Inexplicable Realities
How did I spend my 4th of July Independence Day holiday? Mowing. We have finally begun the transition from too wet to too dry. It’s crazy how quickly the environment seems to swing from one extreme to another. While there are still areas with standing water, the grass growing in places that have dried out is already beginning to show a little stress. The happy medium is an elusive ideal.
Last week when I mowed, the residual clippings were excessive and left rows of dead grass. I didn’t bother with picking them up at the time, and after a few days I realized it was significant enough that I wished I had. It inspired me to pull out the grass catcher option this time, even though it annoys me to have to stop and empty it as often as needed. It worked pretty well for the most part, but when the tube rising off the mower deck would plug, the clippings and mud accumulated around the blades beneath the deck.
By the time I finished, it had become a hellacious re-molded surface under there with barely space for the spinning blades. Yikes!
I got another chance to practice removing the mower deck from the tractor.
I’m feeling less anxious about finding someone to cut our hay field after talking with my next door neighbor to the south. In hind sight, I discovered that my usual pattern of allowing myself to endure pressure about doing things “correctly” (like cutting when it is time to cut) is one of the primary forces causing my angst. Just hearing from the neighbor that we can’t cut here yet because it wouldn’t be able to dry enough on the ground, brought me a huge sense of relief.
It didn’t hurt that he also mentioned that the person who rents his field, and will be cutting hay there as soon as possible, would probably be able to help us out if my first option doesn’t come through.
A few posts back somewhere, I made mention of Legacy and Dezirea being hesitant to pass through the gate to our grazing pasture. I think I figured it out. It wasn’t just because the ground was so saturated there, but because their hooves sink so far in the muck that somehow the electric wire running underground between fence posts had gotten nicked and was arcing in the mud. It was hard for me to hear, but they obviously sensed the problem and it made them very uncomfortable.
It is feeling lately as if the line between functioning and failing is a very fine one, making it all the more challenging to reach the goal we are seeking. Our sights are well beyond merely functioning. We hold a vision of positively thriving!
Time for me to go mingle with the herd and practice absorbing more of their amazing horse-sense.
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Ongoing Challenge
In our zealous effort to get Wintervale Ranch functioning optimally in the shortest amount of time possible, we have repeatedly run into weather related obstacles that have hampered progress. I think it’s even fair to say the weather has been more of a problem in the last two years than has our simple lack of knowledge or experience in managing life on big property with forests, fields, and animals that need our care.
The issue feeling most burdensome today has to do with growing hay ourselves. I’ve written before that we are on a multi-year plan to improve our crop, so this one moment in time shouldn’t be such a big deal, but there is a chronological sequence to the 2-or-3-year process that is putting pressure on us once again. In early spring we were hurrying to get the field cut short and over-seeded with a mix of pasture grasses. Now we need to cut it to knock down the weeds and encourage growth of desired grass.
The wet weather has interfered with everyone getting their first cut of the season done.
I learned yesterday that the neighbor who we were hoping would be able to guide and assist us to get our field cut and eventually baled is doubting he will be able to get to us in a timely fashion since he is so far behind on his own fields. Every farmer I drove past on the way home from work yesterday was out cutting his hay.
Time waits for no one. We don’t own (yet) the equipment to cut for hay ourselves (the brush cutter mulches what it cuts), nor the rake to arrange the cut grass into windrows, nor the attachment that makes bales, so we are currently at the mercy of finding someone local to help us out. If we miss this weather-window of opportunity and are forced to wait for the next dry spell, it will mean less nutritional quality of our crop and more weeds that can get re-established again, despite our short mowing to discourage them earlier in the year.
The horses are doing their darndest to help munch down the tall grass in the grazing field in back. Well, at least two of them are. For some reason, Legacy and Dezirea haven’t wanted to cross the extremely wet, soft ground that is just outside the paddock in that direction. You can see the old fence line where the tall grass starts and how the shorter grass in the foreground has been trimmed like a lawn by their previous grazing.
