Posts Tagged ‘risk’
Calamities Dodged
Sometimes, I feel as though the horses must think we make the silliest decisions. I have no idea how much sense they have about approaching weather systems. We are greatly influenced by forecasts from meteorologists. When the weather service issues a winter weather advisory, we consider how it will affect the horses.
Monday afternoon, we put their rain covers on due to the likelihood of a rain/sleet/snow mixture falling overnight into Tuesday morning. It held off just to our south overnight, but sleet finally started falling just as we were feeding them yesterday morning.
Invasive Garlic Mustard is easy to spot in November.
It was hard to tell whether they appreciated the extra protection or not. Now the extended forecast is showing highs for the week in the mid-to-upper 40s(F) with mostly sunny skies. When it dried up by late afternoon yesterday, I decided to remove their rain sheets.
Cyndie was in the Cities overnight with friends, so I was on my own with the horses. Mix was first and seemed very eager to have the shell removed. Mia came up as soon as she saw what was happening, so I offered to help her out of her cover next. She was fine with me undoing the clips in front and stood mostly still while I disconnected the two straps around her belly. Then, she decided to bolt before I could unclip the small strap on the back.
With the blanket open at the front, it blew into the air as she took off, and Mia just stepped her back legs free of the rest of it as she ran. I walked down the slope to pick the sheet up off the dusty ground, trying to act like it was the normal procedure.
“Nothing to see here. Carry on.”
Mia’s little burst of energy got Swings and Light to come up to get in on the action. I unclipped the front of Light’s raincoat and one of the two belly straps before she decided to copy Mia and suddenly took off running, kicking her way out of the rest of the still-clipped straps.
“Really?”
Thankfully, Swings, the oldest and calmest of the four, stood in place while I wrangled the clips apart and slid the cover completely off her back. As a group, they seemed like they were of a mind that they didn’t need the extra protection we went through the trouble of providing.
We prefer taking precautions, in contrast to waiting to try and help them after they get wet and cold if conditions turn sour.
So, we dodged a few potential calamities this time, as Light kicked dangerously while Cyndie was in the vicinity, situating the back of Light’s cover, and the two horses bolted with straps still attached while I was in the process of removing them.
It serves as a fresh reminder to keep alert to risks every time we are interacting with these huge and sometimes unpredictable beauties.
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Risking It
Why did we take the risk of leaving the canopy up in the high winds of the last two days? Multiple things contributed to that decision. Admittedly, the shade sail manufacturers all caution that their sails should be taken down in high wind or heavy snow conditions, so that seems like a logical and prudent thing to do.
One problem I have with that philosophy is determining what the measure of wind is that would trigger bringing down the sail. If I wanted to get precise about it, I could mount a wind speed gauge on one of the posts and have it trigger an alert at some safe level that would give me time to get down to the paddocks. One obvious shortfall is that I would need to be home to do something about it at the time.
I have been swayed away from being that obsessive about it by hearing from other people who have shade sails and paying attention to sails that exist in commercial settings. Our farrier told us she NEVER takes her shade sail down. In winter, she just knocks the accumulated snow off it to keep it from getting stretched out. Of course, if I choose to go that route, I would need to be home during snow events.
Yesterday’s high wind gusts seemed like a chance to watch for possible weaknesses in our post installation. I stood beneath the canopy as it was being buffeted up and down, and could hear where the braces creaked against the pressure. I’m very pleased to find that there was no indication of movement at the ground level of each post where the soil had been packed against the wood.
Having survived the gusts yesterday, I’m less worried about winds on an average day. One factor that’s harder to pin down is how much of a difference the stresses might be depending on which direction the wind is coming from. That spot is somewhat tucked away from direct exposure in every direction, so high wind at the house doesn’t necessarily translate to high wind below the barn.
After a few days of walking around the property and getting a variety of views of the structure we erected, I will be talking with Justin about making some minor adjustments to the geometry. He did all the calculating to determine our heights and take into account the slight slope that puts things at different levels. I want to discuss deviating from the calculated level a little bit to compensate for the visual appearance to the naked eye, with the ground as reference.
We are particularly thrilled with the lack of any negative reaction from the horses to this flapping new distraction in their midst.
It’s a risk, but we will never know what the limits truly are until we pass them. If a tornado strikes, we will lose a lot more than this canopy. Short of facing that level of calamity, I’m comfortable waiting to see how the whole setup withstands the usual variety of weather conditions we experience.
