Less Hot
The weather alerts that keep pinging my phone warn of excessive heat. Sounds ominous. Medium heat would be tolerable, but excessive? Yikes. We better be very careful. Except, the breeze coming off the lake this morning is about as perfect as a person could ask.
The filtered sunlight with dancing shadows of tree leaves projected on the logs of the sunporch wall augment the ambiance of serenity to a wonderful degree.
If I wasn’t inclined to think about how much the horses at home will be sweating today and Asher thrashing against his itchy skin, my life today would be downright heavenly. Comparing my usual grimy activity of constantly groundskeeping 20 rural acres to our getaways north where I laze around luxuriously highlights the significant difference in my experiences.
There is no lack of appreciation for this privilege on my part.
In fact, were I to imagine a time when Cyndie and I no longer chose to live in the situation where we needed to do so much work to maintain Wintervale, I’d gladly lobby to become the caretaker of her family’s property on this lake.
That might be the excessive heat warning talking. Check with me in the midst of a January deep freeze to see if that visualization of a possible future still stands up.
We are enjoying conditions that feel a lot less hot than what the weather app warnings keep beeping about. In today’s blurb by Paul Douglas in the Strib, I see that Saudi Arabia saw a midnight temperature index of 134°F when the dew point was 95.
Hot conditions, like so many other things in this world, are relative, aren’t they?
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Difficult Simplicity
Why did I come up with that silly two-word combination for today’s post title? Physical therapy exercises, that’s why. Yesterday morning I received a phone call before 7:30! Who calls anyone that early? My doctor had news about the MRI of my shoulder confirming a small tear in my rotator cuff. He has referred me to an orthopedic specialist for consultation.
Regardless, I’ve already started seeing a physical therapist to address the shoulder and (not necessarily related) sciatic pain radiating down my left leg. The initial exercises the therapist has prescribed are along the lines of “flossing” the nerve. Inherently simple. They involve only slight motions to be repeated ten or twenty series twice a day.
For something so simple, I am finding it really difficult to accomplish. It’s too easy and doesn’t feel like I am doing anything perceivable in the way of progress. It bores me and I am easily distracted from the task. I find myself inclined to rush things. The 3 or 4 routines for the shoulder and then the same number for my leg/lower back issue are no match for the energizing effort of my long-duration planking or strength poses I regularly do.
Some simple things are difficult to do.
At the same time, I am doing something very easy this weekend.
Guess where we are.
The weather is supposed to become steamy hot for a few days and there is no better place to cope with high heat than on a lake.
Maybe I’ll see how many of my simple flossing motions I can pull off while floating half-submerged in the cool water of Round Lake.
Don’t look now, but there is something going on with the trees up here that hints of a change a-coming.
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Wider View
It occurred to me, after the fact, that yesterday’s post would have been well-served by a photo of the entire gazebo. I hadn’t taken such a picture when I was capturing the flower blossoms earlier so I stopped down there yesterday to remedy that.
Pause and enjoy the image for a moment. Place yourself there, virtually. Hear the quiet that is gently visited by occasional bird songs.
It’s a sound that I appreciate a little more than normal lately. I’ve been staying up well past my usual bedtime this week because I’ve become an unlikely viewer of a national political convention. The residual echoing of high energy motivational speaking happening one after another has me appreciating the soothing quiet of our natural sanctuary spaces anew.
Watching a political convention is something I can honestly say I’ve never done before in my life. I tell myself the reason I find this litany of endless partisan cheerleading so captivating is that it offers a soothing antidote to the years of stinking dreck coming from a weird doofus who lies for a living.
However, the real truth about why I would now choose to watch this convention might more accurately be that I’m just getting old.
It doesn’t hurt that Kamala Harris selected the Governor of my home state of Minnesota to run as her VP. I’m a big fan.
I sure hope their effort succeeds. If there was ever a time for logic to manifest in the universe, let it happen for this November’s US presidential election.
Just one more night of convention speeches. I’m looking forward to a return to my old person’s sleep schedule starting tomorrow.
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Trumpet Vine
It appears we have succeeded in transplanting a vine to the gazebo beside the labyrinth. That metal frame used to have a canvas cover that provided shelter from sun or rain but it succumbed to the elements a few years ago. We decided to try crafting a natural roof, starting with weaving long sticks through the frame and then filling spaces by threading in old grape vines.
We have since transplanted multiple versions of vines in hopes they will climb the frame and take up residency in and around the sticks and old vinewood. The trumpet vine is showing the most vigor and recently began bursting forth with blossoms.
I suspect it may take a year or two more to fully cover that gazebo but we are in it for the long game. Heck, we’ve got a maple tree in the center of the labyrinth that I dream will command dominance over the space in a hundred years.
We can wait a little while for the gazebo to gain its full green crown. At least that can happen while I’m still alive. The maple tree… I’ll just have to imagine what that will look like when is has soared to its maximum height and largest diameter trunk.
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North Loop
I spent a fair amount of time in our north loop field yesterday morning and made an energizing discovery about how many young volunteer trees are thriving there.
For years after we moved here, we mowed down the tall growth in that section to the north of the driveway to control troublesome weeds from going to seed. It seemed like the prudent thing to do. Time has brought a change of heart for me. By not mowing the field anymore, we intend to nurture a future forest. There is still an issue with weeds to be dealt with but balancing that with embracing the appearance of new trees is a challenge we’ve decided to accept.
I was wading through the chest-high growth on a quest to pull vines that were starting to climb the existing pine trees in the area.
Almost immediately, I spotted a young sprout of oak leaves.
After uprooting any vines I could see, my mission shifted to clearing space around all of the young trees I could find.
