Seasonal Dyslexia
Yesterday’s unwelcome weather event did not turn out to be one of the ominous “top-10 historic April snowfalls” that was being touted as highly likely, but it still scared me away from trying to negotiate Thursday’s traffic. I didn’t go in to the day-job. Both Cyndie and I stayed safely off the roads and tucked in our home, protected from the elements.
Thus far, we have experienced heavy rain, then sleet, then sloppy wet snow, then falling temperatures, and then wind-blown snow, out of this winter storm. It is still going strong, continuing to ply its wrath over us this morning.
Winter storms that occur in the springtime can be rather exasperating, especially when they cause postponement of an already delayed fence installation project. Doesn’t do much to accommodate our brush-pile burning project, either.
We have an important meeting in the cities this afternoon, with our tax accountant, so must bite the bullet and get behind the wheel, regardless the conditions complicating the morning rush “hour.”
The things we do for love.
We are head-over-heels in love with this place we now call home. It easily makes our driving hassles worth the trouble. Even when it is covered with snow in the middle of April, it is a wonder to behold.
Uncertain Outcome
And then there is the plot twist where something is expected to happen, but nothing happens.
Now what? Carry on as usual? That feels like such an injustice to all the energy that was put into anticipating the future that didn’t quite materialize as planned. I resort to making a list.
the periodic ticking of the hot fireplace
pecking of a bird breaking open seeds outside on the ledge of one of our log wall ends
clacking of keys on her laptop keyboard
gusting wind against the house and through the pine tree branches
radio songs from 1983
furnace fan cycling on and off
crunching dry food that a cat is munching
iPhone text message received alarm
distant whine, felt more than heard, rising from the base of the neck to between two ears
What’s happenin’? The unexpected non-event, that’s what.
Extend hibernation for a little longer. The explosion of spring will not be denied, but it can be delayed.
We’ll be patient. What choice do we have?
Meditative Burning
It rained Sunday night, but that didn’t stop me from reigniting the brush pile yesterday afternoon. It is a fascinating exercise to witness the ebb and flow of fire energy, as it slowly, but surely consumes tree root bundles. You can’t leave it untended, if you want to make constant progress. There is just too much moisture stored in the roots, and they don’t really want to burn. You need to keep feeding the fire wood that is dry enough to burn well, and stoke those coals to keep them glowing red-hot.
Still, the fire will tend to grow calm, as the burn consumes the immediately available fuel. It is mesmerizing. Then, a simple adjustment of the pile, by poking around in the coals, followed by the addition of some new wood, brings a rush of sound and fury. It is energizing.
I completely understand why someone I know explained that her husband took a picture of her when she was lured out to tend their brush pile burn, while still in her bathrobe. The task has that addicting allure.
Last night, I had a tough choice: the addiction of the fire, or the addiction of the NCAA men’s college basketball tournament championship game.
The brush pile will still be here today. The game won out last night.
Disappearing Day
Maybe this can be attributed to the old saying, “time flies when you’re having fun,” but it seemed like yesterday did more than fly. It just plain disappeared.
In all fairness, we did get a bit of a late start. We enjoyed a leisurely beginning to our day, and then dove into chores to prepare for a late brunch with our children and their significant others. As the noon hour came and went, Cyndie and I stepped out to putter on some outdoor chores while we waited for the kids.
We made our way down to the barn, where we started the process of clearing the eagle statue and the rocks used for landscaping, from the area to the right of the door. We will be creating space to drive the tractor around the back side of the barn, and that is going to involve removing some dirt. Before we can move the dirt, we have to get the rocks out of the way.
We barely got started on the project, when kids arrived. After a brief tour to show off the fence progress, we headed inside to prepare the feast for serving. It was a classic “Cyndie brunch,” with her homemade waffles, and oodles of fruit. When the meal was done, we didn’t even clear the table, but retired directly to the comfortable seating by the fireplace, to visit.
With the afternoon sun showing dominance over the thin clouds, we were lured back outdoors, where we explored for something to do. I decided to see if we could get any of the branches in one of our brush piles to ignite, with the hope of picking up where we left off last fall, burning them.
The process of burning brush can be real mesmerizing. We made it a challenge to start the fires without any paper or accelerant, which I’m sure occupied much more time than any of us realized. Once we achieved a spot with some good coals, it became a process of finding the driest stumps and root balls to pile on top of the flames.
It seemed like just a short time, but when we finally dragged ourselves away from the fun, and back up to the house, it was almost 7 p.m.! Holy cow! Where did that day go?
The tough thing about this experience is, we can now see so many outdoor springtime tasks already deserving attention, the phenomenon of amazing disappearing days is going to become an all too common reality for us.
