Posts Tagged ‘horses’
Wild Sunrise
I thought the photo I included in yesterday’s post was an interesting sky but then I captured this view of the sunrise while feeding horses:
Just another day at the office for me.
And I gotta say, these four wonderful horses we take care of have been especially charming to be around lately.
Being a couple of old retired people, Cyndie and I took in a Tuesday matinee at the Hudson Theater to see “A Complete Unknown.” We both thoroughly enjoyed it. I feel sorry for the folks who got upset at the folk festival where Bob Dylan “went electric” in 1965.
It’s really wild to be reclining on the bed in the den with Asher sleeping on me one minute, and then after a mention of the movie idea from Cyndie, find myself sitting in front of the big screen an hour later. If I thought the horses were being charming, Asher is making a case that he is rather irresistible himself.
Timothée Chalamet had me thinking I was hanging out with a young Bob Dylan for a couple of hours there. I found Edward Norton as Pete Seeger to be wonderfully convincing. The movie had me wishing I could relive the unique experience of hearing these Dylan songs for the very first time like so many people in the film were depicted doing.
There are plenty of artists whose music doesn’t grab me until I’ve had time to discover and develop an appreciation for it. I tend to think that would have probably been my experience with Dylan’s early songs if I was old enough at the time to even know they existed. When he was all the rage in the New York folk scene, I was playing with toy trucks in the dirt outside or on the perfectly patterned floor rugs near the bay windows in our old farmhouse.
I do have a memory of hearing “Hurricane” for the first time in 1975 and being mesmerized by the way he told such a dramatic story within the captivating melody.
It’s kind of like looking up to unexpectedly find a fascinating sky at sunrise, unlike anything you’ve seen before.
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Frozen Observations
Getting out of bed on mornings when the temperature outside is below zero and the first order of business involves walking a dog and tending to horses, takes an extra level of oomph that gets harder and harder to muster. Even Asher chose to stay in bed for an extra few minutes this morning after Cyndie opened the door of his crate.
But greet the day we must, and soon we found ourselves plodding along the North Loop trail on the snowless frozen tundra. I don’t know what depth the frost has reached at this point, but not very far beneath our land, the water table is still liquid. Hydrostatic pressure is pushing it up above ground where it freezes in slippery growing mounds on our trail.
Asher had no interest in lingering after the horses were taken care of because the pads of his feet were getting almost as cold as Cyndie’s fingers. The little black pigeon that I have taken to calling “Plucky,” must have been suffering from cold feet, too. After pecking away at the cracked grains beneath where Swings was eating and having spillage from Swings’ mouth shower its feathers, the fearless bird chose to perch on Light’s back.
To a bird’s feet, that must feel like standing on an electric blanket.
Our agenda for the day involves taking Asher up to the lake with us for a single overnight visit in order to meet a contractor tomorrow for a quote on carpentry work, both indoors and out. It’s tricky figuring out what to bring for such a short getaway that will still involve walking a dog in extremely cold temperatures.
We have horse duties covered for tonight and tomorrow morning, but that’s it, so we need to return by dinnertime tomorrow.
Tonight will be a big night for NFL fans as my Minnesota Vikings will be doing battle in Detroit against the Lions in a single-game competition that will determine Division Champion and playoff seeding. It is hard for my tiny mind to perceive that some people will be oblivious to the significance. It’s as if there might be other issues of greater importance in this world.
Not to the 8-year-old boy in me!
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Remarkably Still
It was so cold outside this morning, it almost felt like winter. The key ingredient that was missing was snow. I feel sorry for places in the world that historically experience this kind of cold but don’t get the months of snow cover that I was able to experience growing up. This environment of things being frozen solid but lacking the beauty and softness of a season-long blanket of wonderful snow is rather sucky.
Still, it was an absolutely beautiful morning despite the lack of temperature. We didn’t have any degrees. Zero Fahrenheit on the thermometer.
