Posts Tagged ‘composting manure’
Tidying Up
With temperatures climbing into the 40s yesterday, Cyndie and I saw an opportunity to do a little tidying up around the property. After the most recent bouts of quasi-winter rain-sleet-snow precipitation, an annoying icy, glazed mass of packed snow had become the surface of our driveway.
I took out an ice scraper and pushed away at the soft, wet edges of the ice pack in front of the house. The portion that will come up without resistance is visibly obvious. I focused on that, picking the low-hanging fruit. After working the edges and then pushing the crumble of snow and ice to the side with my shovel, I looked back to see there was already a whole new measure of visibly obvious portions that begged attention.
How could I not keep going? After three times around, I had the whole upper platform of our driveway clean to the pavement. The melt was happening at an amazing rate.
Cyndie was down with the horses, planning to give each of them some individual attention and grooming. That was my next stop, thinking I could hang out with them and clean up manure while she brushed them out. Even though there was a cloud cover painting the day with a hue of gray, the air was absolutely calm, allowing the warm temperature to feel perfectly comfortable without getting hot.
Legacy’s tail has always grown long, but Cyndie noticed it had reached a point where he was stepping on it, so she decided to give it a trim.
After scooping fresh manure from under the overhang, I fanned out a little further around the paddock and picked up some of the newly exposed piles emerging from the melting snow. Like the last couple of winters, we have been dumping much of the season’s worth of manure right inside the paddock.
Since much of the manure is frozen by the time we get around to scooping it up, there isn’t much in the way of composting that goes on in the pile, so it just keeps getting bigger and bigger with every passing day.
Continuing with the theme of tidying up, I decided to try giving the giant mass a little more shape by cleaning up around the edges. I was surprised to discover over the last few winter seasons that despite the dark color of the pile, if it starts out frozen, if left alone, the center can stay frozen well into May or June.
We placed this pile at a spot that we would like to fill in effort to reduce the amount of slope, but it becomes a long slow process to move from an ugly pile of manure to an unnoticeable natural ground cover nicely filling a low spot.
All part of the ongoing process of running a neat and tidy ranch operation, regardless what the weather presents.
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Growing Accustomed
I had a moment over the weekend when I became aware of just how much comfort I am developing with many of the things that were beyond my sphere of exposure just a few years ago. That’s not entirely a surprise. I expected to get the hang of things in time. But, there is relief in being able to notice the progress.
I changed the oil and replaced the mower blades on the lawn tractor on Saturday. Detaching and sliding out the mower deck has become so simple and routine for me that I laughed to myself over the change of perspective about the task.
When we got the horses, I didn’t have any experience caring for a horse. It was a daunting feeling to be responsible for their well-being when knowing so little about them. I’ve grown a lot more comfortable reading their general health in the ensuing years.
I have been composting the horse manure long enough now that I am getting much better at recognizing progress, both when it’s happening, and when it’s not. It was interesting yesterday to discover that I needed to add water to piles I was turning, even though we had been receiving rain showers throughout the preceding 18 hours.
The micro organisms that generate intense heat while breaking down the manure, do an amazing job of drying out the material at the same time. If I neglect to turn the pile often enough, the composting process doesn’t transpire nearly as efficiently as it otherwise would.
Luckily, I’ve grown accustomed to having manure management be a significant part of my contribution here.
What can I say? I’m good at shoveling it.
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Preventive Medicine
We have now received three diagnoses for what has possibly been killing our pine trees over the three years that we have lived here.
The first guy thought it might be related to spider mites. He offered to treat all our trees with over $1000 worth of insecticide.
The second guy became very alarmed over the visible damage from sap suckers. I am grateful that the second guy was at least thorough enough to have also taken needle samples back for further analysis and consultation with other experts.
We are feeling most confident with the follow-up diagnosis he came up with of a fungus. Given that we are not interested in applying toxins in hopes of treating our remaining trees, I have responded to advice from the arborist to give our remaining healthy trees plenty of food and water for the best chance going forward.
When he suggested giving them a good bedding, I pointed out that I have plenty of composting horse manure.
“That would be great for bedding.” he said.
Done.
Well, one done. Many to go.
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Not Hot
This is one of the not hot compost piles in our paddock. Not much in the way of decomposition happening there. Maybe that will change this weekend when the mega-melt of February is expected to arrive.
The frozen compost piles aren’t hot, but the temperature of the air will be. Add a chance for some rain in the mix and our lawn may become visible by the end of the weekend.
Mud season!
I suppose I ought to think about getting the garden tractor tuned up and ready for battle.
This early warmup in interesting, but warmth at this time of year is a fickle thing. One moment it feels all summery and promising, and a day later we could be socked in by a foot or two of heavy, wet snow. Do. Not. Remove. Winter. Accessories. From. Your. Vehicles.
The odds of needing them stays high through the first week in May around here. I’m inclined to wait until June before finally choosing to store them someplace safe, where I will never remember to look the following November when I am desperate to scrape frost off a windshield again.
