Posts Tagged ‘change’
Feel It?
The sun set at 7:30 last night. The last two nights were chilly enough to require sleeping well-tucked under the covers. Change is upon us once again. We have color showing up in the trees. I was inspired to apply a new coat of waterproofing to my boots.
There is no doubt about what lies in store for us in the weeks ahead.
Shorter days and colder temperatures bring a shift in priorities. I need to start identifying items that shouldn’t freeze and moving them to safe storage.
It occurs to me now that I still haven’t fixed the winch on the Grizzly, which I will need for the snow plow blade this winter.
How’s that for living in the moment? I’m already thinking about snow season.
While I’m focused on the future, the sunny September weather is serving up some delicious days. It wasn’t lost on me yesterday, as I basked in the warm glowing sunshine with the cool gusts of wind.
Cyndie started the day working with clients in the arena space and later moved to the round pen. It had dried up wonderfully, allowing activities to proceed as intended.
This time of year is pretty dreamy around here, when it isn’t rainy. It’s my favorite.
At the same time, it tends to bring with it a feeling that the other shoe is about to drop.
I can feel it coming.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Uncharacteristic Wetness
Over and over, day after day, waves of precipitation have been dumping rain on top of the rain from the day before. Even though we might get a couple of dry days every so often between the waves, it hasn’t been enough time for the ground to drain.
This isn’t the kind of weather we usually get at this time of year. In my lifetime, the middle of summer would be when lawns started to turn brown and required watering. As fall arrived, the creek beds and swamps would all be dry.
That doesn’t seem to be happening anymore. Last year, I was surprised that I had to keep mowing the lawn just as frequently in the fall as I did in the spring. Now it is happening again, although this year it is even worse. I can’t keep up with mowing the fast-growing grass because the rain has been too persistent.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
The wetness this year has led to the dermatitis our horses are dealing with, and yesterday I noticed the excessive moisture is starting to show up on the house and garage. The step to the front door of our house stayed wet along the seam and was showing signs of moss growth. The stones along the base of the garage are turning green with algae.
It feels like the climate is changing.
I wonder if anyone is looking into the possibility.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Same Change
Things are constantly changing, but what strikes me about the feeling I get in the month of August is how familiar it is. The transition from summer to autumn is always bittersweet for me. Fall is my favorite time of year. It is one of the reasons Cyndie and I chose September for our wedding. But who wants summer to end?
It is the same change every year. In what seems like a blink of days, I find myself in darkness as I leave the house for work in the morning. The days are getting shorter. “Sweet corn ahead” signs dot the scenery of my commute, as roadside stands sprout up every other mile.
County fairs wind down as the big state fair hype revs up. The word “school” pops up with uncomfortable frequency.
Hot humid days lead to thick foggy mornings.
I love it, and I hate it. I appreciate the change, but I don’t want it to happen. I want fall to arrive, but I don’t want summer to end.
The familiar feeling of this change is the same every year. Is it possible to adjust my perception, to settle so completely into the moment that all these recognizable indicators of change don’t come across as such?
It’s just the 19th day of August. It is now. Today.
With a very familiar feeling.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Two Worlds
In the constant ebb and flow of change that has occurred for Cyndie and me in the almost 4 years since we moved from the suburbs to rural life on a horse hobby farm, there are waves of intensity that can be both invigorating and disorienting. I’m probably just tired from a pattern of not sleeping optimal hours every night, but lately things have been mostly disorienting.
Yesterday, while filling out the schedule of customer orders at the day-job, I received a new Purchase Order with a requested delivery date that I immediately perceived to be past due. Wondering how that could be, I checked the date it was sent and interpreted that as being a week old.
I marched up to the boss’s office to investigate how this could have happened, only to embarrass myself in discovering that my mind was off by a week. The order was sent and received with yesterday’s date and they were asking for delivery next Wednesday.
Never mind.
Obviously, I was not living in the moment. My calibration gets a little off when spending hours of intense mental energy trying to fit weeks of work into limited days of available labor, several months into the future. It gets compounded when trying to do so while simultaneously burdened with trying to self-teach lessons on how to properly (read that as “legally”) load and secure heavy cargo on a trailer.
My poor little brain is surfing on the crest of one of those waves of constant change with regard to the horse hobby farm gig. We have adjusted our hay plans this year to trying to purchase all of next season’s inventory and not use any of what we can cut and bale off our field. This year’s crop on our front field is growing more weeds than grass.
We are negotiating with two sources for small square bales and trying to work out movement of goods. Cyndie called the trailer dealership in town to inquire about short-term rental of a flat-bed. It just so happens that our next door neighbor, John, works there. He said they don’t rent equipment, but offered to loan us the use of one of his trailers. He’s got two of them.
Wednesday night, John stopped by the house to discuss details and I learned very quickly how out of my league I was. When we bought the truck, I didn’t know there was a difference between a trailer hitch and a ball mount. My rather narrow experience from years in industry is in electronics manufacturing. It was intimidating to learn the significance of details involved with trailering commercial-sized loads like the one I already moved last week, which I had done without proper knowledge.
Yesterday, Cyndie took our truck in to have the trailer dealer install a brake controller. Last night, our neighbor stopped by and dropped off his trailer in front of our hay shed.
I’m trying to shift mental gears from the day-job world to the hobby farm world, and reviewing the Wisconsin laws for securing and trailering heavy cargo. We are also trying to plot a course toward improving the crop of hay we hope to grow for ourselves.
Don’t ask me what day it is today. I’m feeling a little disoriented.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Ponder This
Time changes everything. Time has a tendency of changing my memories. I’ve been told that each time I remember something, the memory morphs a little bit.
