Remarkably Still
It was so cold outside this morning, it almost felt like winter. The key ingredient that was missing was snow. I feel sorry for places in the world that historically experience this kind of cold but don’t get the months of snow cover that I was able to experience growing up. This environment of things being frozen solid but lacking the beauty and softness of a season-long blanket of wonderful snow is rather sucky.
Still, it was an absolutely beautiful morning despite the lack of temperature. We didn’t have any degrees. Zero Fahrenheit on the thermometer.
While I was outdoors, not a single vehicle traveled our road. When no one is moving about within earshot, it feels like Cyndie and I are the only ones in the world. That isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It is noteworthy because of how rare an instance it is. The quiet was simply luscious. The air was still and the cold temperature seemed to lock everything in place.
The chilly air frosted whiskers but otherwise didn’t appear to bother the horses at all this morning. Compared to those warm days with fog limiting visibility, these cold, crisp days allow the horses easy viewing, which is much more calming on their nerves.
One other rewarding thing about cold weather in the winter is the clear skies that accompany it. When Cyndie pulled into the driveway last night, she stopped to capture the view.
The sun had dropped below the horizon, creating a golden glow at our horizon and lighting up the crescent moon and Saturn out in space.
It’s cold.
It’s still.
It’s beautiful.
It’s drearily lacking in snow.
There’s still time for that last one.
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Waterway Scenery
Compared to the days and weeks before Christmas and New Year’s, the second day of the year was pretty serene around here. There isn’t enough news to fill barely a minute of a Garrison Keillor Lake Wobegon-style monologue. If you’ve never heard one of those rambles from the great storyteller, GK, look it up.
I wonder how long it will be until no one recognizes what I am talking about when I reference the old Prairie Home Companion radio show.
The highlight of my day yesterday was capturing a couple of photographs on a walk with Asher in the waterway along the southern border of our property.
When it rained last week, there was enough runoff to create some flow in the waterway, as evidenced by pools that froze over in low spots. The water beneath has since dried up, leaving a beautifully decorated layer of ice about the thickness of a skinny pane of glass.
I also paused to take a picture of a wonderfully constructed nest in a young oak tree we’ve been nurturing since discovering it.
The birds didn’t winterize this structure, but maybe they’ll return in a few months to put their summer home to good use.
That’s the extent of excitement around here yesterday. Oh, I suppose I could add the jovial visit from our “This Old Horse” rep, Johanne, who dropped off bags of grain for the herd and picked up a few bales of the hay that our mares don’t like. She has horses and mules that’ll eat it.
I spent time reading a Pierce County book about historical log houses and a bunch more newspaper editions from the 1870s. I haven’t come across any new details about my ancestors who lived here at the time in my recent reading, but every day, my impression of what life was like in this area back then becomes better informed.
As in, the sights I found in the waterway are likely very similar to what my great (and great-great) grandparents were seeing on walks in their days. Although, back then, they probably would have seen these things in November instead of January.
That’s yesterday’s news from the ranch, where the horses are strong, the meals are good, and Asher’s intelligence is about average.
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Enormous Void
Since I no longer work for a living, yesterday’s New Year’s Day holiday was no different than a typical Wednesday for me. Hoping to pay some respect to the festive occasion, I rustled up a college football game on television to entertain me in fine holiday fashion. That is when I unexpectedly witnessed a brief statement of news from a sports announcer.
Their “BREAKING NEWS” moment revealed to me there had been a terrorist attack in New Orleans, and it was causing a 24-hour delay in the playoff game scheduled to happen in the stadium there. Not the most joyful start for a new year.
The (peaceful) void in our home due to Asher’s week with a trainer has been filled after Cyndie and I picked him up on Tuesday. The rabbits and lackadaisical pigeons better take note that the sheriff’s back in town. I’m sure we will have plenty of opportunities to practice the “Leave IT!” command in the days ahead.
There was also a void in the latest jigsaw puzzle I assembled that had me overthinking many of my decisions about which piece went where.
After the initial build, there comes some sectional rearranging, which then permits the opening of a second bag of pieces to complete a surprise middle. Good fun in a hand-me-over gift from my sister, Judy. My hat’s off to the artist who created the multitude of entertaining details and strategically repeated portions that allow the image to be manipulated like the last page of a MAD magazine.
Ultimately, however, the most enormous void I am experiencing is the result of a member of my virtual community, Brainstorms MetaNetwork, having ended his life between Christmas and New Year’s. That was such shockingly unexpected information to read on a typical pass through new posts Tuesday morning.
