Posts Tagged ‘Wintervale Ranch’
Many Snows
It is said that there are many words for snow in the Inuit languages. I think we currently have snow that could be described by most of them.
It is below zero in our spot of the world this morning. Depending on the source of the data, anywhere from -15 to -5° (F). My Weatherbug app is indicating -15° at the Ellsworth Middle School, while the Weather Channel online site shows Beldenville at -8°. The thermometer that is attached to the outside of our bathroom window shows a relative balmy -5°.
The key ingredient with all of those readings is that we are enjoying an absolutely calm air at the moment. With no wind-chill to factor in, personal radiated warmth allows easy tolerance of these cold temperatures.
One of the English words for our snow this morning is “squeaky.” There will be no sneaking up on anyone outdoors today. I will admit to an intention to stay indoors for the most part, to watch a television broadcast of the Minnesota Vikings NFL team engage in a battle against a foe from Seattle in the opening round of playoffs. Skol, Vikings!
The snowfall we enjoyed last week, transformed our paltry winter landscape into a place of dreams. It made a mess of my commute and forced me to get the plow reattached to the ATV, but days like these are when Wintervale Ranch lives up to the name.
I asked Cyndie to take pictures for me.
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The temperatures were so warm when the precipitation started to fall, the ground was melting snow from beneath. Yesterday, despite the cold air that had arrived, my shoveling of areas covered by the full blanket of new snow revealed, to my surprise, ground that was still wet.
We have a wide combination of light powder snow on top, wind-blown drifting snow in places, icy snow that was wet and is now frozen, crusty snow that formed a layer between precipitation events, solid blocks created by plowing, roughly packed snow where footsteps disturbed the first layers, and this morning, squeaky snow.
It is absolutely beautiful.
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Four Tattletales
Our lovely dog, Delilah, took advantage of Cyndie’s decision to allow some time off leash in the afternoon yesterday, while she shoveled away the accumulation of Wednesday night’s snow. After a couple of successes, in which Delilah returned to Cyndie when called, there came the great escape once again.
Out of sight in a blink.
Cyndie hollered and whistled for Delilah. She walked through the barn and found the horses in the paddock, looking at her while she made the ruckus. They’d witnessed this routine enough times before that they knew what was going on. Cyndie decided to drive the roads in search of our wandering canine. She hiked up to the house to get the truck keys, but was stymied by a dead battery.
That’s an ongoing occasional drama for another time.
She went back up to the house to get her car to widen her search. Down the road, when she spotted a flock of turkeys luxuriating in a field, she knew she was in the wrong spot. No dog in that vicinity.
As she returned to our place and pulled into the driveway, she spotted all four horses, now in the hay-field, lined up and facing one specific direction. They didn’t even turn to look at her, as is their usual behavior, but rather, maintained their intense stare in that single direction. They were clearly signaling a message for Cyndie, compelling her to look at what they were seeing. She turned her head to follow their gaze and immediately spotted the bright orange flash of Delilah’s vest across the street, in the neighbor’s field, past the snowmobile trail leading into the woods.
Cyndie described how it was the distinct posture of each of the horses which made the message so clear. They were not lolling around aimlessly, or relaxed in the stance of a nap, but instead were straight and tall, flexed as if on a specific mission. She would totally have missed that Delilah was in that direction, had it not been for their help.
The horses had totally ratted out our dog on the lam.
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Truly Best
Our Christmas celebrations this year have provided a wonderful addition to years of fabulous Christmases with Cyndie’s family. Now that we live in Wisconsin, the routine for us has settled into a pattern of driving back and forth to Edina on Christmas eve, and then two more times on Christmas day. This allows us to participate in spectacular meals, and all that comes with them, as well as tend to the care of Delilah and our horses back home.
I’m used to driving that route, so it doesn’t bother me. The trouble comes in accounting for that extra hour that always separates us from our intended destination. It becomes a struggle to get out of the house on time to arrive at the celebration by the appointed hour.
Then we need to watch the clock while enjoying the time of our lives so that we don’t end up forcing our dog to wait too long without us at home. Sure wish we could just ask Scotty to beam us home. We always want to stay longer at the social gathering, but without it resulting in such a late return to our home an hour away.