While I was outdoors, not a single vehicle traveled our road. When no one is moving about within earshot, it feels like Cyndie and I are the only ones in the world. That isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It is noteworthy because of how rare an instance it is. The quiet was simply luscious. The air was still and the cold temperature seemed to lock everything in place.
The chilly air frosted whiskers but otherwise didn’t appear to bother the horses at all this morning. Compared to those warm days with fog limiting visibility, these cold, crisp days allow the horses easy viewing, which is much more calming on their nerves.
One other rewarding thing about cold weather in the winter is the clear skies that accompany it. When Cyndie pulled into the driveway last night, she stopped to capture the view.
The sun had dropped below the horizon, creating a golden glow at our horizon and lighting up the crescent moon and Saturn out in space.
It’s cold.
It’s still.
It’s beautiful.
It’s drearily lacking in snow.
There’s still time for that last one.
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Holiday Socializing
Cyndie and I did the old back-and-forth routine again this Christmas, starting with the hour-long drive to the Cities on Christmas Eve to gather with family from Cyndie’s mom’s side, then returned late to sleep at home. On Christmas morning, we fed the horses (Asher is away at a trainer’s kennel for a week) and then drove back to her mom’s for the classic Friswold breakfast and an opening of gifts exchanged.
From there, we drove home again for a brief rest in the afternoon, which allowed us a chance to feed the horses before driving back to the Cities for food and fun at her brother’s house.
Up past our bedtime for the second night in a row, stuffed beyond sensible with scrumptious foods, and buzzing from the precious energy of socializing with people we love so dearly, we hopped in the car one last time to drive home and crashed into our bed to sleep deeply.
I am ever so grateful that this was the only crashing we experienced because we witnessed some crazy speeding and risky maneuvering occurring on the highways yesterday. No one wishes for a traffic ticket on Christmas, but that doesn’t mean the Highway Patrol should take the day off.
It didn’t appear there was any enforcement in place during our cautious commuting, and some reckless speed demons were taking full advantage. Thankfully, road surfaces weren’t excessively slippery, and no bumpers were bumped throughout our many trips to and fro.
Every last trip was worth it for the treasure of special holiday time with our peeps. For those who love solitude, it provides a healthy reference for how nice it is to return to the calm and quiet of our own homes after periods of intense socializing.
Down in the paddocks, there was some unique social interaction going on between one particular pigeon and the horses and me.
I first noticed it walking around me as I rolled out the wheelbarrow to do some housekeeping under the overhang. It showed up on a fence board as I was sweeping off the placemats under a feed station.
When I arrived to tie a hay bag, the pigeon didn’t move away from its puffed-up position where I wanted to be. So, I took its picture.
Friendly little guy. When I stepped out of the barn with buckets of grain, it was sitting on Swings’ back. After it stayed perched there while Swings walked over to eat, I pulled out my phone to take another photo of the friendly bird.
I was too slow. It had hopped down to see if Swings was sharing any holiday cheer on the placemat below.
The rest of the pigeon flock is much more flighty about the presence of humans, but this one seemed to have no fear. Much as they tend to annoy us for the racket and mess they create, not to mention the temptations they are for Asher, I chose not to shoo this one off.
It was Christmas, after all. That wouldn’t have been in the holiday socializing spirit.
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Winter Sunbathing
After the beautiful snowfall, we got some sun, and horses know to take every advantage of a clear sky in the winter. When I glanced up from hauling bales of hay from the shed to the barn, I had to stop to take a picture of three of the mares all lined up and looking like they were all business about sunbathing.
It was interesting to me because they normally align themselves perpendicular to the rays to catch the full advantage broadside. It wasn’t that cold at that time so I figure they were more interested in bathing their minds in all the benefits of the sun’s full-spectrum energy.
Mia chose to take it up one notch and parked herself where she could also enjoy brunch while she bathed.
That’s how smart horses do sunbathing in the winter.
