Posts Tagged ‘fall color’
Sore Arms
Friday morning there was a heavy dew and as the sun hit surfaces, things started to develop clouds of steam that made it look like they would soon erupt in flames.
The cornfield to our south and the shade sail were both looking noticeably smoky.
I started the day with a visit to our local pharmacy for vaccination shots after looking online and seeing open appointments immediately available. Why not? I’ve never had the RSV shot, so I added that to my annual flu and COVID vaccinations. I also accepted the pneumonia vaccine because we couldn’t find any record that I had received that shot in the last 5 years. Four shots at once! What was I thinking?
Well, I was thinking that I have only ever reacted one time with a mild fever after a vaccination shot, so I went in with all the positive intentions I could muster. My other life-hack with vaccination shots is to immediately work my arms and get some exercise to encourage maximum blood flow. To aid that flow, I also make a conscious effort to drink even more water than usual to really maximize my hydration. Lastly, I ramp up those positive intentions with visualizations of processing the developing immunities with minimal negative reactions.
The feeling of stiff muscles in my two arms is accepted as a reasonable outcome. That just helps remind me to use them even more.
It was a beautiful day yesterday, but since it started so wet, I found something other than mowing to do. Cyndie agreed to team up to spread some more composted manure onto the hay field. In a pleasing surprise, the horses were interested in coming out to supervise.
When I returned to the composting area to get another trailer-full, Cyndie sent me a message that I might want to come back through the paddocks, since the horses were crowding around the gate.
We were very happy to see that Asher had settled down to watch us from just outside the gate. It is so rewarding when he chooses to stay with us even though we are not giving him any attention. That rarely lasts, however. While I was mowing the north loop pathway, I noticed a car slow down on the road. Then I spotted Asher’s orange scarf and hollered at him to return. To his credit, he sprinted directly to me on the mower.
A quick phone call to Cyndie determined that she was in the barn, and I was able to have her call out to him. He ran right off toward her voice. A happy ending to an unsettling situation of him being off property and meandering in traffic.
The hybrid maple tree behind the hay shed (and next to the visibly ailing one) is halfway through its transition to maximum brilliance. Cyndie finished moving the last few hay bales out of the shed and into the barn in preparation for a delivery of a fresh batch of hay expected to arrive next Wednesday.
Too bad I was busy mowing because that would have been a good workout for my sore arms.
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Brilliant Day
The weather yesterday was perfect for a September outdoor event. A lot like the day 40-years ago today when Cyndie and I were married in a garden on the shore of Lake Minnetonka. Blue skies, warm sunshine, and tree leaves turning colors right before our eyes.
I took Delilah for a walk in anticipation of the arrival of Hays family visitors and paused on the first hill of our driveway to enjoy the fresh breeze and take in the panoramic view of the horses peacefully grazing in the hayfield. The beginnings of the rainbow of fall colors are noticeable along the horizon.
Throughout the day of visiting and gorging on delicious food, we took time for walks in the woods and visits with the horses. The herd is growing more welcoming of human presence and they all made very obvious movements to approach us as we arrived near the areas they were grazing.
I had turned off the electric fence for the day to remove that concern while larger numbers of people come around, but that change is a little confusing for the horses. We try to have our greetings happen at one of the gates to give the horses consistency but the spontaneity of yesterday’s connections had us at unusual locations along the fenceline.
At one point, a group of us made our way up to the barn overhang, hoping the horses might follow along, despite them being over the rise on the far side of the hayfield. Initially, only Light decided to make the journey back and she was rewarded with some hand-offered treats.
After a time, Mia came into view as she returned as far as the waterer before deciding to reverse direction and head back out. The two chestnuts looked as though the distance of separation between them and the other two horses was something they preferred to minimize.
Their bond with each other is still stronger than any bond with us humans.
The bond with my family is as strong as ever and we enjoyed catching up on a few details and comparing experiences and perspectives. We share a lot of traits and laughed over how much our lives and behaviors tend to resemble our parents.
After the first couple had departed, we realized our neglect in capturing a group portrait. By the end of the day, we never got around to posing for any specific group pictures. I guess we will need to get together again soon so we can make up for that oversight.
The only picture I took included the spread of scrumptious delights available for human grazing presented on the center island of the kitchen.
Today, we hop from one family gathering to another as this day of Cyndie’s and my wedding anniversary is also the day of Julian’s birth. Cyndie’s mom and brother will be joining us for a brunch date in St. Paul at Holman’s Table in a renovated control tower of St. Paul’s downtown airport to celebrate the occasions.
Happy birthday, Julian!
Happy September 19th, everyone!
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September Eleven
Twenty years later, I’m pausing to remember my trauma of that day, witnessing so many other peoples’ trauma over the unimaginable death and destruction unleashed by fanatical terrorists hijacking commercial jets containing passengers to use them as explosive missiles.
