Posts Tagged ‘home alone’
Scary Moment
If I haven’t already ranted enough about how long the grass had grown at home while we were up north for ten days over the Independence Day holiday, let me add one last exclamation point. After I completed a second round of mowing, there were still enough leftover grass clippings to rake into windrows for making yard bales.
While I was playing around in that small plot above the barn, I heard some knocking on one of the horse’s feed buckets. We try to bring the buckets in after the horses have finished their grain, but I had left one out because there was a portion uneaten, and Mia was showing interest in it. If we leave the buckets indefinitely, the horses have a history of messing with them, and the metal handles get all bent out of shape.
After three knocks, I decided I better retrieve that last bucket before it gets wrecked. To my surprise, when I stepped through the door to the overhang, I saw it was Swings who was knocking the bucket in the spot where Mix usually eats, and she was standing with one foot in it.
Thankfully, she appeared totally calm with the situation, but at the same time, in a somewhat precarious position. Concerned that things could quickly take a turn for the worse, I bent down to assist her in getting out of this predicament. I reached through the fence boards and grabbed the sides of the bucket with each hand to hold it down, hoping she would then simply lift her foot out.
It didn’t work that way. I couldn’t tell if she didn’t want to pull it out or couldn’t pull it out. I got the impression her hoof might be wedged in the bottom, but it wasn’t clear since I couldn’t tell if she was pulling up or pushing down. The bucket was moving around and eventually pinned my gloved hand against the fence board hard enough that I began to bellow at the pain as Swings appeared to try standing on the hanging bucket with all her weight.
It was a scary moment. In my increasing panic, I tried to determine what was going to give. The bucket needed to be lifted upward to come out of the latch on the strap it was hanging from. I had no way to cut the strap in that instant. The metal handle looked like it was bending a bit, but the heavy plastic bucket wasn’t looking near its breaking point. It pretty much depended on what Swings was going to do next.
Luckily, she still seemed totally calm about the mess we were in, even with my screaming. Somehow, she shifted just enough that I was able to get my hand free, and it seemed undamaged. The residual tenderness of the bruise didn’t show up until later. Just as mysteriously, the two of us did something that allowed me to finally pull the bucket down while she moved to get her hoof out.
I don’t know how she got her foot in there in the first place, and if it was intended or not, but it occurred to me that she might have been unable to lift it high enough again to get it out. I’m still not clear about whether it was wedged in or if it was just her not taking the weight off that kept it stuck.
Thank goodness for the happy ending. I was home alone at the time, so that heightened my distress during the peak drama. And hooray for the other three horses remaining chill throughout it all. Once Swings had all four feet back on the ground and I was standing there holding the mildly reshaped bucket, it was as if they were all thinking, “What was all the fuss about?”
Nothing to see here. Carry on with your normal healthy horse routines. I’m going to go back to raking up grass clippings.
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Feel-Good Moments
It’s been a long time since there’s been much to hope for in the US political scene. Yesterday, Kamala Harris announced her choice for running mate was Minnesota Governor, Tim Walz. It’s given fresh hope to all the people exhausted with the negative energy that has dominated the scene for far too long.
The thrilling crowd response to the appearance of the pair at their rally in Philadelphia could be felt through my TV. The ovation was robust and sustained.
It was a definite feel-good moment. I hope the good energy survives the attacks that will get hurled at them by opponents throughout the rest of the campaign.
I don’t know if they will be able to convince skeptics that the Earth is not flat, but there should be no reason for reasonable people to misunderstand the message of hope for the future expressed in their campaign speeches.
Asher and I cooperated in accomplishing some feel-good moments of our own yesterday. I brought him along to cut down a leaning tree across one of our trails and leashed him to the barn so he could watch me do some mowing. The rest of the day he patiently lounged around in the house until I returned. When I stopped for lunch, I was able to catch the end of the US Women’s Soccer win over Germany and later, I got back to the house in time to see Kamala Harris introduce Tim Walz at the rally.
It’s not easy accomplishing such a range of desires in a limited time when I’m home alone. I’ve still got a lot of mowing to do and there’s always exciting Olympic competition to see on TV at the same time as needing to entertain Asher and tend to the horses. Our trails need more trimming, too, but I won’t get to everything before it’s time to join Cyndie at the lake again tomorrow.