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In this shot across the shaded paddock, you can see the field we want to cut for hay in the background, basking in the sunshine. It is ready and waiting for us to make our move.
I don’t yet know what that next move is going to be.
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New Camera
My camera of choice for most of the years I have been taking digital photographs has been a simple pocket camera. If I am remembering correctly, the first one was a gift from Cyndie’s parents, and it happened to be a Canon. Since I tend to stick with what works for me, each time I upgraded, I ended up with another Canon —the last one being the PowerShot S100. It has captured some great images for me in the last couple of years, but I have put it through some real abuse. Twice, I have needed to send it back to Canon to be cleaned so the lens would retract and the flash would spring up.
I almost always carry my camera in my pocket when I am working outside, and as a result, it gets heavy exposure to the silty dirt, sand, and dust that is constantly finding its way into my pockets. I only have so many pockets, and I have been known to accidentally stuff dirty or muddy trash I find into my left front pocket, even though I also sometimes put the camera there, too.
Alternatively, I will carry the camera in my back pocket, in hopes of protecting it better. Then I end up sitting on it, grinding in any dust or dirt that has accumulated. Now my S100 needs to go in for a third visit to be cleaned by the factory.
It took a while, but I finally came to the realization that I should look into a waterproof pocket camera if I want one that will operate in the rugged conditions in which I regularly find myself working. That thought conveniently arrived around the time of my birthday, and Cyndie scooped up the idea as her gift to me.
What she unknowingly bought me yesterday from National Camera Exchange happened to be a Nikon COOLPIX AW120. It doesn’t have as big a sensor as my Canon S100, but the rest of the features provide the robustness that I am seeking, so it will be worth it to me to accept any perceptible drop in image quality. I’m hoping you’ll find it difficult to tell the difference.
After I got the battery fully charged last night, I set out to get some test shots just as daylight was fading. Do you think it is going to be sufficient for my purposes? I’m feeling satisfied with it.
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Changes Afoot
This week I am back at the day-job to cover for my assistant while she is on vacation. By coincidence, this week also happens to be when Cyndie starts a new job in education administration. In fact, today is her first official day in her new role as Chief Academic Officer of the Anoka/Hennepin School district, the largest district in the state of Minnesota.
How do these things happen? I don’t know. It’s not like we planned for her to land such a demanding position so far from our home. The opportunity arose and Cyndie peeked in at it, getting quickly swept in for another shot at solving the world’s problems through helping improve another public school system. Can it be done? I hope so, because she always gives her all in trying.
What does that mean for our plans at Wintervale? Probably that our efforts to launch a self-sustaining education and retreat center here will be a bit more drawn out. For me, it means that I will need to do a better job of again reducing the need to travel across the cities to my old day-job gig. My primary responsibilities will shift to managing things at home. Heaven forbid, I might be forced to finally do the grocery shopping and dinner prep for the two of us.
I have already started my unintended plumbing apprenticeship. I’m daily growing more comfortable with animal care: horses, dog, and cat. I’m getting the hang of using tractors and gas engines. Most importantly, I’m making connections with the farmer neighbors and local business owners who will become the new co-workers I will be interacting with to accomplish whatever needs attention on any given day around here.
We think it is a glorious opportunity for both of us.
Happy first day of July, 2014!
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Three Images
I was looking through images I captured during the week of the bike trip, thinking about the possibility of a ‘Words on Images’ creation, but instead, I ended up with three pictures that I liked together, without any words. Here they are, for no other reason than I liked how they looked together…
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I’m Trying
Honestly, I’m trying keep a positive attitude about the lack of progress with our situation at Wintervale, but my efforts seem futile against the elements. Wet weather is the greatest culprit. It takes several days after a measurable rainfall to see the crest of ground water drainage, so even two beautifully sunny days after a storm, our land just seems to become wetter. I doubt we have had more than two days without rain yet this year.
