Posts Tagged ‘reuse’
Quiet Weekend
The storms that skirted around us last week looked ominous enough that I paused to capture a snapshot of the view as the line of turbulence approached.
Those clouds, white on top and dark on the bottom, were moving in fast. They came over the tree line so quickly, I wasn’t sure I’d get my phone out fast enough to get the shot. Then, as Asher and I were hustling down the driveway to get indoors, I watched the line suddenly slide off to the right just as quickly as it showed up over the trees.
It was one of a couple of different storms that rolled past us with but a glancing blow that day.
After the earlier miscues on finishing a second set of composting pallets, I made short work of it on Saturday afternoon. Now I have two sets of frames to shape good-sized squared piles for better efficiency.
Though I haven’t rigged up a tarp yet to cover them from heavy rains. I checked after that quick one-inch downpour the other day, and the pile was still up to an ideal temperature, so it’s not essential to have them covered unless we expect more prolonged periods of precipitation.
Honestly, the biggest reason I finally decided to improve my composting process is so I can more quickly get rid of a pile to make room for the next one. The horses never pause from producing an unending supply. The fact that the composted result is valued by friends and family for fertilizing their gardens is a bonus. I also use it for filling holes and low spots around the property, but that doesn’t really require the manure to be fully broken down. Simply dried up works just fine for that.
There’s a difference between dehydrated and composted. I have no problem finding uses for both.
Actually, when you find me writing so much detail about horse manure, you can know that nothing noteworthy occurred in the previous days. It’s been a relatively quiet weekend at Wintervale.
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Some Firsts
I searched my photo archives for an image I wanted to include in yesterday’s post, but didn’t find it until it was too late. It was a shot of the boulders in the center of the labyrinth after Cyndie’s cousins and brothers helped me place a rock on top back in the fall of 2017.
I was excited about having that smaller rock resting on the two boulders and ending up the tallest. It didn’t last in that position for very long. At one point, I ended up wrestling it sideways all by myself, to avoid having it tip over and roll off of both of them.
This is what it looks like now. It’s not nearly as interesting looking. I’ve added the little egg-shaped rock as an accent, but it never lasts very long there. I think birds land on it, then push off when they fly away, knocking it to the ground.
That’s the first picture of the center since the maple tree has been removed.
Yesterday morning, Cyndie and I experienced a first when she discovered she had a black eye for no known reason when she woke up. I asked her if she feels safe at home. She wakes up all night long at any sound or activity, so we have ruled out a possible stray elbow while we were sleeping.
I suggested she do a little research with Dr. Google. Of course, the list of possible causes included cancer, brain diseases, or impending death. Undaunted, she kept reading. Toward the bottom, it mentioned allergies, of which Cyndie has many. She recalled blowing her nose after working in the dusty barn and raking the winter accumulation of debris out of the labyrinth, and said the tissue was blackened. I pointed out that my weather app had alerted me to extremely high pollen levels, as well.
Those triggers, along with aging blood vessels, combine to logically explain how she might have developed a black eye overnight.
“That never happened before…”
In a first-time experiment of using pallets to frame my pile of composting manure, I peeled them off to turn the pile and add air.
I broke the composting manure apart and shoveled it back between the pallets for a second round of aerobic decomposition. This setup definitely allows me to work with larger amounts of manure in one pile. It’s inspired me to want to rig up a second set of pallets so I can start a fresh batch while this one continues to break down.
Other firsts of the season accomplished yesterday include hooking up garden hoses, pulling the leaf net off the landscape pond, and mowing grass with the push mower in four different spots where it has already gotten surprisingly tall.
It would be a more inspiring indication of our transition from winter to true spring if we hadn’t lived through so many April or even May unexpected snowstorms in our lifetimes. It’s awkward, trying to decide when to hang all our snow shovels in storage for the year.
Too soon feels like it would jinx things. It wouldn’t be a first.
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Creative Solutions
In more than a decade of living here with horses, I have never gotten around to making an effort toward improving my primitive methods of composting their manure. If I were truly serious about maximizing my operation, I could have put in a base material on top of the bare ground and installed a roof to avoid rainstorms from saturating the piles.