Getting the essential tasks done is a little less dreary after this burst of positive energy on the US political scene. Here’s hoping it just continues to build for the next three months and then carries on for years beyond that. You betcha.
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Sleep Deprivation
All day long the rain came down. Every so often there were rumbles of thunder. Periodically, downpours would roar or big winds blew. If I didn’t speak, those were the predominant sounds beyond the energized reporting of Olympic sports commentators droning from the TV. I’m home alone with the animals for a few days.
If I didn’t have the Olympic broadcasts keeping me company, I’d probably do a lot more talking to myself. Asher isn’t much of a conversationalist.
I’m feeling rather short of words lately. Hanging out with Asher and the horses doesn’t require me to talk much. One might think that would result in more mental resources for writing but I’m not finding that to be the case right now.
It would be nice if that mental blankness would allow me to sleep soundly but Sunday night’s dream saga of me striving to achieve something that continuously eluded success and appeared to consume way more time than was available was unsettling. I would slide toward consciousness from the dream and lament that it felt like I was mentally working so hard, then fall back to sleep and into more of the same type of dream. It became exhausting when I was supposed to be resting.
One thing that the annoying overnight dream-disturbed sleep made easier was falling into naps all day yesterday, even when I didn’t intend to. Since Asher wasn’t feeling at all like napping, his whining was able to disrupt any serious sleep recovery a reasonable nap would have provided. With nothing but falling rain happening outside, it would have been a great day to nap.
Instead, I found myself getting soaked while giving Asher chances to stop whining on walks in the rain.
I sure am glad the horses don’t need me to take them for walks.
Let’s hear it for the rejuvinating benefits of a sound night’s sleep with nothing but sweet dreams throughout.
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New Grass
That snow didn’t last 24 hours. It’s almost like it didn’t even happen. Reminds me of what I’ve heard about places in the south, where snow melts away nearly as fast as it arrives.
Looking at that picture, did you notice the difference in the color of the new grass along the driveway compared to the established grass in the foreground? It seems like the new grass never went dormant throughout the winter months. It stayed so green.
I am very curious how the greening of growing things will play out in the weeks ahead. It is never clear to me how deep into the ground the frost is. The top layer has been freezing and thawing and refreezing all winter long. We’ve had a few days where it stayed above freezing overnight but it keeps dropping back again.
When we finally get a continuous span of many nights when it doesn’t freeze, I expect that will kick the greening into gear.
It’s been over a week now that I haven’t had anyone around the house who talks to me with words other than my own reflection in the mirror. I don’t much listen to what the mirror rambles on about.
Asher speaks with his eyes, mostly. Sometimes he whines for attention or barks at squirrels or delivery trucks.
Being alone this long has triggered some random weirdness in me. Yesterday, with little consideration, I decided to put my belt on in the reverse direction from the only way I’ve ever done it before. I don’t know how old I was the first time I put on a belt, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it has been over 50-55 years of doing something only one way.
It’s like brushing your teeth with your non-dominant hand to strengthen or grow new neural connections in the brain. I have never done well with that exercise. Flipping my belt was much easier. I don’t know how doing so might invigorate my neural networks but I was thinking about shaking up the routine of repetitive muscle activity.
Ever since I crash-landed hard on my left shoulder, I’ve felt a bit off balance. My left arm and shoulder have been sore and weaker in the aftermath and it has made me much more aware of use that was previously unconscious. I can’t mindlessly reach to do something with my left arm without receiving a twinge that gets my attention.
Now I have to think about undoing my belt because the buckle is on an unfamiliar side of me. (Just to be unconventional, I have always oriented my belt buckle off-center.) I don’t know what the switch has to do with young green grass, besides both being unusual.
Gives me something to think about, I guess.
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Making Do
This is not the first time I have been “making do,” in my quest to survive all that life tosses in front of me. I used the same post title six years ago when Cyndie and I traveled with Mike and Barb to visit Cyndie’s parents in Florida at a similar time of year.
This time, I am managing things alone at home while Cyndie is visiting the Sunshine State. I am squeaking by on whatever meager rations she left behind. For example, how about toast out of her homemade cranberry walnut bread with my favorite crunchy peanut butter?
Gives me just enough strength to walk Asher to his heart’s delight and keep the horses from total neglect. They are making do with the snowless conditions and warm sunshine of late.
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There is no snow left in the fields as clear skies and record-high temperatures continue to be our norm.
