Posts Tagged ‘Wintervale’
Balance Restored
The wind blew all day yesterday, helping greatly to dry things out. Then it rained. This morning, the horse blankets and rugs that Cyndie had washed and hung out to dry, all got a second rinse and are in desperate need of some spring wind and sunshine to assist with the re-drying.
Oh well, that’s balance for you. Wet and dry, a little of both.
I found my balance again yesterday when my idea for a way to drill and file the off-center holes worked like a charm and progress resumed on Cyndie’s new double swing. All that I have left to do is figure out the gaps in the instructions where they failed to clarify locations for the remaining screws. Why do they provide pilot holes in some places, but not all?
Meanwhile, I worked on restoring order on the deck, driving raised nails back down where they belong, so I could bring out the deck furniture. That was a chore I have been avoiding since we got here, because it reveals the truth about how bad some of the rot is on several floor boards. Deck repair and/or replacement has now moved up on our list of priorities.
Why is that chair sitting out in an odd location? Because I don’t want anyone to step on the spot it is covering. I have already needed to overcome my natural inclination to move it, twice, when I remembered why I put it there.
Our kids and Cyndie’s brother’s families are visiting for the afternoon, so the morning will be filled with cleaning and preparations, then the rest of the day, eating and entertaining. Nicely balances out the usual daily demands of non-stop work on projects. The paddocks won’t receive much attentions, but the horses will probably enjoy a fair share of treats.
All is well today at Wintervale.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Seeking Balance
I enjoyed a chance to sleep in this morning and awoke to a blustering spring wind. I hope it will help dry out the fresh mud created by last week’s inch and a half of rain. It is a frustrating thing to need moisture for the trees which have been weakened by drought, yet to desperately want the ground to not be so saturated that we can’t walk or drive vehicles without sinking and creating ruts. We need to have just the right balance.
Is there such a thing? Probably not a static state of balance, but everything is constantly flowing toward equilibrium. It is why there is so much wind this morning.
As Elysa and I were chatting to solve the world’s problems yesterday while breaking up manure piles remaining in the big hay-field, it was balance that we concluded was needed. I’ve been repeating something regularly since I learned of it, that horses demonstrate a brilliant ability to quickly get over conflict and “get back to grazing.” That gives rise to a natural flow toward balance.
We put the horse’s balance to test yesterday, by haltering just two at a time and taking them for a little stroll around the property. Each time, the remaining two demonstrated quite a bit of separation distress, working themselves into a frenzied anxiety, whinnying and running the fence line and occasionally slipping dangerously on the sloppy mud. Our herd has become so bonded that they over-react to being separated. We will need to increase the frequency of these little excursions to help them become more balanced when being apart.
I had my own opportunity last night to practice reclaiming balance after coming upon a frustrating problem while trying to assemble our precious new double glider swing we bought online. Previously unbeknownst to me, Cyndie has a strong connection to memories of a double swing her grandmother had. In the middle of our new storage room construction, Cyndie presented me with a set of plans she purchased for building a swing like she remembers, asking me to see if the guys working downstairs would be interested in making one for us. She hadn’t been able to find the right one for sale locally, so she figured we would have to build it ourselves, or find someone who could do it for us.
I did present the idea to them, but I also checked online myself, coming up with a variety of possibilities. Most enticing was one made from cedar logs, which would match the single swing we already have out by our outdoor fire pit. That is the one I am now trying to assemble, meeting with a variety of sadly typical problems I run into on all projects such as this.
First, it was getting a screw stuck before figuring out the best angle and method to get it to work as described in the instructions. Now progress has been halted by the manufacturer’s poor quality drilling. Three out of eight holes are off-center to the point I can’t align threads to start an eye-bolt. I’m going to have to try to elongate one of the holes (3 times) to get back to progress.
Let’s just say that I was finding myself a little out of balance when I finally had to give up and put away tools with my cold hands, putting things on hold for the night. It’s a chance to practice my own skills of “getting back to grazing.”
