Posts Tagged ‘summer’
Winter Indeed
I thought it was going to stop snowing early in the day, based on the way the radar looked in the morning, but the flakes just kept falling the whole time I was out shoveling and plowing yesterday. That really messes with my perfectionism for having a clean driveway and walkways.
It is fascinating to me how dramatically life changes between summer and winter. In summer, I get to walk out the door without a thought. Now I pause at the front door for 5 minutes and put on several additional layers of clothes, boots, hat & mittens. It’s the way of winter.
It has been a long time since I plowed snow with the Grizzly, but in minutes I was back in the routine. Down with the blade, forward gear. Up with the blade, reverse. Back and forth, to and fro. Snow flowing off the blade, off the driveway, and into the ditch.
Summer is a distant memory. I am now fully in winter mode and it feels totally normal to be so. The repetitive motion of shoveling and plowing becomes something of a meditation for me. Meditation with grunting and sweating, that is.
I suppose it’s not much different from mowing the grass in summer.
They just seem worlds apart to me.
I noticed yesterday how my mindset changes dramatically with the seasons, in terms of what is most important. In the spring and summer I work diligently to rake out the gravel from the grass beside the driveway. As I plowed the snow off the gravel driveway yesterday, I had no problem shifting the priority to removing the snow without worrying about pushing gravel up onto the grass.
What matters in this moment isn’t always the same as what matters in another.
Today, snow and cold are the prominent attention grabbers. Winter, indeed.
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Leisure Happens
I may describe most of our activities as exclusively focused on one project or another around here, but our days are not entirely void of occasional leisurely pursuits.
From the driver’s seat of my car as I approached the house yesterday after work, I noticed instantly that Cyndie had put up one of our hammocks. I wondered if I had failed to pay attention to her plans to host visitors. Why else would she be putting out our “accessories?”
Inside, I spotted a string of horse-shaped lights she had hung across the mantel over the fireplace, and figured something must definitely be up.
She came in from the barn and said that it was such a nice day with a wonderful summery wind blowing, she put up the hammock for us to lounge and enjoy. It was for us to use! Imagine that.
I asked about the string of horses on the mantel. She told me those had been up since her workshop two weeks ago.
Color me oblivious.
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Same Change
Things are constantly changing, but what strikes me about the feeling I get in the month of August is how familiar it is. The transition from summer to autumn is always bittersweet for me. Fall is my favorite time of year. It is one of the reasons Cyndie and I chose September for our wedding. But who wants summer to end?
It is the same change every year. In what seems like a blink of days, I find myself in darkness as I leave the house for work in the morning. The days are getting shorter. “Sweet corn ahead” signs dot the scenery of my commute, as roadside stands sprout up every other mile.
County fairs wind down as the big state fair hype revs up. The word “school” pops up with uncomfortable frequency.
Hot humid days lead to thick foggy mornings.
I love it, and I hate it. I appreciate the change, but I don’t want it to happen. I want fall to arrive, but I don’t want summer to end.
The familiar feeling of this change is the same every year. Is it possible to adjust my perception, to settle so completely into the moment that all these recognizable indicators of change don’t come across as such?
It’s just the 19th day of August. It is now. Today.
With a very familiar feeling.
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Springing Along
The season of spring is springing along nicely at Wintervale. The leaves have started making an appearance on a variety of shrubs and saplings. The raspberry bushes in particular have shown dramatic development in the last few days. It is hard to tell whether the recent rains triggered this, or it was just coincidental timing, and would have happened at this time, anyway.
It amazes me how quickly the initial sprouts of foliage obscure the view into our woods. Very soon, there will be so many green leaves, we won’t be able to see more than the outer surfaces.
I’m wishing I could remember this moment long-term in order to hold it as a reference for comparison with the other extremes of the stark bare branches of winter and the view-obscuring green leaves of summer. Every season seems to last just long enough that I mentally fall into a trap of perceiving views as if a present state is the only way it could ever be.
When the forest is fully leafed out, I find it hard to comprehend that just months earlier, it was the complete opposite.
Though most areas of our yard have yet to be mowed, I already needed to cut one section a second time.
I sense that summer is just a short blink away from replacing spring, and the expanding leaves on trees and bushes will be leading the charge in the days ahead.
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Cyndie’s View
Yesterday was described by my favorite weather blog as, “July-tober,” for the summer-like temperatures expected. It was a pretty good description, because temperatures made it into the 80s and colors are reaching peak. It was a perfect merging of summer and fall.
During the day, I took on the very July-like activity of mowing the lawn, and Cyndie set off on the very October-like activity of enjoying the fall colors on a walk with her camera. She generously offered her photos to me for the choosing.
Here is the batch I selected from the almost 200 images she captured during the course of the day…
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Gorgeous Here
It is absolutely gorgeous here right now. Among the reasons we chose September for our wedding, the biggest one for me is, it is my favorite time of year. The humid heat of summer is breaking, and the air is crisp, with cool nights and warm days. When the sky is clear, the blueness is exquisite and it’s no longer so necessary to avoid the toasty sunshine. In fact, it practically begs a person to pause and soak it all in.
The challenge is, there is barely a moment for pause. The daylight grows short and preparation for winter weather requires new projects be added to the list of others already underway or planned. This year, I am feeling as though the growing grass didn’t get the memo about the arrival of September.
It is hard to get ready for winter when summer won’t back off and make room for fall.
I spent most of the afternoon mowing lawn yesterday, after filling that dang right front tire on the tractor with a green slime leak sealant.
Today I face the need to work the power trimmer to knock down the robust growth along edges and fence lines. It’s a chore that resonates of mid-summer responsibilities, with one improvement:
That crisp and gorgeous September air doesn’t cause it to be such a sweaty, sticky job.