Yesterday, as I was turning over the lone pile that has been cooking for a while, I was dealing with the inevitable tendency of the drying material to resist holding a cubic shape. It naturally slides off to become much more of a pyramid. Since the outer 6 inches won’t be actively composting, the narrowing top portion of the pile is much less efficient than a cubed shape.
Having contemplated a lazy man’s method of a walled fixture to square up the sides, I finally took steps to test my theory.
With my mindset of wanting to reuse materials, I headed down to the hay shed and scrounged for three pallet possibilities. Right in front, I found a scrap roll of 1/4-inch hardware cloth covered in pigeon droppings. How appropriate, I thought.
I stapled the hardware cloth to two of the pallets and relied on the third having minimal gaps between its boards. Grabbing some loose polypropylene twine lying nearby, I put everything on a wheelbarrow and headed to the compost area. Crudely tying the corners of the pallets together, I tossed the pile inside, easily making it much taller than previously possible.
Why it took me so long to do this is a testament to procrastination.
There is an area in the paddock where the clay soil at the surface is pottery-grade quality. When it gets wet, the weight of the horses sinks their feet down a dramatic depth. The soil around that spot has less clay, but is equally messy when wet. So it doesn’t make sense to me how the horses can create a dry path at an angle across the middle of this otherwise disastrous zone.
I don’t know how they do it, but I wish they would make paths like this in all the other messy areas of the paddocks for all of our sakes.
Creative solutions R us.
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Pickling Around
Opting to remain at rest since my body was already at rest when yesterday’s post-4th-of-July pickleball tournament was held, I wandered down to observe as a spectator after the competition was already underway.
They achieved a good number of participants who did an impressive job of keeping games close, providing plenty of entertainment for the gathered crowd, made up mostly of other players waiting for their next game.
After I’d witnessed at least one game by most of the teams, I made my way back to the house by way of the beach, where I paused to hang for a bit while Cyndie, Elysa, and Ande were floating on or soaking in the lake. After so many days away from home, I’m finally getting the hang of doing nothing without needing to convince myself I can get away with it.
In fact, it feels a little daunting to contemplate revving my energy up again to tackle all the projects that will be awaiting me back at Wintervale. We expect to be on the road before noon today for the drive south to Pierce County, where we will find the hay field has been cut and baled, and the lawn grass about two weeks tall.
Yesterday afternoon, I took on a challenge I’ve been skipping over for a long time. I keep an old floor pump for inflating bike tires up at the lake place, ever since I bought a nicer one to replace it at home. The thing is, the old one leaks air on every stroke. One of the reasons I haven’t dealt with it is that I couldn’t easily deduce where the problem was, nor how to get the lower pieces apart to get a look at what was wrong.
Finally, yesterday I was prepared to give it a go. First off, I did some research to see if I could find an exploded view or service information on this old model. I could not. I surfed through a few YouTube videos, but didn’t find any answers there. I did find some replacement parts that looked identical to my model, but nothing that revealed how it came apart.
I tried pulling with increasing force, but wasn’t making any progress. Then, I had a lightbulb moment of insight. One of the replacement parts I had seen included a hose. I searched for that image again and zoomed in. The end of the tubing had a threaded fitting on it. That was the secret. I needed to find a pliers because the rubber boot over the mating part did not budge against my finger strength. Knowing it should turn allowed me to grab it using pliers with much more confidence.
It came loose easily. All the subsequent connections unthreaded with ease as well. The broken gasket at the bottom junction became glaringly obvious.
I felt pride in having used my mechanical sense and a good dose of patience to work out the problem without breaking something in the process. It just took a little pickling around with the parts before I eventually reached the desired result.
I’m taking the ripped gasket home with me to see if I can find a suitable replacement. If not, it will be time to make one myself, probably by cutting up a discarded inner tube. Wish me luck.
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Era Ending
Around 59 years ago, a group purchased an old fishing lodge and cabins on a lake in northern Wisconsin to create a vacation spot for their young families. They formed an association known as the Wildwood Lodge Club. There have probably been as many changes occurring in the association as have occurred with the growing families with each passing year.
Not only have member families dropped out and new families have been welcomed in, but individual lives have passed throughout the many years. Many times, tough decisions have been considered, and today we are seeing the most recent changes get underway.
