Just Weather
When a long-duration storm is dishing out its worst, there doesn’t seem to be any other news that rises above it. I tried to keep one eye on NCAA March Madness Tournament basketball games yesterday but the other eye was darting between the snow out the window or the radar updates online.
It snowed most of the day but we didn’t get a lot of accumulation until the sun went down. The temperature hovered right around freezing and the line where snow changed to rain appeared to be slowly moving north as we turned in for the night.
Cyndie put blankets on the horses in the afternoon because Mix and Mia were shivering from the wetness and also because of the likelihood that the cold precipitation would change to rain and soak them even more. We leave it up to them to decide whether they want to stay under the overhang or stand in the rain.
I’m always surprised by how often they choose to walk away from the cover of a roof over their heads.
I’m anxious to get out there this morning to see what the conditions are like in the paddock. Muddy, wet, and snowy all at the same time, I suspect.
As they say, we need the moisture.
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Not Obvious
It’s not obvious by this morning’s sunny conditions that we are in store for what threatens to be the largest snowfall of the previous winter season. All hail the impressive technology and communication from the world’s meteorological services.
We received a most genteel of precursor snowfalls overnight Thursday.
No plowing required. Even though some surfaces were warm enough to melt the snow almost as fast as it fell, the remaining flakes were light and fluffy.
The predictions for tomorrow’s snow claim the consistency will be more like wet cement. Oh, joy. Especially because they are also tossing out threats of snow amounts measured in feet, not inches.
If that plays out as described, our tree limbs are in great jeopardy. With luck, our location will receive a lesser amount of the predicted ranges.
There is a hitch in this long-duration storm we are being warned about in that it may change to rain for a while. That will diminish the accumulating snow totals, for sure. This is one of the rare times when I will be pleased if we get rain instead of snow.
The paddocks are a little too dry in general lately, which makes for pleasant footing today, but I need to make myself grateful for the mud this weather will likely bring. The moisture will be a blessing for growing things.
On my way back to the house on this brilliantly calm morning after feeding horses, I could hear a chorus of cracking and popping sounds coming from the trees.
I paused to observe one of my new fascinations since living here.
Pine cones were opening up in the warm rays of the sun. As I stood watching, I discovered I was hearing a combination of some residual snow and ice melting along with the popping pine cones.
For the first time since I became aware of the wonders of this amazing process, I was looking directly at one of the cones as a scale popped open.
I don’t imagine the trees have any awareness of the fate that will arrive tomorrow and last for a couple of days. I wouldn’t have a clue if it weren’t for the warnings of our weather services.
Today looks to be a beautiful sunny calm before the storm. It is not obvious that tomorrow will bring a big change.
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Hit Threes
I’ve figured it out. The way to make a big splash in the NCAA March Madness basketball tournament is to hit all of your three-point shots and shoot them with abandon from everywhere on the floor. If you want to beat a higher-seeded team, it sure helps to hit more three-pointers than they do.
While I’ve been watching basketball, Cyndie and Asher have been having some unexpected excitement in the great outdoors. I got an odd request from Cyndie in a phone call asking for a different leash for Asher and a change of gloves for her.
They had encountered a coyote on a walk on our north loop trail and Cyndie used the trunk of a pine tree to anchor Asher from bolting after the intruder. Her gloves and the leash ended up covered in pine sap. She said Asher howled with high intensity in expression of his desire to chase.
Unfortunately, the other excitement involved howling of a different sort. Asher suffered a too-close encounter with the electric fence around the back pasture. That’s the second time he has met that fate. Let’s hope it doesn’t take “three” to teach him once and for all to stay away from those white wires.
It might be a little harder to notice them today because we got a fresh coating of white over our landscape last night. Forecasters are telling us this is the first of two doses of snow we should anticipate, the second, on Sunday, being the bigger of the two.
We just might end up getting more snow in spring than we did all winter. Heavy, wet spring snow makes me fear for our tree branches.
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Impressive Overachievement
It’s been over two weeks since Asher and I discovered a fallen tree leaning across one of our trails in the woods. At the time, Cyndie was in Florida and I needed to wait for her to get home before bringing out the big chainsaw –a tool I’ve agreed to never use when home alone– to clear the path.
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Alas, this many days later and I’ve allowed myself to disregard that project. In my way of thinking, I should get out the Grizzly ATV and hook up the trailer to haul the saw into the woods and carry the wood back out. Then, I realized I should be resting my shoulder to allow it to better heal, and holding the big saw seemed a bit much.
I decided the tree could hang there for a while since it was easy enough to duck under. It is unsurprisingly easy for me to put off chores for some other time.
With our continued dry weather and the forest as dormant as ever, each time we walk around in there I spot another vine to be removed from smothering one of our trees. Cutting down vines takes a lot less effort since I can easily hand-carry the trusty Stihl mini chainsaw on walks with Asher.
I remembered to grab it yesterday to cut out another gigantic woody grapevine that I’ve walked past countless times and somehow ignored until now. I didn’t even try to pull it out of the tree. Just cut out a six-foot section of it and carried on with following Asher along the path.
Then we came upon the tree leaning across the trail. Hmm. Mini saw in hand. Fully charged battery. Could it handle a job this size?
Yes, yes that little branch pruner could. You may notice there were already a number of cut sections of fallen trees on the ground in that spot. For now, I cleared the pathway and left the freshly cut pieces on the pile.
Asher became fixated anew on whatever the heck might have been living in the dirt under all the chunks of wood.
Our dog is tenacious when it comes to digging for critters, but that Stihl GTA 26 is an even more impressive overachiever.
