Posts Tagged ‘Wintervale’
Reality Shoes
There is a challenge with being a positive person. It’s called, reality. Reality has two feet. Sometimes two left feet. Reality is the reason for the phrase, “waiting for the other shoe to drop.” The other shoe always does.
Now, if a positive person were somehow able to wield enough favorable influence over outcomes, the dropping of that other shoe of reality might always be a really great thing. In my experience, the world doesn’t work that way, so all an optimist can do is choose a way to find some good in whatever shows up when that other shoe lands.
The battle might be seen as a tug of war between the Pollyanna principle and depressive realism. As a former depressive living ‘in recovery’ —with optimism being my sobriety— I find myself needing to overcome an unconscious tendency to grab hold of gloomy reality when it steps into my life. I will grasp it a bit too tightly, which allows it to lead my astray, pulling me away from the fresh air of the glad game that I have been breathing.
Yesterday, while walking Delilah through the drainage ditch beside our fields, we found the horses grazing up on a high spot, exposed to the wind. It surprised me, because it wasn’t a particularly warm breeze, but there they were. We were moving slowly, as I allowed Delilah to ravenously explore to her heart’s desire. The horses showed interest in our arrival.
As we slowly made our way along the ditch, they followed at an unhurried pace, closing the distance to the fence. It’s not always clear whether one horse in particular is setting their course, or they all share the same interest when they move like this. I wanted to respond to their approach by doing the same, but the electric fence was on, so I didn’t.
Eventually, Delilah and I reached the end of the ditch by the road, where there is a gate. I leaned on the gate and paused. Hunter had traveled the farthest along with us, but it was Cayenne who then approached me at the fence. We shared a magical few minutes of intimacy there, sharing breath and mystical energy.
I don’t know why.
When Cyndie got home, late, after a hard day, at the end of her hard week, I got a dose of reality. I grabbed it tight. It woke me early in the darkness of hours that are best spent sleeping. I followed it as it led me where I know I don’t want to go. Then I thought of that experience with Cayenne.
It was real.
The other stuff, not so much.
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Uncanny Perception
While I was cleaning up a monumental amount of manure in the area nearest the overhang of the barn yesterday, the temperature was so warm that I needed to shed my hat and every layer down to my base shirt, and then considered tossing that, too. It was really nice out. Our barn is positioned perfectly to receive maximum solar energy, and is located in a spot that is usually sheltered from wind. Whenever it is even moderately nice outside, it is always even nicer on the sunny side of that barn.
The horses were grouped downhill from me, inside the back pasture. They looked like they were in a precise formation, lined up facing west and standing still as statues while bathing in the bright sunshine. I think it was nap time.
Next time I looked up from what I was doing, my suspicion was confirmed. It was nap time, and two of them were now laying down. I rolled the wheelbarrow filled with heavy, wet manure and snow through the barn to get out of the paddock and over to the compost area. In that amount of time, a third horse had laid down, leaving Dezirea the lone mare standing.
They looked awesome. I wanted to capture a picture of the scene, but from where I was standing, there were branches and a fence in the way, so I headed back up and through the barn. I kept an eye on them as I stepped out from the overhang and prepared to dig out my camera.
As happens all too often, that’s when the opportunity was lost. Hunter and Legacy picked up their heads and put their front hooves on the ground in the classic prelim to the magnificent effort of getting back on their feet again. Cayenne was right behind them. I immediately noticed that all four of them had reversed focus and were now facing east.
I looked that direction and spotted movement in the trees across the road. A herd of deer was coming our way. I was impressed at having watched the horse’s uncanny perception in action. Long before I was aware, the horses sensed the activity and rose to their feet to see what was coming.
Five deer, followed by three more, crossed the road and bounced through our neighbor’s field, leaping high in artful succession to clear a high-tensile wire fence that I don’t know how they can see. There were some young ones in the group, and it looked like a lesson in ‘follow-me; do what I do.’ From my vantage point, it looked like they had jumped too early, but all eight made their way across without incident. The little ones were pretty cute.
I looked back in the direction they had come from to see if there were any more, or for a possible reason why they were moving in the middle of broad daylight. There was an eagle circling above those woods, but nothing else. The horses had followed the action and were now facing west again, looking toward where the deer had gone.
About the time I was thinking about getting the blankets off the horses, clouds moved in and blocked the sun. Almost immediately I wanted my shirt back on, and shortly thereafter, my hat. What a difference direct sunlight makes. I ended up leaving the blankets on for one more day.
