Posts Tagged ‘change’
More Designing
I recently built a platform outside the back door of the barn for Cyndie’s portable sink. She said she liked it, but that she was also hoping to have a work station for washing horses in that area. On Friday, I worked on a design for a way to provide that, just beyond the sink.
The area will require a fair amount of fill, so I decided it was time to use the loader bucket on the diesel tractor. Moving massive amounts of manure was one of the reasons I figured I needed this tractor, but up until now, we have been managing just fine without it.
Actually, our neighbor, George, was just asking about our manure pile, and happily offered us the use of his manure spreader, as long as we can fill it using the loader on our tractor. That would allow us to spread our fertilizer on the hay-field. His asking created incentive for me to practice my skills using the loader for something other than snow.
It doesn’t come naturally for me. I have better control using hand tools. However, there is no denying the increased efficiency the loader provides. I can move a lot more fertilizer in a lot less time. One of my problems with mechanized assistance is that it also allows me to make a lot bigger mistakes in a shockingly quick blink of an eye.
For now, I am using the mostly composted manure from long ago as clean fill around our property. I moved a few bucket-loads to the spot and now have a sense of space that will be needed. I plan to bury a couple of fence posts to make a hitching rail and build up a platform where the horses will stand. We have some plastic grates that interlock, which we will fill with pea-gravel, and then that will be covered by rubber mats. I expect there will be a layer of plastic beneath the pea-gravel to cause water to drain in the direction we want it to go.
Luckily, Cyndie said she doesn’t expect to be washing horses for a while, so I have time to proceed in phases.
She was able to make use of the new arena space in the afternoon, exercising the horses with a lunge line. It was beautiful to see. The horses responded nicely to the exercise, and moved proudly around her in this new workout space that has been created.
Every day is something new around here. The progress of late has been invigorating for the soul, yet taxing on the body. That end-of-the-day shower is becoming a ritual of renewal and recovery after long days of heavy laboring.
During a brief pause between tasks yesterday afternoon, Cyndie brought out popsicles and invited me to join her on rocking chairs overlooking the back yard. With a cool breeze washing over us, it was a precious (and intentional) opportunity to take a moment to enjoy the richness of blessings we are surrounded by here. They are more than enough justification for the hard work we find ourselves engaged in day-after-day.
Never Dreamed
A few years ago, I had no clue about how much my life experience would be changing by the middle of the year 2014. Yesterday was the culmination of a possibility that bloomed after we bought our new property in the fall of 2012. I found myself out driving my tractor in our field, pulling a rake to create windrows for baling hay. What a kick. A very humbling kick that I never dreamed I would be experiencing.
For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out how to make this raking work the way I wanted. My instructions from George were pretty basic, and he rode with me as guide for about two passes, before heading home to trim some horses. He’s a farrier, you know. One big challenge with the rake he brought over is that you aren’t able to back up, and it keeps raking while you reach the end of the field and have to turn around before the fence.
Turning around was a trick, and the goal of creating straight, single rows repeatedly evaded me. It will take a few tries to figure out how to manage the shape of this field. Ed, the man who cut it for us last week, had never been on the field before and just picked a pattern which suited him. George and I started down one fence line and then he suggested I just continue that line, but it ended up putting me across many of the rows Ed had cut.
The result of my “student driving” exercise made for a pretty crazy sight, but George was kind and soldiered ahead with his baler to make it work, despite many areas where the hay had been tumbled into piles instead of rows.
The problem with the piles is that they would plug the intake and George would have to stop and climb down to pull grass out or kick the piles into place as prevention.
We both feel our system will improve as we figure out an optimum way to work the odd shape of this field. There is more to it, though, than just the irregular shape, because it is also not flat. Navigating up that hill becomes an increasing challenge as the hay wagon gets heavier and heavier with bales.
As always, needing the field to be dry enough to work is a primary factor. George got stuck several times, and I needed to push the back of the hay wagon with my tractor to get him moving again. The one that surprised me most was on higher ground, where his back wheels sunk into what must be a ground spring where water pushes up near the surface. It seems like an illogical location for a soft spot.
Now, after days of stacking purchased hay in our shed, we have two more wagons full of bales that need to be stacked. It is a LOT of work, but it is a labor of love.
Especially for the horses. They love having us stock piling all these bales where they can see and smell them.
