Posts Tagged ‘Asher’
Flowing Now
It’s quite possible that we are done with the snow season. That doesn’t rule out a stray snow shower in the next month but future incidents are unlikely to result in days of white blanketing the land like we are just had. The water was flowing at maximum levels in the drainage channels yesterday afternoon.
We have reached the point where the remaining piles of snow around the barn become precious resources for cleaning mud off my boots. These days are numbered.
Our afternoon will be filled with an Easter feast that Cyndie has been preparing for days to serve to a gathering of family and friends.
I suspect the day will be filled with struggles to contain Asher’s enthusiasm for visitors and food left in his reach. For the record, nothing is truly ever out of his reach. The poor guy has been noticeably unenthusiastic about his dog food of late. We were wondering if he might be unwell but this morning it occurred to me that there might be an issue with the current bag of food. A bad batch, maybe?
When he sniffed at his bowl this morning and then walked away from it, we replaced the serving with some rice and chicken and he gobbled that up without hesitation. We definitely don’t want him going hungry so we will make solving this a priority. It’s hard enough to keep Asher focused on responding to commands he has already learned without us having to cope with him being in a “hangry” mood.
Delicious food and merry mirth will be flowing momentarily at Wintervale. I’m looking forward to being able to taste what I have been smelling from Cyndie’s kitchen for days.
.
.
Wintery Spring
After what seemed like an almost summery winter, we are now experiencing a very wintery spring. Did I mention the meteorologists were referring to this storm as a long-duration event? It rained hard almost the whole night before turning to snow again yesterday morning.
Now on top of the inch or two of standing water that was covered by about 7 inches of saturated snow, we were receiving oodles of new, dryer snow. It made for some really laborious trudging while accompanying Asher on one of his daily rounds.
The drainage swale that cuts across our back pasture was clearly visible as the rainwater made its way from the fields to enter the creeks that run to the rivers that eventually make their way to the mighty Mississippi for the journey to the Gulf of Mexico. It’s all downhill from here.
When I took these pictures, I was standing on the footbridge I built that allows for ease of travel across the spot where our swale meets the ditch along the south border of our property. That ditch was filled with more flowing water than I have seen in a very long time.
It is dry 98% of the time. It channels runoff during spring melts and occasional flash-flooding rain storms.
As Asher and I reached the far corner of our property on the trail we call the North Loop, a bald eagle swooped up out of the field as if we’d disturbed it from some activity. The very top of the tallest pine tree in our neighbor’s front yard became the eagles’ perch.
If there was a carcass the beautiful bird had been involved with, I didn’t want Asher to find it so we trudged onward to finish the property border walk and get back to the safe confines of the house. The conditions outside were teetering uncomfortably close to the category of being unfit for man or beast.
I’m looking forward to the end of this long-overdue smattering of winter so we can return to some much more spring-like conditions. We’ve certainly got a good head start on “April showers.”
.
.
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.
.
.
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.
.
.
Icy Adventures
We don’t usually spend much time up at the lake when the ice is about to vanish from the water’s surface. I find it very entertaining. Temperatures dropped far enough below freezing Sunday night that water to the shore, which was liquid when we arrived, had refrozen solid by yesterday morning.
As the sun climbed to a mid-morning angle, the lake began making a percussive symphony of booming and cracking sounds in response.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
There is an almost mystical energy unleashed by the intensity of natural forces pressing in multiple directions as the frozen surface reacts to wind, sun, gravity, the mixing of heat and cold, and the resistance of rocks and sand on the shore. When a fracture reverberates throughout the expanse of acres of ice, rumbling and echoing for almost a minute afterward, it can be felt in your physical core.
I notice my pulse speed up when it happens, and hear myself making sounds of appreciation that don’t actually form words.
The guys –brothers, Jedediah and Caleb– showed up to work on the rotting truss and were quickly introduced to Asher and some of Cyndie’s fresh-baked scones.
They installed extra (temporary) support to the deck and the bottom chord of the truss itself in preparation for assembling scaffolding for the job. After further analysis and some outside consultation, the decision was made to change to a “hammer truss” design for the replacement.
I’m looking forward to what they come up with. It should be easier to build and will eliminate at least one of the key points that was trapping water and triggering the rot. It will change the appearance of the front of the house and may take a little getting used to at first, but I am open to the possibility it may end up being more appealing in the end.
It will certainly open up overhead space on the deck and produce a more spacious feeling.
As the warm afternoon eliminated most of the new ice that had formed the night before, Cyndie and I let Asher have some fun along the shoreline.