It’s like magic! Luckily, we like magical things.
Wanna watch us make a day disappear?
Frozen Dirt
The frozen dirt of spring keeps grabbing my attention as I wander the areas where running water from snow-melt is carving paths and shapes. Overnight, things freeze up, capturing new spectacles to be discovered each morning.
Something’s Wrong
It has been about two years since I first noticed a pain in my left hand that felt like I must have done something while playing floor hockey to injure it. I figured I probably landed on it, in the heat of action, and then didn’t notice the pain until I had stopped playing. Maybe a strain, or a sprain. The kind of thing a little time would heal.
Unfortunately, time never did end the pain. It was a low-level irritation, somewhere in the middle of the bones of my hand, eventually growing so familiar, that it became my new normal. Something about the pain led me to imagine it might be the beginnings of arthritis in my joints. There is family history of arthritis in hands, so I chalked it up to growing older.
Over time, the irritation did show signs of getting worse. It is hard to measure, because I think my familiarity, and tolerance, for the discomfort would keep adjusting along with the increasing increments of pain. I was becoming aware of more things that were difficult to do with my left hand, though.
A few days ago, for some unidentified reason, the pain changed dramatically, becoming highly sensitive to certain pressures or movements. Finally, after two days of increasing debilitation, I sought professional diagnosis. I am hardly able to do anything with that hand without excruciating discomfort.
With no open appointments at my regular clinic, I headed to an urgent care location in hopes they could recognize a problem and refer me to a specialist for care. Nothing was identified in the initial examination, so I was sent for an x-ray.
I must admit, even though I was looking for a reason that I am experiencing chronic discomfort, I was extremely happy to hear that the x-ray did not show any indications of arthritis. However, that left me wanting some other explanation.
There are no broken bones, and no dislocations. The doctor said she didn’t have any x-rays of a healthy hand with which to compare, but something looked wrong to her. I was pleased, because the area she took notice of, aligned exactly with the spot where my pain seems to have localized: the base of my thumb, where the metacarpal meets the trapezium. (Whut? Okay, I looked it up.)
She said it didn’t look like it was seated quite right. She wondered if it might be a joint subluxation. Regardless, there was nothing she could do except provide a referral to an orthopedic hand specialist. It just so happens, my sister knows one that she highly recommends. I have an appointment to see him at his very next opening, …two weeks from now.
The Urgent Care doctor said the radiologist had not reviewed the x-rays yet, and she would call to let me know if he had anything more to offer. Before the end of the day, I received a message that the radiologist “read the x-ray as normal.”
Humph. What does that mean? We’ll see what the orthopedic specialist says. I know that something is wrong.
Got Boards?
Progress continues on the fence project. I think they chose to attach the boards on the lower end of the paddock now, so they won’t need to be working down in the muddy areas in the coming days, since temperatures are predicted to remain high in the afternoons for the next week.
There is still a lot of snow in the fields that has yet to melt. The drainage ditch beyond the paddock now has a babbling brook flowing, non-stop. Last night, just before sunset, I followed the flow to the end of our property toward the south, and discovered that it doesn’t immediately drain into the ditch that exists along the border of our property line and the farm fields next door. It is spreading out to form a large wet spot on the edge of our cut field.
I can tell, now, why some of that wasn’t already cut when I was mowing the area with the brush hog last fall. It probably remains wet most of the time, when we aren’t experiencing drought conditions.
Maybe I can dig it out a bit, in order to encourage the pooling of water (instead of fighting against it), creating a small pond. It may take a few years of seeing the seasonal tendencies of water behavior here, before I take that kind of action. Ultimately, my goal would be to work with the natural tendencies, and not endeavor to reshape them away from the natural. No sense digging a pond if it is only wet for a few weeks in the springtime.
I also want to be on the lookout for possible springs on the property. Most recently, we were informed there may be one near the willow tree that has now been made part of this first paddock. I am confident the future horses will help reveal the presence of a spring, if there is one there.
Something leads me to believe that the springs here will all be seepage springs that create wet spots, or dry out, depending on the amount of precipitation and ground water levels. The recent trends have delivered longer and hotter heat waves, and increasing drought conditions around here, so I am not inclined to expect any possible springs will be dependable for offering pools of water for more than short periods of time.
I have much to learn here. The last few nights I have been noticing how far along the horizon the sunset has changed already, from not so long ago.
Every day here –certainly in the period of our first year– is a brand new experience. In addition, the changes we are introducing on the property since we arrived, are reinventing the place from what it was before.
Yes, Mary, change is good!
Winter Receding
A little artistic rendering of the transition from winter to spring. I like how the compilation of grass, ice, and dirt turned out in this shot. Check out that great looking “M” in the ice!
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