I can poke fun at my comforts by overstating the truth but the relative luxury I am graced with does not come without a dose of guilt in the face of those dealing with war, poverty, famine, and climate catastrophes and truly suffering to get by.
I do not take my good fortune for granted, so I share the wonder of it all with hopes it might balance the harsh realities others are experiencing and whisk them away for a moment to a better place that does still exist in other places of the world.
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Avoiding Calamity
More than six inches of rain caused flooding in New York City yesterday. Our property was surrounded by massive lightning-filled blobs on radar but the areas of greatest intensity just missed our exact location. At sunrise, when I would normally be walking Asher and tending to the horses, dramatic rain and thunder were peaking in intensity.
When I finally ventured out between the waves of rain, I found the horses squeezed under one side of the overhang, understandably jumpy. The roar on the metal roof when precipitation is heavy amps up the drama factor considerably.
As I made my way cautiously around and between the frequently rearranging foursome to clean up manure, the threat of potential calamity was noticeably increased. Avoiding an unfortunate issue relies on luck as much as intelligent decision-making.
As far as I can tell, the horses weren’t aware of the flooding in New York. They don’t know that the dysfunction of elected officials in the U.S. Government is once again threatening a shutdown of our federal workers. They have no idea that health insurance premiums continue to climb out of balance with individual incomes. (Cyndie moved to Medicare this year leaving me alone on our previous plan. The cost for one person [me] went UP! when she was removed.)
The horses are masters of dealing with the immediate moment and their immediate surroundings. I find it wonderfully soothing to clear my mind of the calamities playing out in the world and pause my activities to stand with the herd to feel their energy, even when that energy is one of heightened alert.
Nothing else matters.
The moment the weather calms, the horses do the same.
I met with some precious luck yesterday afternoon after a slip of footing provided a mental flash of a possible worst outcome which did not materialize.
Asher was making a sudden turn toward a recently placed rodent control station that I wanted to clearly train him was “off-limits.” My hasty reaction led to a step with too much momentum onto a surprisingly slippery rock surface. That fraction-of-a-second thought process recognized I was going down and the destination was covered with many bigger rocks.
Face first was guaranteed calamity. Out shot my right arm and my hand landed incredibly hard. The dog still needed attention and I ignored the pain to deal with him. A moment later I was left trying to assess what bones in my hand and wrist were at risk of fracture.
Cyndie was up at the lake and I was home alone. This was not a good time to need medical treatment.
Fingers all moved. Wrist flexed. Ice controlled swelling. Final assessment: a wicked bruise.
Calamity averted.
This morning, returning to the house after walking through the woods with Asher, I found the rodent control station (which had been secured in place with a 10-inch stake) lying in the middle of the front yard. He obviously had beat me back to the house.
More training will be required.
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Color Splashes
Shorter hours of daylight are becoming more noticeable but the colors of summer flowers are as vibrant as ever around the house at the lake. Not that the length of a blossom isn’t limited. I took a picture of one bright flower when I arrived last Thursday and then noticed how quickly the look of the whole planting had changed by last night.
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There were plenty of colors still glowing from the plantings Cyndie and Marie and helpers installed around our landscape in the spring.
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After a substantial dousing of rain a couple of days ago, we were dismayed to see how much of the beach sand had washed away into the lake. It happens all the time but is no less disturbing to see the large rocks and hard soil exposed where it was previously soft sand. Even though the DNR is against adding new sand to the shoreline, that seems to be a fix that is called for in these instances.
There is a rake being stored among other gear on our beach by the caretakers that I’ve become very fond of using. It occurred to me that I could try dragging prime-quality sand from the water’s edge using this rake to cover the exposed surface after heavy rain.
It worked better than I imagined it might. In fact, after subsequent showers the last two days, the improvements I achieved were still holding fast. I believe I have discovered a new activity to entertain me while hanging out on the beach that feels so much more productive than sand castles, sculptures, pyramids, holes, or pattern drawings that I am naturally inclined to create.
Too bad I will be departing for home this morning and exchanging lake escapades for dog duty, horse care, and lawn management. Cyndie stays up for a few more days to help Marie entertain guests, giving me a chance to pretend I live alone –a welcome feature every so often for couples who’ve been together for over 4 decades.
You know, sleeping diagonally on the bed, leaving my stuff out wherever I please, skipping a meal if I feel like it, or watching guilty pleasures on tv.
