Posts Tagged ‘change’
Looking Back
Last week we reached the milestone of the 3rd anniversary of making Wintervale Ranch our home. Lately, Cyndie and I have found ourselves randomly recollecting some of the early days here and marveling over the variety of things that have since changed.
It feels a little —what is it? Presumptuous? Gratuitous?— somehow inappropriate for me to request, but I urge you to sneak a peek at one or two posts from the Relative Something archive (Previous Somethings) for the month of October 2012. There are too many gems depicting our arrival for me to do justice to them by trying to produce links, or re-posting to bring them forward to current posts this week.
Barely a month after we finally closed on the purchase of this place, we adopted the cats, Pequenita and Mozyr. After about a year, we came to the realization that Mozyr was not happy with his situation, and we returned him to the shelter, but Pequenita has proved to be compatible with the random chaos that arises here from time to time.
In July of 2013 we added 10-month-old Belgian Tervuren Shepherd, Delilah, to our family, purchased from a breeder nearby. From that day on we have tended to find ourselves in a battle between her training us and us training her. It’s fair to say there have been a smattering of victories on both sides.
Just short of 3-months after Delilah joined us, in the last week of September in 2013, our horses arrived. That was a monumental occasion for us, and came after an intense effort over the previous 11-months to be appropriately prepared.
We removed rusted barbed wire, installed new fencing, built up protective cover on barn walls (previous owners had miniature horses), buried a water line to an on-demand waterer in their paddock, and built a hay shed, along with a variety of lesser noteworthy projects.
I knew so very little about horses at that time. They have taught me a lot in the ensuing years, and come to mean the world to me. Just standing among them, passing time, has become one of my favorite things to do.
I have built a wood shed, twice. After it blew down in a storm, our friends Barb and Mike Wilkus came by and helped me to put it up a second time. Any time we weren’t working on something else, we were creating the spectacular 70-foot “Rowcliffe Forest Garden Labyrinth.”
Speaking of storms, we have endured a variety of dramatic winter weather events. Two of them particularly stand out for me.
The first one involved 18-inches of heavy wet snow in early May and snapped a lot of tree branches. Two pine trees that tipped over during that storm eventually died, even though I tried standing them back up and staking them.
The second snow storm blew for days and eventually filled the space between the 4-foot banks on either side of the driveway. It took me two days to dig us out, even with the assistance from both of our closest neighbors. What did I learn from that storm? The neighbor to our south told me he had plowed his driveway twice during the storm, so it never got to the extreme that ours did.
Lesson learned.
An awful lot has changed in the last three years. It is hard for me to imagine what might be different, three years from now, but I expect the changes won’t be near as dramatic as what transpired when we first arrived and worked to establish the infrastructure to support having 4 horses and fulfilling a dream of creating our Wintervale Ranch & Retreat Center.
What fun it is to look back once in a while.
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Horses In
Last night we brought the horses inside the barn overnight for the first time this fall. It was a decision we struggled with a couple times, because the conditions weren’t extreme enough to help make it an obvious choice. In the end, we tried giving the horses equal say in the decision, and their timely arrival and behavior at the door of the barn helped to seal the deal.
When Cyndie came back from turning them out this morning, her report cast some doubt over the satisfaction of at least the elder two horses about being confined all night long, regardless the chilly, blowing precipitation that fell.
Yesterday started with us moving the horses inside to their stalls first thing, before even serving them the morning feed, because they had a date with the veterinarian for their annual fall check up. It is a time when their teeth get filed, if needed, and the geldings receive some assistance with personal hygiene. Both procedures involve a bit of sedation to facilitate cooperation from the patients.
After enough time passed for the horses to recover their full senses, we put them back out in the elements. It wasn’t exactly cold out, but the thick grayness of the October sky and periods of rain and wind were enough to put a chill on Cyndie and me. It sapped most of our motivation to do anything constructive outside and tugged on my eyelids all afternoon, begging for a nap.
When darkness fell, it was 50/50 over bringing the horses indoors overnight, but Cyndie felt it was something the horses would want. We puttered in the barn under lights, to prepare for the possibility, and when the horses hustled up to the doorstep out of the damp darkness, we brought ’em in.
At dawn this morning, Cyndie found the two younger chestnuts, Hunter and Cayenne, happy as could be. Legacy and Dezirea were another story.
The elder two showed every sign of wanting to be back outdoors immediately. Cyndie said that Dezirea almost ran her over in her haste to be out of that stall. No surprise though, as it sounded as if she had made a complete mess of her space.
