Posts Tagged ‘Delilah’
December’s Here!
Crashes and spinouts. That is what the first significant snowfall produces for commuters. My hour-long drive to work yesterday morning almost doubled in time due to the first wave of snow that flowed over the region. Wave two, which started last night, added enough new depth that I expect the trip to work today will be slow once again.
That’s okay. It’s December!
Time for wish lists and holiday parties, gift planning and benevolent scheming. Bring on the holiday good cheer.
Sadly, our sweet doggy isn’t feeling very cheerful today. No sooner did we get her back to her normal old self, when she suddenly returned to vomiting again last night.
Is this the same issue or something different? Hard to say. Cyndie did recently give Delilah a couple things to eat that were not her ordinary fare. That will be curtailed entirely while we nurse her back to normal. It may be that we will need to restrain her to a strict diet indefinitely.
In honor of December, I’m including this picture of a wreath that Cyndie made this year while horsing around with some ribbons and tree branches.
Makes our place look festive, as if it were the holiday season or something. Of course, that was taken back in November, before all the white stuff blew in. Maybe I can get a new shot of it this afternoon while I am out plowing the driveway.
I’ll want to get things cleaned up and ready for the big melt that is forecast to be following this snow event.
Happy December!
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Day Later
It took us the better part of the day to clean up and disassemble our Thanksgiving feast paraphernalia yesterday.
Extra leaves came out of the table, chairs were moved back to all the corners of the house from which they had been activated for duty, and serving bowls, plates, pots, pans, silverware, and utensils were washed, dried, stacked, and ultimately returned to their usual storage location.
Full disclosure: the baking sheets and casserole dish that Cyndie had stashed behind the curtain in the bathtub during the pinnacle of heroic meal preparations Thursday were not overlooked.
In addition to cleaning up after the holiday celebration, we had a frozen waterer that needed attention. My previous under-thought attempts to work around the problem had all proved insufficient. Luckily, Cyndie had provided an alternative bucket of water from the hydrant in the barn that the horses were using whenever the automatic waterer became a solid block.
In the crisp aftermath of Thursday’s burst of snow, it became evident that the heaters on the waterer were not getting any power. It was time for me to quit fooling around. I reassigned a non-GFI circuit breaker from unused outlets in the barn and made certain there was voltage to the heater.
We reached a brisk 13° F overnight last night and this morning the water is not frozen. The horses were a little frosty, but the water was good.
Our snowscape bears a lot of evidence of frolicking fun from the visiting kids who took advantage of Cyndie’s stash of boots and snow pants to do some sledding.
Delilah showed some extra excitement with the conditions yesterday, racing to and fro in the snow outside each end of the barn, sprinting through the doors to get to the other side and looping around for another lap. She had us laughing in concert with her actions, which fueled all of our energies and bolstered her momentum with each subsequent pass.
As evening settled in, we decided to give her a chance to stay on her own in the house while we stepped out on a date to St. Paul. Cyndie’s parents had given us tickets to see Leo Kottke in concert at the Fitzgerald Theater.
We had a grand time. It made our day after Thanksgiving feel as festive as the one before. Thanks, Fred and Marie!
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Many Thanks
On this eve of our Thanksgiving holiday, I wish to extend my heartfelt thanks to you, my readers, for venturing into my world and joining in my adventures and explorations of Somethings occasionally Relative. You may have arrived to view my stories of a Himalayan trek, our visit to Portugal, my annual bike trips, pictures, poetry, Words on Images, or tales of a transition from the suburbs to our Wintervale Ranch paradise. You may be family, friends, coworkers, fellow WordPress bloggers, poets, photographers, wordsmiths, or happenstance searching link-clickers.
You are my audience, and I thank you for your participation, silent or otherwise.
I hope that regular followers have grown familiar with the usual cast of characters that populate the content of late. A certain dog seems to get the most mention. Long ago I began a move toward dropping constant use of orienting descriptions for people and animals that show up in my tales of adventure and woe, hoping that they were becoming established and familiar to readers over time.
We are many chapters into a book that you are reading as it is being written. What will happen next? I can’t make it up. The drama plays out with little concern about how I might be able to narrate it.