On top of that, the precipitation we have been receiving has been in crazy large doses. The storms rolling through have commonly dropped 2, 3, and even 4 inch totals. The horses have been reasonably tolerant, for which we are extremely grateful, but it is apparent they are burdened by the disastrous conditions of the paddocks.
We still have a temporarily roped small space on the gravel driveway where they can get a break from the mud. Cyndie recently helped me move the temporary fence defining a grazing area, to expand it onto some untouched growth. They seem moderately happy with it, but struggle to reach it through an area that is extremely soaked and soft. The sad truth is that everywhere is soaking wet, so it gets only marginally better after they cross that worst spot.
Often times, we find they have taken it upon themselves to come in from the grass and we find them standing up by the barn. It surprises us that they give up on grazing before we need to force them, and their acceptance of standing under the barn overhang is a new behavior, too. I’m guessing that they have just finally come to recognize all the sounds that come from wind and the creaking expansion of a steel building on a sunny day. The horses used to stay away from the barn whenever the wind was blowing.
It has been a week since I returned from the bike trip, and the lawn is in desperate need of mowing again, just like it looked when I got home and needed to dive into the project at that time. Too bad it is so rainy this weekend and I need to work the day-job next week to cover for my assistant who is on vacation. My chance to get some of it done yesterday was foiled from the get-go. My Saturday started with this message from Cyndie: “I have bad news…”
It was a special day for us, because Cyndie had scheduled her first mini-seminar of training. Our daughter, Elysa, was bringing friends and it would provide us the chance to do something of a test run through the routine we are envisioning will become the mainstay of our future operations of Wintervale Ranch.
“The kitchen sink isn’t draining.”
On the bright side, I got out of needing to do the vacuuming (which unfortunately still needs to be done). So, Cyndie had to prepare her welcome brunch and lunchtime meal without a working sink. I got to spend my day running a snake through the stink of drain muck, negotiating over the phone with local plumbers, running to the hardware store for a longer snake, spilling nasty water on myself and the kitchen floor, and finally succeeding and putting everything back together in time for dinner.
Try as I might, the ultimate victory over that battle didn’t do enough for my attitude to keep me from feeling helpless and inundated by the overwhelming number of things that await attention around here. We are sinking beneath the water and all the projects that are falling behind the endless passing time of days and weeks.
July is around the corner. I better get after those April and May projects pretty soon. Oh boy, I’m trying.
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Parting Shots
I will end my series about the 2014 Tour of Minnesota bicycle ride and tent camping week with a few remaining photos to provide a view of some universal scenes. As I reviewed my files to select these, it occurred to me that I am missing a picture of our favorite bike tech, Mike, at our Penn Cycle support van. That is a good thing for me, because it is probably a reflection of my minimal needs in the way of bike repair this year, despite the harsh conditions.
Mike did pause one repair to hand me a pliers from his tool box so I could loosen the nut on my valve stem when I was trying to top off the air in my tires. He is the best combination of capable and humble. Mike is a precious person and major contributor to our good experiences on this ride.
A view of tents set up for the night, followed by the next morning. That would be Rich’s tent, always in the running for the last tent taken down each morning…
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Speaking of Rich, he is a very special friend who, on the morning I felt at my worst during the week, pulled me along for the first leg of the day. That makes a huge difference by the end of the day, having had an easy go of it at the start. I was lucky to share one of the great spectacles of the ride with Rich. I peeked around his shoulder to notice two riders approaching while we were on the Casey Jones Trail. It was just a glance, and my brain struggled to reconcile the information received. The figures we all black, head to toe. On a bike? Could they be women riding in burkas?
What was I thinking? It was gorilla suits, of course. A very hilarious moment for us, giving a high-five to a gorilla riding past us on a bike.
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As always, it is the people who make this ride special. Sharing meals, miles, and all the trials and tribulations of adventure vacations. Special thanks are due to the support crew who handle our bags, so we can ride without needing to carry tents, sleeping bags, and spare clothes.
