Building Bonds
With the paddocks recently freshened up —can’t refer to them as clean, since the horses have already followed up Saturday’s major effort with a hefty new distribution of piles— we invited Cyndie’s niece and nephews to come inside the fence to brush the horses. It was a good chance to allow the 1000 pound animals to bond with the kids and receive the nurturing care being offered.
Hunter, in the foreground of the image at left, and Cayenne, far in the distance, were wonderfully cooperative. Legacy, hidden from view, was less so. He wasn’t on his best behavior.
I’m told that horses don’t hold a grudge, but I saw how frustrated he was with us Saturday when we locked the horses out of the paddock while we worked to clean it. I wouldn’t blame him if he was still miffed. While I was scraping manure with the New Holland, he was at the gate, huffing and snorting, scratching away at the ground with his hoof, and shaking his head to and fro. He definitely wanted back in. Cyndie said that when I was putting away the tractor and she opened the gate to let them back in, they didn’t rush in with glee, but casually sauntered in as if it was no big deal. I returned from the garage to report that we had worked an hour-and-a-half past their usual afternoon feeding time. Maybe that was what Legacy had gotten all worked up about. It was past the appointed hour for dinner and we were showing no signs of doing anything about it.
Yesterday’s temperatures had plummeted down to a solid freeze again, so when I stepped out in the morning to get a picture of the new manure pile we had created in the paddock, I was able to walk on top of the crust of snow without breaking through. I decided to hike out and up the hill into the big field, where the snow cover has receded enough to reveal areas of exposed ground. I was curious as to whether this would attract the horses or not. They have barely stepped in the big field ever since the last big snow accumulation. It had gotten too deep to make it worth the effort for them. I expect the horses would feel an increased vulnerability in deep snow.
There was one little trail the horses had trampled into the field, and that single route was what they now confined themselves to on the few occasions they did wander out. While I was taking some pictures from up on that hill, with the sun behind me, Hunter ventured up that trail, stopping where the path began to arc away to his right. Wondering if he was interested in coming further, I approached him with an invitation to join me.
Tentatively, he stepped onto the crusty snow beyond the packed path. Hunter isn’t light enough to stay on top like me, but he found it was no longer too deep, and carefully proceeded in my direction. In the distance, Legacy was keeping a keen eye on the scene.
While Hunter wandered around on the hill with me, checking the spots where the snow had melted away, Legacy and the other horses moved out to just beyond the paddock, but no further. I think they didn’t want to deal with the crunchy terrain, yet they were obviously interested in what Hunter was up to.
He was with me, and we were alone —make that, alone with Delilah— up on the hill. It was pretty special. Unfortunately, since I wasn’t grazing, my interest quickly waned, and I was soon ready to head back down. It didn’t feel right to just walk away and leave Hunter alone, so I tried to let him know my intention to go, slowly stepping down toward the paddock. In seconds, Hunter was following. In fact, he started to increase his gate and I needed to hustle along to avoid getting run over. I wasn’t sure if his rush was to make it easier for him to navigate the crusty snow, or if he was just that eager to get back with the herd, but his sudden haste took nothing away from the sweet experience we had shared in his choosing to join me up there.
It seems as though Hunter and I are building a special bond of our own.
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Many Firsts
In our new world of country living on 20 acres with horses, cats, and a dog, 2 tractors, an ATV, a spare pickup truck, plus 3 outbuildings, we frequently find ourselves facing tasks with which we have no previous experience. Yesterday’s ‘first’ was using the diesel tractor to clean manure in the paddocks.
Our horses arrived at the end of September last year, so this has been our first winter with them. After the fall season in which we tried to clean the paddocks almost daily, the winter weather introduced a whole new challenge to our system. The snow covers and freezes the daily accumulations and we pretty much stopped trying to do any cleaning at all.
I asked our neighbor, George, how they deal with the situation at their farm. He stated matter of factly that they just wait until the snow melts and then scoop out the entire top layer of soil and manure. I fear ours will be a muddy mess that will keep our machines out of there until summer, so I was weary of how simple he made it sound.
Last week, while out shopping for hay nearby, we drove from the east on the county road that passes just south of our place. It was the very first time I have traveled that stretch of road since we moved here. We had yet to see the view of our place from that direction in the year-and-a-half we have been here.