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Farrier Visit
The horses finally received their long-awaited hoof trim; the first since they arrived here last fall. I learned a few more new things to add to my long list of “firsts” since we moved here. The quarter-inch of hoof that was cut off after over 6-months of growth will be about the same amount that gets cut off in 8 to 10 weeks.
The hair and hooves of a horse are linked, in the sharing of nutrients for growth. In the fall, when the energy shifts toward growing longer, thicker coats of hair, the hoof growth slows. In the spring, with reduced need to grow the extra hair, and the change of diet to include grazing fresh grass, the growth of hooves increases significantly.
I was intrigued to see how the farrier, our neighbor, George Walker, held the horse’s leg between his knees while he worked. That takes some strength to do. I wasn’t all that surprised to see that Delilah loved having new chew treats from the discarded portions of trimmed hooves.
We were lucky to have Elysa visiting at the time of the appointment, giving us another experienced horse handler to assist with wrangling the 4 members of the herd. One issue we didn’t really plan was that the appointment for their “pedicure” (hoof-icure?) was happening about a half-hour before their usual afternoon serving of feed.
If horses know nothing else, they know routine, and they have a keen perception of when it is time for grain. Their anticipation grows into a bit of restlessness if the feed isn’t being served when they expect it. As it was, we were already throwing in the unusual circumstance of haltering one at a time and bringing them into the barn.
Since the barn is where the feed comes from, they grew a bit more perturbed by all this activity in the barn, with no feed being served as a result. As Cyndie and Elysa worked to separate Dezirea, the last horse to have her hooves trimmed, the herd crowded the gate. When Cyndie headed in, Elysa got trapped between horses and Hunter took the opportunity to jump the line and head into the barn, untethered.
I had left the big barn doors open for extra light, but that meant Hunter was entering space where he could easily get loose. The only thing in his way was, me. I put a hand at the base of his neck, just above his chest, and held my ground while Cyndie worked to calm Dezirea and Elysa reclaimed authority as gate-keeper. I was eyeing the gear hanging nearby, hoping for a quick, handy lead rope, but just moments earlier I had taken that rope for use as a leash to lead Delilah out from underfoot.
The situation resolved without further incident when Hunter made the good decision to turn around on his own and head back out to the paddock. Luckily, Dezirea didn’t freak at the uncontrolled activity playing out in confined space, because the dance of people and horses left me squarely in her kick zone as I moved with Hunter’s turn.
At that point, the relatively easy decision was made to give the three outside horses their pans of feed, and allow Dezirea to nosh on her share from a hand-held bucket during her turn with George. Calm was restored, and the next thing we knew, the first farrier visit to Wintervale Ranch was in the books. Done!
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Darling Delilah
For a reason that is beyond me, there are times when our dog, Delilah, will circle an unusually large number of times before finally choosing to lie down in some random spot. Last night, it was a towel spread on the floor for her. I’d love to know what that thought process is all about.
In case I have neglected to mention it, Delilah has made great strides toward mastering the art of behaving well unsupervised, off-leash, and roaming free on our property. She performs charmingly well as my cohort in a variety of chores and exploits around our land. When I am raking or digging, she is all in, usually un-doing progress I have accomplished, but very obviously well-intentioned toward assisting with my tasks.
In a simple trek down the driveway to pick up the mail, she is a cheery companion, trotting ahead a short distance, turning to check my progress, then romping off to the side to explore the enticing smells left by critters large and small.
From the mindset of not knowing what you’ve got until it’s gone, I want to be aware of how much she adds to our experience here. Caring for her can be a lot of work, demanding our attention at times when it seems we can least afford it, but having her in our lives makes it well worth the effort.
Now if she can just learn to avoid baring her teeth and barking at the horses when it is time to be calm. We put the horses in the barn last night because of the cold rain, and at the critical moment when Cyndie was vulnerable between two horses who were anxious to get in, Delilah starts into a snarling, growling-bark to antagonize them. Another case of her “helping” in a way that absolutely does not help.
