Posts Tagged ‘hot weather’
Home Heat
We got home yesterday in the middle of the day, and the heat outdoors was still set to “High.” After a night without power at the lake, the four of us who had stayed one more night –Cyndie, me, and our friends, Barb & Mike– sat in the porch and contemplated our situation.
We had enough leftovers to feed ourselves for breakfast, but then we would create dirty dishes that needed washing at a time when we had no running water. A restaurant breakfast was looking like a favorable alternative.
I reported seeing an Xcel Energy utility truck cruising up and down the Wildwood road in the pre-dawn hour, which was an encouraging sign that they were aware of our problem. Cyndie was able to text her brother, Ben, to learn he had received an email notification that power was expected to be back on by 7:30.
We decided to hang around long enough to see if that would prove to be accurate, placing virtual bets on actual timing. A short time later, 7:23 to be exact, the landscape pond waterfall sprang to life, revealing we were back in business. Sheets went into the washing machine, and breakfast was reheated.
Closing up the house for departure from the lake place was done with much more confidence than if we had needed to do it in the dark, not knowing which light switches may have inadvertently been left in an “on” position.
In the absence of a huge lake to keep us cool at Wintervale, we thankfully enjoy the benefits of geothermal-sourced air conditioning in the house. Asher seemed happy to see us again, but after a short walk outside in the hot sunshine, he quickly sought out one of his preferred cool spots to rest.
As always, the horses appeared very tolerant of the harsh conditions, enduring the uncomfortable humidity with a stoic calmness, despite pesky flies and the absence of a longed-for breeze.
When it came time to feed the horses, we let Asher roam off-leash on the way to the barn. He spotted a squirrel that had been feeding on spilled grain under one of the feed buckets and gave chase.
The critter made one brilliant maneuver that I figured would save it from capture, but Asher stayed after it. They both disappeared into the jewelweed around a tree, and just as I was expecting to see the squirrel leap up the trunk, we heard a squeak instead.
Asher emerged from the underbrush and immediately trotted off to bury his quarry. I guess it’s never too hot for a predator/prey drive to play out. We figure he is just protecting the horses from these pests and putting the rest of the scavengers around here on alert that they are risking their lives if they are going to mess with things around the barn.
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Yes, Hot
It’s not just the heat, it’s the humidity, too. I started receiving weather warnings from the app on my phone sometime in the middle of last week. While at a restaurant on the bike trip, I spotted a weather map on a TV screen over the bar, and it looked like 80% of the US was depicted with a burning deep-red, indicating extreme heat was on the way.
Well, the heat has arrived. Try being a 1200-pound horse in this kind of weather.
Cyndie put out the large water trough that the horses have a history of splashing in when we intended it to be used for drinking. Now we would be glad to have them splash in it.
Mia came right over while Cyndie was filling the tub from a hose and dipped her face into it. I said she should have placed the trough under the shade sail. We may still move it there later today.
Asher isn’t taking the heat much better than the horses. Luckily, he has an air-conditioned house to lounge in. He begrudgingly accompanies us on walks to tend to the horses.
I am deeply grateful that this level of heat didn’t occur while we were biking for hours every day. If there were a choice between riding in the rain or high heat, I would choose the rain.
Unfortunately, I still have some mowing to do today. I’m going to try to finish before the hottest part of the afternoon. Not that it matters, since the temperature was 81°F with a dew point of 72° when we woke up at 6:30 this morning.
Yeah, it’s hot outside.
There is one really cool thing about today, however. It’s Elysa’s birthday!! Here is a celebratory photo of her from six years ago:
Happy Birthday, dearest! Stay cool!
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Great Greeting
When you haven’t seen your dog for a week, it’s hard to contain your excitement when you arrive home and see his sweet face again. If we get too amped up, so will he, and that’s not a behavior we want to encourage.
It was lucky timing that Cyndie walked in the door in the middle of Asher eating his serving of dinner because that made for a perfect distraction. He stopped eating long enough to check on Cyndie and then got right back to finish his food.
No overexcited jumping involved.
After he finished eating there was plenty of time for Asher to say hello to Cyndie’s mom and lean up against me for a massive dose of scratching, but he was perfectly well-behaved throughout all the greetings to a degree that has us feeling really pleased.
