Posts Tagged ‘health’
Reclaiming Routine
We are mostly back to our Wintervale routine again. The horses are grazing hay from the slow feeder boxes as if that is the way they have always done it. I’ve noticed that Dezirea and Legacy have no problem sharing a box and eating together, while Cayenne eats alone and Hunter appears the odd horse out. I don’t know whether she is forcing the situation or he is choosing this on his own. He eventually takes a turn, but waits for his opening.
For the time being, we are electing to let their herd behavior play out. Cyndie mentioned yesterday that she wants to get back out there as soon as her strength dictates to work on refining their manners. The horses have probably had a bit too much autonomy while she has been out of the game.
Yesterday we drove back to the cities (again) for her 6-week follow-up appointment with the surgeon who performed her hip replacement. I have a suspicion that he tells many of his patients this, but we are happy nonetheless that he said he wishes all his hip surgeries looked as “tight” as this one. He also seemed extremely pleased with the appearance of the healing incision.
Cyndie reported that she experienced the biggest boost from simply reading the physical therapy order written by the doctor’s assistant, which said, “Prognosis for full recovery: Excellent.“
The surgeon wants Cyndie to remain cautious for another 6 weeks to give her body every opportunity to grow around the artificial joint with a goal of avoiding any dislocations for a good 30 years on. She is cleared to drive and hopes to return to work on Monday. We spent time waiting at the Minnesota DMV to pick up the disability parking tag authorized by her doctor, only to learn we needed to get it from Wisconsin.
Then we were able to spend a bit more time waiting at the Wisconsin DMV office. They told her it was the craziest day with the most people they had ever served, and were short staff due to it being the day after a holiday. Luckily, and contrary to the all too frequently faced reality, Cyndie was greeted by an exceptionally pleasant and helpful clerk who shared these details while taking time to phone Cyndie’s doctor for information that was missing from the form.
Seriously! He didn’t send her off to fill out the form properly and come back at a later time. And at the end of a day that was their busiest ever.
Could this be the kind of benefit one experiences when they have sent love to those around them? We like to think so.
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Precious Peace
This morning the temperature was September-chilly when we woke up. We built the first fire of the season in our living room fireplace. It is my favorite time of year. Cyndie collected some of our wild American plums that are falling off the branches (they’re about the size of a cherry), with a plan to make jam. The sunlight is painting the trees at a noticeably different angle. The constant transition of seasons is entering one of those phases of being more obvious.
I was working in the labyrinth garden yesterday afternoon under a cool cloud cover and once again the herd made their way over to graze in close proximity. Delilah was mostly well-behaved and as I raked up grass cuttings from the previous day, I found myself in the midst of a most precious and peaceful working environment.
(Speaking of peaceful, as I write this, Pequenita has arisen from her warm curled sleep at the opposite corner of our bed to come lay on my chest and purr. She must have sensed what I was writing about.)
The power of that herd to settle Delilah and swaddle me in a blissful calm is precious. I get the impression that they recognize what Cyndie and I endeavor to create with this labyrinth garden. It seems as though they are letting us know we have their full support.
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Risking Exposure
Photos don’t do justice for how much better it looks around the paddock after I mowed yesterday. This is the same spot that irked the horses last time I mowed it. Once again, they were watching me closely, sending signals of shock and indignation over seeing tall grass (and mostly dandelions) go to waste when they would gladly take care of it themselves.
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After I cut that area with the lawn tractor, I mowed down the grass in front of the other paddock using my Stihl gas-powered trimmer. I’m not sure that was a good choice. The section nearest the paved driveway was mostly weeds, and everything is pretty wet, so the pulverized plant matter gets sprayed all over me. If there was any poison ivy in there, I’m thinking that was a good way to give myself a lot of exposure.
I’ve been hoping my skin might get desensitized if I keep experiencing regular exposure, and with Delilah likely brushing past the plants in her daily explorations and my inability to be careful about handling her, I assume that has been happening. I haven’t had a verifiable breakout since the first time it happened earlier this spring.
Lately, we have been confining Delilah to being leashed, so her forays into poison ivy territory have been reduced. Based on that, I should be able to determine whether my reckless exposure to the spray from the trimmer involved any PI or not. You’d think I would’ve developed some skill at identifying the culprit so I could avoid cutting it, but that hasn’t been something I’ve ever felt confident about.