One downfall, however, I won’t have my hero around to soothe my nerves in the case of any unwelcome close encounters with our resident snakes. It’s as if they’re slithering in herds these days. Anna, our animal sitter over the weekend, sent us a picture of a disgustingly large shed snake skin that showed up on the driveway. [shudder]
I much prefer our splashes of color to come from flowers instead of wriggling reptiles.
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Cyndie Leaves
It’s not the first time this has happened and it won’t be the last. One minute she was here, the next minute she was gone. Cyndie has flown to Florida to spend a little time with her mom and our daughter where the water isn’t frozen.
Before she left, Cyndie took advantage of one of our pleasant afternoons to visit the horses and seized on an opportunity to untangle some of the “fairy knots” in Mix’s mane.
Mix almost stayed put long enough for her to get them fully separated. Combing out the rest of the mane with some conditioner will have to wait for another day. I look forward to a time when Cyndie has regained her full mobility and can return to bringing her precious energy to the horses in the paddocks every day again.
Hopefully, a little sunshine and exercise in the swimming pool will do wonders for the rehabilitation of her ankle.
Her scenery has definitely changed. One might even describe that as an improvement. (Individual opinions will vary.)
I am holding down the ranch on my own in her absence, which isn’t all that different from the previous four months of her restricted ambulatory abilities. The main thing that changes is my diet becomes a lot less fancy. She did make a point of baking a fresh batch of cookies before she left, so the management of my self-control and willpower won’t be getting a break.
Full disclosure: The primary incentive for managing my consumption of cookies is not for health reasons. I need to pace myself so they will last until Cyndie’s return.
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Slow Slide
Life for me on the ranch is slowly moving away from needing to be Cyndie’s primary caretaker toward our usual partnership in life’s adventures. Her recent advances in regaining independence, by way of driving again, allowed her to attend a gathering of some of her friends and to spend an overnight with another which granted me a little time on my own.
I found an entirely forgettable shoot-’em-up cowboy movie to watch last night that she wouldn’t have enjoyed.
It was the first time I have been truly alone in the house for over a decade because we no longer have any indoor pets. Of course, I miss Delilah and Pequenita but it would be misleading to imply I don’t love the freedom from the responsibilities of tending to them.
The warm February weather has restarted the snowpack’s slow slide from the shop/garage roof. In the shadow of late afternoon yesterday, I saw that a chunk had fallen to the concrete apron below.
This morning, the crust on the snow was frozen enough to support my weight as I pulled broken branches out of the pine tree that suffered the most damage from one of the heavy snowfalls. There were a LOT more branches than I realized.
The tree looks a little worse for the wear but not as bad as I feared. I plan to trim the remains of the broken limbs back to the main trunk. Don’t know if that will make it look any better, or not.
Yesterday afternoon there were hunting dogs roaming our woods and howling off and on between scrambling around with their noses to the ground. These are from the coyote hunters that patrol the area and as such, are always a welcome sight. From my vantage point, it looked like they were roughly following the usual traffic pattern of the elusive fox that roams this area. That doesn’t mean the coyotes don’t travel the same pathways, but I’ve yet to catch sight of those ghostly predators.
At least I’ve seen and have pictures of the fox.
Never did hear any gunshots so their level of success yesterday is unknown.
It feels like we are on a slow slide toward the end of winter. Knowing full well that doesn’t mean we won’t experience more winter weather in March or April, I am holding back on any wild plans for our landscape post-snow.
I’m just going to lean back and enjoy riding the slide.
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Getting Out
I’m burnin’ daylight, what little there is today. I have a full day of work ahead of me clearing snow and entertaining the “every-hour-I-need-attention” canine. I need to make this post short and get outside to shovel, plow, rake, and shovel again. Oh, and I need to reattach the mailbox, as usual.
The plow had only made its first pass by the time Delilah and I made our way down to the road to find the mailbox tossed down into the ditch. I won’t bother reattaching it until the plow passes one more time to clear snow off the shoulder.
Do you think this will inspire me to install a “plow-proof” mount that swings away? Probably not. I’ve toiled seven years already like this, so I suspect the most I might do is take another crack at erecting a legal obstruction to deflect the force of the snow spray away from the vulnerable surface of the mailbox.
At least the plastic sliding grooves are designed such that the box just pops off the base each time, so it can be replaced again with relative ease.
Time to go outside and play!
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Relative Something 