The weather this morning isn’t any more inviting than yesterday was, but the forecast offers hope, and at least the temperature is well above the freezing point at the start.
We’ll be spending some extra time doing barn stall cleaning today, and I (and a couple of horses) will be gladly looking forward to having them stay outdoors overnight again, and hopefully for a long spell before the next dose of cold overnight rain.
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Last Gasp
While engaged in several projects of preparation for freezing temperatures yesterday, I spotted a few flower blossoms that appear to be entirely oblivious of the fragile existence to which they cling. It is inspiring to see such optimism from our flowering plants at a time when a killing frost is so close at hand.
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We moved horse-care products and medications that shouldn’t freeze out of the barn and up to the shop, drained and rolled up hoses, and blew out the buried water line to the labyrinth. I taped up a plastic barrier over the window of the shop and rearranged some things in preparation for winter storage.
Starting tonight, and continuing through Friday and Saturday, the overnight temperatures here are going to be at or below the freezing mark. That becomes the official end of our growing season.
Something in me wants to consider hibernation. Imagine if humans hibernated like some animals do. I think I’d enjoy the part where you eat non-stop right before the long rest.
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Decidedly Different
From balmy Sunday to blustery Monday we experienced an almost 40° (F) temperature swing, factoring in the “windchill” reading that resulted from the strong northwest gusting wind. Nothing says October like a cold, cloudy, windy day.
I took Delilah out for a short trek around the property when I got home from work, during which we fed the horses and then wandered a few trails in the woods to check for downed branches.
At one point, even though I didn’t feel as though I was seeing anything, I sensed there was motion occurring through the trees, and I kept my eyes glued in that direction in hopes of picking up some confirmation.
Was it a bird? Likely possibilities included grouse, pheasant, or even wild turkey. Something led me to believe it was big. Something else gave me the impression it was right in front of my eyes, but I was not seeing it. Honestly, what came to mind was the movie effect of “Predator” in camouflage mode.
All these mental gymnastics happened in a fraction of a second. Putting it all together, I discerned the white I thought I had seen was, in fact, the tail of a deer.
We had just come down that hill a short time before, and ended up circling back on our path in a way that may have surprised the keen senses of the shy animal. I was energized to find it had stopped its movement at a place that gave me a clear view of the head and face, as the deer looked directly back at me from an incredibly short distance away.
It was probably the closest I have been to a live, wild deer in years. I glanced down at Delilah, who was nose-to-the-ground busy, following the myriad smells that surely exist on our well-used trails, but she showed no evidence of detecting how close we were to something that would no-doubt thrill her to the extreme to pursue.
When I looked back for the deer, I realized how difficult it was to detect it through the trees while it stood motionless. I started to walk again, coming around the corner to climb the hill where Cyndie and I had just been working on the fence, hoping to get a better perspective on where the deer was standing. I was also scanning in hopes of finding others, under the assumption deer are usually in a herd.
What I discovered was that my movement was enough to drive the deer off and I had been unable to detect its departure. Delilah didn’t show any sign of sensing the scent of immediately fresh traffic across our trail. I wondered if the deer had been surprised by the recent appearance of the fence we just put up over the weekend.
There were no other deer in sight as we climbed the hill toward the house, and toward the respite from the wind it would provide. Had I not picked up the fleeting images of that whiteness and the almost imperceptible motion of the body through the trees, I would have missed it altogether.
Allows me to imagine how often I have probably done just that on these trails in the last few years, and been within similarly close proximity to wildlife, while being entirely unaware.
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Random Miscellany
My writing may not seem very well thought-out plenty of times, but composing a post with some manner of a theme or point does involve a fair amount of mental exercise for me on a regular basis. Let’s see if there is any difference in the result if I purposefully neglect any planning whatsoever for today’s post, and allow myself freedom to spout off on whatever comes to mind.
Trust me, there is a part of me that genuinely fears the possibility there will be no noticeable difference.
It is normal for me to oscillate between doubting everything we have decided to do here since our move from the suburbs, and feeling like the last 3 years are a destiny that we couldn’t have avoided if we tried. That’s probably not an uncommon thought process for a person to experience. It does tend to make me feel a bit schizophrenic on occasion.
For me, it is easiest to just continue to plod along in the general forward direction during the periods of doubt and confusion, so there isn’t much worry that I will panic and bail out all of a sudden.