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I purchased a replacement GFCI breaker for power to the waterer in the paddock. It failed, too. My “spidey” sense tells me there is leakage current, after all. Removing the access panel on the waterer revealed an incredible amount of moisture present. No wonder. I saw a statistic that we are currently running in 7th place for wettest November on record.
In the previous two years of having that waterer during the winter, we’ve never faced needing to have the heater on when it was so wet.
I’m temporarily bypassing the GFI safety feature to keep the ice off the water source for our horses. Cyndie had a heck of a time breaking off the ice for them yesterday morning, after I tried a night with no power at all.
It appears the solar-powered battery supplying electricity to our arena fence is successfully keeping the horses from wreaking havoc on the barrier.
I found a picture I had taken with the intent of showing how wet the ground was, and discovered it caught Legacy in the distance, mouthing the fence. Busted!
Don’t forget, you can click on the smaller images to bring up the full-size view for closer inspection.
Our house is already filled with the aroma of traditional holiday feasting fare. Cyndie has been busy cooking and cleaning in preparation of hosting Thanksgiving dinner here tomorrow. Family that are planning to come should consider bringing mud-boots.
The weather shows signs of possible precipitation, in addition to the water already saturating our grounds. I’m hoping we don’t all end up stuck indoors watching parades and football games, and eating way more than we should as a result of more rain. It would be a shame to miss out on walks in our woods, exercising Delilah to tire her out, walking the labyrinth, and visiting the horses.
I’m guessing we won’t let a little rain stop us from getting out for a little bit.
Thank you for reading!
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Situations Happen
You just never know what is going to come next. When we went to bed on Saturday night, there were no concerns on our radar. I started the day yesterday in the sunshine, modifying pallets for future use. In a moment of pause, I gave Delilah a chance to join me on a trip to check on the horses, to look at the arena fence that Cyndie told me had been taking some abuse from Legacy.
The last time we took down temporary fencing that kept the horses out of the hay-field, it meant we lost the connection to electricity for the arena fence. Turned out that wasn’t a problem for more than a month, but horses have a way of eventually getting around to dealing with anything in their reach. Legacy has proven himself very persistent, once he figures out he can get his teeth into something.
It was time I put electricity back on the arena fence.
My first problem was that the horses would scarcely grant me a break from their messing with the portions of the fence I had just put back in order. As I moved to a different spot, they congregated at the previous location, eyeing their prize.
I reacted with little thought to the appropriateness of my action and ran after them, inviting Delilah to join me in the chase. She was more than thrilled at the rare opportunity. Most days, she is subject to firm restrictions when it comes to harassing the horses.
We rounded the bend at the end of the arena with maximum energy and the horses reacted with a bit of shock over the unprecedented sight. They scrambled around and circled to face us from a distance. Legacy was very unhappy with our behavior and snorted with a boldness I have not seen before.
I stood my ground, conveying the seriousness of my desire that they not mess with the fence, and then slowly headed back to my work on the next section.
Legacy moved them back up after a few minutes, and when I spotted him biting the fence again, I called Delilah to action, and we charged again. She loved it. The herd made a bigger circle back and stood a little farther away, this time staying put long enough for me to finish what I was doing.
On my way back through the paddock, I spotted ice covering their water, which meant the electric heat wasn’t working. That meant they hadn’t had access to their water all morning.
Best I can tell, the ground fault safety on the circuit breaker is either failing, or doing its job and telling me there is a problem. I’m inclined to believe it’s the former. Further testing to follow, as soon as I can find a replacement GFI circuit breaker.
Just a couple of things I didn’t see coming to keep things interesting around here over the weekend.
Situations happen.
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Deer Season
It is quiet this morning, meaning, there have been few gunshots echoing around us. Yesterday was the opening day of the deer hunting season and shots were heard with regularity.
Even though the majority of land around us is cultivated for crops, there remain a fair amount of forested lanes and steep slopes where deer herds tend to travel. The farming neighbors who surround us on every side all don the blaze orange head-to-toe uniform and ply the hunt.
It’s a bit nerve-wracking.
I don’t mind them thinning the herds. The other main predator of deer seems to be cars and trucks, as the sight of dead deer by the side of the road is a daily spectacle. I recall that there was one in the road ditch of this property years ago when we came to visit in the weeks after our purchase offer was accepted.