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Horse Sense
I have been reviewing a wonderful book we received as a gift from our friends, the Morales’ in Guatemala, which describes exercises for ground training our horses. It is serving as a good refresher for me about being aware of my movements and demeanor when I am with the horses. I know to do this, but I’ve become complacent about doing so regularly and with conscious intent.
By habit, I still find myself saying that I have no horse experience, but recently Cyndie pointed out that this is no longer accurate. I now have over a year of experience. I tend to overlook that because most of what I have come to know has been gained through simply standing among the herd, feeding them, or cleaning up after them. I have had very little formal training.
So far, my intuition has served me well. The horses came to us already trained and well-mannered, so there wasn’t a need for us to do a lot of work. Primarily, we have endeavored to get them familiar and comfortable here in their new home, and with us as their handlers. My simple routines of caring for the horses seem to be working well for both them and me.
Be aware of your bearing
Your bearing, your overall manner and conduct, is a blend of your attitude and your physical carriage. Your demeanor is what makes you brighten up a room when you walk in or causes people to turn away from you. So it is with horses.
You carry a certain amount and type of light with you wherever you go, and when you approach a horse, that light can be repelling or attracting. Your bearing is the air about you, your outlook, your manner. With it, you might fool some people on occasion, but you never fool a horse.
101 Ground Training Exercises for Every Horse and Handler by Cherry Hill
Our herd leader, Legacy, is the one horse who I have a suspicion is inclined to test my level of knowledge. I don’t think I always catch it, but something told me to assert my authority when he, and eventually the others, would take bites of hay off the bale I was bringing into the paddock in a wheelbarrow.
I started bringing a boundary aid with me and have established that no one gets any bites while it is in my wheelbarrow.
They still tend to test whether that was a temporary rule or not, but it is easy to let them know my policy still stands. They clearly grasp the concept.
Something else about Legacy: he continues to wear his blanket a little askew. I think he knows it bugs me, and he won’t let me fix it. Maybe it’s one small way he can pretend I’m not the boss of him. I’ll give him that one.
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Winter Walk
I haven’t been pulling the camera out very much lately because of the wind chill that will cause your flesh to freeze and shatter like glass in seconds, as the fear-mongering news reports seem to imply. It doesn’t really happen that way, so I risked cold fingers and stopped during a mid-day walk with Delilah a couple of days ago to capture our scene.
It reminded me how much I like having visual records of what I see. I should do this more.
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Sub-Zero Routine
As we stepped out of the barn last night, after our late bed-check of the horses, Cyndie commented about how much she likes that we have been sharing this night trip to the barn. I do, too. Every chore is better when you can split the load.
The past week has produced an uninterrupted string of below-zero temperatures overnight and the forecast indicates this will continue for some time. The cold gets compounded by some very windy periods which have created dangerous wind chills. To be safe, it has become routine to bring the horses inside the barn overnight.
We let them out during the day so they can soak up the sunshine and move around to their hearts content. This also gives me space and time to clean the stalls. At sunset, they come up for their dinner feeding, which is when I have been moving them back inside.
Somewhere around 9 p.m., Cyndie or I take Delilah out for her last walk of the night. Lately, we have both been going, because we also make a special stop at the barn. The horses stay warm by burning calories and need to have enough hay to keep their furnaces fueled, so during this extreme weather we have added a night-time status check.
It feels like such an intrusion to disrupt their quiet dark space at that hour, so I suggested we use our headlamps and leave the overhead lights off for this late-hour visit, to minimize the disturbance. The horses appear to accept this gesture and remain calm and quiet while we go about our business.
Making everything routine helps them to feel comfortable with our presence. With hushed tones we navigate topping off the hay reserves in each stall, each of us grabbing a couple of flakes off a bale and visiting two of the stalls.
Then we turn our attention to their water buckets, adding water as needed and straining out hay debris that they all spill in there. Cayenne is the worst, as she loves to dip her nose in her water when her mouth is full. Her bucket and hay bin become a frozen hay-cicle. Legacy is the neat-nick who barely drops a few stray strands of hay in his.
As quiet as possible, Cyndie slides the stall doors open and steps in to strain out the soggy hay while I fill a spare bucket with water from the frost-proof hydrant. We do a little hand-off of strainer and bucket through the door and she pours it in.
In a way, it is a lot of rigmarole but the horses understand the drill and tolerate us quietly. We tip our headlamps down to keep them out of the horses eyes, so it becomes this tiny circle of light we move around within, amid the larger space of darkness and sleepy equine souls.
In minutes, we leave as quietly as we came. Stepping back out into the frigid night air, we realize that as cold as it is in the barn, it does protect them from the extreme bite that these winter evenings have been dishing out this week. Our new routine is helping all of us cope as well as possible during these sub-zero nights.