I tend to assume it is everywhere until proven otherwise. In this latest case, time will tell.
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It’s Alive!
We have tried to be patient about finding clear evidence that the maple tree we transplanted last fall has survived the shock. It is tall enough that we can’t do a close inspection of the tips of the branches, where we are hoping to see this spring’s new leaf buds appear, but I have been watching for signs of growth.
When other trees around us first started showing tinges of new green sprouts, I hiked down to check on our patient. The results were decidedly inconclusive. A week later, I looked again, and was frustrated over not being able to discern any progress. At that point, I decided I should use the many trees still located in the area where this little guy had come from, as reference for when they start sprouting buds.
My anxiety was calmed when I found they all looked just the same as the one we transplanted. Compared to most of the other trees on our lot, these appear to be late bloomers.
Last weekend, I spotted the first obvious signs of life. It wasn’t at the ends of the branches, it was half way down the trunk. Last evening I hiked down to take a picture and found the sprout had clearly burst out.
I think we are going to be able to make this one work. We will provide a lot of tender loving care and attention to make things as easy for it as we possibly can.
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Visualizing Success
While our landscape is still locked beneath a thick blanket of snow and the daytime temperatures rise above the freezing point, I reacted upon an urge to give the lawn tractor some long-neglected maintenance attention. The poor thing was caked with dirty, dusty grime and grass clippings.
Opening up the email inbox this morning revealed the timely message from my Stihl dealer detailing how to get those power tools ready for the first use of spring. It’s definitely that time of year. My cycling season can’t be far off!
I opened up the double door between the shop and garage and pushed the old Craftsman tractor, on one mostly flat tire, into the warmer workspace to begin the operation. I’m finally getting around to utilizing that space for the purposes it is so smartly designed to facilitate. The seller of our property kindly provided his stock of spare parts for the machine when we purchased it, so I am set with new air and oil filters, and belts if needed. Too bad that leaves me short a fuel filter, a spark plug, and a replacement bulb for the headlight that has been blown since we bought it.
We may even look into replacing the cracked vinyl seat that was once nicely patched with what looks like electrical tape, because said tape has long since given up its adhesive. Don’t tell anyone, but I will also finally defeat the interlock on the seat so the engine will be able to keep running without interruption when Cyndie bounces up off it when trying to rock the tractor every time it gets stuck.
In all fairness to Cyndie, I have experienced that situation myself a couple of times, as well as wanting to get up off the seat to ride the fender in attempt to better balance the tractor on the one steep part of the ditch by the township road.
Here’s hoping I’ll have the machine running sweetly in advance of actually needing it, without introducing any problems that didn’t exist before I dismantled so many of the vital components. This is a great situation for me to practice the art of visualizing success!
Very early in my life, while hanging around as an extra hand for my dad while he was engaged in any number of similar mechanical repair projects, I came to recognize one common aspect that troubled me. Every job seemed to include, as if by obligation, a moment where some problem arose that would completely impede further progress. One common example was the situation of a nut not coming off a bolt due to corrosion or thread problems.
Such moments are either a wonderful opportunity to rise to the occasion –finding the right tool for a solution, gliding through the uninvited obstacle with minimal disruption– or a disaster of careening down a path of increasing destruction and frustration. Success can be a function of having the right experience and/or keen instincts, and a good inventory of the right tool for the job with the intelligence of knowing how to use them.
I’m pretty sure I developed an aversion to these anticipated obstacles, which leads to the catch-22 of my avoiding them, which creates a deficit of learning how to successfully respond. Since I am now faced with increasing opportunities to delve into mechanical projects that offer potential for just these kinds of lessons, I hope to bring the wisdom I have gained in developing healthy mental perspectives and my ever-expanding awareness of things unseen –recognizing, listening to, and trusting my heart and my gut– as tools to assist me in my learning.
One of the first tools I intend to wield is, visualizing success.
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Opportunity Aplenty
Here are some of the issues that are crowding my realm of possibilities this morning:
Our male cat, Mozyr, has fallen into the behavior of peeing on our bed. I’ve been told that once that gets started, it is unlikely to change. We must deal with this immediately. I hate that stench.
