Posts Tagged ‘Wintervale’
Dog Day
The description of our hot days of summer as “dog days” is supposed to be in reference to the hottest days, or a period of inactivity or sluggishness. It was particularly hot here yesterday, but nothing about the day was sluggish, especially for Delilah. She had a day that pushed us to our limits of tolerance. It all started with an unplanned visit to the vet, for which we certainly don’t hold her at fault.
Last Monday, we were down at the labyrinth, with guests, and had been attempting to keep Delilah occupied by tossing a “frisbee”-type disc for her to catch and return. As we visited, I somewhat absent-mindedly gave the disc a fling and as Delilah bolted after it, she caught a hind leg on a short wire decorative fence that Cyndie had placed to mark part of the labyrinth border. Delilah let out a yelp and briefly panicked as the multiple linked sections of the fencing appeared to be chasing after her.
At the time, we didn’t realize the degree to which it had punctured her leg. Five days later, Cyndie noticed the wound was looking worse, not better, and called the vet. Delilah earned another round of antibiotics and this time, did come home with the “cone of shame” to keep her from chewing at the spot of the wound.
By the time they got home from the vet, Julian and Allison had arrived, with her dog, for a visit. Having another dog here as a guest provided a good opportunity to work on socializing Delilah with other animals, but it takes a fair amount of attention to manage the interactions. No surprise to me, since Delilah has yet to calm down when our cats show themselves, Delilah demonstrated over-excitement and a fair amount of aggression toward the unfamiliar canine presence on her turf.
After those guys departed, we closed a door to keep the cats in our bedroom and provided Delilah a chance to move around the house, off-leash. She eventually found her way over to the spot on the carpet where Allison’s dog had been, and promptly peed. I guess I don’t blame her for behaving like a dog, but it didn’t win her any points for having house privileges. Out the door she got tossed.
We headed down to the barn, where Cyndie had been watering the seeded dirt along the new access around the building. Unfortunately, the water pooled in a couple of low spots where the new gravel had been spread. It was good to learn, though, and I set about raking the area to correct the situation. Now, instead of a pool of water, I had a soupy area of muddy gravel, graded just right. We went around the other side of the barn and put up boards in the high heat of the late afternoon.
When we finished with the boards, and were headed back up to the house, we turned the corner to find Delilah lounging in the cool of that muddy gravel soup.
Then Cyndie decided to try sprinkling some additional seed on the high side of the dirt slant above the gravel, around which she had already constructed an impromptu fence to keep people and dogs off the new seed. Of course, Delilah got in there and dashed to and fro, chasing some invisible enticement. Cyndie hollered, I scolded and commanded, Cyndie threatened, and Delilah thrilled at the excitement. What a circus.
To top it all off, Delilah then wandered off our property, into the neighbor’s field. I was up by the house when I heard a gunshot –a frequent sound around here, but this seemed closer than others– and then noticed Cyndie calling for the dog. I grew alarmed, because we keep talking about wanting to introduce Delilah to our neighbors who own the woods that surround two sides of our property, since we know they hunt and shoot guns a lot, and because Delilah has a distinctive profile that appears wolf-like, and coloring that matches some of the fox around here. We don’t want them to mistake our dog for a wild animal, if Delilah happens to wander into their woods or fields.
After several frantic calls, I spotted Delilah through the trees that form the border between their field and our property. She had an old mummified carcass in her mouth. I have no idea if the gunshot was related to her being over there, but it sure feeds my grave concerns about her lack of response to our commands. With a dead animal in her jaw, she seems to switch off her “pet” mode and cares nothing for our alpha role.
She’s the one with the prize.
Muddy, and hoarding her smelly dead prize, Cyndie left Delilah on the front lawn, to chew her grotesque carcass, vowing to leave the dog out all night alone.
It didn’t last. By the time dinner was almost done, when Delilah took a break from gnawing on her find and showed up at the back door, Cyndie was moved to go out in the dark and give Delilah a bath. They finished the night, both freshly cleaned, cuddling on the floor.
What a dog day!
Roots Respect
Toiling away on the chore of raking the ground in one of our paddocks yesterday, I had plenty of time to think about roots. I have a whole new respect for roots since I’ve moved here. Last year we had our fencing company begin the project of changing fence lines by clearing out an area that was left as a water drainage route, but which had been neglected and allowed to become a thicket of junk trees and accumulated debris. They cut down the trees, removed old barbed wire fence, and dug up the stumps to the best of their ability with their skid-steer tractor.
Much of that area they cleared became enclosed by our new paddock fences, so we are working to transition ground that was uncontrolled tree growth last year, into smooth footing for the horses. Trying to rake it is a constant battle with root remnants that continue to poke up out of the ground. Sometimes you pull and find it is completely loose. Other times, it comes easy, but is a long piece that travels quite a ways, churning up dirt. Too often, I’ll grab and tug, but the root doesn’t give at all. Then it’s time to dig and cut.
