Double Double
I am doing double, double-duty this week: at home, I am covering for Cyndie while she is visiting the west coast with friends, and at the day-job, I am filling in for a vacationing employee. What an unfortunate coincidental timing for these two situations to occur.
I am taxed with not being able to leave home before rush-hour traffic builds, because I need to tend to our daily morning animal-care routine first, while at the same time, I have twice the work facing me at the day-job, which realistically requires I spend extra time there. Not gonna happen. I need to get home early to rescue Delilah from the confines of her outdoor kennel and then feed the horses their afternoon nutrition.
Somethings gotta give, and I’m afraid it’s going to be service to our customers for a few days. Maybe they won’t notice.
At home, I fear the never-ending grass growth is likely to be my ongoing nemesis. It needs mowing again already! I didn’t have time yesterday after work. Between needing to give Delilah a healthy amount of attention and cleaning up a day’s worth of manure, the ever-shorter evening daylight hours were easily consumed.
Now that I am checking the temperature of the composting manure pile every day, I am finding that I need to turn it over with the pitch fork much more often that I had been doing.
I took a picture of the thermometer displaying that it was over 160° (F) again, after I had just mixed it around on Sunday. What a fascinating phenomenon that heat generation is.
Speaking of heat, we are enjoying a spectacular rendition of warm September days this week. Yesterday felt like warmth of a summer day, but there is no mistaking the subtle clues that frame it as autumnal.
I expect that the changing angle of the sun contributes greatly, but the actuality of that is not entirely obvious. Around our place, we’ve already got enough crunchy leaves over our trails that they are contributing a distinct fall-like aroma to go along with the auditory serenade that happens beneath footsteps.
We are in a period of high winds, as well, and something about the way the rushing warm air felt on my skin last night gave me a feeling that this is something special to be appreciated. It was hot, without being hot. Seriously. That may not make sense to you, but it explains the impression that warm September air can produce.
I am challenged with needing to luxuriate in this brilliantly spectacular weather for more than just myself, but for Cyndie, too, since I’m absorbing her share of bliss while she’s gone. It’s the least I could do.
It wouldn’t make much sense to only take on the burdens her absence presents, would it?
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Barn Chores
During the previous weekend we finished creating the stone walkway out the back door of the barn. Looks good now, but I am wary of how well it will hold up to the ravages of changing seasons and expected usage. Most often, that is the route out of the barn for the wheelbarrow full of manure and soiled wood shavings, after the horses have needed to spend a night indoors during the coldest of brutal nights.
Maybe we won’t have very many severe cold nights this coming winter, what with the forecast of a super El Niño intensity unseen in 50 years. I wonder if the global climate is being impacted by human activity? (I just can’t help myself, putting a question mark at the end of my “I wonder” statements.)
I will be surprised if our stone placements survive their first winter of shoveling and freezing without needed some level of maintenance when next spring arrives, but for the minimal effort we put into the project, I think the path is adequate for now.
At the very least, it’s a heck of a lot nicer to look at.
With the stones all in place, the next task receiving our attention became the stalls in the barn. Taking advantage of some dry September air, we pulled floor mats out of the stalls for washing, and raked out the dirt floors so they could air out.
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While standing in the stalls, it occurred to me that I need to get to work designing new slow feeding hay boxes for each one. The current setup allows the horses to pull hay out freely, dumping it on the floor, where it goes to waste and leaves them with nothing to eat.
A smaller version of the two boxes I’ve already built will offer a perfect solution for that.
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Smokin’ Hot
Our fertilized dirt factory is cooking big time lately. In fact, my piles have been getting too hot. I have learned that too high a temperature will begin to kill the beneficial bacteria at work, primarily because it coincides with the point when oxygen is getting used up.
All I need to do at that point is stir the pile to aerate it.
That means I should be paying closer attention to the daily temperatures, and not just turning it weekly, as I had been doing.
The picture I took of that pile looks a bit like a volcano, but I don’t think there is any chance of it erupting.
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Snake Aversion
Why did it have to be snakes? All I wanted to do was pick a few rocks. One of the first that I lifted uncovered a young garter snake, causing a typical startle, despite my awareness of the likelihood of the possibility. The stone garden on the side of our house where we have a fire pit, happens to be the spot where snakes are known to reside.
I am not a fan.
The next rock I moved revealed the ghost of a snake, skin that had been outgrown, which conjures an image which has the potential of being even more shudder-worthy than the real thing. There is a snake larger than this lurking somewhere nearby. The power of the mind makes this more ominous than an actual snake.
All this anxiety-inducing effort I was engaged in was for a good purpose, of course. I worked yesterday to replace the plastic grates on the path out the back door of the barn, with stones.