I spent the first moments, and then the unfolding hours, trying to grasp the reality that such things could be happening. We didn’t learn of the events after the fact. We witnessed much of it as it was happening. I’ve never really liked hearing the sound of a commercial jet flying overhead after that day twenty years ago.
This morning, I turned on some of the television coverage of memorial events being held at the three locations where the planes crashed. In Minnesota, they read the names of people from the state who were killed that day, as well as Minnesota members of the military who died in the wars since.
Thinking of John Lennon’s lyric “Imagine there’s no countries…,” how many more names would need to be recited if loved ones from Afghanistan were to read the names of all who died in the twenty years since.
Meanwhile, in the idyllic surroundings of our home on this beautifully warm September day, we are living life in peace. The first hints of color continue to slowly transition in the panorama of trees along the edges of our woods.
On this third day of being the only person feeding our animals, they are all settling into my way of doing things. On Thursday evening, the horses demonstrated a fair amount of uncertainty navigating the feeding routine, but as I have adjusted my methods and they’ve responded willingly, this morning was as serene as ever.
Having watched Swings lose as many pellets out of her mouth as she consumes, I’ve started soaking her servings in a little water first and that seems to be making it easier for her. We had hoped having their teeth floated would help her more than it appears to have done.
This morning I decided to try again to use the hay boxes I built. They were powering through a single bale so fast the last time we tried using these that we switched to providing the net feeders from which they were used to eating.
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If they make it through a bale too fast today, I’ll plot a modification to the grate that might slow it down to something comparable to grass-grazing speed, if I can guess what that actually is.
It seems illogical to me that they would prefer dry hay bales over the two large fields of fresh grass that we provide them full access to day and night, but I’m not a horse. I trust they know why they make the choices about what to eat.
As rescued thoroughbreds, they know about memories of trauma.
Today we are soaking up the peacefulness we have been afforded and adding another day of distance from the source of our past traumas.
We will never forget, but we will always seek that world where we all be as one.
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Red Leaves
On my drive home from work yesterday, I accidentally allowed myself to hear news on the radio as it blathered nothing but bad vibes, one after another. It knocked me for a loop that needs an antidote of something hopeful or some promise that better days for all might lie ahead. I can only assume that promise remains somewhere beyond the horizon because it’s not visible to me yet.
I am lucky, though. Home is a sanctuary with Cyndie and our animals happy to greet me when I arrive and the scenery around our house offering a soothing view.
Check out the maple tree leaves turning red over Cyndie’s gardens.
It’s an early adopter.
Surrounded by love in our paradise, I was able to leave the gloomy news behind for the time being.
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Early Success
Part of me is hesitant to claim success about a recent transplanted tree, well, trees, but we have decided to enjoy it while it lasts. The truth really won’t be revealed until next summer, as to whether the four oaks we hastily decided to dig up and move out in the open field beyond the paddock ultimately survive the transplantation.
In the weeks since we moved them, these four oak trees have barely showed a symptom of shock. Now they are displaying the best of fall color, just as if nothing had happened to disrupt normal routine.
I don’t know if this apparent good health is a valid indicator of the overall success of our bold plan. I am prepared to discover otherwise next spring, but for now, we are tickled to see the normal fall behavior playing out.
If these work out, I will definitely be emboldened to do more of this to expand the range of oak trees on our property in the years ahead. There are so many little volunteer sprouts that show up every spring where they aren’t wanted or can’t be allowed to grow to maturity, we always have many opportunities from which to choose.
It is part of a long game, dreaming someday of tall trees that will provide natural cooling shade under which our horses can benefit.
It all starts with acorns and involves a little effort to nurture young trees in new locations.
Here’s hoping for success.
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Waning Days
In the slow but steady march of days away from one season and toward the next, we have now arrived to chilly mornings, complete darkness when I wake up for the day-job, and leaves changing from green to red.
Last week when I mowed, I noticed this sprinkling of color in the grass beneath the maple tree that always turns the earliest. It’s become a reliable harbinger of the beginning of the end of summer for us.
I should be thrilled. Autumn has always been my favorite season. But I think that is changing. Maybe, with age, I am developing a more balanced perspective. I think it feels more accurate now to frame my view as appreciating all the seasons equally.
Today is the first day of the Minnesota State Fair. That means a lot more to me in theory than it does in practice. I rarely attend the fair anymore, however, the memories I hold from past visits, and the one year I worked a booth there, are a thread that keeps me feeling connected, whether I go or not. It is a blast of activity that serves as an exclamation mark at the end of summer.
It all has me feeling a little melancholy, which is rather uncharacteristic for me this time of year. Luckily, it can’t last, as the season of wood fires brings me great joy, and we have already lit a couple in the fireplace to ward off a bit of chill in the last few days.
Bring on the fall sports, the spectacular colors, the crisp air, the end of bugs, the time between mowing and shoveling, the harvest festivals, and Cyndie’s apple crisps.
The waning days of summer become the waxing days of autumn. Bring it on, I say.
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