We took him for a short walk in the heat to check on the horses and found things in satisfactory order and the herd calmly spread out around the fence under the overhang.
They were spaced apart as if in an attempt to keep away from each other’s body heat. Their reaction to our return wasn’t so much a greeting as an acceptance of the realization their caregivers were changing back to the usual people.
When we stopped in Hayward to fill Marie’s car with gas before the drive home, Cyndie spontaneously hustled into our favorite pizza place right next door (Coop’s [though under new management]) and quickly grabbed a couple of frozen ones to go.
The pepperoni pizza dinner last night at home felt a little like we were still up at the lake, despite the lack of a lake.
Gee, but it’s great to be back home.
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Garden Fuel
Record heat yesterday put early pressure on the horses to cope with high temperatures before they have yet to fully shed their winter coats. We are experiencing temperatures that are more than 30 degrees (F) above average for this time of year. Production at Wintervale was focused on packaging for most of the day, bagging the precious commodity produced by the horses.
The remaining lot of seasoned compost from 2022 was bagged for distribution as Wintervale’s Equine Magic Premium Garden Fuel.
After moving three bags back to a stock location in the barn using a wheelbarrow, my tired arms thought up a better idea. the new electric mower has a small cargo bin behind the seat with a 200-pound carrying capacity. Using that to move the bags gave me a great opportunity to get some practice navigating our terrain.
I quickly discovered it doesn’t do well in saturated muddy areas. I never got completely stuck, but tires started spinning and forward momentum was interrupted. I’m not quick with my corrections yet because the steering maneuvers don’t come automatically to me. I need to think through a solution that tends to be a little late, coming after my unconscious reaction has already proved to be unhelpful.
While the sun was high, I stopped out in the Production area to see how staff were feeling about the 80-degree working conditions. Without trying to put any extra pressure on them, I pointed out that inventory is low after so much of last year’s garden fuel was repurposed as fill for landscaping along the edges of the driveway.
Mix assured me they understand my fixation with trying to pick up every last morsel that lands in the paddocks and she pointed out there was plenty more out in the pastures if I really needed it. She’s so helpful.
The main compost station would need to go through an expansion if I started picking up everything they lay down out there. We don’t have a roof over the main compost area so moisture control is not managed well. I can add water if the compost piles get too dry but when conditions get extremely wet I’m sunk.
With four horses working production, and me on my own managing the finishing, our operation isn’t going to become an industrial juggernaut for garden compost. As long as we have enough to share with interested friends, there will always be potential for bartered home-grown produce as a reward for all of our effort.
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Sweaty Horses
We are on our umpteenth day in a row of high-heat weather and the stress on growing plants is getting visible. Overnight Tuesday we were awoken by a brilliant flash of lightning with its associated crack of thunder that one would assume to equal rainfall. We received no noticeable moisture from the atmosphere.
Where we haven’t kept up with watering, our plants are suffering.
Our animals all seem to be tolerating the heat, but the horses are a sweaty mess. They almost look like they’ve just finished running a race. [slight exaggeration] To add a little flamboyance to their appearance, they take turns rolling in the dusty dirt to create a little mud pack that seems to provide some protection from the hot sun and biting flies.
The chicks don’t seem to care about the heat because they have those fabulous grassy courtyards covered by shade where they can romp all day long. We are in the phase of chick-rearing that requires forcing them back into the coop by hand because they haven’t properly developed that natural instinct of going inside on their own for the night.
Chick wrangling is not one of my favorite tasks. They don’t make it easy.
When we finally got to the last couple of the older bunch, they actually chose to run up the ramp themselves instead of succumbing to the grasp of our scary hands. It inspired me to next time devise a method of corralling them into an ever-shrinking space that funnels directly to the ramp so they can practice getting back inside without being grabbed.
By the time all the chick chasing was done, it was the humans who were sweaty.
We chose to pass on the rolling in the dirt thing.
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Heat Advisory
With the pressure of multiple days of excessive heat driving our concerns, Cyndie and I put in extra hours yesterday to complete the two separated fenced-in courtyards outside the coop for the two batches of chicks. Late in the afternoon, our chicks were scratching dirt for the first time in their lives.