He had a blast breaking ice and chewing some of the chunks. Falling into the water as sections of ice gave out beneath his weight didn’t seem to bother him one bit.
Icy cold doesn’t seem to startle him either.
It looked like so much fun, I needed to keep reminding myself I couldn’t step out to join him in the shoes I was wearing. That, and the fact that icy cold would absolutely make an impression on my feet.
.
.
Feeling It
It’s been over two years since I retired from commuting to a day-job and yesterday was one of the few days in that span of time when I fully felt the liberation of not being tied to a work schedule. Sure, I’ve thrilled repeatedly over no longer feeling dread on Sunday nights, but those have seemed like small victories.
Yesterday morning, I didn’t change my routine with the shift of clocks to Daylight Saving Time. It felt liberating. Around lunchtime, Cyndie, Asher, and I hopped in the car to head for the lake place. Leaving on a Sunday night to go up north felt rather decadent.
We can go to the lake any day we’d like. We are retired. And I am feeling it.
With only ourselves to accommodate, I enjoyed the luxury of ordering a cheeseburger and fries “to-go” from a nice lakeside diner along the route to fulfill a craving that usually goes unmet. It’s often not the right time when we pass by or there are time constraints, or some other random obstruction that prevents stopping there. Finally getting what I always think about when we pass that restaurant made it taste even better.
There was no traffic heading our direction, though we passed a fair number of cars returning to the Cities. Many of them were carrying muddy fat-tired bikes after a weekend of riding CAMBA trails.
There does happen to be a method to our madness for being here on a Monday. Some work on the house is scheduled to start this morning by a contractor that Cyndie arranged over the phone. This will be a chance to meet him in person and be on hand in case any issues arise in the replacement of a bottom chord truss under the eave on the lakeside of the log home.
Being the only ones up during the week this time of year feels a little disorienting. We can make a mess of the house and not be in anyone’s way.
Actually, the place looks a little like the empty mansions in the movies with covers over the furniture. Cyndie didn’t want Asher to shed on the couches.
There aren’t enough people around to occupy the furniture so he thinks it becomes his responsibility.
I doubt he’ll have any time to rest with strangers working just outside the windows all day long. I expect they will need to be barked at with gusto.
It’s either them or the squirrels.
I think maybe Asher is feeling the same as us. Seems to me this feels a lot like being retired.
.
.
Mamma’s Back
Asher is very excited to find that Cyndie is back in his life again. When the garage door rumbled to life last night, Asher sprung to his feet from a dead sleep. We were up in the loft watching Minnesota’s State High School Hockey Tournament. Well, I was watching. Asher was napping.
We got along well enough in Cyndie’s absence but Asher knows who the real momma is. Now he can get back to playing us against each other to get his way when he wants something.
I’m looking forward to having a break from being the full-time dog trainer that I’d rather not be. That’s not because Asher isn’t making good progress with the things we are trying to teach. I’d just rather not be constantly thinking about the process and whether I am saying and doing all the right things at the right times.
My brain is in entertainment mode with the glorious spectacle of the High School Hockey Tournament games showing on TV. I’m really impressed with the level of play from these young athletes. More than their physical prowess in skating and stick handling, it’s the good decisions they make that stand out. Plus, there isn’t an obvious difference between the best lines and the “not-as-best.”
Also, the goalkeeping is incredibly sharp.
The only thing missing is a tournament snowstorm. That used to be a thing. Not so much anymore. Certainly, not this year. I saw that the planet just experienced a record for the world’s warmest February which was also the 9th month in a row with record temperatures. Seems like a trend.
If that keeps happening, it’ll hardly be worth the trip to Florida in the winter. I really like having occasional opportunities to get a taste of living alone when Cyndie is gone but speaking on Asher’s behalf, he would definitely prefer having Momma not travel.
.
.
Big Gusts
Even though the temperature reached the mid-60s (F) yesterday, the strong winds and general cloudiness kept it feeling more like spring than summer. The dramatic gusts got to be a little intimidating at times. The sound of air racing through the branches of our pine trees can get downright spooky.
Asher is always checking the scent that rides the wind from the properties south of us. It leaves me curious about what he picks up. My first guess would be cats.
I can’t imagine he was able to pick out anything particular from the gales yesterday that were strong enough to flop his ears back.
By late afternoon, my weather app warned of lightning in the vicinity. That was the first time in months I’ve seen that. According to the radar, storms were popping up right overhead and quickly blowing off to the northeast.
