Posts Tagged ‘Perceptions’
Spring Storm
Sometimes our spring storms involve rain, but it’s not strange when they come as all snow. Last night, we got the all snow variety.
Let’s review. Last weekend I was adding a bedding of manure around the base of some of our pine trees. It looked like this:
Just days later, a spectacularly defined winter snow storm spread out across the middle of our country and rode right over the top of us.
When I left work in the afternoon, there were hints of snowflake flurries, but nothing showing on the ground. Driving across the metro area, I arrived in the thick of falling flakes, but the roads remained snow-free. It was wet, and my windshield wipers struggled to smear aside the salty spray blowing up from the vehicles around me.
As I came up the driveway, I spotted Dezirea standing in the wet blowing snow, but the other three horses were wisely tucked under the overhang of the barn. Cyndie moved them all inside to their stalls when the snow began to accumulate.
We stoked the fireplace and dined on a gourmet spread of coconut chicken and rice with lentils, barley, and quoting Cyndie’s description, “a whole bunch of other stuff” that she whipped up with her typical professional flair. We watched a fascinating documentary film, “Finding Vivian Maier” that arrived in our mail from Netflix. We stayed cozy and warm while the definitive spring snow storm blustered its beautiful best outside.
This time of year, it is always a laugh to think back to whether a ground-hog saw its shadow, or how long winter would really last. Winter comes and goes in fits. It has been 70° (F) here already, and we’ve had days of greening grass and drying soil. We also have enough snow to look like it’s been here forever and the previous days were simply a dream.
I’ll venture out this morning in the darkness of the early hour, and traverse the miles that go from almost a foot of snow, across several counties to the day-job where it will still look like spring.
Thus is the nature of the narrow gradient of frozen precipitation on the north edge of a late winter/early spring storm in this part of the world.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Horses Sense
The weather has been a little cantankerous lately, dishing out some horizontal precipitation in strong winds, with temperatures hovering uncomfortable close to the cold freeze-point. The kind of weather that a horse might not particularly appreciate.
I drove home from work on Thursday at a time between showers. The pavement was dry and the overcast sky looked less glum than the rest of the week. When I came over the hill to the first view of our place, there was no one in sight. Over the first rise of our driveway I discovered a distinct absence of horses.
Hmm. I whimsically asked myself if maybe Cyndie had sold them.
Why would they be inside the barn at this hour?
Sometimes the weather at home and the weather at work can be dramatically different, but all indications showed it to be equally dry. It occurred to me that the horses might be making up for the fact we had left them out the night before, when enough windy precipitation showed up that it exceeded their level of tolerance.
We had put them in the barn two nights ago, due to a cold rain, but Wednesday evening they were dry and seemed content with things, so I left them out. My sleep was disturbed later that night by the sound of blustery precipitation —I couldn’t tell if it was rain, sleet, or ice balls— hitting the bedroom window. My first thought was of the poor horses out there with their heads down, enduring the insult.
I asked Cyndie how they were in the morning and she reported a fairly normal routine and appearance. She said they weren’t necessarily dry, but they weren’t chilled-to-the-bone dripping wet, either.
At the same time, Cyndie did have a fascinating report to offer from that afternoon. She had left Delilah in the house and wandered down to be with the horses for the specific intent of listening to what they might have to offer. With a lot of concerns on her mind lately, she wanted to stand among the herd with no other cleaning or feeding agenda as distraction.
It was early in the afternoon, and like I described, not a bad day outside compared to the rest of the week. The message she got from the horses was insistent and unmistakable. They wanted to go inside their stalls. Now.
By the time I arrived home, it looked like nobody lived there. Cyndie was surprised they would ask to be inside so early, but gave them what they wanted.
A short time after I got home, the snow started flying. Sloppy, wet flakes that painted the deck with moisture. The kind of precipitation that a horse would probably be tired of enduring this week.
The kind of weather a horse would have enough sense to get out of if it had a barn for shelter.
All ours had to do was ask.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Inside Views
Today, a few views I captured from inside, looking out.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Photographic Decay
Something about the puzzle-like visual of decaying wood and metal really grabbed my attention last weekend when we were snowshoeing in the woods and came upon the trash dumps. So, naturally, I took a picture of it. I’ve noticed since, the photo has captured that same allure for me. I can’t stop looking at it.
I think that says a lot about the success of a photograph. If you find yourself wanting to look at it again and again, you must have done something right.
I can’t really grasp what it is that draws me to it. Maybe that is a part of the attraction, …the mystery of it.
Admittedly, the curious cutouts are attention grabbers, but I think the shadow plays a big part for me, maybe just as much. Throw in the clean-looking snow, the spindly branch above, and the bark-like appearance of the disintegrating wood, and you get a combination of features that keep my eyes coming back for more.
There is a juxtaposition that I like in the discarded item having been left for decay, now transformed to a new use as the primary feature of a photographic image.
Everything old is new again.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Intriguing Find
While searching through old images recently, Cyndie and I uncovered many wonderful memories, and discovered some particularly precious pictures of our horses. These images were snapped before we had any idea the horses would end up living with us.