Those roots are so tenacious, I can’t help but feel increased respect for all they accomplish.
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This is some of the tangled mess that raking turns up.
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There are also rocks.
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And weeds.
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After I grew weary of raking, I took a break to check on our recently transplanted maple tree in the labyrinth. You really need to respect roots when you transplant a tree. We did our best to be careful to save as much of the root structure as possible, but I fear we ended up being rather ruthless. We cut the tap-root pretty short. I 
wish I could see what is going on under the dirt, but from the look of the leaves above, it doesn’t seem to be drinking up the water we are providing. Obviously, the tree is in shock over the experience of having its roots severed and then being transported out into full-day sunshine.
I’m really hoping that the tenacity I witness when trying to remove old roots in the paddocks, will manifest itself in the remaining portions of the severed roots under this little maple. It may be too late for the current batch of leaves to provide any indication that the root system is absorbing and transporting moisture, but I would sure be thrilled if we could find some hint that we aren’t continuing to water something that is already a lost cause.
Not Yet
It’s not done yet, but we are getting close. The crew building our hay shed worked Saturday and Monday of the three-day Labor Day weekend, finishing all the work that would require the rented lift bucket. All they have left to do is attach the steel panels to the back slope of roof, and then the finishing trim. Since they have volunteered their weekend time to do this job, it is never certain whether they will be available the next weekend or not. They all have families with kids. ‘Nuff said.
Once that work is complete, we need to have some fill dirt delivered and graded around the base board, and a culvert buried across the driveway loop. The finishing touch will be one last load of gravel on that loop.
After that, all we need is hay!
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Patience Practice
Slept in today, on the first day of September. Nine hours of slumber last night! Woo hoo! Even though I didn’t accomplish everything I would have loved to yesterday, what I did do, wore me out. By the end of the day, Cyndie gave up on her idea of going up to the lake, too, so I guess we were both beat.
I spent more time than was productive for me, just watching the guys working on the hay shed, and even that seemed to contribute to making me feel exhausted. Unfortunately, their progress was much slower than I anticipated, and I think slower than they hoped. By the end of the long day, the only sheet metal attached to the frame was across the front of the roof.
Cyndie worked the ground in one of the paddocks to level it out, pulling out weeds and raking up dead grass, whenever she wasn’t helping hold boards for me. I was framing and hanging boards on the wall of our barn under the overhang, to protect the steel siding from horse activity. We continue to upgrade the infrastructure from what had been set up for mini horses, to become a full-size equine facility.
It’s all good, just not as much progress as we’d hoped.
What can we do but be patient? We are discovering opportunities to practice patience over, and over, again. The process of refining our patience will serve us well when we finally are caring for horses here. So, even before they arrive, we are learning from our horses, through the process of getting prepared for them.
Big Weekend
It is a holiday weekend, but I am staying home. Cyndie still wants to make a one-day/one overnight visit to the lake place, but I am feeling like there is too much that I want to accomplish here. If I make great progress today, maybe she can talk me into it tomorrow.
Today, the crew that is ever-so-slowly building the hay shed for us, will start putting up the metal shell and roof. I need to finish bolstering the outside walls of the barn under the lean, and work on grading the ground in the paddocks. I also want to do some cutting with the brush hog, and move a pile of top soil, so I may spend some time on the diesel tractor.
We are behind on lawn mowing, too. I gave the Craftsman lawn tractor a little attention yesterday afternoon. Oil, grease, gas, and then mounted the grass catcher on the back. While waiting for Cyndie to get home, I started cutting the area around the hay shed. After that, I moved on to the area outside the first paddock. That’s when I hit a hunk of wood from an old root, which got stuck on the mower blade and seized it up.
I ended up jacking the front of the tractor into the air and after several wild attempts to get things unstuck, had to remove that blade. I succeeded in getting that situation resolved in time for Cyndie to cut grass after dinner. Then I moved on to working on the Stihl trimmer. The plastic line needs to be replaced, so I changed to the saw blade. I have abused that blade so much in the short time we’ve had it, that it hardly cuts anymore. I limped through trying to knock down tall growth around a couple of our culverts, then gave up and called it a day.
The biggest successes of late have been my ability to master some maintenance and repairs. That bolsters my confidence a bit. Unfortunately, that is offset by the limited progress I have made on tasks we are working on. Today I am hoping for better luck and big gains.
Maybe, deep down, I really would like to go up to the lake.
Gravel added around the waterer
Gravel spread over the new path behind the barn
Flying Moments
I really don’t want to be that guy that always marvels over how unbelievable it is to be the date that it is, …but, how the heck did it get to be August 26th? Seriously, I don’t think I am getting the gist of living fully in the moment. I too easily get focused on the future, and can’t believe we’ve reached the present date, while feeling that events from May, June, and July just happened last week.
