Posts Tagged ‘change’
Big Meltdown
The weather has taken the predicted turn toward warm, foggy, and wet. I didn’t take a picture this morning, because it would just turn out gray. Our visibility is at about 12 feet. It’s not like we lost a lot of snow. November brought us a couple of plow-able accumulations, but we never had more that 4 or 5 inches on the ground, excluding a few drifts that made it to twice that depth. But there isn’t much left in the way of snow anymore.
The mid-40s (F) all day yesterday and overnight last night have softened the once-frozen ground and turned the paddocks into their classic spring mud messiness. It is hard to judge the effectiveness of our drain tile with the current situation, because the ground seems frozen in some places and not so in others. I’m confident that our changes have helped to some degree. Ultimately, what the drain tile is expected to improve is the time it takes to dry out after the source of moisture ceases.
This situation is temporary, as it will return to freezing in a day or two. That will give the horses a break from the sloppiness. I don’t know if it bothers them as much as it does us, but it sure looks and sounds miserable when they trudge through the muck.
This morning they seemed particularly jumpy, I assume from the thickness of the fog, and it had them doing some dramatic running with gusto. When it is muddy, that kind of running kicks up quite a mess. Maybe they actually like that effect.
I took a picture of the drainage swale doing its thing yesterday. Here’s a before and after view of the big meltdown:
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Bring It
The predictions for our weather being significantly stormy today have continued to intensify. Meteorologists report that all computer models remain in agreement for a potential of over a foot of snow in our region by Tuesday. Cyndie and I are ready. We say, “Bring it on!” I haven’t asked the horses what they think about it.
We worked hard yesterday to tackle everything within our power that needed to be addressed before a lot of snow covers it all up. As we went along, we found little things to add to our list of preparations. It’s quite possible that I have never been as ready for a first significant snowfall of the season as I am today.
With Cyndie’s help, despite an ailing arthritic hip, I finished making a raised area around the hay feeder in the paddock. That also means we were able to use up the left-over pile of lime screenings.
We rearranged equipment in the shop garage to move plow blades and snow tires to the front for easy access, and piled lawn care accessories out of the way in back. I went so far as to clean out leaves that had collected in nooks and crannies around the house and shop walkways where I will soon be trying to shovel snow.
We re-hung tarps on the walls of Delilah’s kennel to give her added shelter. She was thrilled to be present while we worked, chasing mice that popped out when Cyndie disturbed a nest while sweeping out the corners.
Yesterday morning I was teasing Cyndie with a query about whether we had enough toilet paper to survive the coming storm, since that is a common item that gets purchased when harsh weather is approaching. She assured me we did, but later in the day, as we rearranged vehicles to get the truck parked under a roof, she decided to make a run to fill the gas tank and pick up some groceries.
She brought home more toilet paper.
All that is left to do is let nature take its course and invite winter over to make itself comfortable at Wintervale. Seems like the picture above will be the last glimpse of dry ground we’ll see for a few months.
Bring it on, we say. We think we are ready.
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Chippin’ Brush
With the lawn mowed and the piles of composting manure all in order, yesterday I was able to focus my attention on changing brush piles into wood chips. Once again, I found myself processing several preliminary steps to reach the point of being able to start working on the primary thing I intended to do.
I decided to let the chipper create a pile on the ground, so before I started chipping, I wanted to cut the long pasture grass down to the ground at the location where I would make the pile. I planned to use the Stihl trimmer to do that, but first I needed to change from a metal blade to nylon line for the job.
Next, I needed to solve the problem of a missing pin on one of the stabilizing arms of the 3-point hitch, before I could move the tractor and chipper down to the designated spot. When I was putting the tractor away after the last time I used it, I noticed the stabilizing arm was hanging loose, and the pin that was supposed to be holding it in place was missing.
It was a long shot, but I decided to look for the pin down near the spot where I had noticed the chipper swinging wider than normal when I was driving to put it away last time. I figured the unusual behavior probably started happening soon after the pin fell out. It was a little worse than looking for a needle in a hay stack, so I didn’t look for long.
I borrowed a pin from the ATV snow-plow blade, and was on my way. It was another beautiful day, and I remembered to take a photo before I started chipping, so I would have a comparison for how it would look afterwards. Little did I realize that it would also provide reference of how the beautiful day later turned gray in a matter of about an hour.
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I started working by myself, pulling branches from the pile and feeding them into the chute of the chipper, but soon recognized how much quicker it would be to have another person helping. Elysa and friends had come over for the afternoon, so I took a short break for lunch to see them, checked in with Cyndie, and mentioned I could use an assistant.
They were generous enough to come to my aid after they completed doing some exercises with the horses. Extra hands made a big difference, turning that pile of branches into chips in less than half the time it would have taken me on my own at the pace I was going.
It brought to mind this: I completely understand why farm families benefit from having a lot of children.
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Work Friends
Other than feeding our animals in the morning and again when I got home, yesterday was not a Wintervale day. I drove into the cities to spend a little time at the old day-job, allowing me the chance to again be with the fabulous people with whom I was previously employed. As wonderful as it has been to spend my full-time days managing our property, I suffer a great loss by no longer being able to work with the people who, in many ways, had grown closer to me than family.
