lit with sunshine that would last barely another hour. Unsure whether I would have enough light to get an “after” shot, I picked the angle for this view and got down to business.
Since I was cutting very short, areas where the moles have wreaked havoc became much more glaring than when I leave it longer, but taken as a whole, the turf landscape looked rather noble by the time I was through.
Before snapping the second shot, I snuck a peek at the first image, because I’d already forgotten where I had stood to take it. For as little effort as I put toward aligning them precisely, I am tickled to have ended up with a shot that almost perfectly matched the earlier view.
The only thing missing was the sunshine, which was below the horizon by that point.
The hill is ready for becoming a sled run, in the off-chance we end up getting enough snow for that this winter, what with the “Godzilla-of-all-El-Niños” forecast to be moderating our temperatures in the months ahead.
If our current spell of good weather fortune is any indicator, we could be in for a short ski and igloo season this year.
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Accomplishment Burst
After a few days of not doing anything productive, it didn’t take much yesterday to make me feel like I’d salvaged the weekend by accomplishing something beyond just feeling better. It helped that the weather was especially nice, despite starting out rather brisk in the early morning.
By the time I made it out of the house, the chill had been replaced by an increasingly comfortable November breeze. My first goal was to get the truck battery charging. For some reason we have yet to discern, every other time Cyndie uses it, there’s not enough battery to turn it over when we next try.
Logic would indicate she is leaving something on, or maybe not closing a door tight. I don’t know. We have yet to find any clear evidence of what it is, and the fact that it doesn’t happen every time complicates the mystery.
While the truck charged, I headed down to the round pen to help Cyndie rake out and distribute the sand that was added. We got the project down to a manageable-sized remaining pile after spreading an even new depth throughout the whole circle.
On my way in for lunch, I paused at the garage to get the truck started and let it idle while winding up cords and putting away the charger. Then I checked and re-checked to make sure nothing was left on to put any drain on the battery. It better start when we test it again. Cyndie wasn’t anywhere near it when I did all this. 🙂
After lunch, I enlisted Cyndie’s help to tackle a chore I have neglected for over a year. This one means the most to me to have finally resolved.
Almost 2-years ago I had a little accident when trying to get the diesel tractor out of the shop garage to plow snow at a time when a storm had knocked out our power. The garage door did not stay up all the way and the roof of the tractor caught the weather-strip of the door and ripped it down. I saved the moderately bent up aluminum and rubber strip, but had no idea how it could go back on.
I neglected it for the entirety of last winter, studiously shoveling out all the snow that repeatedly blew under the door, instead of looking closer at the weather strip. Honestly, I had pretty much given up caring about the conspicuously absent finishing strip on the bottom of the huge door.
When I was building the last hay box in the barn stalls, I needed a board from my stash up in the rafters of the garage, and that meant I had to move the old weather strip out of the way. I decided to just take it down and lay it in front of the door, to make it easier to reattach than struggle to put back up on the rafters again.
The strategy worked! It took a little creative problem solving, but Cyndie and I figured out how to get the rubber to slide off the aluminum, so we could access the screws. With a few minor steps to add some screws in new locations, we got it reattached and were able to get the rubber back in place. We successfully recycled a part that would have otherwise been tossed.
No snow inside the garage this year!
With that success bolstering my confidence, I hopped on the lawn tractor and mowed the front yard. It struck me that I had been working in a short-sleeved T-shirt all day, and was mowing my lawn like a summer day, on the 8th of November. I’ve dealt with worse working conditions.
After that, I got the horses fed and cleaned up manure, before calling it a day and heading inside.
I think actions speak louder than words to reveal evidence that I am, indeed, feeling much better after several days of rest and Cyndie’s exceptional care.
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Forest Pasture
I got out and about yesterday afternoon for the first time in days. Cyndie was away and I had charge of animal care. Near the middle of the occasionally sunny day, after an impromptu nap, I set out with Delilah to walk her around the property.
We did the usual perimeter trek at a leisurely pace, returning to the point we had started from near the house. Delilah was ready to rush back indoors, but I wanted more. I dropped off my extra shirt, because it was more than I needed, and took Delilah down to the pasture so I could spend some time with the horses.
They didn’t disappoint me. The herd approached us instantly and we mingled and lingered together for a long time. I unhooked Delilah’s leash and let her romp, as I wandered around the back pasture to see what changes may have transpired since my last time out.
Cyndie had done a lot of work in the round pen, and there was evidence of greater runoff from recent thunderstorms than I was aware. The ground continues to be the wetter than makes sense to me for this time of year. I sure hope it makes the trees happy and helps them get through the winter in peak health!
I strolled down to the portion of our back pasture where we have preserved an area of tree growth. With the usual thick foliage gone for the season, I could better see how much horse activity goes on among the trees. The herd followed close behind, with Cayenne roaming right into the thick of it to show me how she seeks out the best bites that grow in hard to reach places.
If I didn’t know better, I would have thought I was seeing a moose munching away in there.
No wonder we are having such a difficult time getting our horses to lose a little weight, with the abundant food sources available in the areas we allow them to graze.
We are probably a little more lenient this time of year, however, knowing that very soon the green growth will be gone and buried for a long few months under plenty of ice and snow.
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Any Minute
Any minute now I just know I am going to feel 100% better. What a nuisance it can be to get smacked by a cold that is nothing more than a few days of typical symptoms, but which knocks you completely out of your routine. For the moment, I take solace in knowing I have turned the corner and am on the mend. Whatever crazy cellular battles have been underway seem to have shifted into a mode of damage repair and refuse disposal.
It has cost me a couple days in bed, which isn’t all bad. There are plenty of times when I long to have that option. It’s just never what one hopes for when it gets forced on you by illness. I slept and convalesced under the ever-so-capable care that Cyndie provides. She kept me stocked with medicines, tissues, fluids, and home-made chicken soup, while tending to all the chores of caring for our animals.
Pequenita was a special comfort while I rested, staying on the bed with me when Cyndie and Delilah were engaged in outdoor activities.
No one wants to suffer the travails of illness, but if I’m saddled with the dismal annoyances of the common cold, I don’t think there could be a place more comforting than this in which to endure it.
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Again, Anticipate
I’m thoroughly under the weight of the oppressive symptoms of a cold, and have grabbed an old “Words on Images” for today in place of boring you with the gory details of my day in bed. Here’s to better days ahead…
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