The previous owners told us that one doe came up to the house and gave birth to her fawns in the nook by the front door. We did see a pair of deer in our yard frequently that first year after we moved in. Not so much anymore.
I figure it is a combination of our getting Delilah and the horses. We did add a trail through our woods, which actually opened up a new path for deer, but we subsequently began using it regularly for walking the perimeter with Delilah. The deer traffic became less conspicuous.
I’m sure they are still passing through. We just don’t see them as often.
The neighbors must still see them. They found a lot of reasons to shoot yesterday. Across the road from us, as I was returning up our driveway from the mailbox with Delilah, the neighbor-hunter group shouted a greeting, waved, and showed me they were successful on opening day.
For us, it means the horses are edgy, the dog is on high alert, and the nearby woods are alive with scanning eyes and booming firesticks, sunup to sundown. It is a brief anomaly in the sedate ambiance that usually prevails.
It is deer hunting season, and the hunt is on.
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An Addendum
Last Sunday was a beautiful warm sunny day, during which we were out and about, tending to a variety of chores. It was also the day when we received the second of our two visiting stray dogs of the weekend.
The dog was clearly interested in everything I did, spending most of the time that he was here, in close proximity to wherever I was working. My last project, prior to heading in to watch the end of the Vikings NFL game, involved the Grizzly ATV in front of the shop garage.
I remounted the plate which supports the back of the snowplow frame beneath the under carriage. I also spent time bolting the blade and associated parts to the plow frame, which had been removed for welding over the summer.
I had the first half of the football game on the radio, and both Delilah —on a leash— and the wayward visitor, milled close by as I puttered.
As Cyndie passed by after feeding the horses, she picked up Delilah and headed into the house, leaving me to finish while the stray longingly eyed me for attention. When I was finally ready to close up, I spotted the dog laying in leaves nearby. I closed the big garage door and then turned out lights and shut the shop door.
I recall purposely deciding to not head directly toward the house, thinking the stray dog would follow me to the door and make me feel bad about going inside without him. I chose instead, to head toward the barn first, and circled around toward the labyrinth, so I could get one last look at the new mowing I had done earlier in the day, widening the path along the back pasture fence line.
In doing so, I saw no sign of the black dog. Since I had wanted to lose him in the first place, I was okay with that, and climbed the hill up to the house, alone.
On Monday morning, I left for work in the early darkness and hoped to hear from Cyndie if the dog was still hanging around when she and Delilah got up. No news came. With no dog around, she had no reason to call the veterinarian to find out who owned it. We thought that was the end of it…
Until yesterday.
Just after lunch, I got a call from Cyndie with a big surprise. When she stepped out of the barn in the middle of the day after cleaning out the stalls, she heard a wailing sound and followed it up to the shop garage. She discovered that the stray had somehow made his way inside when I closed up on Sunday.
He had been locked in there for almost 2 days! I hadn’t made a visit to the shop on Monday after I got home from work and he didn’t make a sound any of the multiple times Cyndie and Delilah walked past, until she finally heard him yesterday afternoon.
It breaks my heart to know the poor guy was stuck in there that whole time. Cyndie gave him water and some food and he headed off on his own right away. Cyndie followed up with the vet and contacted the owner, who reported the dog had made his way home, but she was rather surprised he wasn’t soaking wet from all the rain that had fallen.
I’ll take consolation in that. At least he was warm and dry during his unintended 2-day imprisonment.
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Another Visitor!
What a strange coincidence we witnessed this weekend when, for the second time in three days, a stray dog showed up and lingered all day. Again, this one had a collar with license and veterinary information, but it being Sunday, there was no way to get a number to contact the owner.
This guy was friendly, and when it became obvious that he was happy to hang around, I let Delilah out to meet him. In minutes, they successfully navigated an introduction and seemed comfortable with each other’s presence.
What are the odds that we would have two stray dogs visiting us in such close succession? As Cyndie and I watched Delilah and her new pal playfully running together, it occurred to both of us that maybe we should be thinking about getting a 2nd dog.
The interesting thing about that idea is, Friday we decided to go to the feline rescue organization during the weekend to see if we could get a young kitty as a companion for Pequenita. As soon as we made that decision, a series of situations played out that repeatedly disrupted that plan, culminating in a surprising change of thinking from the possibility of another cat, to considerations of another dog.