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As Expected
The National Weather Service warnings were spot-on for our area yesterday. Asher and I headed out for the morning walk into the snowstorm, fully prepared for the worst. It wasn’t the most difficult of conditions we’ve faced, but it was challenging. My legs got a good workout trying to keep up with Asher as he pranced through the snow with little in the way of extra effort.
There was just enough snow to make my trudging in stiff boots much less efficient.
The horses looked like they had chosen to spend the night outside the protection of the overhang despite the heavy precipitation.
There was enough snow blown into those spaces that it probably didn’t matter either way. The wind was blowing from the wrong direction for the overhang to provide its best shelter from the elements.
I spent much of the day plowing and shoveling. Got the driveway cleared just as Cyndie was pulling in, which was nice for both of us. The road didn’t get plowed until late afternoon. It knocked the mailbox off its base, which surprised me. I thought it was dry enough snow it wouldn’t pack such a punch.
I guess not everything went as expected.
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Fairy Flakes
Contrary to what is headed our way today, (…WINTER STORM WARNING REMAINS IN EFFECT FROM 3 AM THURSDAY TO 3 AM CST FRIDAY… * WHAT…Heavy snow expected. Total snow accumulations between 5 and 7 inches.) there was no evidence of precipitation visible on the radar yesterday. Yet, all day long there were perfectly formed snowflakes floating down out of the sky.
The beautiful flakes weren’t melting on the horses, which teased me to try getting some pictures. Unfortunately, none of the mares were interested in accommodating my attempts to zoom in close.
They didn’t want to stand still with me holding out my phone camera toward their backs. I don’t blame them. It did seem kind of creepy.
There were times when the clouds overhead were so thin I could see blue sky, yet those flakes kept falling. I decided to call them fairy flakes after the “fairy knots” that show up mysteriously in the manes of horses. These flakes didn’t appear to be coming from snow clouds, so fairies seemed like the next logical explanation.
I eventually noticed I could capture some of the crystalline flakes that landed on the surface of our frozen landscape pond.
If we are going to get a plowable amount of snow today, that will be too much to get a clear picture of one individual snowflake.
I mounted the plow blade onto the Grizzly ATV in preparation and pulled out snow shovels in advance of today’s activities. Wouldn’t you know it, Cyndie spent the night in the Cities after a holiday gathering with some friends. It’s probably for the best. I’d have let her help do some shoveling, and that wouldn’t look good on my record, putting her to work out in the cold so soon after her recovering from pneumonia.
Sure would be nice if there were such a thing as “fairy snow shovelers.”
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Almost Healthy
The splitting headache is no longer splitting, and her vital signs have returned to normal. Cyndie seems back to reasonably functional. She helped with horse chores and has taken Asher for a couple of walks in addition to a trip to the Post Office as Santa’s little helper. Goodies are in the mail, and the neighbors will find a bag of holiday cheer has been dropped at their doors.
At this stage of holiday preparations, it’s hard to tell that Cyndie was off her game at all.
In support of all her Elf-ish energy, I have been mining the far reaches of our Apple Music offerings to find appropriate holiday sounds. The first few notes of an Andy Williams Christmas album instantly transported me to a big old farmhouse on the border of Edina and Eden Prairie, MN, and the 5-year-old me arose from within my depths with visions of leaded tinsel being draped across branches from outstretched arms of a person standing on a folding ladder above me.
The result of that surge of nostalgia left me feeling lonesome for the clamor and banter of my siblings buzzing around me.
The branches of that family tree have sixty years of growth that have spread us out beyond the conveniences of frequent contact.
That 5-year-old me would only have his father around for 17 more years. I will always remember the time he almost convinced me that he had heard something on the roof in the minutes just before I showed my face one Christmas morning. I was old enough to know better, but I’d never experienced my dad putting on such a believable act before and was gobsmacked by it.
I like to think he was rewarded by the innocent astonishment that must have shown on my face.
Much less astonishment came over me when I stumbled upon news of a school shooting recently in Wisconsin. That innocence is long gone.