While we were out on that trip, we noticed a farm where they piled the manure right inside their paddock. With all our snow finally melting, the months of manure are getting revealed in our paddocks, so I suggested we consider doing the same. The mess in our paddocks is big enough that I figured we would need to use the tractor, but I was unsure about whether I could successfully navigate the challenging terrain. The driveway was melting and would be a mud pit. The snow was still deep in some areas and the wheels of the tractor might not get me through. The ice could leave me spinning in place.
While surveying the situation, Cyndie spent precious time brushing out the shedding coat of each horse. I tried raking some manure by hand, and quickly learned it was still too frozen to be very effective with that mode. It would definitely take the power of the tractor to make any measurable progress.
In hindsight, I think we picked the perfect day for this task because it was a day when the temperature stayed below freezing. The tractor was able to make good progress in scraping the top layer of accumulated manure, and in so doing removed a lot of snow. If we had tried this on a day when it was warmer it would have been a muddy mess.
We ended up with a giant pile in one corner, but that should shrink significantly when the snow portion melts away. I think we did pretty well with our first try at using the tractor to clean the paddock. It was, in fact, one of the primary reasons we anticipated needing that tractor in the first place.
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Embarrassing Excess
I am developing a complex about the number of boots, jackets and gloves that I seem to need to keep handy at our doors. Occasionally, Cyndie will clear the excess and stow it in a closet. When this happens, I try to respect it for as long as possible, but inevitably my plethora of outerwear re-accumulates, filling our entrances with my clutter once again.
This time of year is particularly difficult, because the transition from winter to spring brings a wide variety of conditions. I seem to be putting on a different boot every other time I go out. For deep snow and/or extremely cold temperatures, I prefer my Steger mukluks. However, they have a soft leather sole, and I frequently want something more robust for tasks around the barn, or with our machines.
My other options include another pair of insulated winter boots –with a rubber sole; my ankle-high muck boots; and (not pictured) my calf-high, steel-toe slip-on boots for when I’m going to be near the horses.
I really do wear them all, and often in the span of a few days. Around here, it can be almost summer-like one day, and the next, you might receive a foot and a half of snow (as happened here last year on May 2nd!).
It’s the same thing with jackets. The hooks by the door make it look like we are having a party or something, but no, two of those are Cyndie’s and the rest are all mine.
I’ve got a heavy canvas coat for the colder days, a light winter shell, my raincoat, and my favorite light jacket from Wilkus Architects. By the other door is my Columbia fleece and shell combination that is so old I decided to have it become the winter work jacket, letting it get dusted and rubbed by enough grime that you can hardly tell what color it once was.
Could I get by with just one pair of boots and one jacket? Not one that works well for all situations, that’s for sure.
Then I look at Delilah, who doesn’t wear boots at all. She goes in and out of the house, and her furry paws work just fine for every condition. Sure, we have to pull ice out from between her toes sometimes, and wipe her down with a towel when she comes in, but she makes those paws do.
I aspire to become as efficient as she is.
Although, I’ve got her beat on one thing. Her collection of chew toys and gnawed bones, antlers, and stuffed critters is ten times the clutter of anything of mine piled up around the inside of our house.
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Look
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is it true
or do we assume
truth happens
only when
we need to hear it
the rest
is illusory
allegory
a vague story
told as a tale
. tall
beneath urges
longings
daylight dreams
happening in real time
filled with love
laughter
and a feeling
that lingers just out of frame
begging to be viewed
but invisible
if you look
directly
into its eyes
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Directing Flow
While walking through the muddy driveway in front of the barn I noticed that one of the “fixes” I tried last fall to control runoff appeared to still be doing the job this spring. Previously, the water on the barn-side of the hay shed would flow straight across the drive path into the paddock. I made a little channel at a diagonal across the driveway in hopes of directing the flow toward the far side of the paddock.
With all the snow piled up beside the driveway, there was nowhere for the water to go, so it began to pool up. I grabbed a shovel and set about remedying that situation. While I was working on it, Delilah showed up to help. She had already been racing through the mud that is beginning to appear in several places, so I guess I should be happy she likes playing in the puddles, too.
When it was time to head in, Delilah was a mess. Aaaah, spring. She has already started digging up the dirt that is becoming exposed at the front two corners of the hay shed. She appeared to be trying to get as dirty, muddy, and wet as was possible in the short time she had to run free after I got home and let her out of her daytime kennel.
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Window Replaced
The fractured window beside our fireplace was finally replaced yesterday! It was a long wait, because the glass was a special order, and because the builder’s other projects got pushed back by the harsh winter weather.