Working 8-hours a day together for many years, through thick and thin, sharing responsibilities toward a common goal, has a way of bonding a diverse group of people. I wish I could bring them all home with me to help manage the ranch.
When done right, a healthy response to problems becomes a work of art. During my visit, an issue was discovered during final inspection, which was calmly investigated, and a solution devised. I watched the activity travel seamlessly from person to person, with ease. It was a joy to behold.
In the end, I don’t feel that I contributed any tangible value to the output of product. I served as a second set of eyes to review a completed new project. In fact, I was more of a hindrance to getting things done with all my chattering and catching up. They ordered pizza and we had a company gathering for lunch. (Don’t tell Cyndie, but it was her favorite from Gina Maria’s.) What’s not to like about a ‘work day’ like that?
It means a lot to me to not have to drive that long commute anymore. Despite the stop-and-go afternoon traffic coming home yesterday, the trip wasn’t annoying at all, because seeing them again had been such a rewarding pleasure.
They are no longer my work-mates, they have become friends from that place where I used to work.
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Helping Hands
We are feeling a new level of satisfaction today, after an afternoon of long sought progress yesterday. Sure, it was Sunday, but our fence contractor showed up and made quick work of removing the old section of fence on the south side of our hay-field. At the same time, Cyndie and I worked together on clearing overgrowth in the main ditch just beyond that fence line.
With the advantage of having more people than just me out there toiling away, a lot more was accomplished in a short amount of time than I ever achieve on one of my home-alone days. While Cyndie was using the power trimmer to clear some brush, I cut out some small trees with a hand saw. After a short amount of time, I switched to the chainsaw and went after one of the large trees.
It was already dead, and there was nothing around it to worry about, so I may have been a little casual in my attempt to bring it down. My wedge cut wasn’t deep enough and the tree leaned back away from it. Luckily, I pulled the saw in the nick of time to avoid the pinch. On my own, I would have started devising some laborious attempt to pull or push it over, but with the fence contractor right there in a skid loader tractor, the solution was a breeze.
After he pushed it down, he asked me where I wanted it. I would have needed to cut it into small pieces and drag it away. He scooped up the entire tree with the forks of the skid loader and placed it on top of my brush pile. Done! I asked him to push over two other trees.
If I cut down a tree with the chainsaw, there is a stump left over. Tom would push a tree down, drive the forks under the roots, and pop the whole thing out of the ground. After he carried the entire tree to the pile, he returned to fill the hole and drive over it to pack it down. It was magical. It was incredibly quick. Tree gone, in an instant.
With obstructions out of the way, Cyndie encouraged me to go get the diesel tractor and mow the ditch with the brush cutter. I hesitated, not used to moving this fast, then allowed the momentum to carry me away. By the time we wrapped up our afternoon efforts, the majority of the ditch was cleared and mowed.
It was wonderfully satisfying. For me, it was a great chance to enjoy a day’s work with the support of helping hands.
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Pattern Change
We woke up with a hint of frost on our deck this morning. It is a clear validation of what we have been sensing the last few days. There is a change of season in process, and with it, our patterns of routine. I had to hunt down a long-sleeved shirt the other day. Of course, at this time of year the extra shirt comes on and off a lot, depending on activity.
I came in from outdoors and headed to the sink to wash my hands. Ah, there was my old peeve, back again. The cuffs of my shirt get wet when I wash my hands. Sure, I pull the sleeves up, but they slide right back down. Now I am able to appreciate what I have taken for granted all summer long, that I can scrub up without a care when I wear short sleeves.
A couple of days ago I asked Cyndie if she was comfortable in the house. She said she was, and I pointed out that the indoor temperature was 62 degrees (F). In the winter, Cyndie is quick to report her discomfort if the house temp drops below 70.
It fascinates me how our bodies respond differently to the seasons. What feels refreshingly comfortable now will be irritatingly chilly in the days to come. In 5 months, a temperature just a few degrees above freezing will feel refreshingly comfortable outside. This morning that temp tightens muscles and causes a wince. It has a bit of a bite to it.
Soon it will be time for me to find my winter gloves. I have no idea where they are.
For some reason I have a difficult time parting with old gloves. The finger on these opened up way too soon, so I patched it and got a good few weeks more out of them. Then the palm opened up and I decided it was time to retire them.
Just throw them away, John.
I looked over the right glove and couldn’t find anything wrong with it. Maybe I can use the right glove around the fire pit. I already have one by the living room fireplace, but come to think of it, I never use it.
Maybe I can use the leather for some other purpose. I could cut off the fingers and…
Just throw them away, John.
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Expanding Storage
Earlier this year we began removing the cinder landscape blocks Cyndie purchased to help us mark the labyrinth path, replacing them with rocks we have collected. I reused the cinder blocks to create a nook for staging composted manure. 
Yesterday, at Cyndie’s prompting, we finally got back to removing the rest of the blocks. I had no idea there were so many remaining.
We decided to use the additional cinder blocks to expand our materials storage, creating another bay for staging wood chips.