As we walked through the woods earlier, I struggled to figure out if there were any new trees tipped over among the ones that have been leaning long enough that I should recognize them by now. They all look alike after a while. The sure thing is when something comes down across one of our trails, like this one did:
From its appearance, it had been long dead before being blown down. Dead trees that haven’t been knocked down yet are, per what Steve R. taught me, “vertical firewood storage.” Now I’ll have to convert this to horizontal stacked firewood.
Asher took great interest in inspecting the base and the hole it exposed after succumbing to the wind.
The wind kept blowing after dark last night so I will get another chance this morning to test my memory of pre-existing widow-makers when Asher and I head out for our usual routine in the next hour or so. I will not be surprised if there are more new “leaners” today than there were yesterday.
.
.
Asher Fixates
A couple of days ago, back before weather conditions turned Arctic overnight, I let Asher lead an off-the-trails exploration through our woods. He stopped at this downed tree and began frantically chewing on it, I’m guessing because he detected some delicious-smelling critter hiding in the middle.
There was nowhere else I needed to be so I granted him full freedom to gnaw away to his heart’s content.
It was a pretty big tree. I thought it looked like a lot of wasted effort but Asher chomped away with a confidence that indicated satisfaction with the progress he was achieving.
I started to get bored watching him work so I read some news on my phone and played my turns on “Words with Friends.” Asher continued to attack the tree trunk with reckless abandon.
I thought about sitting down nearby to rest my eyes for a while. Asher looked like he was willing to bite off splinters until he reached what I assume he hoped would be a chewy center. I always respect his determination.
He outlasted my patience. I began to wonder if he was choosing to stay at it out of embarrassment over the possibility of giving up before he got to the hollow center. Maybe interrupting him is what a friend would do.
I pulled out a treat and waved it in front of his nose. When he turned in my direction, I began walking away with it. Asher followed me, but I would describe it as begrudgingly. It worked though. I saved him from any embarrassment.
We made our way toward the perimeter trail in search of other adventures.
The next day, when we found ourselves bushwhacking in that same vicinity again, that tree held no interest to him whatsoever. Maybe no critters were at home by that time.
Or maybe it’s just that Asher’s fixations are fickle.
.
.
Crash Landing
The high temperature yesterday was another record for February, climbing into the 60s(F) in the afternoon. It is so disorienting. Stepping out to walk Asher without wearing a coat on the way to feed the horses felt so bizarre. It’s still winter here.
In fact, the forecast is showing a quick change is due, with a 70% chance of snow tonight and temperatures in the single digits by tomorrow morning. A day or two after that, the prediction is for a return to near 60° again. I’ve seen the word “rollercoaster” used several times to describe this week’s weather.
The warmth added a spring to Asher’s step as we ventured down the hill of the backyard. I often try to trot along behind him so he can exercise his legs with more than just walking. Occasionally, he gets me running a little faster than my breathing can support and I end up anchoring his fun down a notch.
That routine did not play out so well yesterday due to a combination of factors, the most significant of which was the soft and slippery footing of the thawing ground.
Asher was perked up by the summery warmth and picked up speed down the yard’s slope. I tried to keep up with him but things quickly turned problematic. He was beginning to outrun me and by the time it was too late, I discovered I didn’t have the footing to counteract his increasing velocity. Putting it simply, my brakes were out.
Since he felt no resistance, Asher just kept gaining speed which triggered a series of “No… No… No, no, no!” cries from me as I stomped and slipped along toward my unavoidable fate. I knew I was going down and in those fractions of seconds was trying to have some say in how it would play out, but the footing just wasn’t there and I couldn’t get any control.
It was a pretty spectacular fail. Landing with so much unhindered momentum drove me into the ground hard, grinding up the wet black dirt into my belt and the pockets on the left side of my pants. I smashed my glasses against the ground and wrenched my shoulder as it took the bulk of the initial impact.
Two things probably saved me from more serious injury than just the sore shoulder that resulted: I landed on the shoulder with a permanent type III separation (old flag football injury) and the ground was thawed enough to be rather forgiving.
The clavicle on my left shoulder floats free of the scapula. The lack of a hard connection between the two meant the impact didn’t all go into my collarbone. Instead, I think the worst of the blow dissipated throughout soft tissue. If the ground had been frozen, I might have landed much harder. Of course, if the ground was frozen, I could have planted my feet to stop the momentum.
Today it feels similar to having had a vaccination shot in that arm. That’s nothing that will put me out of action, which is a good thing because Cyndie just left yesterday to visit her mom in Florida for 10 days.
I suppose I should be a little more cautious than usual until she returns.
.
.
Relative Something 