Posts Tagged ‘minutiae’
Mostly Minutiae
What if one day I completely ran out of ideas? Would I write about that? Probably. Good thing I can fall back on simply describing the minutiae of my days. Like how I started the already too-hot day early in the morning yesterday, trying to get manure management back to my high standards after our long weekend away at the lake.
After breakfast, I wanted to use the riding mower to harvest our crop of too-tall grass, but the overtemp error code came on the instant I turned the key. The blade motor had worked a week ago when I mowed the backyard, but now, after sitting dormant while we were away, it tripped before even starting. Doesn’t make much sense, unless it’s reacting to air temperature.
Thankfully, I picked up the replacement motor yesterday, although not until after I pushed the hand mower for a few hours to completely exhaust myself first. The afternoon became a precision-planned exercise of errands I stacked together for maximum efficiency. A stop at our eyeglass place to have them snug up the fit on my new prescription safety glasses. The trip up to North St. Paul to pick up the motor from a repair shop certified to work on Greenworks mowers. A run to my bike shop to get a front light for my bike. A stop at a taphouse in Woodbury for a kick-off meeting for planning my class’s 50th reunion next summer. And finally, a stop to pay over $4/Gallon for gas on the way home.
The timing worked perfectly. Had time to spare, actually.
I’m hoping today will end up just as smooth. We have HVAC installers coming to add ductwork and a dehumidifier in our furnace room. I want to make the motor swap first thing in the morning, in case I can get some additional mowing done before our new Swedish friends stop by to see our place.
I truly hope the dehumidifier installation can be completed in one day. Cyndie has company coming tomorrow, too. I need to get the labyrinth mowed before then. I wish I were better acclimated to 80° F days already. Working outside in the hot sun felt brutal yesterday. Last night, when I checked the 10-day forecast, there wasn’t a day when the high was less than 80.
That gives me an idea. We should just stay at the lake all summer long.
What a wonderful thought. Since that is just a fantasy, I don’t have to bother figuring out how the grass would get mowed, and the animals cared for at home. I can just focus on how that massive air-conditioning body of water beats the heat.
I think I’ll dream about that today while sweating on the riding mower or trudging behind the push mower.
.
.
Nothing Particular
It’s been a quiet week in Lake Wintervale-be-gone. The only thing close to drama yesterday was a visit from Johanne, our handler from This Old Horse, delivering feed bags. I told her we still had ten bags left from the last time she delivered and inquired about how many she had brought this time.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I was talking with the person helping me load them and we didn’t count.”
She said a couple of pallets of bags had been set aside for her and she just took them all.
We moved all the bags from her truck to the pallet in our barn and counted them. Instead of the usual two-week supply, we now have enough for almost two months. I will let her know when we get down to a one-week supply so she can plan the next delivery.
This is all happening because they changed suppliers of the feed. I didn’t ask for any details or reasons for the switch, choosing to stay out of the business end of things. I’m more than happy to remain oblivious.
Cyndie is continuing to make good progress in taking care of her ankle and preventing excessive swelling. The two stitched wounds look good. She has an appointment next Tuesday to have the stitches removed. At this rate, we feel confident that the procedure should be able to happen right on schedule.
Asher seemed like he was seeking out more hands-on snuggling attention than usual after the previous day away from us where he was carousing with other canines. At the same time, I felt like he was also missing the companionship of other dogs.
No, we will not get another dog. Do not mention it.
Asher hasn’t been given much chance to add drama because I’m continuing to confine him to a leash after the neighbor had to call me to report his whereabouts. Firearm deer hunting season starts here next week, so he won’t be free-roaming again until that ends on the Sunday after Thanksgiving.
Another aspect of our quiet week is the calm weather we have been enjoying. That is, calm in terms of low precipitation and mild temperatures. With respect to airspeed, the wind has not been calm at all. I would say we have reached the point of no leaves left in the trees except for a few oaks that always hold them for most of the winter.
Oh, and I finished the 2000-piece jigsaw puzzle I’ve been assembling for about a week.
Honestly, that’s all I have to report. That’s it from Wintervale-be-gone, where the woman is strong, the man regular-looking, and the animals always above average. Peace, out.
.
.
Trimming Minutiae
There is no drama about our activities yesterday and little in the way of specific goals. The hours passed as the earth rotated and shadows moved while Cyndie and I toiled on a variety of rewarding tasks.