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Double Double
I am doing double, double-duty this week: at home, I am covering for Cyndie while she is visiting the west coast with friends, and at the day-job, I am filling in for a vacationing employee. What an unfortunate coincidental timing for these two situations to occur.
I am taxed with not being able to leave home before rush-hour traffic builds, because I need to tend to our daily morning animal-care routine first, while at the same time, I have twice the work facing me at the day-job, which realistically requires I spend extra time there. Not gonna happen. I need to get home early to rescue Delilah from the confines of her outdoor kennel and then feed the horses their afternoon nutrition.
Somethings gotta give, and I’m afraid it’s going to be service to our customers for a few days. Maybe they won’t notice.
At home, I fear the never-ending grass growth is likely to be my ongoing nemesis. It needs mowing again already! I didn’t have time yesterday after work. Between needing to give Delilah a healthy amount of attention and cleaning up a day’s worth of manure, the ever-shorter evening daylight hours were easily consumed.
Now that I am checking the temperature of the composting manure pile every day, I am finding that I need to turn it over with the pitch fork much more often that I had been doing.
I took a picture of the thermometer displaying that it was over 160° (F) again, after I had just mixed it around on Sunday. What a fascinating phenomenon that heat generation is.
Speaking of heat, we are enjoying a spectacular rendition of warm September days this week. Yesterday felt like warmth of a summer day, but there is no mistaking the subtle clues that frame it as autumnal.
I expect that the changing angle of the sun contributes greatly, but the actuality of that is not entirely obvious. Around our place, we’ve already got enough crunchy leaves over our trails that they are contributing a distinct fall-like aroma to go along with the auditory serenade that happens beneath footsteps.
We are in a period of high winds, as well, and something about the way the rushing warm air felt on my skin last night gave me a feeling that this is something special to be appreciated. It was hot, without being hot. Seriously. That may not make sense to you, but it explains the impression that warm September air can produce.
I am challenged with needing to luxuriate in this brilliantly spectacular weather for more than just myself, but for Cyndie, too, since I’m absorbing her share of bliss while she’s gone. It’s the least I could do.
It wouldn’t make much sense to only take on the burdens her absence presents, would it?
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Dinner Outside
I was stuck at the day-job yesterday on a rare Friday and this morning I find myself there again, on an even rarer Saturday. My heavy work schedule hasn’t stopped us from having a rich life at home, however. On the laborious commute home yesterday through heavy traffic that was probably a function of it being the start of our Labor Day holiday weekend, I received a call from Cyndie’s brother, Ben. He was driving a van with 4 kids, headed for the lake and already interested in a break from the stop-and-go routine on the highway.
He selected a re-route that took him close enough to our place for a brief visit. By now, those of you reading probably know that having visitors is one of our favorite things. This was a wonderful unexpected delight. Especially as it fit perfectly prior to an outing we had planned with our friends, Barb and Mike.
About an hour after Ben succeeded in herding his kids back into the van for the remainder of their trek to the lake, Barb and Mike arrived in their Prowler convertible for a picturesque drive to the Rush River valley for dinner at the open air pavilion of Vino in the Valley restaurant.
It was Cyndie’s and my third visit for a meal at Vino in the Valley, and this time we enjoyed the full experience of dining later into the evening. While seated at the 4-sided bar gazebo, we got to chat with owner Larry Brenner, who later, led a couple of sing-alongs and provided shout-outs to birthday and anniversary celebrants.
Custom concrete starlit bar surface!
My beverage of choice on the bar.
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The summer evening was divine, despite the barely comfortable dew point temperature, the live music was very good, the more than reasonably priced food was delicious and portions extensive. I found myself wondering aloud about how rich it all made me feel.
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Autumn Hint
I could have comfortably worn a long sleeve shirt yesterday, but I chose to stay with a more summer-like exposed arms ensemble in denial of the possibility summer might be coming to an end soon. With our dew point temperature down in the ever-so comfortable sub-50° range with an October-like sky, it felt like the kind of day we should have a fire in the fireplace.
Two weeks ago we were celebrating summer with our gala bash of picnic food and live music on the deck. What a difference between then and now.
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The horses seem to appreciate the fact that a breezy and cool cloudy day helps minimize the relentless harassment from flies. Cyndie caught Legacy and Cayenne in a brief nuzzle, probably because the flies weren’t covering their faces, while Dezirea stares the camera down as if disapproving of the violation of her friends’ privacy.
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Perfect Day
I’m going to assume that you all guessed we are up at our lake place. We were able to secure coverage in caring for our home and animals for a few days, so we scampered up to our favorite getaway to spend the weekend with Cyndie’s parents and some of her brother’s family, in addition to the many other wonderful members and friends of our unique community up here.
We enjoyed an absolutely perfect summer day yesterday. Spent the majority of it on the beach of our lake, with friends and family, plenty of rambunctious kids frolicking on floating devices in the water, warm sunshine, gentle breezes, and an opportunity for a nap on a lounge chair during a lull in the activity.
The lake temperature was ideal for summer refreshment, without being too cold to get used to easily. I flirted with getting too much sun, choosing to forgo the sensible solution of applying sun screen, by limiting my time of exposure out in the water. I was able to enjoy the day without feeling greasy, but probably put myself at a bit of a risk. I could feel it on my skin last night, but it was short of actually being painful.
I put in a fair amount of effort to not perseverate over the work that was not getting done at home, but found myself unable to avoid fretting over the need to get home early today to mow the grass. I will be up against the challenge of somehow getting the job done in the short time left in the day after we arrive home, and despite a threat of likely showers and thunderstorms.
Time runs out when evening comes, because I have to return to work tomorrow.
It’s a problem that I am willing to accept, given the pleasure we enjoyed in being up at the lake for a couple of perfect days at the beach.
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Relative Something 