Upon simply placing the first few stones, it became so obvious this was a better solution, both functionally and aesthetically, that I marvel over why we didn’t do it at first.
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Some improvements take a couple tries before we get them right.
In a way, I think this path will mean more to me now, after having first tried something that didn’t work out as well as I imagined it might. It will certainly be worth the repeated scares I endured while hunting for the perfect stepping-stones from the snake-infested quarry beyond our deck.
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Mixed Signals
I am flabbergasted with the amount of grass growth on our property that is happening in September. It’s confusing my sense of time and place. Cyndie mowed last Saturday, and in less than a week, it already desperately needed to be cut again!
We have received regular rainfall that rivals a typical June, even as the days shorten, the temperature is dropping, and leaves are falling. I mowed yesterday and rolled through standing water in several spots. This time of year is usually dry and growth slows down. It didn’t seem like September at all to me as I started trying to knock down the crop of grass.
A couple of hours later, I was feeling the chill of a cool fall evening as the sun dropped low. It is mind-boggling to have these mixed signals informing my senses.
Good thing I’ve decided to work on learning to embrace change and celebrate aberrations.
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Embracing Impermanence
I have been encountering a recurring theme of late that is causing me to ponder my desire for order in my daily routines. Also, for constancy in the products for which I grow fond. Most times, I don’t want ‘new and improved.’ I just want more of what I had the first time.
There is a measuring cup in the kitchen that I have started to use every day, now that I am measuring portions of many foods, especially the all-too-sweet cereals I passionately love. I open the middle drawer, and there it is —most of the time.
If Cyndie has been baking, it could require a search.
I tend to experience greater pleasure when my developed methods glide seamlessly along like a well-conducted orchestral piece. If it runs into turbulence, I might alter my tactics to improve the flow. Basically, I look to simplify effort, probably toward something that would align closely to a style that could justifiably be viewed as lazy.
This probably explains why I am not big on the tasks involved with meal preparation.
It is occurring to me that I will probably be better served to work on honing my skills of adaptation to the constant variations that are a reality of life, instead of always pining to have things be where I expect to find them, clean and in good working order.
Sometimes, you discover that the tire is flat. People call in sick for their shift at work. It rains when it was forecast to be sunny. The manufacturer has discontinued a favorite tool/appliance/car/shoe/food/article of clothing.
The climate is proving to be in much greater flux than most people wanted to believe. Plants and animals go extinct. Millions of people get forced to flee their homeland, becoming a sea of immigrants.
Seriously, when wasn’t change a constant, despite what our minds have a tendency to perceive?
Maybe I can find a way to nurture that feeling of pleasure I usually get from orderly routines, to also manifest in the face of unanticipated complications. They are vivid examples the universe is alive and breathing, and I still am, too. It’s a reality that I am coming to believe is not worth fighting against. Conversely, I think learning to celebrate the aberrations should offer nothing but greater peace of mind.
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Good Enough
It has taken me until yesterday to finally get the hitch plate remounted on the ATV, because of the difficulty I experienced removing those two sheared off bolts. Well, and also due to the fact I spend most of my days away at the day-job instead of working on things that need fixing at home!
When gentle methods proved insufficient, I drilled through the bolts in order to use an “easy-out” bit to turn them out. I was able to pound against one of them to break the rust bond, and then it spun out effortlessly. For a minute, I forgot the reality of all such projects and I felt hopeful about quickly finishing the second bolt using the same process. Silly me. It wasn’t to be.
Try as I might, I could not get the second bolt to jar loose from the threads in the frame. And I did try, over and over again. I tried adding heat, I tried cooling with ice. I pounded it in every direction. I soaked it with rust-breaking fluids. I worked repeatedly to get the easy-out bit to rotate, all the while being cautious about not breaking that off in the hole. It never budged.
After days of effort, I was forced to make progress in order to get on with the next task at hand. I drilled out the bolt fragment as large as possible without completely trashing the threads, and put in a smaller diameter bolt that was long enough to secure with a nut on the bottom.
It wasn’t the perfect resolution to the problem, but it was a completely effective work around. The hitch plate is mounted again, and I can pull the trailer for chores. First order of business: relocate the composted piles of manure.
I needed to make new space for manure because I was running out of a place to put it. Out of the 6 piles I had in our composting area, 4 were no longer “cooking.” I spent most of the afternoon distributing composted manure to a variety of spots. Some is being used as fertilizer, but a lot if it is currently being used as fill in areas that need it. That happens to be the most convenient solution to two different issues.
I quickly get new space in the compost area, and at the same time, get to fill low spots that need it most. That’s good enough for me.
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