I made the dreaded trip to buy gas for all our small engines and the diesel tractor. Ouch. That’s a burden on the pocketbook.
One way I reframe the harsh rise of the cost of fuel is to remember the time we had been shopping for a while and Cyndie grabbed a 20 oz. bottle of Aquafina water at the checkout counter. It added the paltry amount of $1.68 to our over $500 bill at Lowe’s. It was a purchase of convenience, for sure.
That price for 20 ounces of water is equal to $10.75/gallon. Think about that.
With all gas cans full, I was able to resume using the power trimmer. I had completed all our fence lines over the weekend so the next crucial need was the labyrinth. It didn’t give in without a fight. The stones defining the pathway wreak havoc on the nylon line of the power trimmer.
One technique I attempt to employ to reduce the abrasion of the line against the rocks is reducing the speed of rotation. Maximum speed is not required to achieve an adequate cut. Still, the spinning will deplete line and require the bounce against the ground to advance more length. I can’t count how many times I would release more line and almost immediately the trimmer would catch an edge and torque right up to a rock and eat the new line I just bounced out. Aaarrrrgh.
Just when things are going smooth, the engine runs out of gas. At least I was wise enough to bring the can of gas along this time. I also had a spare spool of line with me, just in case. I needed to use both.
The challenge always seems to be coming out even in completing the intended cutting goal before running out of either line or fuel. When I finished the pathway of the labyrinth, I moved on to the firepit next to the labyrinth, as long as I still had both line and gas. After finishing that, I decided to hit the trail in the woods for as long as the trimmer would run.
It lasted a lot longer than I expected. I cleared a large section of the perimeter trail where the grass had gotten very tall. A bonus accomplishment I didn’t anticipate achieving.
After too many days in a row of trimming for hours, my throttle hand was letting me know it had had enough. That’s a good reason to stop using that tool for a while. Today my hands will be on the lawn tractor steering wheel.
We are in the month of never ending mowing, which is putting the job of never ending sawing and wood chipping on temporary hold.
Somewhere between those two, I keep intending to add never ending bike rides, but that keeps failing to happen.
Could someone slow down the earth’s rotation a little bit, please?
.
.
Minor Minutiae
…the small, precise, or trivial details of something.
Trivial details, I got.
One thing that bugs me is how my attempts to craft simple little features without engineering them to a level of “bombproof” end up reflecting the amount of proper preparation I failed to put into the effort. (See how I twisted that around?)
I really am pleased with all of the features and framing of that image I captured, but the intended subject was simply the “out-of-level” timber frame I installed as a base for a portable sink feature Cyndie wanted beside the door during summertime. I’ve commented many times about my surprise over how much the ground is constantly moving. It’s like the surface of the sea, except it moves a little slower. Currently, the right-hand side appears headed for the trough while the opposite side is reaching a crest of the rolling land wave.
I was so proud of the effort I put in to make that frame level when I built it. I have no idea if there is a prime time of year to re-establish level again, but I’m guessing it’s not while the ground is frozen. It doesn’t really matter for the sink. I just don’t like the sagging look it presents loud and clear every time I walk up to that door.
While I was taking that picture, two of the Barnevelders showed up to see what I was doing, in case it involved any scraps of food a chicken might enjoy. It didn’t.
I love how the closer bird looks like she’s got a foot like a duck and it’s kicked out at an odd angle. It’s a leaf she’s probably standing on. You can’t really see her feet buried in all that snow.
That dusting of flakes was just enough to make things a little slippery in places on our trails and combined with a very noticeable drop in temperature, are making it feel a lot more like December around here. I actually had to dress like it’s winter when I took Delilah for her bedtime stroll last night. Overalls, extra top layer, and mittens! Not gloves. I wore gloves in the afternoon walk and realized it was time to change so the fingers don’t each have to fend for themselves against the frigid temps.
If you are reading this from some warm climate, don’t feel you need to be jealous of how great we have it to enjoy such a full depth of seasons throughout the year. I heard a weathercaster on the news the other night speak erroneously, probably from having the long spell of unseasonably warm weather and getting out of synch with the season. She emphasized that it could get “below freezing” when she meant below zero (F) with the wind chill. It was already below freezing.
It’s enough to make little chicken feet long for the warm sands of summer.
.
.
Relative Something 