Edge Straightening
Fall has arrived! That means it’s time for everything apple and pumpkin.
It may not be my officially assigned duty, but it is the moral thing to do. Cyndie baked apple crisp yesterday, and I instantly took it upon myself to do everything in my power to make sure the edges remain straight. With utmost diligence, I keep watch over the pan, taking action when necessary to assure the remaining edges, whenever a portion has been served, will always be straight and true.
It is a grueling responsibility, but for all the effort she put into creating such a work of art, it’s a way of showing my greatest respect for her craft.
I’m pretty sure the recipe she uses involves one and a half shovels of brown sugar, a pail of butter, a can of oatmeal, lots of cinnamon, and a couple of apples added to taste. It works.
Her recipe doesn’t make it any easier to keep the edges straight, but it does make the process of doing so somewhat less onerous.
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New Tricks
Just like when I was a little boy, I have once again been inspired by my big brother, Elliott. He taught me new skills in tree trimming while he was here to rope climb into our trees and cut hanging dead limbs. Ever since that day, I have wanted to emulate the techniques he demonstrated for tossing a line over a high limb, and for handling ropes.
On a (now-regular) shopping errand to Fleet Farm for equipment and supplies, I picked up a weight from the fishing department and several hundred feet of small gauge woven line as my new method for getting a rope over a tree branch. I can now look back and laugh at the time I tied a heavy pad lock on the large rope we had, and repeatedly threw it aloft in attempt to snag a hanging branch. It was laborious and inefficient, although ultimately exhaustively successful. My new skill has made that exercise ancient history.
I was able to use the new weighted line, and technique learned from Elliott, to get a rope around the huge limb that came down in recent winds. The heavy end of that limb made it to the ground, but it was so big that most of it remained hung up in the branches of the neighboring trees. As I cut the lower portion with the chain saw, we wanted to pull the top over, getting it out of the branches in which it was held, hopefully without causing any additional damage. It worked like a charm.
With that task accomplished, I was able to practice the braiding technique Elliott showed me, gathering the rope in a method that allows it to quickly come undone next time it is needed. For some reason I haven’t figured out yet, I’m doing something that causes the ends to be uneven. Happily, it gives me an excuse to keep practicing. I’ve discovered I really enjoy handling rope.
Since my current tree branch trimming methods primarily involve keeping my feet firmly planted on the ground, my new rope skills caused me to reconsider the high-limb rope chain saw that I previously looked upon as having questionable viability. Comically, what I didn’t recall was that I already owned one.
While searching for a container to hold my throwing rope, I spotted a short bucket on the floor in my shop that was exactly what I wanted. Inside it were a pair of worn out gloves that deserved to be thrown out, several rags, an old ratcheting pruner that has been missing, and lo and behold, a rope chain saw I had never used and forgotten I had received as a stocking-stuffer gift (I think) some years ago.
Dispelling my previous doubts, I have discovered that it works GREAT! Thanks to the new tricks Elliott showed me, I was able to get that chain over a branch that was higher than I ever imagined I could reach from the ground and cut through it with relative ease.
Look out lofty dead tree branches… here I come.
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Daily Companions
First things first: Dezirea is hanging in there. I don’t think she is quite herself yet, but at least she didn’t return to the condition in which we found her on Thursday morning. She’s on a restricted diet and seems to be satisfied with it. She tends to move off by herself, but before long, one of the herd will wander over to check on her. Sometimes she responds by coming back to the group, other times she stays put.
We want to have her drink as much water as possible, so I filled a bucket and brought it to her where she was standing. Soon, each of the other horses wanted to get their drinks from the bucket. I guess it was something novel. I wonder if the water tasted better.
I decided to intercede on Dezirea’s behalf and motioned a boundary to prevent the other horses from disturbing her. The boys quickly lost interest and returned to the hay feeder. Cayenne stayed nearby. Slowly but surely, almost politely, she navigated her way around behind Dezi, pausing several times, until she was eventually positioned within reach of the bucket of water. I didn’t have the heart to chase her away after that effort, and she got her turn to drink from the bucket.
Delilah continues to improve as a companion dog while I am tending to chores around the property. She will appear to be totally engrossed in hunting in our hay-field for anything that moves or that has a scent, but when I finish cleaning the paddocks and head toward the upper gate with a full wheelbarrow, she comes running.