It is a wonder to see how quickly we can convert an overgrown natural area into a manicured space with a new function. Now, I need to find time to get back to grinding up the many piles of brush I have created in the last few weeks.
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Impermanence Is
On Saturday, Cyndie and I enjoyed some blissful moments tending to our labyrinth garden. The horses noticed our activity and wandered over to graze beside us while we toiled. Cyndie pulled weeds and I did some rock-work to add robustness to the entrance of the center circle.
It has become apparent that one of the two boulders in the center is leaning away from where we originally placed it. I’m hoping to pull it back upright with some manner of rigging and then see if there will be a way to prop it up with a small rock beneath.
The almost imperceptible movement of that huge rock is a gentle reminder to us that things we tend to assume are static —permanent, even— are nothing of the sort. I need to keep that in mind and endeavor to incorporate that reality into my designs for enhancements to our property.
I guess the trail I recently worked to reclaim is another classic example. It will not remain a trail without regular maintenance. Another obvious example that comes to mind is how much erosion is occurring in our paddocks after the summer rains. Before the horses were in those spaces, there was grass growing everywhere, which worked to hold the soil in place. That is no longer the case.
Beyond all the intentional infrastructure improvements we have done —clearing brush, adding fences, creating new drive paths— there are natural changes happening all the time. There will never be an absence of change. Everything and everyone is in constant transition, and at a continually varying rate of change.
Impermanence is.
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Ultimate Homework
It’s been almost two months now since I stopped commuting to a day-job, having switched to the role of stay-at-home full-time ranch manager for Wintervale. I’m beginning to get a sense of how this new work environment has its own special combination of advantages and disadvantages for me.
(+) I cherish the fact that I no longer have to drive over an hour to get to my workplace. That commute dictated a lot of my activities during the week.
(-) I am always at my workplace. There is no moment of leaving it all behind at the end of the workday.
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(+) I don’t have to fill out a timesheet, punch the timeclock, fret over being late, or struggle with deciding if I should call in sick.
(-) There is no end of the workday. I don’t get to call in sick.
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(+) I get to be my own boss.
(-) I am my own boss.
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(+) I work in paradise. A beautiful outdoor environment with amazing vistas.
(-) My workplace is not a controlled environment. It’s often too hot, in winter it can get too cold, there are flies, wasps, mosquitoes, and there is, quite literally, shit everywhere.
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(+) There are no workplace personality conflicts …not that I was having any. I’ve heard it happens in some offices.
(-) I am suffering from a bit of withdrawal from human interaction. A workday devoid of talking with another person starts to feel a bit like solitary confinement.
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(+) I get to work with animals. Plenty of folks wish they could bring their dog or cat to work with them. I’ve got both, plus horses!
(-) It is a long known adage in show business to never work with animals. There are days when I can see why… “Delilah! NO!”
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Things Change
I suppose the transition will never be complete. Everything, including ourselves, is in constant transformation. In a couple of months we will have completed our second year living in a rural setting, now with 4 horses, a dog, and a cat. We moved from our home of 25 years in the suburban area where we had grown up, living those last few years with no pets at all. The transition has been monumental for us.
Since we arrived, I learned how to drive our diesel tractor (12 forward gears, 4 reverse). We adopted 2 cats, one of which has been returned. We found a fence contractor who helped us design a new layout, cleared scrub brush and trees, and installed paddock and hay-field fencing. We cut a new trail through our woods to finish a loop. We added a gravel driveway around a new hay shed we had built. We built a 70-foot diameter labyrinth garden, now officially named the Rowcliffe Forest Garden Labyrinth, after our dear friend, Ian Rowcliffe, who has influenced and inspired us immeasurably in this adventure. I built a wood shed and then dismantled it after it blew over in a storm.
We discovered a Belgian Tervuren dog breeder not too far away and brought home beautiful Delilah, a 9-month-old puppy. After bolstering the stables and barn walls with new planks of wood, we eventually got around to adding horses; 4 beautiful Arabians. The dream for this property, and for the modifications to it, have all been centered around the plan to have these horses, even though at the start, we weren’t sure from where the horses would come.
This summer I found myself pulling a hay rake behind my tractor and helping my neighbor to bale our hay and it felt like the transformation had reached a real milestone. This was almost like being a real farmer. I’ve certainly spent enough time digging around in our manure pile to at least feel like a rancher. I’ve planted, transplanted, fed, watered, and also cut down, split and chipped enough trees to feel like a lumberjack.
In July of this year, Cyndie started a new job which triggered the decision to have me stop working in the Twin Cities and stay home full-time to manage the property and animals.
There are still some significant projects pending which are looming large. We need to get drain tile and landscaping done to improve drainage around the paddocks, and we are adding the next phase of fencing to enclose a grazing pasture.
Our transition is nowhere near complete, but as we approach the accomplishment of our second year here, we are seeing the benefits of the changes we have made and noticing a feeling of significance for where we are now, in light of where we have been. We find ourselves pausing more often, to sit in our rocking chairs on the hill overlooking our back yard and take it all in.
Delilah, born about the time we bought this place and so also approaching two years old, now sits with us by the rockers, instead of running around chewing on everything. A very welcome change, among many.
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Relative Something 