We think she and Pequenita are making great strides toward becoming friendly, respectful house-mates, but there are still too many times when Delilah will be amped up beyond reason and pursue the cat with too much exuberance.
Between moments of seeming to nap last night, she jumped up at the presence of Pequenita and upon my hearing what sounded like uncharacteristic amounts of hissing and meowing in protest, I was disturbed to discover a bit of fur on Delilah’s chin.
“Did you bite her!?” I exclaimed with startled upset.
I suppose it could just as easily have been a piece of Delilah’s own fur that Pequenita had dislodged with a swipe of her claws. I checked ‘Nita, who had parked in front of her food and looked no worse for the wear. In fact, in a page from the horse’s mode of behavior, both dog and cat were back together in minutes and appeared to have disregarded the previous interaction, appearing as if they were “going back to grazing” with no apparent angst carried over.
How could we love darling Delilah any more than we do? We lucked out in a big way when Cyndie uncovered the surprise availability of a 9-month-old Belgian Shepard Tervuren at a breeder not too far from us. Since then, she has grown into a beautiful, perfect dog for us.
In this case, we do know what we’ve got, before it is gone.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Trailering Poop
We finally put our new ATV trailer to use for cleaning the paddocks. The ground seemed to dry up quite a bit yesterday, so we took advantage of the opportunity to drive inside the fences and made fair progress on removing more of the winter’s-worth of accumulation. We have been working in steps, cleaning small sections at a time as they become dry enough. Using the ATV in place of a wheelbarrow increases our capacity nicely, and while working to prove the concept, we knocked off a new portion in each of the two paddocks.
I am pleased with the horses comfort around motorized equipment. They are not intimidated in the least by the rumbling engines of the tractor or ATV. We left them roaming free inside the paddocks as Cyndie opened a gate for me to drive in. Here is a shot I took of Legacy as he stepped in close to check on the quality of my work.
We have yet to figure out the ideal method of unloading the trailer. The main location where we have been putting manure for compost has gotten rather tall, and isn’t currently situated so that I could drive up and over it. I have created a ramp within the pile that allows me to roll the wheelbarrow up and around for dumping, but that isn’t sized for the ATV trailer.
It was decided that we would expand our compost operation to multiple locations, placing more of the product in proximity to where it will likely be used. With the wheelbarrow, it didn’t make sense to go traipsing around the property to unload, but now with the ATV that is not a problem.
The first place we picked was across the driveway, up among the pine trees. There are enough trees there alone that we can probably spread the majority of our collection in that vicinity. We do want to provide a modest amount somewhere near the labyrinth garden, too, but Cyndie is concerned that it be far enough away so as not to disturb the pleasant ambiance we are trying to develop there. I think that can be achieved.
It feels good to be making gains on the cleanup of the paddocks as they begin to dry. Too bad today I am called away to the day-job and Wednesday is shaping up to be another winter storm. Poop trailering is on hold for a while again. It’s spring, two steps forward, one step back. We’ll get there, eventually.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Days Filled
Natural processes never pause. We had a very spring-like day yesterday, starting the morning with a classic thunder shower. By the end of the day, I couldn’t see any snow left on the ground as I walked the southern fence line to repair areas where Legacy practiced his penchant for dismantling things with his teeth. The frost hasn’t gone out of the ground yet, but already there are green sprouts emerging from the dirt.
A trek around the property is an overwhelming experience of discovering all the things that deserve attention. The trick is picking the best time for each task. The terrain is too wet for many activities, but the high ground is getting close to dry enough for equipment to drive over it without leaving giant ruts. Mornings can still offer frozen ground, which invites the possibility of driving over areas that will be too muddy later in the day. Any day could bring rain, or even snow, which will quickly cause a setback in the progress of drying out the land.