We are getting more than enough urine smell from our manure pile. I had no idea what was involved with manure management, and I’m thinking now that the spot we selected seems undersized. I still feel like the location we selected is good, even though the smell sometimes wafts up toward the house, but I fear we may need to take out a few additional trees to expand the square footage.
Speaking of taking out trees, I now have all the equipment to do some serious lumberjacking and there is a dead tree on a corner of our property by the road. It is a chore that is overdue to have been started. Every day that goes by, the task feels more delinquent.
We spent time yesterday testing out the Grizzly ATV for assisting with cleaning up manure in the paddocks, with mixed results. The manure is frozen in multiple layers and much of it covered in snow. We tried both dragging the rake and pushing with the blade. Each seemed to make improvements, but manure that gets collected still needs to be scooped up and moved. That remains and laborious and lengthy endeavor.
I’m supposed to be clearing out our storage corner in the basement. In my search for a solution to the fractured triangular window beside the fireplace, I have connected with a local builder who stopped by to measure for the replacement. Over the phone I mentioned that we also were interested in having a storage room built in our basement. That seemed to go a long way toward enticing him to take on the window replacement. Now I need to get that space ready for the basement work to commence.
It is now nearing the middle of January and I never got around to preparing engines for winter storage. I understand that the primary reason engines fail to run well, or to even start, is leaving old gas in them over the off-season. I am my own worst enemy there. I have a hard time keeping my engines running properly, because I have a hard time getting myself to prepare them for the months of storage.
I took the mower deck off the little Craftsman garden tractor last fall, then flipped it over to be cleaned and to remove the blades for sharpening. It remains where I placed it, untouched.
I’ve got a half-built fence awaiting my attention down the hill from the house. The first snow of the season put that project on hold, but when it’s not bitterly cold, there is progress that could still be made there. I’m afraid the fence has gotten lost in the blur of other work that needs attention.
Meanwhile, we have plans for a Wintervale web site to market Cyndie’s services as a leadership trainer and to offer seminars and retreats here. The “under-construction” image is as far as we’ve gotten.
I’m sequential in nature, so I’d like to go back and get the first things done, so I can move on to the next few, but life doesn’t work like that. I’m back to playing “Whack-a-Mole” with whatever pops up in the moment.
Yesterday, since I had the Grizzly out, I ran it up and down the driveway to clear off the drifts that had developed over the week of historically cold temperatures. It was pleasing to so quickly and easily “whack” something from the list.
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Clean Up
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“What do you mean I have to put away all my toys because company is coming?”
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Twas the day before Thanksgiving, and all through the house… Yeah, we’re cleanin.’ And cooking!
Cyndie read somewhere that you should give your dog a new toy every few days, or at least, rotate them out of service for a while as new ones are introduced. I know how this works. We raised kids. Delilah would just as likely play with a stick or a leaf and be fascinated for an hour. She would just as happily devour the cardboard backing a new chew toy had been mounted to, instead of the toy itself. Ice cubes are a current fascination. But it seems everyday I discover a new colorful device in our house that pet scientists of the world have devised to keep our dog intellectually challenged.
I’d like to meet the marketing genius who wrote that article Cyndie read, …and congratulate him.
“Don’t forget to clean up after the horses in the paddocks!”
Yes, dear. I should just let Delilah eat it all. With a dog’s sense of smell a gazillion times better than humans, you’d think manure would smell something awful to them. So, why the need to taste it at every encounter? The horses, deer, raccoons… She doesn’t discriminate.
I sure hope it won’t be too sunny tomorrow. I don’t think we’ll get around to washing windows before guests arrive.
If you are traveling today, be careful out there! We hope everyone in the States reading along will have a chance this holiday-extended-weekend to gather with others, sit down to a meal together, and bask in the valuable energy of being thankful. If you notice your hosts missed a spot when they were cleaning for guests, be sure to cut them some slack. Especially if they have been trying to live with a great big puppy and two frustrated house cats for the last two months.
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Pet News
The weather is holding, and making my earlier post inaccurate, as forecasts now indicate we still have some 50-degree temperatures available to us up here during November. Luckily, we were spared any of the thunderstorms and tornadoes that other parts of the midwest experienced.
I barely had time in the afternoon yesterday to finish off the bracing wires on the corner posts and then start the process of setting posts up the hill for the fence line along the northern border of our property. The sun sets so dang early now that just as I start to make progress, it’s time to gather up the tools and call it a day.