In the late 70s, early 80s, the association divided lots, so instead of all families sharing cabins on a rotating basis, each family would own a specific plot. The association continued to hold the lodge and tennis court plots until the last couple of years. Now, families on the lots adjacent to those significant amenities have purchased them.
Yesterday, demolition began on the least precious portions of the historic old lodge.
Small trees were cleared away to make room for the teardown of the back portion of the lodge. We set out chairs so Cyndie’s mom could watch some of the work as it happened.
The structure was rotting to the point that it didn’t make sense to attempt repairs. The family that took possession of the lodge lot will build a new structure that will offer opportunities for a variety of future uses.
Windows and paneling were removed and saved for reuse in the new construction after the shell of the building is razed.
It definitely feels like the end of an era, but it isn’t really that final. It’s just another step in the 59 years of steps that have happened. They have moved cabins before, and even moved the main private roadway that runs to the end of our peninsula.
In the early 80s, I wrote a song about the changes that happened when families started building their own new “cabins” in place of the original vertical log shacks from the time it was a fishing resort.
It seems just like a week or two
And Fourth of July has come and gone
And I was up at my favorite place
Folks were there to have a good time
Work got done, and we had a good time
Cabins have moved, and new ones are growin’
A place to sleep’s not as easily found
I sit on the porch of what was cabin three
Almost see the beach you never used to see
Tommy and Jane, and Justin, it’s true
Are heard laughin’ and singin’ and workin’ too
It’s Wildwood, Wildwood
It’s been so long, but the change is good
Wildwoo-oo-oo-ooood
The old road don’t go the way it used to go
Nor some people’s car, the way the new one goes
But we all got together and pushed it out
Who says there weren’t games this holiday
When evening came, we gathered ‘round
for the kind of picnic you’re supposed to have
And though people not present were sadly missed
There were fireworks displayed to rival all time
Wildwood, Wildwood
It’s been so long, but the change is good
Wildwoo-oo-oo-ooood
As much as it seems as though it’s really changed
And mud has replaced the sprouts of poison ivy
The swing still swings between two big trees
From which you can still hear the Friswold’s up at cabin three
Hayward’s still a few minutes away
Round Lake’s just as clear as any day
And all the people who have made it what it really is
Are all the people who will make it what it really is
It’s Wildwood, Wildwood
It’s been so long, but the change is good
Wildwoo-oo-oo-ooood
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Boot Salvage
In April of 2023, I posted about new work boots I found on clearance that ended up working out pretty slick for my purposes. One thing that no boot seems to be able to do for me is last very long under my heavy use. These were a pair from Georgia Boot that were waterproof and had a steel toe, which helps reduce risk when I’m wandering around in close contact with the horses.
Much sooner than I was happy with, threads gave out on the side seams. I kept wearing them anyway, and soon, the waterproof feature was lost. I really don’t like leaky boots causing wet socks. I stopped wearing them after buying a pull-on waterproof alternative that has already lasted longer than I imagined possible. It’s got me starting to think about what I should do next.
The old Georgia Boot pair seemed to have a lot of life left in them if it weren’t for the sewed seams blowing out. I’ve decided to look into repair. First, I checked to see what a new pair would cost to help me decide if the expense of repair made sense.
I found a place just a half-hour away in Stillwater that had an online presence and invited requests for quotes. After filling out their form and attaching photos, I explained my situation and pointed out that the cost of a new pair was $99.99. In today’s economy, I have no idea how a pair of these boots can be made for less than a hundred bucks.
The response came back in only a couple of hours, “We should be able to sew them up.”
It’s kind of a vague quote, but I think I’m going to go for it. They did ask that I give them a quick scrub before bringing them in because the dirt gets into their sewing machine. I didn’t point out it was probably more manure than dirt.
The repairs won’t be able to reclaim the waterproof feature, but for now, I’ve still got the cheap ones for wet conditions. I’m thinking I can extend the life of both pairs if I alternate between the two depending on conditions. There is also a large dose of satisfaction for delaying the old boots entering the waste stream. I’ll have to decide what the dollar value of that benefit is worth to me.
I just hope the cost of repairs doesn’t approach $90. I’ll be seeking a more precise estimate when dropping the boots off and talking to someone in person. Of course, I will also feel good about contributing to a local small business, so that weighs in their favor in making my final decision.