Sometimes it helps to have Cyndie support my decision, or encourage me when I hesitate to come to the conclusion myself, to give in and call a professional on tasks that frustrate me. I am relieved we have elected to seek out a plumber to look at a leaky frost-free hydrant on the house. It enables me to have our whole-house filter installation verified, because it appears to be in backwards to me and has always bothered my sensibilities.
Another task that is frustrating me is getting our hay-field cut and baled. We have been relying on the generosity of our neighbor, George, for the most part in the past, but that’s not reliable because his availability is limited. It stresses me to not have control over the harvesting of our field, but I haven’t reached a point of finding a solution, so I plod along with that on-going stress simmering in the back of my mind.
Once again, Cyndie comes to the rescue with a wonderful gesture(s) of supporting my interest in being mindful of eating a healthy recommended amount of sugar in my daily calories. Last night she baked a banana bread after researching recipes that had low glycemic index numbers. It tasted great to me.
Too bad I won’t get any of it tonight, because the day-job is so busy I will work late today and spend the night in town at her parent’s house, instead of driving the long commute home.
I noticed Cyndie checking out a mail-order catalog last night, and it struck me how much life has changed for us lately. Now she stays home to manage the ranch and scans the FarmTek “wishbook” that arrives in our mailbox, and I spend too many hours distracted with demands of the day-job.
It is lucky that I paused my drive up the driveway yesterday afternoon, to drop off a few supplies I picked up on my way home. Opened the door to the shop and was met with the distinct odor of dead rodent. There was a drowned chipmunk in the water trap that would have been extremely unpleasant by the time I get back home on Wednesday.
It definitely feels like I’m not in Kansas (*Eden Prairie*) anymore.
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Gorgeous Here
It is absolutely gorgeous here right now. Among the reasons we chose September for our wedding, the biggest one for me is, it is my favorite time of year. The humid heat of summer is breaking, and the air is crisp, with cool nights and warm days. When the sky is clear, the blueness is exquisite and it’s no longer so necessary to avoid the toasty sunshine. In fact, it practically begs a person to pause and soak it all in.
The challenge is, there is barely a moment for pause. The daylight grows short and preparation for winter weather requires new projects be added to the list of others already underway or planned. This year, I am feeling as though the growing grass didn’t get the memo about the arrival of September.
It is hard to get ready for winter when summer won’t back off and make room for fall.
I spent most of the afternoon mowing lawn yesterday, after filling that dang right front tire on the tractor with a green slime leak sealant.
Today I face the need to work the power trimmer to knock down the robust growth along edges and fence lines. It’s a chore that resonates of mid-summer responsibilities, with one improvement:
That crisp and gorgeous September air doesn’t cause it to be such a sweaty, sticky job.
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Mixed Signals
I am flabbergasted with the amount of grass growth on our property that is happening in September. It’s confusing my sense of time and place. Cyndie mowed last Saturday, and in less than a week, it already desperately needed to be cut again!
We have received regular rainfall that rivals a typical June, even as the days shorten, the temperature is dropping, and leaves are falling. I mowed yesterday and rolled through standing water in several spots. This time of year is usually dry and growth slows down. It didn’t seem like September at all to me as I started trying to knock down the crop of grass.
A couple of hours later, I was feeling the chill of a cool fall evening as the sun dropped low. It is mind-boggling to have these mixed signals informing my senses.
Good thing I’ve decided to work on learning to embrace change and celebrate aberrations.
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Embracing Impermanence
I have been encountering a recurring theme of late that is causing me to ponder my desire for order in my daily routines. Also, for constancy in the products for which I grow fond. Most times, I don’t want ‘new and improved.’ I just want more of what I had the first time.
There is a measuring cup in the kitchen that I have started to use every day, now that I am measuring portions of many foods, especially the all-too-sweet cereals I passionately love. I open the middle drawer, and there it is —most of the time.
If Cyndie has been baking, it could require a search.
I tend to experience greater pleasure when my developed methods glide seamlessly along like a well-conducted orchestral piece. If it runs into turbulence, I might alter my tactics to improve the flow. Basically, I look to simplify effort, probably toward something that would align closely to a style that could justifiably be viewed as lazy.
This probably explains why I am not big on the tasks involved with meal preparation.
It is occurring to me that I will probably be better served to work on honing my skills of adaptation to the constant variations that are a reality of life, instead of always pining to have things be where I expect to find them, clean and in good working order.
Sometimes, you discover that the tire is flat. People call in sick for their shift at work. It rains when it was forecast to be sunny. The manufacturer has discontinued a favorite tool/appliance/car/shoe/food/article of clothing.