Yesterday, after I dumped the wheelbarrow and began turning some of the composting piles, she gave me a good laugh. I turned around to find Delilah had taken a position in the shade, laying right in the middle of a knocked down pile of manure, looking all regal and poised. She looked to be the queen of her castle, oblivious that she wasn’t laying on a silk-covered bed.
The thing is, when she is dry, she can stand up out of that pile and look as composed as if we had just brushed her. She will smell as wonderfully dog-sweet as she always does, not taking on any aroma of the composting manure. Having her lay in the manure pile is preferable to collecting burrs in her fur from all over our property.
Those are my primary work-day companions lately, Delilah and the horses. I am a very lucky man to have them.
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Special Day
September 19 is doubly special to Cyndie and me. Today is our 33rd anniversary, and it is also our son, Julian’s 26th birthday. Happy birthday, Julian. Happy anniversary dear.
We had a bit of a scare yesterday with the discovery that Dezirea was ill. Coincidentally, or if you believe in the power of energy connections, not a coincidence at all… Cyndie woke up with gastrointestinal upset that kept her home from work. That was a great relief for me, in that I wasn’t alone in trying to deal with the situation.
I sensed something was amiss after I served the horses their ration of feed first thing in the morning. Dezirea didn’t appear to have eaten, and was standing with her head down. It wasn’t a normal look for her. I felt that something was wrong.
Back at the house, I checked on Cyndie to see if she felt able to go down and assess Dezi. Luckily, that was within her ability. By the time she got there, Dezirea was down on the ground. Cyndie made a call to our veterinary office and waited for them to call back. When I made it back down, I was shocked to see Cyndie standing over Dezirea and Dezi flat on the ground with her head down and legs straight out.
Looking in the horse’s eyes, I saw a total vacancy. There was no stress or anxiety, she just looked gone. It was a very stressful few minutes, contemplating the possibility that this was going to be her time to go.
Then suddenly she reappeared. While I was looking right at her, I saw life return to her eyes and she sat up again. I had to run to the house for something and when I returned, Dezirea was up and walking. Cyndie said Hunter came over and started biting her neck and pulling her mane. Legacy had been nudging her and gently mouthing her hind quarter, but Hunter’s actions were more insistent and that is what she responded to.
The vet arrived and provided something for pain (she required a second dose), an anti inflammatory, a sedative, and about a half-gallon of mineral oil to treat colic.
There are a variety of possible causes for colic, none of which are glaringly obvious probabilities for our situation. Maybe she wasn’t drinking enough water. Maybe she found a little too much clover in our pasture. It’s hard to say.
There is also the possibility that there is a twist in her intestine, which will seem more likely the cause of her problem if she doesn’t get better today.
I took this picture while the vet was asking if Legacy was her companion. Looking back into the paddock, Legacy was standing at the gate, closely watching us, while the two younger horses were ignoring our activity and giving each other back scratches.
After the vet left, I got a chair for Cyndie to sit in and Dezirea put her head down in Cyndie’s lap and took a little nap. Her snoring made me giggle. We were supposed to keep her from eating, but after the short duration meds wore off, she was behaving as if nothing had ever happened and she wanted to join the herd in the pasture and eat.
By evening last night, she was looking a little off her game again, but nowhere near the severity of earlier. We are hoping for the best when we get down there to check on her this morning.
The alternative is not something we want. Thank goodness I had Cyndie home to help yesterday. I tend to believe that wasn’t a mere coincidence.
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Waiting Games
My patience has been tested the last few weeks, waiting for three different contractors to make appearances on our property. Unfortunately, nature isn’t going to delay the onset of winter just because my projects weren’t completed. Completed seems like a humorous concept, since I can’t even get people here to start. They all claim the reason they can’t make it is that they are too busy and behind schedule.
Yesterday, I received a token visit from landscapers who will put in drain tile to route water around the paddocks, in hopes of keeping them from becoming such mud pits. It was “landscapers” plural, because the first one was so over-busy through the end of the year he needed to contract it out to a friend. They took some final measurements and said work should be able to start next week. I can only hope.
It felt a bit like the experience I often have in a visit to the doctor. I check in to let them know I arrived at the time of my appointment, and take my place in the waiting area. After what seems like way too long to be waiting, I start getting agitated. When that feeling starts to morph into anger, a nurse pops out and calls my name.