We need more gravel brought in, and will want to find fill dirt to bolster areas that were excavated last year and experienced some dramatic settling in the time since. With the ground as soft as it is, we cause more damage than we want if we ask for deliveries of sand, gravel, or dirt during this time of year. Instead, I’ve resorted to using some of the broken down winter manure and mud scraped up in the paddocks to fill one spot that settled. If it works out, there’s plenty more where that came from.
With nature forging ahead every minute without pause, it becomes imperative that we fill our days with activities to keep pace. There is no shortage of work to do to occupy our time. I find myself mentally battling dread that I am neglecting things here when I have a low energy day, finding myself short of motivation to take on the next task. It gets compounded when I consider that I also want to take personal time for getting miles on the bike and playing the guitar; two hobbies of several that I used to do when I had spare time for such exploits.
There is consolation in the fact that I enjoy the projects we have underway, and receive deep satisfaction from the improvements we achieve. It may be a false impression, but I think there should be less demands on our time in the long run, after we accomplish all the projects of shaping the land, installing fencing, and constructing rooms and sheds. In fact, we have more behind us than remains in front of us, with regard to those issues.
We are close enough to reaching a point of only needing to manage day-to-day operations such that I’m feeling hope it is within reach. It may be another year or two, but that’s not all that long in the span of a lifetime. In addition, it’s not something that just happens in an instant, so the work that fills our days now will subtly transition over time, becoming more routine and efficient, and thus, less all-encompassing.
Or, so I can try to convince myself.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Saying Goodbye
Mozyr has left the building. Last night Cyndie and I returned Moz to the Feline Rescue center where he first caught our attention. Mozyr initially impressed us with his athletic abilities, but from the time he arrived at our home, he proved to be a particularly timid fellow. For the longest time, under the bed was his favored place to recline.
In the end, Cyndie and I realized that he was not suited for the stress of moving outside to become a barn cat. He will do much better someplace where he can be the only pet, in a quiet home, which is just the opposite of the environment we have here at Wintervale.
I believe he was aware that we would be parting company. After we closed off his access to our bedroom, he became like a satellite to me everywhere else that I went in the house, weaving in and out and around and around my legs; hopping into my lap, or the sink again, as I stood at the bathroom mirror. I received more attention from him in the last two days than he had given me in months.
It was cute, but it didn’t change the difficulty he had with people coming and going, or Delilah’s rambunctious curiosity and the daily clamor of life in our house. He was too frequently on alert, behaving as if he was on the edge of peril. It was beginning to take a toll on his health, and he developed that pattern of peeing inappropriately around the house.
We are sad to see him go, but satisfied that he stands a better chance in a different situation. It is a relief to be able to open our bedroom door again, and get rid of the gate we have been tripping over to keep Delilah out of the cat spaces. Pequenita doesn’t need a gate to control Delilah. She has been doing a heroic job of practicing that for a long time. It is our hope that those two will now settle into a more congenial one-on-one relationship.
So, goodbye, Mozyr. May you find someplace you feel safe enough to thrive and romp and unleash your impressive athletic maneuvering, while sharing your friendly, companionable self with one special person who loves you. You are a special cat.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Construction Complete
We are pleased and excited to have accomplished changes to the basement of our house that we have envisioned since we first arrived. I talked frequently with family and friends about the idea of ripping out the corner entertainment center and building a larger storage room with a door, fishing for insight on what might be involved and whether it was something I could do myself. Then our window upstairs fractured.
That was the catalyst that initiated my search for someone in our vicinity who could do home construction projects. The job to replace the window was such a minor project that it wasn’t all that attractive to a builder, but when I threw in the possibility of also building a storage room downstairs, I found someone to take the bait. It was a perfect match.
Dodge Construction is one semi-retired Randy Dodge, who lives nearby and has built many homes. I was pointed to Randy by the local Andersen Window dealer, who gave the builder a stellar recommendation —believable because Randy built the dealer’s house. On top of having a career’s worth of skills, Randy happens to be a great guy. We agreed on a verbal definition of the project and locked in the deal with a handshake. Logic would dictate that is not a safe way to do business, but my instincts indicated there was little risk in this case.