This past Monday, the horses were enjoying the last hour of our increasingly longer daylight while I was tending to the frozen manure pile closest to the barn. I have a sense that they are going to enjoy a warm spell, despite the messy footing it promises to provide.
With their coats still winter-thick, I expect it may feel downright hot to them.
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Chilly Chillin’
When I got home from work yesterday, Cyndie wasn’t back from an errand to Hudson, so it became my responsibility to take Delilah for a walk. Cyndie anticipated her arrival would be shortly thereafter and that she could tend to the horses.
Fine with me. Ms. Canine greeted me at the door, sweet as could be, and appeared perfectly thrilled over the opportunity to get outside, regardless the ongoing deep freeze we were experiencing.
It was an agenda-free stroll. We just hung out together.
I started with a little bush-whacking through undisturbed snow along one of our trails that hadn’t been traveled for a long time. Delilah loved it. There were plenty of fresh scents from critters for her to investigate, and several opportunities for her very fox-like “pounce.” She cocks her head to listen and then leaps straight up with all 4 paws, so that her nose-down landing, deep into the snow, will be a total surprise attack.
Cute as heck, but she very rarely seems to be on the right track. Makes me wonder what spawns the sudden dramatic maneuvers, either sound or scent. Maybe both. She obviously shows signs of listening, but I am never sure whether that is because she smelled something first, or not.
We made our way over toward the horses in the large paddock. They all seemed to be biding their time until they could get inside to the bedding of wood shavings in their stalls for some long winter naps. Even a thin metal roof overhead is good enough to offer a noticeable buffer from the bitter cold that seems to fall directly from outer space. They show signs of being keenly aware of that advantage when the nighttime temperatures head into double digits below zero.
I glanced toward the orange glow of the setting sun and spotted a nice view of the steam that rises off the cooking compost pile. With the air so bitter cold, it is all the more fascinating that the microorganisms breaking down the pile of sullied bedding generate temperatures to 140° (F) and beyond.
The pile gets a thick version of hoarfrost from the steam, which provides a nice touch of drama on top of the otherwise unsavory mound.
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Double Double
I am doing double, double-duty this week: at home, I am covering for Cyndie while she is visiting the west coast with friends, and at the day-job, I am filling in for a vacationing employee. What an unfortunate coincidental timing for these two situations to occur.
I am taxed with not being able to leave home before rush-hour traffic builds, because I need to tend to our daily morning animal-care routine first, while at the same time, I have twice the work facing me at the day-job, which realistically requires I spend extra time there. Not gonna happen. I need to get home early to rescue Delilah from the confines of her outdoor kennel and then feed the horses their afternoon nutrition.
Somethings gotta give, and I’m afraid it’s going to be service to our customers for a few days. Maybe they won’t notice.
At home, I fear the never-ending grass growth is likely to be my ongoing nemesis. It needs mowing again already! I didn’t have time yesterday after work. Between needing to give Delilah a healthy amount of attention and cleaning up a day’s worth of manure, the ever-shorter evening daylight hours were easily consumed.
Now that I am checking the temperature of the composting manure pile every day, I am finding that I need to turn it over with the pitch fork much more often that I had been doing.
I took a picture of the thermometer displaying that it was over 160° (F) again, after I had just mixed it around on Sunday. What a fascinating phenomenon that heat generation is.
Speaking of heat, we are enjoying a spectacular rendition of warm September days this week. Yesterday felt like warmth of a summer day, but there is no mistaking the subtle clues that frame it as autumnal.
I expect that the changing angle of the sun contributes greatly, but the actuality of that is not entirely obvious. Around our place, we’ve already got enough crunchy leaves over our trails that they are contributing a distinct fall-like aroma to go along with the auditory serenade that happens beneath footsteps.
We are in a period of high winds, as well, and something about the way the rushing warm air felt on my skin last night gave me a feeling that this is something special to be appreciated. It was hot, without being hot. Seriously. That may not make sense to you, but it explains the impression that warm September air can produce.
I am challenged with needing to luxuriate in this brilliantly spectacular weather for more than just myself, but for Cyndie, too, since I’m absorbing her share of bliss while she’s gone. It’s the least I could do.
It wouldn’t make much sense to only take on the burdens her absence presents, would it?
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Smokin’ Hot
Our fertilized dirt factory is cooking big time lately. In fact, my piles have been getting too hot. I have learned that too high a temperature will begin to kill the beneficial bacteria at work, primarily because it coincides with the point when oxygen is getting used up.
All I need to do at that point is stir the pile to aerate it.
That means I should be paying closer attention to the daily temperatures, and not just turning it weekly, as I had been doing.
The picture I took of that pile looks a bit like a volcano, but I don’t think there is any chance of it erupting.
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Good Enough
It has taken me until yesterday to finally get the hitch plate remounted on the ATV, because of the difficulty I experienced removing those two sheared off bolts. Well, and also due to the fact I spend most of my days away at the day-job instead of working on things that need fixing at home!