We aren’t sure what we will do next, but I believe it will involve queries into what kind of dogs there are at nearby shelters that might be awaiting a new home and canine companion.
Sorry, Pequenita, your new pal will have to wait.
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What Joy?
What joy is there to be had when terror is sown to disrupt normalcy in places defenseless and random?
Is it possible to feel joy over the vast number of young people who do not fall prey to the sickness of mind that leads a person to justify becoming a terrorizing murderer? Most people are actually sane, after all.
Oddly, yesterday, almost as if in reaction to the illness that revealed itself in the acts of terrorism in Paris, Delilah spent the day vomiting, over and over. Her energy dwindled with each episode, eventually culminating in her putting herself to bed two hours early.
Yet, healthy joy continues to exist, despite the never-ending ripples that disrupt it. It started for us this morning with the happy expression on Delilah’s face and her ability to eat some scrambled eggs.
Yesterday afternoon, I stood in the paddock while the horses finished their afternoon feed, and absorbed their calmness. They didn’t exude joy in that moment, but they offered peace.
The world recoils in horror for the moment, but joy and peace rise from the dust. If it starts in distant rural areas, like ours, it can make its way back to the cities and people who live on the front lines of conflict.
There is joy. Feel free to allow it to sprout again and blossom for you. Let it glow and grow for the rest of the world.
The world will feel it.
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Visiting Stray
We came upon a stranger on the perimeter trail through our woods yesterday morning. Cyndie and I were walking Delilah when I spotted a dog facing us on the trail ahead. We paused and started a dialogue with the mutt, but I got the feeling he wasn’t hearing us. He simply stood his ground, no matter what we did, so I decided we shouldn’t approach.
We turned around and headed back in the direction from which we had come, which pretty much involved dragging Delilah sideways, because she did not want to take her eyes off the stranger.
By removing the pressure of our presence, the stray was able to let its guard down enough to turn its back on us and head off in the direction from which he had come. With that, we reversed ourselves again and followed to observe where he would go.
At our southern border, the visiting dog crossed under the old barbed wire fence and kept going on our neighbors property. We finished out our walk and then got the wood chipper hooked up on the tractor to grind downed branches into wood chips for the labyrinth.
While we were working, the stray dog showed up again, this time exploring around our house. I headed after him, trying to sweet talk him into letting us check out his tag, but he didn’t want to have anything to do with me.
I went back to work, but Cyndie continued to try making a connection, eventually succeeding in getting a leash attached. The dog’s tag included an ID number and contact info for a local veterinarian. They checked their records and provided the name and a phone number for the owner. Cyndie left messages and then put the dog into Delilah’s kennel.
Eventually we learned the dog’s name was, “Blue” and he was very old, and hard of hearing. He had been missing from home since Wednesday night’s “Flash-Boom” event of a thunderstorm. He ran off to catch that booming invader, and ended up in our neighborhood a day-and-a-half later, over 2 miles from home.
By the way, it wasn’t until yesterday that I checked our rain gauge and found 3 inches to add to the 1.5 that Cyndie had dumped out Wednesday night.
Maybe Blue just floated here on the runoff.
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Flash Booms!
Holy cow, did we experience a flurry of lightning and thunder last night. If I didn’t know better, I would have guessed we were in the month of June, based on the lightning laced downpours I traveled through on my commute home after work.
By the time I pulled in our driveway, Cyndie already had the horses in the barn for the night. Subsequent checks on them through the evening revealed signs they were appreciative of the shelter, yet still needing to manage some nervousness over the fireworks of the storm.
Someone else was failing miserably at managing her nervousness about the cracking and booming that repeatedly burst forth overhead. Poor Delilah couldn’t keep herself from trying to out-shout the mysterious noises erupting from the high heavens.
We reacquainted her with her Thundershirt and let her sample some doggie downers in hopes of saving her heart from premature failure. There was no pausing the thunderstorm, so she needed other sources of relief.
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Dinner time occurred at one of the storming peaks, but she soldiered through the inhalation of her meal (which actually should have required some chewing) and kept up her “defense” against the noisy invader without hesitation.
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Relative Something 