When I checked on the cost of a new pair at the Georgia Boot website, I did notice my exact size wasn’t available, but a half-size larger was. I’m thinking I could make that work if I end up needing to resort to that.
Stay tuned. The resolution of this boot salvage drama will not be reached until the next time I’m headed toward the vicinity of Stillwater. Until then, the freshly scrubbed old boots are being stored in my car, awaiting the day.
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Board Replacement
It’s the second time in a week that I was able to make use of old deck boards that I saved after we refinished the deck however many years ago. The floorboards on Cyndie’s prized face-to-face wooden swing have seriously rotted so yesterday we replaced them.
She plans to apply a much-needed water sealant to see if we can’t extend the life of the swing for a few more seasons.
On the edge of the woods we put our lives at risk to complete this job because of the mosquitos. Teeny, tiny, or full-sized, they show up in droves. They find their way behind our eyeglasses and into our ears. Bites on my neck and the backs of my arms. I can’t tell if the itch is from an old bite or one currently happening. It sure hampers the experience of forest bathing.
In addition to getting several deluges of rain last week, we had days when the dew point reading matched the air temperature. That spells 100% humidity. The level of wetness around here is worthy of April more than a normal July. That would be, an April after a snowy winter. We just had an almost snowless winter and still the amount of standing water in low areas has been consistent for the last four months.
The mosquitos have never had it so good. We have come a long way since last year’s drought conditions.
Of course, this is all making the grass grow like it’s the first greening of spring. Two days after mowing, it looks like it’s already overdue for another cut.
The recent rains have foiled the baling of the hay that finally got cut in our field. Word is they hope to try for Thursday, weather permitting. What a difficult year to be a hay farmer. We just received a fresh batch of small squares of grass hay for our horses from a new supplier. They shared a lot of horror stories about how business has been for them so far this year.
They describe battling both the weather and difficult “clients.” Cyndie and I did our best to not find ourselves being labeled as difficult. It isn’t that hard since Cyndie gifted them some lemonade cake right as they arrived.
Food is one of the big ways she shows her love. Last night while dinner was heating, she baked a peach tart that became a peach crisp with the sweet crumble topping she ended up adding.
I definitely feel loved.
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Vacation Mode
A few days into our stay at the lake we are beginning to get the hang of not stepping out first thing every morning to tend to our animals. Thanks to our friends, Pam and John, we lounge around like a couple of retirees at the lake while they are taking care of life on the ranch. Yesterday, I responded to an innocent query about tricks for cleaning up under the overhang at mealtimes. It’s almost embarrassing, the amount of detail I can provide to describe my technique as an Equine Fecal Relocation Engineer.
Alas, I get to focus my attention on all the excitement happening in Europe. Between the Tour de France cycling and the Euro 2024 football/soccer tourney, I can almost fill an entire day entranced by spectator sports. Luckily, I stepped out for a breath of fresh air after England’s overtime victory and got invited to join in another pickleball game. That gave me an excuse to miss the Spain v. Georgia match and got me off the couch before the day disappeared into night.
I only had enough shoe left to complete two games before needing to retire. The surface of our old tennis court is pretty rough and my shoes might be as old as the court. These Adidas have served me well for decades, so they don’t owe me any money. After many, many games of futsal on the basketball floor at the health club, I retired these shoes to the lake place for any pickup soccer games or activity on the tennis court.
Yesterday, they suffered a fatal flaw that even my duct tape patch technique that covered the toe won’t fix.
Game over.
Time to switch to the next oldest pair stashed up here for just this situation. You can never have enough old shoes stowed away as backups at the lake. It’s where I keep shoes that are past their “best if used by” date but not yet tattered enough to trash.
The left shoe shown in the photo above has now officially earned its credentials for being tossed in the trash. The right shoe may still qualify to be kept in storage for emergencies in case the next failure happens on the other foot.
It feels like we are on vacation when this is the only level of concern demanding my attention in a day.
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Getting Coffee
We are not comedians and are not in cars but I’d like to pretend you and I are out together for coffee just like Jerry and his guests on his internet series, “Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee.” I’ve been binging the series lately and it’s got me missing the days of idle banter with my various accomplices in the fine art of waxing lyrical about all manner of minutiae.