When gentle methods proved insufficient, I drilled through the bolts in order to use an “easy-out” bit to turn them out. I was able to pound against one of them to break the rust bond, and then it spun out effortlessly. For a minute, I forgot the reality of all such projects and I felt hopeful about quickly finishing the second bolt using the same process. Silly me. It wasn’t to be.
Try as I might, I could not get the second bolt to jar loose from the threads in the frame. And I did try, over and over again. I tried adding heat, I tried cooling with ice. I pounded it in every direction. I soaked it with rust-breaking fluids. I worked repeatedly to get the easy-out bit to rotate, all the while being cautious about not breaking that off in the hole. It never budged.
After days of effort, I was forced to make progress in order to get on with the next task at hand. I drilled out the bolt fragment as large as possible without completely trashing the threads, and put in a smaller diameter bolt that was long enough to secure with a nut on the bottom.
It wasn’t the perfect resolution to the problem, but it was a completely effective work around. The hitch plate is mounted again, and I can pull the trailer for chores. First order of business: relocate the composted piles of manure.
I needed to make new space for manure because I was running out of a place to put it. Out of the 6 piles I had in our composting area, 4 were no longer “cooking.” I spent most of the afternoon distributing composted manure to a variety of spots. Some is being used as fertilizer, but a lot if it is currently being used as fill in areas that need it. That happens to be the most convenient solution to two different issues.
I quickly get new space in the compost area, and at the same time, get to fill low spots that need it most. That’s good enough for me.
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Missed Chance
Choreographing the transition from me being home full-time to manage the ranch, to it now being Cyndie, is proving to be a struggle for my inner control freak. Believe it or not, she doesn’t do things the way I do. If I want things to happen the way I would do them, I need to do it. The other option is that I relax my urge to have things run like I would do it, and let her do things any way she wants.
Yesterday provided a fine example, and I totally missed my chance to hand over management of composting manure. Cyndie had made a pass through the paddock with the wheelbarrow, cleaning up fresh droppings, and came to check with me on where in the compost area to dump the load.
There was my opportunity to invite her to do it any way she pleases, but I couldn’t help myself. I walked with her over to the piles and began to give instructions on how I do it. What was I thinking?
When she rolled the wheelbarrow up, she came in on the wrong end of the piles. It felt like a “Mr. Mom” moment when Micheal Keaton’s character, who had traded roles with his wife, drove the wrong way in the circle of cars taking kids to school.
In the middle of trying to describe the process I have developed and my methods, I realized the folly of my thinking. I could tell by her reaction that this wasn’t going to happen. The job would remain mine. She offered to scoop up manure and stage it for me in the wheelbarrow, but I would maintain ownership of doing the compost management.
I can be my own worst enemy.
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Count Down
It’s beginning to feel like minutes, not days, until we depart on our travels to visit friends in Guatemala. Cyndie has done a heroic job of rallying to tend to details both necessary and convenient. I was a bit surprised to see her organizing kitchen utensil drawers before we go, but it was a gesture of thinking about making things convenient for those who will be house-sitting for us while we are away.
Our friend and soon-to-be hostess in Guatemala, Dunia, has been calling and sending photos to prepare us, to inspire our glee, and to share their excitement over having us visit. I need to practice staying in the moment so I will be able to fully absorb every minute we have with them, as I am already sensing how quickly our stay of limited days will pass.
Of course, both Cyndie and I have been heard to tease with our family that we will be gone for only a week and a half, …if we come back.
I am noticing mixed feelings about our preparedness to leave the care of our property and animals to a variety of people, some who have had nothing more than one brief visit to inform their managing of our place. I have no doubts about their abilities to take good care of Delilah, Pequenita, and our horses, but I fret over the complications thrown in by weather events that spring is known to unleash here.
After working frantically yesterday to take advantage of the dryness of the upper levels of the paddocks, raking out the divots created when it was soft and wet, the moisture is due to return today with more than an inch of fresh snow. In the days ahead, our animal sitters will need to think about bringing horses in from the cold and wet. That means creating additional amounts of soiled bedding in the barn stalls that will need to be disposed of in the compost pile.
Yikes! There isn’t much room left in the compost space. On Friday I worked to create space at the front of the compost pile so it would be easier to dump manure while we are gone. There is only one small section that is actively breaking down right now, visible on my new thermometer. I will work to ‘restart’ the other zones of the pile after we return from Guatemala, but until then, the pile is just going to grow.
We have some temporary piles established inside the paddocks to reduce the need to haul manure out while we are gone. If the weather doesn’t get too wet and messy, the cleanup should be manageable. I can hope!
Today, while it snows, I will be trying to figure out where my summer clothes are so I can pack for our trip, while simultaneously struggling to compile the last of the necessary tax information to drop at our preparers office before we go.
The minutes are dwindling, and we couldn’t be more thrilled!
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Relative Something 