Randy and his frequent accomplice, Isaac, knocked out the project with relative ease, repeatedly revealing tools and skills that made me exceedingly grateful to have not tried to do this myself. Plus, they designed on the fly, leading to improvements and enhancements that were well beyond my ability to conceive.
While we had them here, we asked if they might finish two rough openings that remained to our sunroom, where we had pulled out windows when we first moved in.
Randy took one look at that and suggested we consider a Formica surface across the bottom. He said he would look for something that might work. I was shocked to see that he brought us a section of counter top that was amazingly similar to our kitchen granite counters, relying solely on his memory. The finished product looks fabulous.
So, we have a new window, newly finished pass-through openings to the sunroom, and a completely finished storage room of built-in shelves in the basement. It is time to begin cleaning up sawdust, sheetrock dust, and putting things back into storage. This time, on shelves!
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Contemplating Possibilities
We now have an appointment for Friday to bring Mozyr back to the rescue center from which he was adopted. It is a tough call, but our decision to schedule an appointment has been helped by the discovery that, in addition to trashing our mattress and bedding, he has also cost us a leather couch and chair in our basement.
When we started the construction project to add that storage room in the basement, the guys covered everything in plastic. Earlier, Cyndie and I had been suspicious about residue we found on the couch, but now that there was plastic over it, we could clearly see how much, and how often he was using the couch to pee.
Mozyr and Pequenita sharing sunshine prior to his banishment from our bedroom
I placed some things on the couch to interfere with him, and he simply moved over to the chair and ottoman. The storage room of shelves is now complete, and all the plastic has been removed from the basement. Since Mozyr has lost his master bedroom privileges, he seems to have resorted to using the recently exposed couch. Now we have to get rid of it.
One of the most troublesome aspects of this situation for me is that I don’t see how we could ever trust him again. If he recovers from whatever urinary distress he has been suffering, how would we know if his behavior has returned to normal? I am not interested in having our bed put at risk for some unknown period (how long would be long enough?) of testing his ability to confine his peeing to the litter boxes. And I definitely cannot afford the sleep disruptions that his shenanigans on our bed have been causing.
While writing this, I had the thought that we could put the soiled couch out in the barn. A little cat pee would be nothing in that environment. That thought led to this: maybe Mozyr could become a barn cat. He still has all his claws. We’ll see what the rescue center thinks of that idea.
Look out, mice.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Not Funny
I wish I could laugh about it, but we are suddenly prisoners of our cat Mozyr. Whatever the heck his urinary tract problem is, the solution he seems to have selected is to pee on our bed. More specifically, Cyndie’s side of our bed. Could he be sending her a message? I don’t know.
Poor guy. We know he is not well. After a vet visit on Monday, we have special food to give him, and he was given fluids, and also something for pain. His response is to turn his nose up at the food, and to pee on our bed. Seriously, three times Monday night. The second time, while Cyndie was sleeping. That chased her out to the couch in the middle of the night. In the morning, while I was still in bed, sitting up with my computer, I suddenly realized he was sitting on the bed next to me. That can’t be good. Sure enough, he had peed, soaking through to the mattress. I guess the hydration at the vet worked.
It gave us a great excuse to do some serious spring cleaning. Too bad that we had already just done this over the previous weekend, due to the same problem.
I waited all day before putting the mattress back down, because I just didn’t want to give him another opportunity. When Cyndie got home, she pulled out a clean mattress pad and tossed it on the box springs that I had laid back into position.
I walked into the room to lay the mattress back on the box springs, and picked up the pad to move it. Mozyr had just peed on it. That pad hadn’t been there more than a few minutes. I’ve spoken to two people who told me that a cat would be out the door so darn fast if it had peed on their bed. I’m finding that I wish I had some of that in me.
On the bright side, it got me to dig out the clothesline for the first time this year.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Relative Something 