I would describe the futility of cleaning hay bale shrapnel out of winter boots.
When a new pair of boots I ordered arrived recently, I struggled to decide what to do with the old pair. They had been repaired once, but now the rubber base was cracked and ripping away from the upper leather. Feeling they were beyond repair, Cyndie advised me to throw them in the trash.
The laces were worth saving, so I pulled them out. That helped me to notice the leather was in really good shape and could be used for some future project, I was sure. I decided to cut the threads holding the leather to the rubber.
That is when I discovered how much of the nooks and crannies were filled with hay remnants. That new consciousness led me to try to empty my new boots yesterday after hauling nine bales from the hay shed over to the barn.
After dumping all the hay out of one of the new boots, I took a picture to convey the futility of trying to get it all.
A while back, I wrote about how the horses, Swings and Light, drool food over each other’s heads when they eat close beside each other. Yesterday afternoon, Asher and I showed up at the barn after Cyndie had finished serving up the feed.
Cyndie described the challenge of getting the filled buckets clipped to hang as quickly as the horses preferred. She decided to let Swings have a first and then she bent over to hook the handle of the bucket. Do you see where this is headed?
She said, “Now I have a bunch of slobbered feed pellets down my neck.”
While Asher and I were making our way along the north loop trail I was impressed by the power of the low-angled winter sunshine to melt snow despite our daytime temperature remaining below freezing all day.
Is it obvious which direction is south? In the picture, Asher is facing the direction of the setting sun. It never gets high enough to shine on the whole path, but the areas that receive direct sunlight are completely clear of snow.
Based on the present weather forecast, the rest of the snow doesn’t stand much chance, even in the shade. Temperatures will rise well above freezing for the next few days.
By the way, I don’t drink coffee. Make mine a chai latte and bring on the humorous back-and-forth wisecracking about our perceptions of this crazy world in which we live.
Say goodbye, John.
“See ya later, gator!”
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Spring Projects
We are certainly giving a lot of attention to our labyrinth to have it ready for visitors on May 6th, but several other projects need timely attention. Spring growth does not wait for any of us. Raspberry canes are sprouting new leaf buds already. The red raspberry patch at the bottom of our backyard hill was munched by deer last year so Cyndie wanted to take a stab at protecting the plants in advance this year.
We wrapped up the patch after we finished installing the water pump in our landscape pond beside the back deck.
If you look closely at that image, the fenced raspberry patch is visible in the background. I made myself embarrassingly proud over a little trick I devised to successfully close the filter box for the pond pump so it was leak-tight on the very first try. The groove for the rubber gasket that seals the container is not deep enough to hold the gasket in place. The gasket needs to be stretched to fit. It’s a recipe for endless frustration. I know from experience.
Every year I have tried different techniques to get the cover on in a way that will slide the last portion of the gasket into the groove for the clamp to fit. If I’m off even an imperceptible amount: water leaks. Some years I get lucky and get it in two tries. In a bad year, maybe five tries. This year, I cut a six-inch piece of a few strands of polypropylene bale twine and wrapped it around the gasket. With the cover on and most of the gasket seated, I slide the strands of twine along, pulling the last portion of the gasket into the groove.
The cover dropped flush against the base and we tightened up the clamp. First-time success. I should have thought of this trick a long time ago. I asked Cyndie where I should store the precious bit of twine strands so that we could find them again next year. We both quickly agreed that I could toss them and simply cut new strands next time they are needed. Another good use for old bale twine.
Another thing we have been reusing over and over around our property is the webbed fence material that has at times been used to keep domestic animals contained and other times to keep wild animals out. The raspberry patch wasn’t the only spot we finished yesterday. Cyndie’s ever-expanding strawberry garden received a new border fence for a start.
When the fruit begins to appear, she will take the barrier to another level, seeking to slow down the always-interested squirrels and birds with a netting drape over the top.
I was asked to use the power trimmer to clear growth in the area of Cyndie’s vegetable garden. That little Stihl small gas engine fired up on my first try. Then it was down to the labyrinth to rake and spread wood chips.
We are full-on in spring projects mode and the progress thus far feels very rewarding. Almost as if we are actually keeping up with growing things.
As if.
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Relative Something 