The climate is proving to be in much greater flux than most people wanted to believe. Plants and animals go extinct. Millions of people get forced to flee their homeland, becoming a sea of immigrants.
Seriously, when wasn’t change a constant, despite what our minds have a tendency to perceive?
Maybe I can find a way to nurture that feeling of pleasure I usually get from orderly routines, to also manifest in the face of unanticipated complications. They are vivid examples the universe is alive and breathing, and I still am, too. It’s a reality that I am coming to believe is not worth fighting against. Conversely, I think learning to celebrate the aberrations should offer nothing but greater peace of mind.
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Work Resumes
It was back to work for all of us yesterday, after our glorious weekend away. I returned to the day-job and Cyndie picked up where she left off with Hunter. My Monday in the mine was already complete and I had just arrived home when Rachael and Cyndie were heading down to put Hunter through some exercises.
I was able to observe some of the process from where I was picking up the days-worth of manure that had accumulated under the overhang. It was fascinating.
Turns out that Hunter is a bit of a perfectionist. He is also very sensitive. Rachael could see that he really wants to do things right the first time. She was directing him with only the slightest of movements. If she simply shifted her weight, as if to take a step, Hunter responded.
After Rachael’s demonstration, Cyndie took a turn at giving him directions with the lunge line. I could see that it is very much a joint exercise for the two of them. Cyndie’s lessons will be toward gaining clarity of message with her movements and Hunter will hopefully learn to respond appropriately.
We think he has potential to become a star in our herd of facilitators when it comes to communication.
September has arrived, which is the month when the horses were delivered to us, two years ago. I think they have adjusted well to the changes that have been presented to them in that time.
I expect it is fair to say that we have adjusted pretty well ourselves over that same period. In October, we will mark our third year of living on these 20 acres of fields and forested hills in western Wisconsin.
It feels like we are starting to get the hang of it.
Last Thursday, while mowing as fast as I could around the perimeter of the back pasture, I felt a sense of appreciation for the design and installation of all our fencing. During a pause to put gas in the lawn tractor, I made a point to call Tom and Sue Sherry of Best Built Fence.
I wanted to take the opportunity to reach out (for once) at a time when there was nothing I needed from them. I just wanted to say thank you and tell them what a great job they did for us. They showed up when we were as green as could be and helped guide us to a plan that was what we wanted but beyond our ability to envision.
I always felt Tom knew better than us what it was we were trying to accomplish. It was refreshing to be able to tell them so, when they least expected to hear it.
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Natural Forces
The sky failed to completely clear yesterday, which kept the day from getting uncomfortably warm, but the humidity had increased enough to remind us that summer is not gone yet. It is easy to jump ahead in our minds to the inevitable change of season, as the signs and symptoms are plainly evident. Fall is not far off.
I nabbed some mid-day time that I was coveting in the hammock.
We could see some blue sky on and off through the thin cloud cover that never completely dissipated, but as the day advanced that blue turned more white as we achieved the classic look of the smoke-filtered view of the sun. I think western wild fires are again impacting our air quality.
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We took a boat tour of the chain of lakes that led us to 40 acres of forest that the Wilkus family owns. On the way, we spotted a young eagle low over the water and watched it claim a precarious perch in a nearby tree. After we got surprisingly close, it took to the air again, moving quicker than my limited pocket camera could do adequate justice in capturing. It made a dramatic impression in its display of size and power.
Walking the 40 acres was particularly moving for me, because there had been a dramatic storm in the time since I had last visited. Three years ago a force that was easily tornadic, if not literally qualified as such, created devastation that I struggled to imagine while standing amidst the now settled results.
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The towering trees succumbed in a variety of ways. It left me wondering about the specific details that led to the difference of entire trees toppling over when the massive base uprooted, compared to the ones that simply snapped cleanly off 30 feet from the ground.
There are hazards hanging everywhere, in the broken tree tops that linger, defying gravity overhead due to a number of precarious circumstances. One decent sized tree appears to have broken off and blown directly against an adjacent tree where it now clings by mere branches, hanging in a very normal vertical orientation, though with no bottom half connecting it to the earth.
I tried to capture it in this photo, but it doesn’t quite stand out as well as I’d hoped. It was intimidating to spend much time in the region beneath it.
Between the high smoky haze painting the sky from distances far away, the beauty of the fabulous eagle starting to fly, the perceivable drama of a devastating storm, or the inescapable lure of a beckoning hammock, the powerful forces of nature were on full display for me yesterday.
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Relative Something 