The morning was consumed by a trip to the vet with Delilah. On Saturday evening, after a wonderfully normal day, she laid down early, slid off the back of her bed and didn’t move for the entire time we were upstairs watching a rented movie. It seemed so uncharacteristic for her. After the movie, Cyndie had to work hard to coax Delilah to move, and at that point, it became obvious there was a problem. Delilah couldn’t get up.
Without any warning, she had suddenly gone lame. A quick search pointed to Lyme disease as a likely culprit, which wasn’t a surprise. When we had her in for surgery, shortly after we first brought her home, they ran a blood test and told us it appeared Delilah was already infected with Lyme. Even though we weren’t seeing any symptoms, the course of treatment indicated was for 30-days of antibiotics. We followed through on that, and during that time, and since, we witnessed no symptoms, so we were feeling hopeful.
Not any more.
First, Cyndie, now our dog… I sure hope the horses don’t get it. Or the cats, for that matter. Even though they are indoor animals, we saw them catch a mouse the other night (Finally! It’s the first time we witnessed them get one), and mice are reservoirs for the infection. By the way, we saw them catch the mouse (they actually appeared to be working together), but we didn’t see what they did with it. I thought sure I would be stepping on it when I walked to the bathroom in the morning darkness. Nope. I lucked out.
But we still haven’t found any left over evidence anywhere. They really are more efficient than a baited trap. I have to dump those. I’ve gotten 3 in 3-days in a trap in the garage. Last year, I just tossed the mouse-cicles into the woods. This year, I am wary of Delilah finding them if I do that.
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New Me
I spent most of my life in the carefree world of not needing to take care of a pet. Yesterday afternoon, as I fed four horses, then our dog, and finally, two cats, it occurred to me how much things have changed. Luckily, it seems to fit rather seamlessly into the days here, especially compared to my old life during the years we lived in our previous home. I didn’t want that kind of commitment back then, but it is proving to be a natural extension of our new routine.
The part that doesn’t fit anymore is my sitting in front of a television watching sporting events, or any program, for that matter. Lately, it has also meant not playing my guitar or mandolin, or doing much in the way of bicycling, but I hope to reclaim some of that time in the days to come. Our days are now filled with managing operations on our 20 acre ranch of fields and woods.
I miss being able to play soccer in the mornings with my friends, but I am reaping the rewards of all those years of that brilliant exercise, transferring the stamina, strength, and breathing capacity I acquired into the physical work done around our property.
The new routine appears to be burning more calories than I am consuming, so I am actually in better shape now than I have been in years. I’m hoping I will notice the difference when biking, in that I won’t be hauling as much weight up the hills.
Last night, as I moved the horses into the paddock from the open field, I had an opportunity to put into practice something that I learned from Cyndie and our friend, Dunia, at the Epona seminar they led in Arizona. The horses were loitering just outside the open gate as I arrived to encourage them to come in. Legacy, the leader, acknowledged my arrival, but made no motion to enter. If he doesn’t come in, the others won’t either.
I knew I was talking to the right guy, but he wasn’t buying what I was selling. Conventional wisdom would be to use a treat or bucket of grain to entice him to approach, but I learned another method to inspire a horse to follow me. I walked an arc in front of Legacy, back and forth, increasing my energy as I went. If you walk far enough around the horse, they will be inclined to move a hoof in a step to keep you in view. That step is the one I was looking for, because if you play that first step properly, it will lead to another, and then off I went, walking into the paddock up to the grain I had set out for them, and Legacy followed me all the way up.
On Sunday, I put into practice another essential lesson I learned at the Epona seminar in Arizona. When you approach a horse, the horse gets to set the boundary. When the horse approaches you, you get to set the boundary. When I unexpectedly found myself facing four horses running right toward me in the open field, standing with nothing but my camera in my hands, I remembered what Dunia, Cyndie, and the other leaders taught about setting my boundary.
I motioned with my hand to display an arc of my boundary in front of my body. Legacy, leading the group charge, suddenly came to a halt, just short of that virtual line I was projecting.
The person standing on that hill with those four powerful animals was not the guy I remember from a year ago. That is the new me, tending our property and caring for all our animals. It is feeling like a pretty good fit.
Relative Something 