Posts Tagged ‘Perceptions’
Horse Peace
One of the many things I like about our horses is the fact they don’t reflect back to me anything that outrageous politicians say, nor cruelties unleashed by demented terrorists. To stand among the herd in their pasture, there is no sense whatsoever of headline grabbing non-celebrities, no road-raging selfish drivers forcing their anxieties in every direction, no pharmaceutical advertisers listing sickening numbers of possible side effects with encouragement to ask my doctor if their product is right for me.
Nothing but eons of evolved horse sense, and all the peace that comes with that.
It is a priceless gift.
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People Grouping
Obviously, we are all individuals, but there is no denying that people are pretty easily grouped for any number of reasons, one of which being, it’s just plain fun to do!
The other day, I decided there are three kinds of people. Those who grab a knob to open a drawer or a closet door without ever noticing the knob is spinning loose —causing it to get worse with every use, …those who try to fix loose knobs by tightening it until the threads strip —making it impossible to ever fix, …and those who are aware of the situation before they ever grab a knob —leading to handling it in such a way it doesn’t spin loose every time or causing thread damage when snugging it up when needed.
It is a known fact that there are two kinds of drivers other than ourselves: Maniacs who drive faster than us and idiots who drive slower. I’m gaining plenty of experience with driving styles during my hour-long commutes to and from work.
Seems to me there are three groups of people in the left/fast/passing lane of the expressway: Those who pick their comfortable speed and stay put, oblivious to what other cars around them are seeking to do, …those who pick a speed below what other fast lane drivers prefer, staying in the left lane no matter what, as if to spite anyone behind them who wishes to drive faster, …and those who drive in the left lane while passing slower cars, but notice immediately if someone approaches from behind at a greater speed, in which case this third group of drivers will move over at the earliest opportunity to allow the faster driver to proceed past.
It’s not rocket science, people.
For grouping people in the world, I think 3 is the ideal number. Splitting us into 2 groups is too easy. Anything more than 3 becomes an exercise in “where do you stop?” If you break it down into 4, you may as well go to 5. Oh, heck, why stop there?
See? Three is perfect.
On people’s opinions about a roll of toilet paper: Those who believe it should be mounted to roll off the top, …those who believe it should roll off the bottom, …and those who don’t give a flying eff what direction it comes from. (Okay, sometimes 4 isn’t all bad… those who say, “Toilet paper? A place to mount it? I wish!”)
Mostly, there are three kinds of people in the world.
I tend to see myself as residing somewhere in the group between the maniacs and the idiots.
Don’t we all?
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Remembering Fondly
Back in July of this year, my transition from staying home to manage our property 7-days a week, to working at the old day-job again, began in earnest. Now that we have received some snow, I am reminded of the luxury I enjoyed being home last winter, able to clear our driveway and paths immediately on the mornings after an accumulation.
Every minute in the life of a snowflake there is change. As soon as it stops growing, it begins to deteriorate. When innumerable flakes land and cover all surfaces, time allows them opportunity to become one.
By the time I arrived home yesterday afternoon, the snow on the driveway was freezing/refreezing into something of a cement-like coating. It did not motivate a desire to plow. I’m going to wait and let the daytime temperatures clean the driveway.
The current forecast is indicating the likelihood of above freezing temperatures for a week.
Last winter, I would often be the only one out plowing and shoveling on weekday mornings. I loved to pause and enjoy the snow-dampened quiet of our winter world.
When snow is cleared right away, asphalt or cement surfaces will often dry up, whether temperatures are warm, or not. By afternoon, the only way you could tell that it had snowed was the giant piles of clean, white snow lining the sides of the driveway. It is a look that I hold a great fondness for, and one for which I enjoy the process of creating.
Now that I don’t have that same luxury, the value of these memories has grown.
I have figured out I can enjoy by proxy through Cyndie. I recognized Monday night that it would help if I shared the trick with her about clearing snow early, when it comes to our front steps. She has not been in a habit of needing to tend to the steps, because I would usually take care of it. I pointed out the benefit of dealing with it right away.