.
When I mentally visualize plans for the future, the conjured perceptions in my mind have the same “look” to me as when I am revisiting my memories.
.
What if, in the present moment, I imagine a future occasion where I re-experience something I remember from the past?
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Making Changes
On Sunday, in our 4th spring on this property, I took on the annual re-installation of the pump and filter in our landscape pond. For the first time in all those years, I went so far as to re-engineer the tubing that had been left by the previous owners, which is what I had used all the other times. Even though I knew little about it, I always felt there was room for improvement.
Initially, the pond was just one more thing on top of a multitude of issues with which I had little experience. Slowly, year by year, I began to gain confidence as I grew more familiar with the minutia of tending to our animals, acres, machines, and nature.
For the past 3 years, I simply connected a pump to the existing hose and filter and turned it on. The year we moved in, I left the filter sit, with water still in it, all winter long, not even knowing what it really was. The second year, I opened it up and figured out the charcoal media deserved to be replaced.
Sunday, I was smart enough to pull the filter out of the garage where it had been stored all winter —clean and dry— and assembled it on level ground, before connecting to the hoses below the pond and filling it with water. Got it sealed on the first try, which never happened any of the other years of putting it together inline.
Setting Stones
With the extra tubing removed, I wanted to rearrange the rocks on the back side of the pond to accommodate a shorter route from pump to waterfall, and then cover it from view. There is an aspect of this creating that goes against my natural inclination to leave things the way they are.
To build up the rocks enough to cover my latest setup, I needed to go find them from other locations, and something about doing that feels to me like breaking eggs to make an omelet. I initially found myself hesitant about removing rocks from existing locations and leaving holes in the stony landscape bordering our house.
However, after 4 years, I am getting better at seeing how quickly the landscape scenery adapts to our alterations. It will only seem like a hole for a short while. I might know it, but others walking past probably won’t notice the difference.
I’m about halfway done toward achieving what I hope to create. The plumbing appears to be all in working order, so that just leaves a few more stones to turn before I’ll be ready to cross this off the project list.
Not that the list will notice the difference of having one less thing on it.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Green Alley
I didn’t start the day Sunday with a plan to spend the entire day reworking the fencing around our arena space, but that is pretty much how it played out. We thought we were going to make a run to purchase parts that would allow us to finish the new divider fence in the back pasture. After that, we hoped to take a crack at turning some brush piles into wood chips for our trails.
Instead, I started fixing the sad-looking step-in posts we had used to mark out space for an arena, most of which were heavily battered by wind and soft spring soil. That spawned an idea to also put up the short barriers to the hay-field. This creates an alley between the paddock and the arena space, which we can then give the horses access to, saving me the chore of needing to mow it.
The grass in that space is actually further along than in the back pasture, so we adjusted plans and focussed on getting that space ready first. While I toiled away on details to electrify all the new fence webbing, Cyndie made the run for parts that would allow us to finish both the pasture divider and the arena area.
When she got back and I had the barriers done on each end of the alley, we decided to give the horses their first few minutes on fresh grass right then and there, while we finished up a few details on the arena fence. They stepped through the gate in a very mannerly way, spending a few minutes nibbling the first blades available. In no time, they were wandering well into the space, Legacy hanging close to us, and the three chestnuts moving the other direction.
We needed to limit their time on the grass, which involves the challenge of asking them to go back into the paddock. That’s not always easy, but they demonstrated impeccable self-control last night and headed back inside of their own accord, when Cyndie was preparing to set out their evening feed.
Of course, they subsequently showed great interest in both of the main gates we tend to leave open for them later in the season. They were cooperative about coming in, but they were obviously interested in getting back out again soon. They’ll get that chance today, and for twice the time. We add 15-minutes a day during their transition times onto spring grass, up to about 4-hours. At that point, we can leave the gates open all the time, allowing them free choice all day and night.
Lucky for them, the alley grass is plenty green and growing fast, so they have that to start with while we wait for the back pasture to catch up.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Anxiously Waiting
We knocked off a good number of satisfying chores yesterday, taking full advantage of perfectly summer-like weather. In fact, it was so summery, I found myself mowing grass. We also put fence posts in to split our back pasture, so we will be able to rotate the horses back and forth, allowing us to provide the turf occasional rest from the voracious foursome.
The herd spent most of the day lined up at the gate, anxiously awaiting access to the new green smorgasbord that is sprouting beyond the confines of their paddock. Cyndie captured a wonderful shot of them eyeing her as she walked past, sending their message of bewilderment over being neglected all this time.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
They won’t have too much longer to wait. We have shut them in for a few weeks to give the grass a head start, protecting it from both their heavy hooves while it’s wet, and their devouring ways.
While I was getting machines prepared for the day’s work, Cyndie drove the truck down to one of the older rock piles at the edge of our woods and selected perfect specimens to create a border for a new native wild flower garden that she is creating in the spot where we recently removed all the old barbed wire, stump, and brush.
Visitors will be greeted by a colorful splendor as it comes into view over the crest of the first rise in our driveway.
Cyndie has some of her own anxious waiting to do, for her vision of new growing flowers to become established and in full bloom on this wonderful spot she is creating.
It seemed like more additional work than I saw a need for, but once again, her ability to make things happen is bringing about another enhancement to Wintervale that will add even more charm to an already precious place.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Snowy Stones
We have been on the roller coaster of spring weather lately, mixing beautiful warm days with blasts of wintery cold. We wake up to snow and it melts by the time the sun gets high. It feels a little crazy-making, but I love the way it looks.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Relative Something 