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Record Year
It’s a dubious honor, indeed, as our planet continues to simmer to increasingly frightening degrees (pun intended).
It’s pretty extreme to see the data so far above any previous record for such a consistent duration. You’d think the weather might start to reflect the conditions by growing more dramatic in intensity, bringing stronger hurricanes/typhoons, more intense hail in thunderstorms, and soaking rains that trigger flooding.
Oh, wait. That’s already happening all over the world. Yikes.
At least we got the rotting truss replaced on the log house up at the lake place.
All that remains is getting the new logs stained and sealed to match the rest of the structure. The roof is once again safely supported in case any wild climate-intensified weather makes its way to Hayward (WI).
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Some Songs
Yesterday afternoon, a song popped up on my random shuffled library playback and triggered a visceral response that none of the songs ahead of it did. My reaction wasn’t immediate beyond appreciating that I hadn’t listened to it for quite some time. Then I noticed it was building to an ending that has always been one I adore. The last two minutes of the 4-minute and 52-second song grabbed me.
I spontaneously told Cyndie, “Play this at the closing of my funeral.”
Now, I’m not currently in the thought process of planning for my funeral, so I don’t know where that idea came from. I also don’t know what it was in that moment that triggered my brain and body to react to the end of the song in the way I did.
Some songs just do that for us. Last night we coincidentally watched the 2018 version of “A Star Is Born” with Bradley Cooper and Lady Gaga in which there is a scene that talks about the 12 notes between octaves…
…music is essentially 12 notes between any octave. Twelve notes and the octave repeats. It’s the same story told over and over forever. All any artist can offer the world is how they see those 12 notes. That’s it.
Sam Elliott’s character, Bobby, talking to Ally (Lady Gaga)
There is an article posted (Dec. 2022) on Psychology Today, “The Amazing Power of Music in Our Lives; Seven great reasons to incorporate music into your daily routine.” Music is good for our health.
I don’t know why some songs stand out more than others for us or why a particular moment I hear a song can have such a distinct impact.
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Yesterday, “Opposites” on Eric Clapton’s 1975 album, “There’s One in Every Crowd,” resonated deeply for me.
Some songs just do that.
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Puppy Energy
In February, our rescued shepherd mix, Asher, turned 2 years old. That is commonly considered the beginning of the end of the puppy phase for many large breed dogs. Anecdotally, I can report we are noticing an increase in more mature behavior from Asher, however, that hasn’t eliminated his moments of wild or chaotic romping.
Last night, Asher bolted from Cyndie, disappearing into the darkness when she tried to take him out for one last pee before bed. Luckily, she found him shortly after, down in the trees near the labyrinth. I guess we should take it as promising progress that he didn’t instantly take off for the neighbor’s property.
The other day, he sat down on a walk with me and surveyed the paddocks and fields for a long time. I sat down with him. It felt like a version of himself that was beyond the puppy phase.
It occurs to me that someday I might miss his puppy energy so I should cherish his moments of chaos while he still has it in him. I never seem able to keep that perspective when tripping on the bedroom rug he has whirled into a pile of wrinkles when trying to hump his dog bed sideways on its end.
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Ethnicity Estimate
Kiss me, I’m [almost] Irish! I don’t know if you can tell, but I am writing with an Irish accent this morning. In honor of my great connections to the fifth-century patron saint and national apostle of Ireland, Patrick, I am acknowledging this special holiday by revisiting my ancestral links.
But, wait. Ireland has always been a dead end in my attempts to verify the origin of the surname Hays. I haven’t identified the father of my 3rd-great-grandfather John Hays. I have always been led toward Ireland because a mention in an 1860 Canadian census that lists place of origin as Ireland.
Confusion was added when information on that John Hays (born abt.1795), found on the death record of his son, John B. (born 1834 or 1837) listed the father’s (John born 1795) place of birth as Vermont, USA. I have never been able to verify that.
However, I have DNA records to connect with my ethnicity so surely that will verify this family line to Ireland. Umm, no. It doesn’t.
The missing link is whoever the father was of the John born in 1795 and where he was from.
My cells indicate the top three places matching my ethnicity are England and Northwestern Europe, Wales, and Scotland.
So, I guess I’ve actually been writing in a Scottish accent all this time. Not sure if you can hear the difference.
Regardless, Happy St. Patrick’s Day!
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Blowing In
When Asher and I set out on our routine morning walk today, the sky was filled with heavy-looking clouds that cast a dark mood over the landscape. The weather forecast warned of strong winds but we weren’t feeling that on the ground yet. The blanket of low clouds overhead, however, was moving past at a high rate of speed.
It was as if the blue sky was blowing in.
The horses radiated a deep calm as they consumed their feed from the buckets. That sharply contrasted with the barn pigeons that were cooing with an insistence that bordered on drastic urgency. Maybe it was egg-laying time.
The ground surface around the overhang is so dry I should be celebrating freedom from coping with massive levels of mud but the reality it reflects is the threat of drought that hovers near. I had time to contemplate the current conditions because Light and Mix were both taking their sweet time about emptying the feed buckets I was waiting to retrieve.
I treasure that we have settled into a routine that allows them to eat at their individually chosen leisurely paces as opposed to the racing randomness that was happening not that long ago. There are still moments when we need to convince one or two of the horses to get out of each other’s way to end up at what has become their designated positions, but once they get there, extra shenanigans rarely interfere.
The deep calm that materializes is something I don’t take for granted.
In the time it has taken me to finish my breakfast and write this, the wind has arrived at ground level and a fresh blanket of clouds has blown in. With a little luck, maybe it could blow some needed precipitation our way.
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Relative Something 