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A special salute to Bob Lincoln, who accepted the role of leading the ride this year. His was truly a trial by fire, with unprecedented difficulties sprouting at every turn. He handled it all with superb professionalism and produced a fantastic and safe experience for every rider. Thank you, Bob!
One last shot, courtesy of Rich, on the morning of our last day. It was sunny, and we were dry. In the distance was the only spot of the week where we were faced with riding through flood water that was over the road. It soaked my shoes, through and through. It seemed only appropriate.
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Pedaling Upwind
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Seriously, we agreed to go, and even paid for the privilege of riding bicycles in a region that is so windy that they hold National Championship windsurfing competitions and power companies put up wind turbine farms.
What were we thinking?
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Maybe more of us would have thought twice about dealing with that wind if we would have known that the region was also going to be soaked by repeating waves of massive thunderstorms creating flash floods that closed roads, destroyed crops, and trapped a lot of cows.
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We witnessed innumerable fields with large amounts of topsoil sediment dropped in the lowest draining corner, and even more fields with massive amounts of previous year’s dead stalks and debris pushed into piles where it flowed over roads, or dropped in winding patterns when flood waters receded.
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Luckily, the camaraderie and shared accomplishment of like-minded friends proves to be a superb distraction from how miserable we might otherwise feel were we to endure such dreadful conditions alone. Riding while chatting —when the winds aren’t gusting so severely as to make that impossible— is a great way to cover long miles and not notice how far you’ve actually gone. We had opportunities to experience a little of both situations on this year’s ride.
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To Pipestone
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The way my mind works, I’ve got the perception that it rained on us every day except the very last, but the opening line of my journal entry for Tuesday, June 17 is, “Did not rain during the ride.” This was the day that our ride leader, Bob, got up extra early along with a few others and set out on a scouting mission to ascertain the integrity of our planned route. Also from my journal entry: “Only 1 detour required due to flood.”
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When I left home for the start of this trip, I was in Wisconsin. We drove across much of the width of Minnesota to reach the departure for the bike ride. On Sunday we rode a stretch into Iowa and back again. Now, Tuesday, we crossed into South Dakota, reaching Devil’s Gulch Park in Garretson. I achieved 4 states this week! I’m glad we aren’t required to have passports to traverse state borders.
The park wasn’t actually open, but they were kind enough to accommodate us and our bikes, even though staff were in the middle of trying to reconstruct the entry road that had been washed out by flooding. We enjoyed quite a spectacle in seeing the gulch at a time when flood water was raging through.
The myth associated with this gulch is that in 1876 outlaw Jesse James spurred his horse to leap across the 20-foot gorge, escaping a posse that was after him. I’m in the camp of those who consider this myth to be a tall tale used to enhance the allure of the park. It’s really not necessary when the water is high. There was some powerful water energy raging through that ravine while we were there, making our visit well worth the diversion.
Our lunch stop in Jasper was at a park. Most everywhere we paused for a snack or meal we found ourselves forced to navigate standing water around pavilions. This park offered the added adventure of trying to use picnic tables that were engulfed in the branches of a fallen tree. It seemed so darn appropriate for the type of week we were having that people simply carried on as if it was a normal everyday thing.
When we arrived at Pipestone and showered, I was feeling pretty lousy with my sore throat and developing cold symptoms. I passed up a chance to go see Blue Mounds State Park and took a nap in my tent, instead.
When I awoke, I discovered that my tent neighbor, first-year rider, Doobie, had landscaped his front yard and assembled a welcome mat. Priceless.
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If there is any truth to the familiar advice to “feed a cold and starve a fever,” I was a champion of feeding my cold this night. After a complete meal with ice cream for dessert, I accepted an offer to walk to another restaurant for pie. Luckily, Julie shared bites of hers, because there was no way I could eat a piece by myself. I was stuffed.
Even though we didn’t ride in rain this day, that doesn’t mean it didn’t rain. My journal entry for Tuesday closes with: “Lightning show with thunder and rain while I was writing this in tent before sleeping.”
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