When I got home from work yesterday, I stepped out of the house to observe Cyndie exercising Delilah (who has recovered quickly from her brief stomach upset, by the way) and found the steps perfectly clean and dry.
Success!
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Whiter Shades
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Somehow, we are days away from December; November has come and gone in record speed. The longer I live, the faster months pass.
Our scenery has changed from green, to brown, to white in about a week.
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Our forecast is predicting that “plow-able” snow amounts will fall tomorrow night into Tuesday.
Winter weather is finally here, regardless what the extreme El Niño has in store for the months ahead.
I’m not too worried. Whatever happens will be over soon enough at the rate the months are flying by in my perception.
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Capturing Images
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Three recent views from Wintervale that reflect what I get to gaze upon when wandering around our place.
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An Addendum
Last Sunday was a beautiful warm sunny day, during which we were out and about, tending to a variety of chores. It was also the day when we received the second of our two visiting stray dogs of the weekend.
The dog was clearly interested in everything I did, spending most of the time that he was here, in close proximity to wherever I was working. My last project, prior to heading in to watch the end of the Vikings NFL game, involved the Grizzly ATV in front of the shop garage.
I remounted the plate which supports the back of the snowplow frame beneath the under carriage. I also spent time bolting the blade and associated parts to the plow frame, which had been removed for welding over the summer.
I had the first half of the football game on the radio, and both Delilah —on a leash— and the wayward visitor, milled close by as I puttered.
As Cyndie passed by after feeding the horses, she picked up Delilah and headed into the house, leaving me to finish while the stray longingly eyed me for attention. When I was finally ready to close up, I spotted the dog laying in leaves nearby. I closed the big garage door and then turned out lights and shut the shop door.
I recall purposely deciding to not head directly toward the house, thinking the stray dog would follow me to the door and make me feel bad about going inside without him. I chose instead, to head toward the barn first, and circled around toward the labyrinth, so I could get one last look at the new mowing I had done earlier in the day, widening the path along the back pasture fence line.
In doing so, I saw no sign of the black dog. Since I had wanted to lose him in the first place, I was okay with that, and climbed the hill up to the house, alone.
On Monday morning, I left for work in the early darkness and hoped to hear from Cyndie if the dog was still hanging around when she and Delilah got up. No news came. With no dog around, she had no reason to call the veterinarian to find out who owned it. We thought that was the end of it…
Until yesterday.
Just after lunch, I got a call from Cyndie with a big surprise. When she stepped out of the barn in the middle of the day after cleaning out the stalls, she heard a wailing sound and followed it up to the shop garage. She discovered that the stray had somehow made his way inside when I closed up on Sunday.
He had been locked in there for almost 2 days! I hadn’t made a visit to the shop on Monday after I got home from work and he didn’t make a sound any of the multiple times Cyndie and Delilah walked past, until she finally heard him yesterday afternoon.
It breaks my heart to know the poor guy was stuck in there that whole time. Cyndie gave him water and some food and he headed off on his own right away. Cyndie followed up with the vet and contacted the owner, who reported the dog had made his way home, but she was rather surprised he wasn’t soaking wet from all the rain that had fallen.
I’ll take consolation in that. At least he was warm and dry during his unintended 2-day imprisonment.
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Any Minute
Any minute now I just know I am going to feel 100% better. What a nuisance it can be to get smacked by a cold that is nothing more than a few days of typical symptoms, but which knocks you completely out of your routine. For the moment, I take solace in knowing I have turned the corner and am on the mend. Whatever crazy cellular battles have been underway seem to have shifted into a mode of damage repair and refuse disposal.
It has cost me a couple days in bed, which isn’t all bad. There are plenty of times when I long to have that option. It’s just never what one hopes for when it gets forced on you by illness. I slept and convalesced under the ever-so-capable care that Cyndie provides. She kept me stocked with medicines, tissues, fluids, and home-made chicken soup, while tending to all the chores of caring for our animals.