My experience dictates that when this pattern finally breaks, the next phase of winter will feel remarkably warm and comfortable to us. We’ll adjust our routine to one that is much more relaxed. The horses will stay outside at night again, and I won’t have to clean their stalls every day. Until that time, we’ll keep making our special night-time excursions to tuck the horses in for the night.
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Winter Dose
We’re getting a full dose of winter now. They call it an Alberta Clipper and boy did it clip through here yesterday. We enjoyed beautiful blustery snow all day, alternating between sailing by horizontally and falling picture-post-card perfect. Then suddenly at a few minutes past 3:00, the snow stopped falling and patches of sunshine peeked between the clouds. The low pressure center was already on its way to Chicago and beyond.
While walking with Delilah in the morning, I captured a selfie that should become my next profile picture. This is my uniform for working outside in dangerous wind-chill temperatures.
Some of the snowflake crystals were captured nicely on my cap, but a few show up as a blur sailing by in the wind. It was still mighty cold when this was taken, but we did climb comfortably above zero for a time in the afternoon. After the sun set, the temperature dropped quickly and the strong gusting wind helped to change things back to an almost painful level.
You learn to do things quickly at these temperatures. There is no benefit in dawdling.
Delilah doesn’t shy away from the cold, but she certainly is easy to persuade when I offer up the option to go back into the house. She stayed outside for a long time in the afternoon, despite the wicked wind, while I was shoveling and then plowing with the Grizzly.
In this image, she is looking toward the horses, who spent most of the day out in the falling snow, with blankets on, pawing and grazing in the back pasture. I presume they were low enough to be out of the direct force of the wind at that spot. They certainly didn’t stray from that location until time came for their usual dinner hour.
Then they ran up to the barn and politely waited for me to get everything set before inviting them into the stalls for the night.
To top off this day of serious winter weather, Cyndie spent about 3-hours driving home through traffic rife with spinouts, accidents and cars in ditches. She was successful in keeping all four of her tires in touch with the ground.
It was a real-deal winter day of the kind that suits the name we gave our place: Wintervale.
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High Standards
We have a thermometer attached to the outside of our bathroom window that is my favorite, primarily due to the large size of the digital display. Unfortunately, it is probably the least accurate indicator of the actual outdoor temperature because it is mounted to a window that is likely much warmer than the air away from the house. Still, it serves the purpose of giving me a reference for comparing readings from other days.
It has been indicating all week that it’s cold outside. Not that I wasn’t already aware. When we get down to double digits below zero, the cool spots around the inside of our log home start to become much more noticeable.
I think this cold spell has zapped some of my zest for accomplishing things. I am growing weary of the 5-minute production to get into my outdoor cold weather uniform every time I need to step out the front door. I think Delilah finds me to be a comical gymnast as I wrestle the Carhartt overalls over my pants and heavy shirt, then try to bend down to get boots on without being able to breathe. After which, my face disappears beneath a neck-warmer pulled up over my nose to just beneath my eyes, and my hat gets pulled down to cover the neck-warmer so that only a thin slit remains from which I can see anything.
By this time, she has politely waited twice as long as she wanted, making my fumbling with getting the chopper mittens on my hands, but under the coat sleeve, a painful exercise in beyond-reasonable-tolerance for her. It’s exhausting, and I’ve been doing it way too many times a day for her this week.
The only real work I have accomplished outside has been the daily cleaning of the horse stalls —my least favorite task. It tortures my perfectionist tendencies and severely taxes my urge to be frugal. We use wood shavings on the floor of their stalls. We buy them by the bale, and I keep wanting to say, ‘these shavings don’t grow on trees,’ but, of course, they do. Still, they require that I make a trip to the store and pay money to get them. I don’t want to be wasteful.
Trying to toss out the manure and urine-soaked shavings without getting any dry, “still perfectly useable” wood shavings becomes a fool’s errand. And yet, that’s what I do.
The other failed proposition is expecting to get every morsel of manure separated from the shavings and scooped up. I have this sense that the horses must experience a certain amount of frustration when they step on the frozen nuggets that I have missed. Every time I think I’m done, and sweep the manure fork across the remaining shavings to spread them out, additional poo-cicles always pop up. There is an unending supply. It is exasperating.
On a positive note, the practice I have been getting this week is allowing me to become more reasonable about the precision I try to achieve, reducing the time I spend laboring to maintain my high standards. That’s important during these extremely cold days, because I’ve been starting out already pooped just getting dressed to go out for the cold-weather work. I could do with some improved efficiency.
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Cold Care
Yesterday, while cleaning the horse stalls for the second time in two days, it occurred to me that keeping the horses indoors overnight creates a situation a lot like taking care of 4 very large bed wetters.