While we worked, we opened their access doors, allowing them to tentatively investigate the strange new opportunity in their own time.
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I appreciate their caution. Being cautious might protect them from risks they will face when ultimately allowed to free-range our fields and forest.
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Getting the chicks out of the coop and onto the shady ground dropped the temperature of their environment significantly. Keeping their water sources filled requires extra vigilance in the heat as those little beaks drink a surprising amount much quicker than expected.
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In no time, I witnessed insects being hunted and devoured. It’s interesting to watch the instinctual behavior of scratching the ground beneath them and then stepping back to peck at whatever might have been revealed. I saw a little beetle rushing to move from one spot to another and wondered how that might play out. The keen eye of one of the chicks spotted that movement and raced over to scoop it up in one smooth move.
Then the great hunter needed to fend off the immediate attention of several other chicks who desperately wanted what she had.
If ever there was a version of “eat and run,” the competition of other chicks defines the phrase when it comes to finding the perfect morsel.
It won’t take long for those birds to change their limited landscapes from green to nothing but bare ground.
At the rate things seem to be advancing, they will be ranging free in a blink. The next big hurdle will likely be figuring out how and when we can take out the barriers isolating the two age groups. I expect it will come after the point of development where it becomes much more obvious which of the Rockettes are noticeably roosters.
Let’s hope high heat pressure will have taken a welcome break long before that milestone arrives.
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Rocky’s Progeny
The 13 chicks that hatched from eggs fertilized by our late New Hampshire Red rooster, Rocky, have now developed enough features to better guess at which breed their mothers were. The batch we’ve referred to as the “Rockettes” will be subdivided to break out six pullets who will eventually be “Baxterettes,” reflecting a plan to share them with my brother’s family in the Brainerd area of Minnesota.
That surprise rooster we were blessed to receive unexpectedly in a batch of egg-layers we ordered online during the pandemic will have quite a legacy from his cut-way-too-short life.
The twenty-five chicks currently sharing the “twin-home” coop divided in half by a plastic netting are all doing well during this span of time when they are confined to quarters. We are currently working to prepare the boundaries of two separate courtyards –one front, one in back– where they will be allowed daytime excursions on real dirt with actual green growth to destroy.
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We aren’t sure yet about how many of the 13 Rockettes are roosters in the making, but we are confident it is more than zero. Looking at the images above, we believe we have the following numbers of breeds:
Quantity 6 Barnevelders; two with darker coloring on head and neck (a difference of gender maybe?). One each of these can be seen on the far left and far right of the image on the left.
Quantity 2 Light Brahmas; mostly yellow with white wing feathers and a hint of feathers growing on feet, seen second from left.
Quantity 4 yellow-headed chicks with reddish-brown feathers that look a mix of New Hampshire Red/Barnevelder, third from left.
Quantity 1 Dominique; easily identified for being black head to toe and almost disappears in the image on the right.
Cyndie has reported seeing pairs of the Rockette chicks chest-bumping already but I saw nothing but happy romping siblings in my extended watching yesterday.
We housed the Buffalo Gals on the backside of the coop where the chicken access door is located, but that lacked ventilation in this record-setting hot weather. I rigged a way to temporarily cover the opening with 1/4″ mesh hardware cloth so we could leave the door open during the day.
The high heat will inspire us to hasten preparations to get their courtyards secure so we can let them out into more open air.
The wild pigeons choosing to nest in our barn lost about a half-dozen chicks yesterday that we found sprawled out on the ground in multiple places, so this heat needs to be taken seriously.
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Great Indoors
You know the saying. It’s not the heat, it’s the humidity. I don’t know what phenomena might be pushing the local dew point temperatures to extremely tropical levels, but it is driving our heat index into the triple digits again. I’m not a fan.
At the same time, I really don’t have much to gripe about. The workplace indoor temperatures are air-conditioned down to a level that keeps my arms cold all day in a short-sleeved shirt. From there, I step out to my car and turn on the AC for the long drive home. Our house is perfectly comfortable with the geothermal system making great use of that constant underground temperature in the upper 50s(F).