I enjoyed two particular “bests” yesterday that deserve specific mention. Cyndie’s mother, Marie, is a master hostess who prepares world-class meals for large numbers of guests. The traditional family dinner of beef tenderloin on Christmas day is one of my favorites. It is magical, because no matter what variations may occur every year, it is always the best meal I have ever had.
This year, it was even better than that.
Honestly, I struggle to justify enjoying such gastronomical pleasure. The dessert which followed the best-dinner-ever included a cranberry cake with a caramel sauce topping that always tastes so amazing, it should be recognized as a dangerous weapon and require a license to prepare.
I received some very nice gifts from very generous people this Christmas, but there is one that immediately claimed my heart as the best possible thing I opened. We draw names for a gift exchange in Cyndie’s family, and this year, my fellow in-law, Sara, wife of Cyndie’s brother, Ben, picked my name out of the hat.
She nailed the precise art of matching a gift to the recipient, and steeped it in her own joy while creating it. Sara made a wood-burned image of our Wintervale logo on a beautiful pine board. I find it absolutely beautiful to look at. It smells good, too!
It is the best gift.
I just want to look at it again and again. It is one of a kind, made by Sara’s hands, and intended specifically for me. What a precious thing.
I had a very merry Christmas.
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White Flakes
Ladies and gentlemen, let the record state, we have snow. Ready, or not, the white flakes of winter have made their first appearance here. You can hardly see them in the image, but I had to take the picture anyway. It’s the official portrait recording proof of the occasion.
Maybe if you squint a little bit and shake your head back and forth while looking at it.
Not really. I just wanted to see if I could get you to do that.
I came home from work with the full intention of building the last of four slow-feeder hay boxes for the stalls in the barn, for Legacy’s “apartment,” but the weather had degraded early enough that Cyndie moved the herd indoors before I even arrived. He’ll eat his hay out of an open tub for the time being.
I got the night off, which was quite all right with me. I wasn’t that interested in venturing out into the cold and wet blowing mess, preferring instead, to climb under a blanket and take in one of the rented movies that came in the mail.
We had a good laugh over “Life of Crime,” with Mos Def and John Hawkes, among other notable names in the cast. It was a fun distraction from anything that matters, like …the cost increases for medical insurance, or when the chimney repair company will be able to fix it so we can burn fires in the fireplace again.
When the movie was over, we put on outdoor gear that hasn’t been worn for over half a year and went down to the barn to check on the tenants. My headlamp revealed some snow was finding a way to accumulate on the leaves and grass. The horses seemed happy to be out of the elements and a lot closer to dry than they were when they came in, hours before.
I was able to watch the three chestnuts navigating the new hay boxes, while Cyndie worked around them to clean their bedroom floors. It’s nice to see them be able to eat with their heads down, in the natural position of grazing, as opposed to the old system that involved racks that held the hay up high.
I dumped the wheelbarrow of manure and wood shavings, with the thought that this was the beginning of the season where we collect significantly greater volumes to be composted. After just a few loads already this season, the space set aside for this purpose looks like it will never be enough for the whole winter. That is, unless they don’t need to come inside overnight very many times.
I’m thinking El Niño may help keep the horses outside a lot this winter. If that happens, we have plenty of compost space to support our operation for another year.
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Looking Back
Last week we reached the milestone of the 3rd anniversary of making Wintervale Ranch our home. Lately, Cyndie and I have found ourselves randomly recollecting some of the early days here and marveling over the variety of things that have since changed.
It feels a little —what is it? Presumptuous? Gratuitous?— somehow inappropriate for me to request, but I urge you to sneak a peek at one or two posts from the Relative Something archive (Previous Somethings) for the month of October 2012. There are too many gems depicting our arrival for me to do justice to them by trying to produce links, or re-posting to bring them forward to current posts this week.
Barely a month after we finally closed on the purchase of this place, we adopted the cats, Pequenita and Mozyr. After about a year, we came to the realization that Mozyr was not happy with his situation, and we returned him to the shelter, but Pequenita has proved to be compatible with the random chaos that arises here from time to time.
In July of 2013 we added 10-month-old Belgian Tervuren Shepherd, Delilah, to our family, purchased from a breeder nearby. From that day on we have tended to find ourselves in a battle between her training us and us training her. It’s fair to say there have been a smattering of victories on both sides.