At least we had good weather for our task. It was a warm and sunny day here yesterday, with hardly a breeze. With the sun beating down on that side of the house, it was almost too warm inside, so having the window out actually felt refreshingly good.
The old broken window came out without a fight and the new one went in with equal ease. It took as long to assemble and take down the scaffolding they worked from as it did to make the glass swap.
For weeks I have been anxiously awaiting their arrival so I could ask them to look at one of the deck doors that was hanging up on the bottom of the frame. Then, just days before they arrived, I happened to notice something in the shop that held the key to solving the problem. Time and again since we moved here, I have walked past this bag that hung on a nail by the door. For some unknown reason, (trust that intuition?) last Friday I spotted words on the bright pink paper in the bag.
INSTALLER: LEAVE THIS FOR HOMEOWNER
Closer inspection revealed the words: ANDERSEN FRENCH DOOR INSTALLATION/ADJUSTMENT.
In the bag were tools and instructions for adjusting the hinges to re-center the door. I have been suffering with that dang door catching on the bottom for a long time, and wishing it would just fix itself miraculously because I didn’t have a clue how to remedy the problem. Meanwhile, I would walk by that bag hanging at eye-level every time I stepped into the shop.
Using the supplied hex wrench, I tweaked the vertical and horizontal positioning on the hinges of the doors on both sides of the fireplace. Then I hung that bag right back on the nail in the shop. I’m afraid if I move it to a different storage location, I’ll never find it again.
It just so happened that the door I fixed is the one the guys needed to go through countless times yesterday. That made me smile.
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Drippy Day
Sunshine had the snow melting off our rooftops in dramatic fashion yesterday. I started a project to assemble a new trailer for our ATV outside of the shop garage, but partway through, I noticed that the snow overhanging the roof had gotten so large it looked scary.
I moved further away from the overhang, out of harms way. At the time, the whole front section of the driveway was dry, but about midway through the assembly instructions my work space was becoming a series of draining water paths.
There weren’t as many collapses from overhead as I expected, but the afternoon was peppered with just enough dislodged masses of melting snow to keep me on edge.
In a follow-up to yesterday’s post about Delilah and the horses, I can report that Cyndie came in after feeding them in the morning, shortly after I had hit the “Publish” button, and she told me that somehow one of the horses sent the dog tumbling a couple of rolls through the snow.
She said Delilah got up with just a hint of a limp and carried on, leaving a bit more space between herself and the horses.
The horses were wary in the afternoon about coming up to feed under the overhang, so I suspect they have been enduring their own share of startling crashes of snow melt.
Everybody is a little out of whack around here. The cats are acting strange, but in a good way, making many more demands for attention than usual. I think they are starting to shed, and just want us to give them a good brushing. I was petting Pequenita and ended up with my hand and shirt covered in statically clinging cat hair.
I noticed the wee cat smelling Delilah’s paws just after the dog walked in the door from outside. Our cats don’t get to go outside, and I think she was curious about the scent from the great beyond.
Right now, that scent probably just smells like wet feet, but if the melt keeps up like this for long, very soon those paws will be smelling like spring mud.
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Intelligence Gaps
In the early dark of the first morning after the obnoxiously irritating hour adjustment to Daylight Saving Time, Delilah and I got up and started this day by ourselves. The cats were up, but not being noticeable, and Cyndie was sleeping as if the clocks hadn’t changed. I added wood to the fire and sat down to write, frequently interrupted by Delilah seeking attention.
The melt has started in earnest here and all that accumulation resting on metal roofs was set in motion yesterday, breaking loose and giving in to gravity with startling clamorous reverberations. Scared a few years of life out of Cyndie when it happened on the hay shed while she was inside it.
On the overhang of the barn where we added a gutter to minimize the dripping on the horses, the snow had slid beyond the gutter and was raining down. I had just walked up to tell Cyndie I was going to make a run to River Falls to pick up parts for the lawn tractor, and seeing the problem, grabbed a rake to knock the ice and snow down.
Let that be a lesson to me. I didn’t have a coat on, or a hat, or most importantly, gloves. I knew a little snow might fall on me, but it was a nice day and I took it as a challenge I could manage. What I didn’t anticipate was the damage a little falling ice can do to bare hands. I didn’t notice until I was on the way to town in the car, that my hands had suffered multiple cuts and scrapes. One particularly bothersome spot was missing a layer of skin. Ouch that stings.