Years ago we were visiting the horses at their previous home because Cyndie spent time working there with several of the herd which totaled around 35. She had even ridden Legacy in the past.
I accompanied her on a few visits to see the large collection of horses, and always brought my camera. Looking back on the pictures now, with the added knowledge of all that has transpired, has a bit of a mystical feel to it. At the time these images were captured, we had no clue whatsoever that these beautiful animals were in our future.
Seeing these images again, and thinking about our being unaware of what was to come, provides a tingly sensation for us today.
Pulling burrs from Legacy’s mane
Dezirea approaching to say hello
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Hunter (right) listening in on conversation
.
Since we didn’t spot any shots that included Cayenne, I’ll throw in a couple of bonus items that we received in the mail a short time ago. The previous owners found some pictures of Cayenne when she was a mere hint of what she would become. What a hoot!
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
General Goodness
It’s been a quiet day in Lake Wo-Wintervale-begon. The weather was mild all weekend, the trail cam continues to capture rabbits and squirrels, and progress on my wood sculpting art project has advanced, but not enough to stand out in pictures. Trust me. I considered showing them here today, but the results were too emphatically underwhelming.
The horses have been emanating incredibly peaceful vibes, Delilah is mostly behaving, and Pequenita endlessly seeks hands-on attention from me. Cyndie has been extraordinarily productive with creative abundance from her kitchen. I stand around wondering how to at least be ‘above average,’ never sure how to achieve the ‘good looking’ descriptor that Mr. Keillor tosses around.
We’re at one of those points where, in my past life, I would respond with a multitude of reasons for a gloomy outlook. It is a precious thing to have forged a path above and beyond that inclination, and to be able to relax and absorb the absence of dilemma today; to actually feel joyous, in fact.
Sure, the Check Engine Light still comes on in my car after every time the shop resets it, but I’m not stressin’ that. It is what it is. Things are mighty fine in general, and being able to appreciate that goodness, without struggling so to do, is icing on a cake that I get to have, and eat, too!
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Floating Along
It’s the middle of February and a life at the ranch is humming along with a reasonable sense of normalcy. We had a fun gathering with Julian and Elysa yesterday for a Valentine’s Day brunch. Julian brought his hoverboard for us to see and test. In a brief lesson, while standing with my hands on the back of a chair, Julian guided me through some steps on the basics.
It only took one quick loss of control where I practically dumped the chair, to decide I was good with just standing on it. I’d had enough and was comfortable simply watching Julian move around the house and spin in circles.
Later, Cyndie took a turn figuring out how to stand on it, while holding the back of the same chair I used. I decided to kneel in the chair as ballast, while watching her. She got about as far as I had before coming to the same conclusion… that was all she needed to experience, thankyouverymuch.
For some reason, her quick exit brought me a renewed confidence to give it another try. Soon, I let go of the chair and was wandering around the house on it. What a gas.
Julian stayed close and moved a few things out of the way to give me greater clearance. I took a couple of spins around the center island in the kitchen, turning in both left and right directions, one time coming in with a bit too much speed. That provided a sense of how one could find their body leaving the board and continuing in the direction of the last momentum.
I decided to complete my initial experience before meeting with any catastrophic failure. Having not practiced dismounting the board, I headed back to the chair. I wanted to try to get off without holding on, but have it within close reach, just in case.
It took many tries to convince myself to lift one foot, without tipping the other forward or back. I pretty much had to leap off, and found myself automatically grabbing the chair at the same time, anyway.
It was a lot of fun. While all that was going on, we also helped Elysa brainstorm ideas for a party she is planning to have at Wintervale this summer. She has a birthday milestone approaching this year and plans to celebrate accordingly. It took a couple tries to adjust our thinking to the fact it will be light out until almost 10 p.m. and there will be leaves on all the trees.
Before they needed to head home, we took the kids on a walk with Delilah through our woods and stopped to say hello to the horses at the barn while wispy white flakes floated down.
It was a super way to share the day with those whom we dearly love!
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Good Thing
Activity in our kitchen is back to normal, now that Cyndie is home. When I walked in the door from a day at work yesterday, my nose was greeted by a simmering ham roast in the slow cooker, two side dishes baking in the oven, and a fresh loaf of home-baked cranberry/orange/walnut bread and plum crumble dessert cooling on the counter.
George was coming over for dinner. I went to start a fire in the fireplace, but noticed we needed to bring in more firewood. That meant I would need to shovel a path to the firewood rack on the deck.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
The food Cyndie prepared was fit for serving a royal feast. To heck with counting sugar grams or total calories. I ate it all, and then some.
We enjoyed dessert in front of the fire, where we lingered long while pondering the fragility of mental health in a wandering trail of tales, eventually feeling as if we had gone full-circle and discovered connections in otherwise seemingly dissimilar situations.
There is always hope possible in times that seem hopeless. If it is not easily available for the grasping, it can be cultivated, when the essential willingness is on hand.
It remains to be seen whether the hopes and remote support seeds we planted will produce desired results in the long run. In the mean time, the fine food and fellowship we shared and enjoyed was a heck of a good thing for the three of us.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Relative Something 