Just short of 3-months after Delilah joined us, in the last week of September in 2013, our horses arrived. That was a monumental occasion for us, and came after an intense effort over the previous 11-months to be appropriately prepared.
We removed rusted barbed wire, installed new fencing, built up protective cover on barn walls (previous owners had miniature horses), buried a water line to an on-demand waterer in their paddock, and built a hay shed, along with a variety of lesser noteworthy projects.
I knew so very little about horses at that time. They have taught me a lot in the ensuing years, and come to mean the world to me. Just standing among them, passing time, has become one of my favorite things to do.
I have built a wood shed, twice. After it blew down in a storm, our friends Barb and Mike Wilkus came by and helped me to put it up a second time. Any time we weren’t working on something else, we were creating the spectacular 70-foot “Rowcliffe Forest Garden Labyrinth.”
Speaking of storms, we have endured a variety of dramatic winter weather events. Two of them particularly stand out for me.
The first one involved 18-inches of heavy wet snow in early May and snapped a lot of tree branches. Two pine trees that tipped over during that storm eventually died, even though I tried standing them back up and staking them.
The second snow storm blew for days and eventually filled the space between the 4-foot banks on either side of the driveway. It took me two days to dig us out, even with the assistance from both of our closest neighbors. What did I learn from that storm? The neighbor to our south told me he had plowed his driveway twice during the storm, so it never got to the extreme that ours did.
Lesson learned.
An awful lot has changed in the last three years. It is hard for me to imagine what might be different, three years from now, but I expect the changes won’t be near as dramatic as what transpired when we first arrived and worked to establish the infrastructure to support having 4 horses and fulfilling a dream of creating our Wintervale Ranch & Retreat Center.
What fun it is to look back once in a while.
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Never Sure
Every time I come upon a view of our horses and find one or more of them lying completely flat on the ground, there is a moment of apprehension. I’ve grown accustomed to the sight of them resting off of their feet, but the number of times when they drop the entire body, including their heads, flat to the ground, are few.
Yesterday, I was turning a pile of composting manure and could see them in the distance in the hay-field. One of the chestnuts was sitting on the ground and the other two were busy grazing. Legacy appeared to be on full-time watch.
They were on a ridge of the hay-field, which is not a spot where I usually find them resting, although it is a place where they have a good perspective to see in all directions, without obstruction. More often, when I find them lying down it will be inside the additional fence that defines the arena, or in a lower spot where they are less visible to passersby.
The next time I looked up from what I was doing, I found the horse that had been on the ground had risen to his or her feet and Legacy was the one lying down, …all the way down. He was so flat, I wondered if he was still alive.
It is jarring when they lay so flat. There would be no difference in position if they were dead.
Being unsure, I watched the scene for a while to get a read from the other horses. When I moved to get in position to take a picture, Dezirea honed in on me and stared. She was definitely on watch duty.
After about 5 minutes, Legacy picked up his head and dispatched my apprehension. He sat upright for a bit before eventually getting back on his feet. He hadn’t napped for very long, but he was all the way out when he did.
Horses really know how to power-nap when conditions allow. Whenever I am fortunate enough to witness it, it brings me joy that our herd demonstrates a feeling of being safe enough to get the sleep they need, even though I go through that initial phase of not being sure about the dramatic scene.
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Well Supervised
When the rain finally moved beyond our location yesterday, I headed out with the intention of spreading the rest of our composted manure.
Since the horses were in their stalls overnight Friday, we now have several wheelbarrows-full of soiled wood shavings to be removed, and need to have the space to dump them.
Cyndie needed to make a run to the drug store, so I took Delilah with me and meandered toward the barn. The piles of compost looked a little wet, so I decided to delay digging into them and turned my attention to the uninvited sprouting trees that show up in the hay-field.
What transpired next is something that I wish could be experienced by everyone who comes to Wintervale to see our horses. Delilah and I entered the paddock through one of the gates, clanking the chain on the metal in the process, which inevitably draws the attention of the herd.