I never met him in real life, but we’ve been hanging out in the same discussion spaces online for more than a couple of decades. It definitely strikes a nerve knowing he dealt with depression and some stressful life situations. He has left a lot of folks with challenges of grief, and it has currently tarnished the start of the new year for us.
I keep seeing that hole in the puzzle I built and thinking that is what our virtual community looks like this week.
I’m sure the families and friends of victims of the incident in New Orleans early yesterday morning are feeling even larger holes in their lives today.
It feels like there isn’t enough love to fill the void, but what better response could I give?
Join me, because we can conjure love from out of nowhere by simply thinking it into existence and then feeling it in our hearts. On top of that, when we are focused on love, and manifesting it into being, there is a simultaneous absence of hate occurring. Less hate, more love. Send it! Feed the world what it truly needs.
There is a tremendous void deserving of our attention, and it is within the reach of all of our hearts.
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Year End
’Twas the last day of the year, and all through our house, we did a quick review through my blog to see what had mattered. It occurred to me that I am more inclined to reminisce about long-past events than the prior year. I spent time in the morning looking through newspaper articles from the 1870s. The minutiae of Pierce County, WI, in 1874 strikes my fancy more than the collection of my daily reports on the ranch.
Looking through the “Previous Somethings,” we were reminded of trips we made to the lake to supervise the replacement of a rotting log truss on the main house and to do a little DIY masonry on the satellite building we call Cabin 3. The fall I experienced at the end of February didn’t require any “remembering” because it led to a chronic shoulder problem that I am painfully reminded of every single day.
We coped with water on the basement floor at the beginning of the year and the broken power line to the barn. We dragged out a DIY landscape project to our entryways over several months. After a soaking wet first half of the year, we experienced a long drought that revealed the water fountain in the paddock had sprung a leak.
In February, we hosted Hays relations up at the lake place in Hayward with a photography contest as one of the features. I rode my bike in the 50th version of the Tour of Minnesota. At this point, I’m undecided about whether I will do the 51st in 2025 or not.
In a year when Cyndie went surgery-free, we each took a turn at having our first case of COVID-19 illness and separate bouts of pneumonia. For the most part, we are otherwise healthy, although both of us have been noticing aging is increasingly sapping our youthful vigor.
The most notable adventure was our trip to Iceland with friends, Barb & Mike Wilkus in September. That island country is a marvel of fascinating natural beauty.
Despite that wonderful event highlighting 2024 for us, I’m afraid the heartache of the results of the U.S. Presidential election in November and my resulting coping reaction of avoiding news ever since has become the predominant pall shadowing my perception of the year. I can pretend all I want that I didn’t notice, but that doesn’t change the fact that it happened, and we will all face the consequences in one way or another.
Considering all the terrible things that have happened in the world since those quirky stories of interest in the 1870s, it is noteworthy that good people still endured, coped, and found ways to survive and sometimes thrive time and again. We can do this.
Thus, my review of 2024 is complete, and I am ready to return my attention to whatever today brings, especially taking note of the many blessings bestowed upon us.
Sending love to all you readers who have successfully found your way to the last day of this calendar year. Let’s spread the love far and wide throughout the next 365 and beyond!
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Interesting Conditions
Here’s something I find interesting: The NFL team I have been a fan of for my entire life, the Minnesota Vikings, has exceeded most expectations to reach 14 wins in 16 games in 2024. We fans always wish for success like this, but I never expected such impressive results to happen this year.
Even more interesting is the fact that the Detroit Lions, who have been the better team for the last two years, are in the same Division as Minnesota, and the schedule has us facing each other next week in the last game of the regular season that will determine the Division champion and number one seed in the playoffs.
Very interesting.
Meanwhile, our weather continues to hover around the freezing point, causing the persistent fog to freeze on surfaces overnight and melt to merely wet during the day.
The way it froze on the driveway was really interesting. When I stepped out just an hour later, most of that had melted. Most being the keyword because there were still slippery spots every so often, invisibly hiding in plain sight.
I’m ever so grateful that there is nowhere we need to be driving in these conditions.
Walking to the barn in the mornings is hard enough.
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Precarious Footing
Yesterday afternoon, we received a wonderful surprise in the form of sunlight and a visible blue sky after days of being socked in by a persistent fog.
The view when we headed down to feed the horses was spectacular!
Too bad it didn’t last. Not long after darkness fell, my phone pinged with a weather service warning of dense fog again. With the large dose of moisture lingering after yesterday’s rain and the airborne water vapor coating surfaces as the temperature hovered around the freezing point, Cyndie found the driveway dangerously slippery when she snuck out to retrieve the feed buckets.