That resets my angst, and I am happy my turn has finally arrived. Except, it hasn’t. I eventually discover that all they have done is move me from the outer waiting area to an exam room to continue waiting. It’s a great system, because I tolerate a lot more waiting when it is broken up by little moments of faux progress. It would have been an intolerable wait, had I spent the entire time in the outer chairs. Broken into two stages —the second one feeling like actual progress— helped me accept the overall total wait-time without making a fuss.
It feels like the landscape contractors finally made an appearance yesterday to reset my angst and make me feel good about them telling me the work should be able to start next week sometime.
Once again, it works wonders for me. My previous anxieties have been reset. I’m happy with their latest promise.
Here’s hoping they are able to live up to it.
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Versions
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Delilah Games
One night last week, when I was taking the memory card out of my camera to download the day’s photos to my computer, my finger slipped when I pushed on the card to eject it. The card popped all the way out and went sailing past me to the floor below. Delilah scooped it up the second it landed. I could hear the sound of the hard plastic clicking against her teeth as she checked it out.
In a panic, I scrambled from my stool and pushed my fingers around her jaw and into her mouth. I wiped off the saliva and inspected it for teeth marks. There were none. Disaster averted. Thank goodness for dogs ‘soft grip’ ability.
What a drama one slip of the finger can create.
You know, that gentle touch with her teeth reminds me of the amazing prowess that horses have with their lips. I was watching Legacy yesterday, while he rushed to graze some clover greens from which he seemed to anticipate I would pull him away. We were on our way over to the north pasture, but I was in no hurry, and actually was happy to have him trim the growth along the side of the gravel driveway loop. So, I let him have at it, and studied his technique.
There was a dead cottonwood leaf that seemed to be right in the way, and at the rate he was going, I expected it to get sucked right in with everything else. With an impressive combination of motion between his head and lips, that leaf was manipulated out of the way several times as he gobbled up all the greens on every side of it without ever slowing down. Talk about having touch.
Anyway, back to Delilah; Miss Quick. She’s a dog. She likes to chase and retrieve. She is also very fond of playing keep-away with us. She will keep bringing whatever the toy of the moment is for us to grab, so she can shake her head to pull it away. Even more, she loves to be chased and shows off her incredible athleticism with dodges and direction reversals rivaling an NFL running back.
The problem with this is that her game of keep-away wrecks the game of fetch. I throw something once, and she brings it back for an instant game of keep-away.
Having neglected to properly train her to drop things on command and play the game I want, when I want it, I instead devised a work-around. I bring two, or sometimes three objects for the game of fetch. Her compulsion to chase, overrides her desire to play keep-away. If I have another object to throw, she is more than willing to drop the one she has in her mouth.
Of course, that simply led to her upping her game a level so that she drops the first item farther and farther away from me, hoping to pick up the second thrown object and then beat me back to where the first lies. It was funny watching her struggle to fit two balls in her mouth at once, until she eventually perfected that skill (thus my solution of bringing a third…).
To mix things up, sometimes we throw discs for her to chase, instead. She loves leaping for them, when we get the throws right. She makes us laugh when she scrambles to try to pick up both discs at the same time. I expect she will hone that skill, too. I might as well start looking now for a third one of those, as well.
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Almost Day
Some days just don’t flow the way we hope they will. Our Sunday turned into an “almost” day for me. I guess almost can be looked at as being better than not at all. I discovered that I almost read all of the text on the big green sticker on the box of the solar-powered fence charger I bought on Saturday. I saw the words, “mounts on t-post” and figured I was good to go.
If I had read the whole thing I would have realized it was a separate bracket to be purchased that allowed it to easily mount to a t-post. Instead of making another trip to the store, I took that time to rig my own solution.
It probably would have been quicker to make that trip and buy the dang bracket. I almost got the project completed by 2 o’clock in the afternoon. Unfortunately, I had planned to do other things, expecting this to be an hour-long task. I almost didn’t let it bother me that the day was over half gone at that point.
I almost sprained my ankle when I stepped in a divot in our lawn made by a mole. Adrenalin shot! Felt very lucky to have not been putting too much weight on that foot at the time. Pesky moles. I know that balance in nature is a good thing, but I sure wish we could do without the moles.