Looking at our trees, I was grateful they don’t need to know such things happen. Same with the horses. Then, I realized how attuned trees and horses are to the universe, which means they probably sense each and every atrocity through the connectedness of all things.
They keep calm and carry on their existence, and so should we. I’ll pretend we are almost healthy.
And now I miss the innocence of my 5-year-old self more than ever.
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An Honor
For horses that have suffered neglect under the watch of humans, witnessing them now demonstrating trust in us is beyond precious. I know I have said it before, but it is such an honor and a privilege to stand among them while they eat the grain I have just distributed. When they allow me to encroach on their space to hang hay bags or clean the ground beneath them, it feels like they’re granting me a mystical connection.
I’ve seen them get ornery with each other, and it can look downright wicked before a quick return to calm. Some mornings, it’s not strange to find one or more of them all worked up about something until I finally get their grain served. Then, everyone settles down and focuses on the business at hand.
Yesterday morning, they were all chill as could be when Asher and I rounded the corner of the path around the back pasture into sight of the barn. They stood patiently while I cleaned everything up beneath the overhang, sometimes watching me but usually appearing to ignore me as they kept their eyes on the distant landscape.
It felt more damp than cold as the temperature hovered around the freezing point. That temperature range creates a situation where it is hard to tell if things are going to be wet or frozen. The driveway offered a little bit of both.
The circular spots were slippery, while the rest of the pavement wasn’t. It made it tricky for me to walk on. I chose to stay off to the side as Asher entertained himself by trying to maintain forward momentum when every third step would suddenly lose purchase.
In the time it took us to finish our last portion of the morning dog walking routine, the horses were done with their feed buckets, allowing me to reclaim them in avoidance of unwanted shenanigans from the mares. Given a chance, they have a knack for bending the handles all out of shape.
At that point, the horses’ attention switches to the hay bags they had just seen me fill.
As I unclip each bucket, I like to imagine the horses are thanking me for the fresh hay.
“It’s an honor,” I tell them.
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Numb Fingers
Are you familiar with Raynaud’s phenomenon? It is a reaction where a drop in temperature can trigger blood vessel spasms, usually in the fingers and toes. Cyndie’s hands have reacted to cold in this way for a while, but on Saturday, she was surprised that it triggered so quickly in temperatures that weren’t that drastically cold. Also, it was only happening to one finger on her left hand and a small portion of two fingers on her right hand. Usually, it’s all the fingers.
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It was so dramatic that I asked her if I could take a picture of the colorless digits.
She looked up information on why it might afflict only certain fingers and one possibility for that situation pointed to torqued wrist positions. She realized she had been holding her hands tucked under her crossed arms as we walked with Asher for a bit before heading to the barn. Maybe that would explain it.
We are hoping for a more informed assessment of all the issues Cyndie’s experiencing after she visits with a doctor at our clinic this afternoon. She had been feeling off for almost a week before it finally manifested with the fever the last two days, which took things to a new level and got her to stop trying to carry on with normal activity.
After driving from the Cities in the worst of that snow burst we experienced, one of her legs cramped up in a wicked knot as she was trying to walk from the car into the house. It was so intense that she couldn’t walk, could barely stand, and it had her sobbing in pain.
She has been struggling to keep her core warm and was spending every opportunity with a heating pad on her torso or feet.
At this point, I have not experienced any symptoms similar to hers, so we have that to be thankful for. Asher, the horses, and I are all carrying on and keeping calm. Well, most of the time, anyway. When I stepped out of the barn to tend to the horses yesterday afternoon, they were in a tizzy about something that I couldn’t identify.
It had them racing around, jumping and rearing, and generally acting like the sky was falling. It made poo pickup a little more adventurous than I wanted. As soon as I served up buckets of grains, the usual calm settled over them. Food coma arrived soon after.
Then, I went back to being Nurse John, in addition to being a fine dining chef for the evening. I heated up some homemade chicken noodle soup that Cyndie had pulled from the freezer. For the record, no fingers went numb as a result of her doing that.
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Relative Something 