I had no intention of disrupting the herd from whatever was occupying their attention at the time, as I was focused on seeking out the sprouting trees. Delilah and I walked out into the hay-field where I released her to roam and then set about my task.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the horses made their way over, in the process of their grazing. Hunter led the way, eventually becoming the most obvious. It took probably around 15 minutes, maybe more, of me ignoring them while focused on my project, for them to close the distance and make their intention transparent.
They wanted to be with me, to check on what I was doing, to engage with my presence.
It’s an amazing thing to experience. Four horses grazing peacefully, but purposefully in your proximity. Occasionally, one will break from eating and step right up to smell me, share an exchange of breath, and invite me to scratch them.
It is a slow process that happens silently and takes both time, and lack of expectation on my part. That is the primary reason it is so difficult to make happen on demand when visitors stop by. It is a priceless experience.
After I had dispatched all the volunteer sprouts, I turned my attention to spreading the compost. This time I remembered to pause to take pictures of the ATV and tipped trailer ready to go in the field. As soon as I stopped, Legacy stepped up to inspect my activity.
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Name Withheld
Among the many things on the always-growing list of tasks we would like to accomplish, there was one that caught our attention before we even owned the place, during one of our early visits with the sellers. It grabbed my attention immediately when I first laid eyes on the barn. There was a bright green shamrock sign on the wall, and the name “Cleary” on the peak of the roof line.
I was so uninformed about Cleary Buildings that I actually asked the seller if they were Irish, thinking they had put their own name on the barn. He seemed embarrassed for me, as he explained that it wasn’t a name from their family.
Since the shamrock and name were both more prominent than Cyndie and I cared for, it became an early item on our list of things to be fixed. The shamrock was within easy reach on a ladder, and I took that down right away.
The name would have to wait. For three years.
I don’t know why some things take that much longer. For a while, I thought about swapping the end cap with one on the shop garage, since that one is all green. Recently, upon closer inspection, I discovered the roof pitch is different between the two structures and the parts were different sizes.
Plan B was to simply paint over it. When I finally took care of the project, it ended up being only a matter of minutes before it was accomplished, which only served to further confound the question of why it took so long to get it done in the first place.
No disrespect intended to the Cleary company. We are happy with their product. At the same time, we are even more happy to have the first impression of the barn come from the structure, itself, in contrast to the overly prominent company name that used to shout from its peak.
.Of course, we might feel a little different about something on the side of the barn if it happened to be the Wintervale Ranch logo…
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Dreaded Tail
I’m not sure what happened between Monday and Wednesday for our horses, other than an early morning thunderstorm yesterday that provided Hunter and Dezirea with the opportunity to paint themselves from head to toe with lime screenings. Somehow during that time, Hunter apparently had an appointment with a hairdresser who made his tail into a dreadlock.
Seriously, his tail was tangled into such a dreadful (sorry) mess that it had become like a large piece of rope. Cyndie thinks there may have been a burr in the middle that started the process. After that, he must have rubbed back and forth against something until he inexplicably wove the hairs of his tail into one heck of an impressive dreadlock.
We couldn’t have done that to him if we tried. As it was, it took around an hour and a half for Cyndie to brush it all apart. After putting him in a halter and tethering Hunter, I stood at his head and distracted him with treats of food and neck scratches while Cyndie toiled away at the other end.
He was amazingly patient with us for the entire time it took, staying calm about the battle going on at his butt, while Legacy stood close by, begging for treats of his own and occasionally trying to bite Hunter’s hind quarter.
It was interesting to have stationed myself as a captivated observer for the length of time it took, and see the uninterrupted behavior of the horses as evening settled in. After a long time lingering beside Hunter and us, the three other horses took a little foray down to the green grass around the arena space.
We were still working on Hunter when it started to get dark and Legacy trekked back up to check on things. It was cute. When he found everything was under control, he made his way back down to where he could watch Cayenne, who had stayed out to graze.
As we were putting things away after Cyndie finished the bulk of the detangling, Hunter made a point of giving each of us a little kiss of attention, as if to show us he appreciated what we had done for him. He continues to impress us with the incredible maturation he has shown over the last few weeks.
That last gesture of a little kiss was enough to make the long, long session of standing to keep him calm and distracted, much easier to accept. It will help even more if he also successfully avoids creating the same mess in his tail all over again another time.
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Relative Something 