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It’s a lot of work to give them clean accommodations every single night. I’ve been spoiled by not needing to change their bedding when they stay outdoors, which is most of the time.
The last couple of days I’ve been bringing them inside at dinner time, and then before we go to bed, we walk down to the barn with Delilah to make sure they have enough hay and water for the night.
Even though it was starting to get pretty windy and the temperature had dropped below zero outside last night, the unheated barn felt pretty comfortable in comparison. It’s a nice thing to have this option for the horses.
On Tuesday morning, before letting them back outside for the day, I went to top off the hay in the slow feeder boxes. I discovered that the metal rods of my custom-welded grids that lay on top of the hay were so cold that things were sticking to them. I wondered if the horses were having problems with that. I sure wouldn’t want to put my tongue on that metal at these temperatures.
I decided to remove the grids for the coldest days, and let them have full access to the hay. Horses burn more calories to stay warm, so they need as much hay as they can get right now, anyway.
Pretty much like they did last winter, our horses seem to be dealing with the current extreme cold snap just fine. Their whiskers get a bit frosty, but other than that, they haven’t shown any negative effects from the frigid temperatures.
That’s more than I can say for Delilah. The pads of her feet bother her whenever it gets below zero. Despite that, she has continued to be exceptionally patient with me when I am working with the horses.
Here she is, politely waiting for me to finish so I can take her for an abbreviated below-zero walk.
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Working Again
She did it! Cyndie made it back to work yesterday. A person can believe that they have made good progress with recovery and rehabilitation, but finally going through the motions of getting up early, showering and dressing, and then driving to work in time for a meeting, …that is an ultimate way to test your progress. It’s not for sissies.
With Cyndie out of the house, it was time for me to reclaim my former Wintervale weekday routine. It’s not all that different from the days that Cyndie has been home, except one less distraction. She’s not around.
With our current cold snap, my attention was primarily focused on caring for the horses. They had been in the barn overnight, so my task was to move them back outside and then clean out the stalls behind them. It’s not rocket science, but at -10° F, everything seems to involve an added challenge, especially when it comes to their buckets of water.
The days are short, and in a blink it becomes time to bring them back inside again. Luckily, they make it a pretty simple process due to their interest in getting out of the cold and into their cozy stalls stocked with provisions. That allows me to get back to the house where Delilah and Pequenita are demanding attention.
Cyndie snapped a photo of me last night, working diligently to tend to ‘Nita’s needs. I had to lie still with my legs stretched out for as long as she required.
It’s tough work, but I gotta earn my keep around here, so I soldier on.
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Reclaiming Routine
We are mostly back to our Wintervale routine again. The horses are grazing hay from the slow feeder boxes as if that is the way they have always done it. I’ve noticed that Dezirea and Legacy have no problem sharing a box and eating together, while Cayenne eats alone and Hunter appears the odd horse out. I don’t know whether she is forcing the situation or he is choosing this on his own. He eventually takes a turn, but waits for his opening.
For the time being, we are electing to let their herd behavior play out. Cyndie mentioned yesterday that she wants to get back out there as soon as her strength dictates to work on refining their manners. The horses have probably had a bit too much autonomy while she has been out of the game.
Yesterday we drove back to the cities (again) for her 6-week follow-up appointment with the surgeon who performed her hip replacement. I have a suspicion that he tells many of his patients this, but we are happy nonetheless that he said he wishes all his hip surgeries looked as “tight” as this one. He also seemed extremely pleased with the appearance of the healing incision.
Cyndie reported that she experienced the biggest boost from simply reading the physical therapy order written by the doctor’s assistant, which said, “Prognosis for full recovery: Excellent.“
The surgeon wants Cyndie to remain cautious for another 6 weeks to give her body every opportunity to grow around the artificial joint with a goal of avoiding any dislocations for a good 30 years on. She is cleared to drive and hopes to return to work on Monday. We spent time waiting at the Minnesota DMV to pick up the disability parking tag authorized by her doctor, only to learn we needed to get it from Wisconsin.
Then we were able to spend a bit more time waiting at the Wisconsin DMV office. They told her it was the craziest day with the most people they had ever served, and were short staff due to it being the day after a holiday. Luckily, and contrary to the all too frequently faced reality, Cyndie was greeted by an exceptionally pleasant and helpful clerk who shared these details while taking time to phone Cyndie’s doctor for information that was missing from the form.
Seriously! He didn’t send her off to fill out the form properly and come back at a later time. And at the end of a day that was their busiest ever.
Could this be the kind of benefit one experiences when they have sent love to those around them? We like to think so.
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