There were an impressive number of poplar shoots that didn’t need any help in reaching sunlight. I found an elm. There are a variety of long and short needle pine trees showing up.
Of particular interest to me is the appearance of two sprouts of cedar trees, of which there are none anywhere in the surrounding area. I have no idea where these seeds traveled from.
When I finished my impromptu tree survey, I felt inspired for the future of this field. I also felt a mild trepidation over having visibly served up these gorgeous young trees as enticing nibbles for the resident deer herds that frequently bed down in the surrounding tall growth. Since the trees all showed up naturally, I’ve decided to let nature take its course, and if deer munch the tops off of some of these, so be it.
The final project I undertook in the north loop field was to mow a new viewing area where we’ll keep a couple of chairs for taking in the vista looking south from this high spot.
This idea came about from our animal sitter, John Bramble who mentioned that spot was a favorite for pausing to observe the view. He said it would be well-served to have a place to sit. I couldn’t agree more.
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Pickup Sticks
Those of us who love having trees in our yards enjoy an ongoing demonstration of how much branch-shedding is regularly happening. There are always sticks and twigs landing on the ground beneath the canopy. Often there are finger-sized branches down. Occasionally, we find bigger branches in the mix, and every once in a while, a full limb drops.
I admit to subjecting the blades of our mowers to far more sticks and small branches than they deserve due to the sheer volume always hiding in the grass. When I wait too long between mowings, the number of branches gets too big to ignore. We’ve endured several days of on-again, off-again rain that stymied my plans to cut the grass around the house as soon as I wanted. Before I finally got around to the job yesterday, I needed to pick up sticks.
It doesn’t look that bad through a camera lens, but grasping each and every one by hand is an exercise of repetitive motion. Every time I turn around, I seem to find one that got missed. A wiser person might use a rake.
There is a mental reward for taking the time to clean up before mowing: peace of mind from not abusing the mower blades.
Of course, peaceful mowing is blissful mowing. And now the backyard is looking rather sharp (and stick-free) after yesterday’s cut if, I do say so myself.
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Stumble On
Streaming television entertainment can be as pernicious as social media apps’ algorithm-driven endless scrolling features. Before the credits even start to roll, the screen flips to a promo for another enticing new series that matches your viewing history.
I tend to tell people that I’ve stumbled on to some new show that looks promising, but the truth is closer to these programs being purposely placed before my eyes. This weekend it is “Bad Monkey” with Vince Vaughn in the lead role that has grabbed our attention after just two initial episodes. Once again we find ourselves hooked into a series that is too new for us to indulge in a binge-fest that finishes in a couple of days like we would a good book.
We are stuck waiting for the next episode to drop on Wednesday.
It was just instinct that had both Cyndie and me feeling this was going to be worth our attention for some high entertainment value until we caught a segment on CBS Sunday Morning that introduced us to author Carl Hiaasen who wrote the novel the show is based on. Deeper in their piece on the show and this author, they reveal the series producer is Bill Lawrence whose work includes two other favorites of ours, “Ted Lasso” and “Shrinking” among his other creations.
In this case, I shouldn’t complain about the automated output that algorithms dictate to show up before my eyes.
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Today Arrived
It’s here! We have arrived to the day Saturday, August 17, 2024. If you haven’t been waiting for this day to happen, it might feel like just another Saturday. Maybe it is simply the first day of the weekend. I suppose a few birthdays fall on this date or maybe a few weddings were scheduled.
While I was walking this morning with Cyndie and Asher and we marveled anew over the grandeur of our surroundings. I asked Cyndie if she thought she would still be able to visualize the views along our Middle Trail in some future situation when we are no longer physically fit enough to walk these woods.
We are in our twelfth year of living on this land and I still feel awe over the fact we own a portion of a forest. This summer has been different than most since we moved here from the suburbs. It has been wetter and for longer than normal. The land reflects that in a variety of ways.
There are new levels of erosion and significant accumulation of the runoff soil downstream that disrupt our preferred flow through ditches. Meanwhile, plants and trees are growing strong. It requires a constant effort to control undesired invasives and keep vines from swallowing trees.
In that regard, today would be just another day for me.
I feel lucky to have the opportunity and the time to tend our fields and woods but I won’t be doing much of that this day. We have a lunch date in the Cities that will fill much of our time. Another luxury we enjoy of visiting with friends, some with whom we rarely spend time.
Our land will wait another day for attention from me.
I have a strong suspicion that Sunday, August 18, 2024, will be arriving soon, and with that, new opportunities galore as time keeps ticking away.
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None Taken
“No offense,” she said. “I was just trying to make a point.”
It didn’t make any difference to me. I wasn’t listening. It was her eyes. I was lost in the mysterious feeling I was experiencing from the way they commanded my attention. It didn’t matter that she occasionally over-formed her mouth when she spoke certain words.
There was a person in there and I didn’t know who that person was. Something about her eyes seemed familiar.
For most of my life, I had no reason to consider the idea of reincarnation. I had no reason to consider New York, either, but that didn’t mean it didn’t exist. For all I know, reincarnation has been happening since the beginning of time. How is it that there are infants who demonstrate abilities beyond their years?
Sometimes I wonder if I am remembering someone from one of my previous lives. What if I went to grade school with this person? Could they have lived across the road when I was a kid? What about those three months when I lived in Detroit Lakes? Who was that woman in tech school? How many people have I interacted with during my working life?
“Are you even listening to me?”
“Oh, sorry –no offense– I was just distracted for a moment there. If you were 45 years older, I’d ask if we’d met somewhere before.”
“None taken.”
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