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Managing Tasks
It’s the middle of July and we are experiencing a cold spell to go along with the latest batch of passing rain showers. I finally pulled out a long sleeve shirt yesterday afternoon because I was getting a chill while I sat inside, waiting out the rain. Monday had me back at the 14-hour day, caring for animals and working on chores around the property.
On Saturday, I had a chance to do a little test run of the new wood chipper. Works like a charm. I’m looking forward to grinding all the piles of branches we have laying around.
Yesterday, I worked on cutting down small growth to open up a path for installation of electric fencing that will enclose the back grazing pasture. The area where I was working is down by the drainage ditch that runs along the southern border of our property. I am also working on cutting down the trees that have grown down in that ditch. The combination of cuttings from those two areas have made for several significant brush piles that I will be turning into wood chips. What fun!
Any trees that are too big for the chipper will be turned into firewood. Too bad I don’t have anyplace to stack firewood right now. Rebuilding the woodshed remains a priority, but it is below hauling hay and clearing a path for pasture fencing.
My other priority is to try to get 8-hours of sleep a night. I need the rest since I am working the long days. Unfortunately, my latest attempts have been foiled. Feels a little like burning the candle at both ends. It’s hard because my manager in this new mode of working self-managed, is a real task master.
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Changes Afoot
This week I am back at the day-job to cover for my assistant while she is on vacation. By coincidence, this week also happens to be when Cyndie starts a new job in education administration. In fact, today is her first official day in her new role as Chief Academic Officer of the Anoka/Hennepin School district, the largest district in the state of Minnesota.
How do these things happen? I don’t know. It’s not like we planned for her to land such a demanding position so far from our home. The opportunity arose and Cyndie peeked in at it, getting quickly swept in for another shot at solving the world’s problems through helping improve another public school system. Can it be done? I hope so, because she always gives her all in trying.
What does that mean for our plans at Wintervale? Probably that our efforts to launch a self-sustaining education and retreat center here will be a bit more drawn out. For me, it means that I will need to do a better job of again reducing the need to travel across the cities to my old day-job gig. My primary responsibilities will shift to managing things at home. Heaven forbid, I might be forced to finally do the grocery shopping and dinner prep for the two of us.
I have already started my unintended plumbing apprenticeship. I’m daily growing more comfortable with animal care: horses, dog, and cat. I’m getting the hang of using tractors and gas engines. Most importantly, I’m making connections with the farmer neighbors and local business owners who will become the new co-workers I will be interacting with to accomplish whatever needs attention on any given day around here.
We think it is a glorious opportunity for both of us.
Happy first day of July, 2014!
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One Week
The trip I am on provides an excellent example of the relativity of time. I will be gone from home for one week. How long is one week? It is just 7 days. I have been gone from home for longer than that on many occasions. From my experiences of the 15-odd years that I have participated in this week-long bicycle/camping tour, I know that one week seems both incredibly long and woefully short.
I will miss my wife, our bed, the convenience of our bathroom, and all the rest of the comforts of home. For some reason, spending an entire week exclusively using a bicycle for transportation, makes riding in a car at the conclusion of the trip seem like a totally foreign experience. Upon arriving home again I have always found that it seems like I have been gone forever and changes that occurred while I was gone are dramatic. But it is just one week.
I tend to believe it has something to do with how different the days are from my usual routine. For this one week I am able to immerse myself in the experience and camaraderie without needing to give any thought to my normal daily concerns. That makes for a great vacation. The route and meals have been determined for me, as well as where I will camp. I get to relax and enjoy the miles of riding and camping in the great outdoors, and most significantly, immerse myself in sharing the experience with like-minded friends.
For that reason, the week seems to pass in a blink. We hardly get started and it is already over. This trip makes for both a very long week and a very short week, all at the same time. Maybe that is why it seems so magical.
Today we ride from Worthington, MN to Luverne. Happy Father’s Day!
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Gone Shedless
I received the greatest gift from my family yesterday. Since I will be gone on Father’s Day, riding the Tour of Minnesota, we celebrated a week early. The kids came over and helped with chores around the property. Most significantly, we dismantled the toppled woodshed.
I had been considering ways to pick it up again, thinking it might still stand on the six support posts. After we cleared away everything that had been stacked inside, closer inspection led to a decision to just take it apart, one leg at a time. Having the extra hands made the project infinitely more simple for me. Getting that shed taken care of was high on my list of desires, but I never imagined we would be able to get as far with it as we ended up accomplishing.