While I was looking up at the gutter, and Cyndie was looking down, as she scooped up manure, Delilah decided to harass the horses in the paddock. In our continuing effort to have them learn to accept each other, neither of us chose to intercede on the confrontation. Then we heard Delilah yelp. I quickly turned to see that she looked just fine and was even still hanging around them. I don’t know if she got kicked or not, but we decided it was time to separate them. Time will tell if that will serve as a lesson to her or not.
She can be incredibly smart sometimes, and a bit of a doofus others. She knows that she is not allowed to bring dead animals into the house. We faced off for about 45 minutes one night, she on the deck and me at the back door. If she drops it, she gets to come in. So she drops the remains of this squirrel she caught and I open the door. She picks it back up and I close the door. It’s a wonderful game.
On Friday I saw her running around with the frozen remains of a rabbit, which kept her occupied while I focused on my own projects. As the day warmed up and she gnawed on her prize, I noticed on a subsequent trip between the house and the shop that the rabbit was no longer frozen. I headed in for lunch and in a few short minutes, Delilah showed up at the back door, looking ready to come in.
I opened the door and she immediately checked for the cats and made a circle around the room. I had barely finished closing the door when she stopped on the rug in front of the fireplace and coughed up a big chunk of that rabbit. She had been carrying it deep in the back of her mouth, obviously to be savored later.
I flung that door back open so fast, while shouting out my repulsed objection, that she knew exactly which rule had been broken. Without hesitation, she picked it up and marched back outside.
She’s smart, in that she understands the rule, and connives tricks to get around it, but then she goes and drops it right in front of me! How smart is that?
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Visualizing Success
While our landscape is still locked beneath a thick blanket of snow and the daytime temperatures rise above the freezing point, I reacted upon an urge to give the lawn tractor some long-neglected maintenance attention. The poor thing was caked with dirty, dusty grime and grass clippings.
Opening up the email inbox this morning revealed the timely message from my Stihl dealer detailing how to get those power tools ready for the first use of spring. It’s definitely that time of year. My cycling season can’t be far off!
I opened up the double door between the shop and garage and pushed the old Craftsman tractor, on one mostly flat tire, into the warmer workspace to begin the operation. I’m finally getting around to utilizing that space for the purposes it is so smartly designed to facilitate. The seller of our property kindly provided his stock of spare parts for the machine when we purchased it, so I am set with new air and oil filters, and belts if needed. Too bad that leaves me short a fuel filter, a spark plug, and a replacement bulb for the headlight that has been blown since we bought it.
We may even look into replacing the cracked vinyl seat that was once nicely patched with what looks like electrical tape, because said tape has long since given up its adhesive. Don’t tell anyone, but I will also finally defeat the interlock on the seat so the engine will be able to keep running without interruption when Cyndie bounces up off it when trying to rock the tractor every time it gets stuck.
In all fairness to Cyndie, I have experienced that situation myself a couple of times, as well as wanting to get up off the seat to ride the fender in attempt to better balance the tractor on the one steep part of the ditch by the township road.
Here’s hoping I’ll have the machine running sweetly in advance of actually needing it, without introducing any problems that didn’t exist before I dismantled so many of the vital components. This is a great situation for me to practice the art of visualizing success!
Very early in my life, while hanging around as an extra hand for my dad while he was engaged in any number of similar mechanical repair projects, I came to recognize one common aspect that troubled me. Every job seemed to include, as if by obligation, a moment where some problem arose that would completely impede further progress. One common example was the situation of a nut not coming off a bolt due to corrosion or thread problems.
Such moments are either a wonderful opportunity to rise to the occasion –finding the right tool for a solution, gliding through the uninvited obstacle with minimal disruption– or a disaster of careening down a path of increasing destruction and frustration. Success can be a function of having the right experience and/or keen instincts, and a good inventory of the right tool for the job with the intelligence of knowing how to use them.
I’m pretty sure I developed an aversion to these anticipated obstacles, which leads to the catch-22 of my avoiding them, which creates a deficit of learning how to successfully respond. Since I am now faced with increasing opportunities to delve into mechanical projects that offer potential for just these kinds of lessons, I hope to bring the wisdom I have gained in developing healthy mental perspectives and my ever-expanding awareness of things unseen –recognizing, listening to, and trusting my heart and my gut– as tools to assist me in my learning.
One of the first tools I intend to wield is, visualizing success.
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