Pequenita was a special comfort while I rested, staying on the bed with me when Cyndie and Delilah were engaged in outdoor activities.
No one wants to suffer the travails of illness, but if I’m saddled with the dismal annoyances of the common cold, I don’t think there could be a place more comforting than this in which to endure it.
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Threatening
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coyotes called last night again
whooping siren-like howls
echoes from the dark
adding excitement
to the trip down the driveway
rolling the trash
and recycling
to the shoulder of the road
with Delilah in tow
in hopes to dissuade
any roving marauders
whose curiosity might bring near
with our vision confined
to the cone of light
that juts from our foreheads
like miners in a cave
our cave with no ceiling
just dark to the stars
and fog of the evening
the ground wet but not snowy
air temp above freezing
rattling trees with no leaves
now just skeletons of their former selves
creating a haunting feeling
befitting the season
of goblins and spooks
that show up in our heads
where the most threatening reside
not possibly real
ones we make up, instead
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Contagious Contentment
There is no way to adequately describe how amazing the ambiance can be here on a calm and sunny morning. Last Saturday, I wandered toward the barn and found the horses luxuriating in the warm October morning sunshine. Their contentment was mesmerizing and contagious.
I stopped and gazed at them for a good long while. There were no sounds from automobiles passing or from farm work around us. Occasionally the sound of a bird accented the otherwise silent atmosphere.
It was priceless. And I was there to experience it.
This is what I saw…
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Decidedly Different
From balmy Sunday to blustery Monday we experienced an almost 40° (F) temperature swing, factoring in the “windchill” reading that resulted from the strong northwest gusting wind. Nothing says October like a cold, cloudy, windy day.
I took Delilah out for a short trek around the property when I got home from work, during which we fed the horses and then wandered a few trails in the woods to check for downed branches.
At one point, even though I didn’t feel as though I was seeing anything, I sensed there was motion occurring through the trees, and I kept my eyes glued in that direction in hopes of picking up some confirmation.
Was it a bird? Likely possibilities included grouse, pheasant, or even wild turkey. Something led me to believe it was big. Something else gave me the impression it was right in front of my eyes, but I was not seeing it. Honestly, what came to mind was the movie effect of “Predator” in camouflage mode.
All these mental gymnastics happened in a fraction of a second. Putting it all together, I discerned the white I thought I had seen was, in fact, the tail of a deer.
We had just come down that hill a short time before, and ended up circling back on our path in a way that may have surprised the keen senses of the shy animal. I was energized to find it had stopped its movement at a place that gave me a clear view of the head and face, as the deer looked directly back at me from an incredibly short distance away.
It was probably the closest I have been to a live, wild deer in years. I glanced down at Delilah, who was nose-to-the-ground busy, following the myriad smells that surely exist on our well-used trails, but she showed no evidence of detecting how close we were to something that would no-doubt thrill her to the extreme to pursue.
When I looked back for the deer, I realized how difficult it was to detect it through the trees while it stood motionless. I started to walk again, coming around the corner to climb the hill where Cyndie and I had just been working on the fence, hoping to get a better perspective on where the deer was standing. I was also scanning in hopes of finding others, under the assumption deer are usually in a herd.
What I discovered was that my movement was enough to drive the deer off and I had been unable to detect its departure. Delilah didn’t show any sign of sensing the scent of immediately fresh traffic across our trail. I wondered if the deer had been surprised by the recent appearance of the fence we just put up over the weekend.
There were no other deer in sight as we climbed the hill toward the house, and toward the respite from the wind it would provide. Had I not picked up the fleeting images of that whiteness and the almost imperceptible motion of the body through the trees, I would have missed it altogether.
Allows me to imagine how often I have probably done just that on these trails in the last few years, and been within similarly close proximity to wildlife, while being entirely unaware.
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Relative Something 