I am so very happy to have that damaged structure dismantled. Thanks, kids!
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Flowers Show
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Not far behind all the fast growing grass we have around here, flowers are beginning to display their best selves for our delight. Like so many things this spring, it seems like they have just appeared out of nowhere. If we neglect to walk around the house and property for one day, we miss the grand entrance of some plant or another.
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Unfortunately for me, the weeds grow just as fast and get just as tall as some of the desirable flowering plants. I’m never sure which is which, and therefore am unwilling to be very zealous about weeding our landscape.
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The emergence of the flowers is matched closely with the appearance of pestering flying insects, several of which have a taste for blood. While stepping in close to capture the little blossoms on this flowering tree, I fell under attack from a swarm of tiny flying things, a few of which seemed to be driven toward burying themselves in my hair. That’s a joy.
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Speaking of that kind of joy, while working to clear trees from the drainage ditch along our southern border last weekend, I was sure that a mosquito almost large enough to pass for a humming-bird was responsible for the giant welt that swelled and itched when I came in for the night. I showed the welt to Cyndie right away to see what she thought of it. Inconclusive response. It had quickly gotten bigger than any mosquito bite I had ever experienced before.
In a few days, it became painfully obvious that it was not a bug bite. I’m guessing I unknowingly handled some poison ivy down in that ditch, then directly transferred it to my neck when trying to wipe off dripping sweat. The swelling and wide area of reaction is so distinctly different than the usual itchy spots that appear on my skin, I believe it suggests the level of exposure was an order of magnitude higher than my usual experience.
I remembered that my doctor advised I try an antihistamine to control the reaction, before resorting to a steroid prescription. That seems to be working for me, to suppress the swelling and itching, but it doesn’t necessarily shorten the average two weeks duration like steroids will. That’s okay. I dislike the prescription stuff enough to be willing to endure the duration of the process using antihistamines alone for now.
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Take Two
What do you do when you step outside in the morning to discover you have 2.25 inches of water in your rain gauge from overnight storms? We decided it was a good day to transplant some trees.
A few days ago, I noticed a lot of maple trees were growing in the middle area of woods where my foot path to the barn cuts through. They looked to be in surprisingly good condition, considering they are well beneath the canopy of mature trees above, leaving them in shade all day long.
Yesterday, when Cyndie and I stepped out into the soaking wet conditions once again, I suggested it would be a good day to plant trees, pointing out the candidates I had found. She was all in, and soon we were selecting tree after tree, as each consecutive find seemed better than the rest.
If you have been following along, you probably saw my recent exclamation that the tree we transplanted to the middle of our labyrinth was alive. Turns out it was just barely alive, and not doing well enough for our purposes. We had dug that tree out of the ground last fall with a shovel, and the only new growth that appeared this spring was on a couple of sprouts along the lower trunk. There were no leaves budding from any of the branches above.
Photo taken by Cyndie
For our second attempt, I wanted to try pulling the roots of a tree from the ground, digging it up by hand. It is a method we had wonderful success with at our previous home. By saturating the dirt with water, which wasn’t hard at all yesterday since the ground was already saturated, it becomes possible to work the roots free by hand, but it takes a fair amount of patience.
Delilah couldn’t figure out what the heck I was doing, crouched next to that tree for so long, with my hand in that mud puddle. Luckily, she was tied on a leash and unable to get her paws in there to help. She resorted to digging 4 or 5 holes of her own, probably to show me how it’s done.
In time, the tree gets very tippy, and eventually, it pulls all the way out with minimal effort. Prior to that, my hand received quite a workout, trying to remove the thick clay soil that encased the roots, large and small.
Spending that much time getting intimate with the root structure of a tree this size made me aware of something that should serve as a valuable metaphor for the path our lives take. In similar fashion to the way moving water will meander and create rivers with an amazing number of 180° turns, tree roots will often make a U-turn and grow in the opposite direction from which they started.
From above, the sight of a root growing away from the trunk gives the impression it would logically continue in that direction. My probing hand found that wasn’t the case. It becomes apparent that a 180° change in direction is common, and provides strength and stability toward holding the tree upright despite forces that might otherwise bring it down.