We almost put up the posts for the wood shed, version 2. Made some progress, then had to undo that and start again. After several attempts, I came to the conclusion that we shouldn’t try to robustly attach all the legs and expect the roof to align properly. We need to find a way to get the roof up resting on the back posts, and then place other posts beneath, line everything up, and fasten it all together.
Cyndie was a fantastic help all day, and kept me from giving up altogether. There was no “almost” in her day. Between coddling my fragile attitude and lending her assistance wherever she could, she did laundry, made meals, tended to the horses, and helped me scoop up manure. It was one of her weekend days off and I think she did more work than me.
Saturday she helped me with my lumberjacking and we cut up the huge downed limb and then more trees near the south border where new pasture fence will be installed. Over the weekend, she also finally put saddles on the 3 horses that will be ridden, and had them do some walking exercises to remind them what wearing a saddle is like. It gave her a chance to check out the equipment she purchased, and to give the horses some exercise with the saddles before adding the weight of a person to their load. It’s been over a year since they have been ridden, so they are a bit out of shape at this point.
Speaking of points, I almost had one when I started writing this ranting post. It is only fitting that now I don’t really have a conclusion to offer about my “almost” day.
If Cyndie were available, I bet she would take care of that for me, too.
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Peaceful Morning
One by one the horses buckled their knees and settled down to rest in the relative warmth of the climbing September morning sunlight. Cyndie and I were working nearby to put up a little barrier around trees we want to protect in the new pasture. I noticed we unconsciously dropped our voices to a whisper.
While doing some cleanup of some dead wood in a patch of scrubby growth, we discovered desirable trees previously unnoticed. The more undergrowth we cleared, the more surprises we found. The first one to catch our eyes was a fabulous oak that was about 10-feet tall and had deep green leaves, a course bark, and some bushy looking acorns. After clearing the tangled growth that had been obscuring it from view, we felt a thrill to know it was there and looking so fine.
We continued to cut back weeds and eventually uncovered a different kind of oak, a couple feet tall and with much more yellow-green leaves. After that, a maple appeared, along with a frail looking elm and a single sprout of a poplar. It looks so much better with all the suffocating weeds cut back. 
It only took one day for the horses to take interest in that spot and I realized we would need to do something to protect the trees. We created a perimeter with step-in posts and hung a green mesh fabric around the circumference.
Today I will mount a solar charging battery to electrify the fence around that pasture. It will be time for the horses to rein in their energies and mind their manners over there.
On that subject, Cyndie reported that while I was out last night, she went to collect the horses from the arena/pasture grazing area for the night and found only 3 of them there! Cayenne had slipped past one of the barriers and ventured out into the hay field for a few unauthorized bites.
A little electricity does wonders to keep them from testing the fence boundaries.
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Pattern Change
We woke up with a hint of frost on our deck this morning. It is a clear validation of what we have been sensing the last few days. There is a change of season in process, and with it, our patterns of routine. I had to hunt down a long-sleeved shirt the other day. Of course, at this time of year the extra shirt comes on and off a lot, depending on activity.
I came in from outdoors and headed to the sink to wash my hands. Ah, there was my old peeve, back again. The cuffs of my shirt get wet when I wash my hands. Sure, I pull the sleeves up, but they slide right back down. Now I am able to appreciate what I have taken for granted all summer long, that I can scrub up without a care when I wear short sleeves.
A couple of days ago I asked Cyndie if she was comfortable in the house. She said she was, and I pointed out that the indoor temperature was 62 degrees (F). In the winter, Cyndie is quick to report her discomfort if the house temp drops below 70.
It fascinates me how our bodies respond differently to the seasons. What feels refreshingly comfortable now will be irritatingly chilly in the days to come. In 5 months, a temperature just a few degrees above freezing will feel refreshingly comfortable outside. This morning that temp tightens muscles and causes a wince. It has a bit of a bite to it.
Soon it will be time for me to find my winter gloves. I have no idea where they are.
For some reason I have a difficult time parting with old gloves. The finger on these opened up way too soon, so I patched it and got a good few weeks more out of them. Then the palm opened up and I decided it was time to retire them.
Just throw them away, John.
I looked over the right glove and couldn’t find anything wrong with it. Maybe I can use the right glove around the fire pit. I already have one by the living room fireplace, but come to think of it, I never use it.
Maybe I can use the leather for some other purpose. I could cut off the fingers and…
Just throw them away, John.
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