This morning, it is even worse.
The asphalt of the driveway was too slippery to navigate on foot, so we backtracked and cut through the side doors of the garage to get to the backyard for a route to the barn.
The horses were coping but didn’t look too pleased with the conditions either. The poor pigeons were having quite a time of it when they tried landing on the metal roof and couldn’t keep from sliding.
It will be a good day to stay indoors, where I can finish my next jigsaw puzzle and watch the Vikings/Packers matchup with a glowing fire in the fireplace.
That blue sky yesterday afternoon now feels like it was just a mirage.
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Imaginary Problem
When something’s not right, does your mind wander toward the worst-case scenario? Mine did last night. Yesterday, we were “gifted” with a rain shower that would have been perfectly normal in the month of May. Unfortunately for me, it was the 27th day of December in a location that used to get snow instead of rain during the winter. Harumph.
I pulled up the images from our surveillance cameras and found nothing but a black screen from the barn view. It was late and rainy, and I didn’t want to trudge down to investigate, so I imagined what the problem might be. One possibility I came up with was that water had infiltrated my protective cover over the wiring to the camera and shorted out either the power or signal lines.
The other much worse possibility was that the remaining power line to the barn had failed, and the whole barn had lost electricity. That meant no lights and, more importantly, no heat on the water fountain for the horses. I would need to run a temporary cable from the shop and somehow hang it over the driveway high enough so delivery trucks wouldn’t snag it.
The moment this morning when I flipped the light switches up, my heart skipped a beat, but the lights came on, to our great relief. Also, a green indicator light on the camera showed it still had power. Hooray!
I unplugged the power to the camera for a minute or two to reset it and solved the problem with minimal effort. So much for my fatalistic imagination.
We continue to be blanketed by a thick fog that has the poor horses on edge because they can’t see the horizon to scan for threats.
Yesterday, there was still some ice in Paddock Lake, but it was all water this morning and topped to the brim.
I sure wish the warming climate was an imaginary problem. Maybe if we unplug insatiable greed and constantly increasing demands for land and air travel in fossil fuel-powered vehicles, we can reset things. Hahahaha!
I made myself laugh.
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Holiday Socializing
Cyndie and I did the old back-and-forth routine again this Christmas, starting with the hour-long drive to the Cities on Christmas Eve to gather with family from Cyndie’s mom’s side, then returned late to sleep at home. On Christmas morning, we fed the horses (Asher is away at a trainer’s kennel for a week) and then drove back to her mom’s for the classic Friswold breakfast and an opening of gifts exchanged.
From there, we drove home again for a brief rest in the afternoon, which allowed us a chance to feed the horses before driving back to the Cities for food and fun at her brother’s house.
Up past our bedtime for the second night in a row, stuffed beyond sensible with scrumptious foods, and buzzing from the precious energy of socializing with people we love so dearly, we hopped in the car one last time to drive home and crashed into our bed to sleep deeply.
I am ever so grateful that this was the only crashing we experienced because we witnessed some crazy speeding and risky maneuvering occurring on the highways yesterday. No one wishes for a traffic ticket on Christmas, but that doesn’t mean the Highway Patrol should take the day off.
It didn’t appear there was any enforcement in place during our cautious commuting, and some reckless speed demons were taking full advantage. Thankfully, road surfaces weren’t excessively slippery, and no bumpers were bumped throughout our many trips to and fro.
Every last trip was worth it for the treasure of special holiday time with our peeps. For those who love solitude, it provides a healthy reference for how nice it is to return to the calm and quiet of our own homes after periods of intense socializing.
Down in the paddocks, there was some unique social interaction going on between one particular pigeon and the horses and me.
I first noticed it walking around me as I rolled out the wheelbarrow to do some housekeeping under the overhang. It showed up on a fence board as I was sweeping off the placemats under a feed station.
When I arrived to tie a hay bag, the pigeon didn’t move away from its puffed-up position where I wanted to be. So, I took its picture.
Friendly little guy. When I stepped out of the barn with buckets of grain, it was sitting on Swings’ back. After it stayed perched there while Swings walked over to eat, I pulled out my phone to take another photo of the friendly bird.
I was too slow. It had hopped down to see if Swings was sharing any holiday cheer on the placemat below.
The rest of the pigeon flock is much more flighty about the presence of humans, but this one seemed to have no fear. Much as they tend to annoy us for the racket and mess they create, not to mention the temptations they are for Asher, I chose not to shoo this one off.
It was Christmas, after all. That wouldn’t have been in the holiday socializing spirit.
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Relative Something 