How often do people assume the best path for our lives is straight ahead? A reversal of direction seems like a negative thing. I think reversing course, whether forced by circumstance or freely chosen, will more likely contribute to making us stronger and more stable in the long run.
The new transplant is in the ground at the center of our labyrinth, leaves already showing hints of the trauma. Today we are starting over with a second take, watching for signs indicating it is satisfied with its new location and the bright sunshine. No less than we were with the first tree, we are filled with hope that this one will survive.
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Shifting Priorities
I have not attempted to do anything with the remains of the woodshed yet. Since it wasn’t raining yesterday afternoon, I stepped out to take some more pictures.
It is too heavy to lift on my own, so I will either need a lot of helpers to pick it back up or use the power of our diesel tractor. The problem with relying on the tractor is that I can’t drive it back there until the ground dries up enough to support it. Not that it’s really a problem. I have plenty of other things to work on while I wait to be able to drive the tractor around on our property.
I have noticed a strong desire to get back to clearing the south drainage ditch, but the lawn grass that we try to keep mowed around the driveway and township road is growing so fast I was forced to make that the next priority. It is a rather challenging task right now because of how wet it is. I tried to stay off the worst areas, but still found myself getting stuck a few times, and leaving muddy tire tracks in my wake. Regardless, it looks better mowed with a few tracks, than it does not-mowed at all.
Clearing the south ditch is not the only thing clamoring for my attention, either. Over the weekend I started creating a spot by our labyrinth to use for storing compost that we plan to feed the growing things we have planted. I have been ever-so-slowly replacing the concrete landscaping blocks Cyndie bought for marking the first layout of the labyrinth, with stones we have been collecting from around our property. I am going to build a 3-walled nook using the landscape blocks pulled from the labyrinth, to contain the compost.
Of course, to haul manure back there I will need the ATV and trailer, but I can’t get in the paddocks with that equipment until it dries up some and Cyndie gets off crutches to open gates and manage horses while I drive in and out.
That’ll probably happen about the time I will need to switch priorities again to mow the rapidly growing lawn grass everywhere. It’s a great exercise for the part of me that wants to do everything in a sequence. I get to flex my flexibility skills, instead.
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Grass Management
There is an ebb and flow to managing a 20-acre property and animals in a rural setting that on the surface is significantly different from my old life in the suburbs. From my perspective, it’s not as dissimilar as one might think, beyond the obvious increase in scale.
I was thinking about how it feels like I pay more attention to the weather now than I ever had before, but that’s not really the case. I’ve always been fascinated by the weather. I fretted about the dilemma of either too much, or not enough precipitation impacting the growing things on our suburban lot, just not on the same scale as I do now. Back then, it didn’t get the same degree of attention from me, I suppose because there was less at stake.
I’m sure I had the neighbors chuckling over my activities yesterday, as I rode my little lawn tractor to mow part of the big hay-field beside our driveway, racing to beat the rain. The back field looked so darn nice that I overcame my hesitation to look foolish, and cut as much as I could before time ran out. Just like we had done two days before, I started by pulling a rake behind the Grizzly ATV to scar the surface to be seeded, switched to the lawn tractor to pull the seed spreader, then set about mowing as much of the rest of the field as I could.
Most of what I was doing was in sight of the horses, and they seemed to take great interest. This is the field where we let them roam for most of the time since they arrived last fall. I expect they are feeling a bit frustrated to not be given access now that the snow has melted. Our plan is to graze them on other fields and to grow this space for hay.
I only cut about half of the field before the precipitation started. I think it will be a challenge to get the rest done, because what’s left is thicker grass to start with, it will be wetter, and the new moisture will help trigger a growth spurt. I had wanted to get the field cut before spring growth started, which is the reason I was using the lawn tractor in the first place. It is light enough that it can work before the ground is dry and not leave wheel ruts.
If I’m not able to get that second half mowed, it could provide comparison to show the difference mowing made.
Whether our plan to improve the grass in that field works instantly, or not, it sure looks better right away. It is likely the improvement toward getting good quality hay will be incremental over a few years. I’m okay with that. I spent a lot of years slowly transitioning our suburban lot from a lawn to a natural, leaf-carpeted forest floor.
By the way, word has gotten back to us that the folks who bought our old place are changing it back into a lawn.
Such is the ebb and flow of grass management.
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Relative Something 