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No Fix
It’s official. The splice in the power wire to the barn was not the point of failure. Where does that leave things? Right where I didn’t want them. The electricians were unable to tell me where the break in the buried wire might be occurring.
For the time being, I have chosen to continue to rely on one “hot” line providing 120VAC to all the circuits in the barn. That is the way we have been operating since the problem initially occurred in January, and it has proved to be sufficient.
Since we haven’t been able to come up with an explanation for the failure of the one line, I’m concerned about the potential risk of the other line suffering the same fate, which would leave us with no power at all in the barn. The guys said they see this kind of thing with a surprising regularity.
Apparently, there is a lot more going on underground than I realized. The causes they’ve seen include tree roots, burrowing critters, and rocks pushing their way into the wires.
My plan, at this point, is to live with the risk. If the remaining power line suddenly fails, we will run an above-ground extension cord until we can get scheduled to have new wires bored beneath the driveway. I asked for a quote for the expense of this work and learned that although it wouldn’t be cheap, it would be less than I anticipated.
We will be saving up for that eventuality. Hopefully, we’ll have years to tuck away the funds.
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Failure Averse
It was a radio exposé about a successful yogurt entreprise. I wasn’t really listening to it, but the interview droned on and on as I wandered around the house doing a variety of other things. I noticed the initial comments about how difficult the early days of the business were and figured it was just a typical worst-to-first tale that one would expect to hear on the radio or television.
When I came by the kitchen again later, I was surprised they were even still talking to this same guy, but then I realized they were still drilling through the worst years before the big victory in the end. Not having listened closely, I didn’t grasp how he was even still in business at that point where he was describing the level of debt that had amassed and scope of his scrounging for cash to get by each successive day.
That’s when it struck me. When Cyndie and I dipped our toes in the world of starting a business venture, we weren’t willing to go into debt to see if it was possible to eventually come up with a financially sustainable operation in the end.
It seems that most stories of wild success include a fair amount of previous failures that came first. I expect there are more tales of failure in the world than there are ultimate successes, but it occurred to me that energy spent avoiding failure probably inhibits overall outcomes.
Obviously, it doesn’t make sense that one should then plan to fail, but I think it does point to the importance of willingness to dance with increasing levels of risk and endure the challenges associated with it, long enough to eventually reach the dreams envisioned.
In our case, neither of us are comfortable with shaky finances. We signed documents of commitment to pay our mortgage every month, and we hold it a priority to be able to do that.
We have accomplished that financial stability throughout our lives thus far, but with that as our primary priority, there wasn’t much additional risk-space available for two non-celebrities launching a new-age horse assisted health and wellness learning venture an hour out of town to have much of a chance.
Honestly, I don’t know how people like the yogurt guy on the radio pull off their rags to riches accomplishments, but I’m glad they do. I’m too failure averse.
I wish I would have listened close enough to find out the name of his company. I’d like to go buy some of his yogurt as a hat-tip to his feat.
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Duly Moved
Last night I watched the award-winning documentary, “Free Solo“ about Alex Honnold’s epic climb of El Capitan in Yosemite National Park. What a masterpiece of a film! I highly recommend it. I was duly moved by the intimate glimpse into Alex’s life, and the inclusion of the emotional challenges of those around him coping with the immensity of the monumental risk he was facing in his quest to climb that granite monolith without ropes.
Alex points out that any of us could die at any moment, whether doing something risky, or not. I tend to avoid things with a high risk of death whenever possible, but it is true that my life could end at any time. One way I interpret his thinking is to frame myself as “free soloing” all the time.
It made my walk with Delilah a little more exciting than normal after the movie.
She suffered a bit of a panic inside her overnight safe-space crate yesterday morning when a rowdy thunderstorm rumbled over top of us at oh-dark-thirty. I didn’t have much success trying to assure her we weren’t in jeopardy as I prepared to leave for work, which made it rather stressful for me to walk out the door and leave her alone until Maddie was due to show up an hour or two later.
I soothed myself by considering how she would greet me when I got home at the end of the day, as if clueless that anything out of the ordinary had happened earlier, which turned out to be true. She did.
We then made the rounds on the property, hiking the perimeter trails and surveying the results of the wild weather. There were 2.5 inches of rain in the gauge and the ground is fully saturated, but no new-fallen trees or limbs, thank goodness. That much rain, or more, is expected to fall before this weather event is done and gone.
We will carry on and survive to the best of our ability, even though I now have this new sense that I am doing it all without the benefit of any ropes.
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Relative Something 