Of course, this works because I’m done with the time sensitive chores outside, enabling me to pick and choose whether I’ll go out and deal with the immediate elements, or avoid them.
It makes it difficult to pay true attention to the present moment. I’m off in some other world, down a maze of insignificant Reddit posts like hatted cats pawing attention-getting bells to trigger repeated delivery of a treat, or highlight videos of soccer players tangling for a header where one uprights the other and then guides his flip to a full rotation that lands the opponent upright again before ever crashing to the ground.
Cute, but basically mindless, compared with what is available in and around the space where I’m breathing.
Yesterday evening, I was describing my June week of biking and camping to a visitor and reminded myself of how in-the-moment that activity can be. We are out in the elements all day, sleeping on the ground in tents all night. Breathing the air, inhaling the scents, hearing the birds and freight trains.
We notice everything about the wind.
When I’m not biking, I pay no attention to what direction the wind is blowing. Why do I neglect to notice?
My habit of not truly being fully present in a moment allows for obliviousness to that kind of detail. My mind can wander to expectations of watching the World Cup final on Sunday, or mulling over imagined reasons why our 4 acres of hay-field have yet to be cut by the neighbor who, back in the beginning of June, volunteered so to do.
In my comfortable car during the long commute, lately I’ve been listening to deep cuts from my library of music, allowing it to carry me off to distant rekindled memories or fantasies of mastering my own version of various enticing songs.
I’m thankful I don’t have to be out in the heat, but at the same time, I regret how my avoidance accommodates a distancing from the realities of the present moment.
I take some solace in having just sweated through every layer of several sets of grubby clothes over the recent three days of heaving hundreds of hay bales. We were reasonably enmeshed in the moment for those hours of each day.
There is some balance there… and, always an opportunity to strive for better attention to the immediate pleasures of the artificial environment of a comfortably conditioned “great indoors.”
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Training Pause
From the “no good deed goes unpunished” file, my zealous efforts of Friday produced a reward in the form of a strained muscle on the left side of my lower back. It doesn’t take much brilliance to figure out the wielding of a heavy pole saw with an engine on the low end and a spinning chain blade on the top turned out to be too much for my limited strength.
It has forced a pause in my biking and plank exercises that has altered a plan to maximize my conditioning prior to the start of The Tour of Minnesota biking and camping trip in June. Maybe it was fortuitous, because the weather has taken a harsh turn to oppressively HOT!
I am resting my painful muscle in the shade of the house. In a meager effort to be conscientious about the use of energy, I struggled to keep the house comfortable yesterday by managing open windows and closed shades. It was almost successful.
This morning, I have already closed the house up and turned on the AC. If I am going to get anything done outside today, as I slowly try to regain function, being able to return to a comfortable house will be very valuable.
I am home alone for a spell as Cyndie went to the lake place for a couple of days to contribute to the opening work-weekend. Jackie had a trip out-of-town planned before she moved in with us, so I am minding the ranch.
Delilah has been a sweetheart, allowing me to rest without constantly begging for attention. I think maybe she notices how crazy hot it is outside and her fur coat doesn’t like being out in the blazing sunshine on days like this.
Walking does seem to be good therapy for my sore muscle however, so we have made the rounds, staying in the shade of the woods as much as possible. This morning, we were rewarded with deer hoof prints on our trail that revealed the presence of a brand new fawn, based on the teeny-weeny size.
I tried to capture an accurate depiction of how tiny the little prints were, but even that doesn’t do justice to how surprisingly small they really look.
After we looped around on another trail, Delilah almost pulled my arm off when she struggled to chase some deer cutting into the woods by the labyrinth. The only view I could get was of a tail. No babies in sight.
Our next stop was the barn, to feed and clean up after horses. While we were in there, both Delilah and I noticed some shadows moving outside the front door. It was the chickens! They are expanding their territory nicely.
I’m impressed.
I’m also anxiously counting their numbers every time I come upon them. Still twelve.
Here’s hoping baby deer and baby chickens all find a way to achieve a healthy first year, and my strained muscle finds a way to heal fast enough that I can get back to biking, despite the heat.
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Relative Something 