Time certainly does fly when you are having fun. Obviously, it has flown a lot for me this year. Cyndie’s nephew turns 6 today! Happy Birthday, Beck. How’d he get to 6 already?
Kids growing up is a classic example of time flying. We had the gift of an opportunity to spend some time with the kids for an overnight at our place over the weekend. Non-stop energy. Time flew, but I think we enjoyed every moment. Hopefully, we gave them a few memories to carry with them.
I felled my second tree while they were here, and got it hung up in the branches of other trees. A situation such as this is called a ‘widow maker,’ but I avoided putting Cyndie in that predicament. I tossed a rope around it and started pulling with a come-along. When it seemed like it had reached an impasse, we decided to leave it for a while, and went to do other things.
After the kids had been picked up, and a short nap in the cool of the air-conditioned house, I watched some videos of techniques for bringing down a tree that is hung up. I then headed down to check on our specimen and gave one strong pull on the rope hooked up to the come-along. The tree came loose and dropped straight down to the ground. Mission accomplished.
Upon cutting and stacking the logs, I discovered there were some fascinating patterns in the cross sections. It is hard to imagine what was creating such fantastic figures. They look almost angelic. I’m going to have a hard time choosing to just split this and burn it. The way I see it, there are a variety of potential art projects to be made out of these. Wouldn’t they look great sanded to a fine, smooth finish, and then oiled?
New Pen
We set up the first round pen yesterday. Cyndie purchased panels online and had them delivered here. We stacked a few at a time into the pickup truck in order to drive them around to the far side of the paddock, to the spot we prepared. It took some adjusting to get them all to fit, but they are easy to connect to one another, and other than some heavy 2-person lifting, it was one of the easier things we’ve tried to do around here.
It looks good, except for the fact it creates another echo of the fact we have no horses here yet. They can’t be far off now. We still haven’t secured the proper insurance, but requests have been made for quotes. We need to get the ground around the waterer in the paddocks rocked to create good surface for the heavy traffic that will occur there. With luck, that will happen this coming week.
Horses by Labor Day? Maybe just after. It was Labor Day weekend, last year, that our offer to buy this place was accepted.
What a year it has been.
Rough Terrain
I’m sure I have mentioned this before, that one of the hassles we continue to struggle with around here is the uneven terrain where trees and overgrowth were dug out last year. There are big divots in the ground, shrapnel from root branches, and mounds of dirt that the skid-loader kicked up, the majority of which becomes obscured by the thick summer growth of grass and weeds. Some of that rough terrain is located inside parts of our two paddocks.
Cyndie is very concerned that such unsure footing will be dangerous and problematic for our horses, so one of my next priorities is to get the ground in the paddocks fixed up. The early opinions from our many advisers have leaned toward “discing” the entire thing. I don’t have a disc attachment for my tractor. We could rent one, but there is the challenge of transporting it. Of course, my neighbor has a disc harrow, as he has demonstrated recently by volunteering to smooth out the area outside our paddocks, but I’d rather try to solve this one on our own, if we can.
The thing is, there is a fair amount of good grass growing in the paddocks, grass that we really want to keep for the horses to graze. If we disc the whole thing, we will need to plant grass seed, and wait for it to get established. If we put horses in there before new grass gets started, they will never allow grass to get established. It will all become a dirt sacrifice area.
I am lobbying for a more refined, albeit manual, approach. We did a little test area last evening, and it worked well enough for me that I am encouraged to forge ahead, by hand. It allows me to save the grass that is already there.
We still need to plant new grass, as a large part of this was dug up to install our on-demand watering station, but this way we won’t be trying to replant the whole thing. All we will need to do is augment what is already there.
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It has been a dry few weeks, but right before we went out to work on the ground, we received an inch of rain in a blustery summer thunderstorm, which softened things up just a bit. The dewpoint was high, and we became drenched in sweat as we worked. Then, as darkness approached, fog began to form.
It was just plain wet, in the air, on the ground, and all over our bodies.
Sensing Familiar
It is only August, but already, there are enough hints of the season ahead that I am noticing flashes of recognition for our experiences of one year ago, when we came to this place we are now calling, Wintervale. I am sensing that we have accomplished that first year of newness, and now will begin drawing on memories of the year before, as we navigate each new adventure that pops up for us here.
There are still daily incremental changes underway. Yesterday, when I got home from work, I resumed the project of putting up boards lining the stables in the barn. While the task seemed to breeze along easily for me on Sunday, last night I struggled with every step. If something could fall, it did. If I could drop a board or tool, I did. I finished the second stall, but without much in the way of joy for the accomplishment.
I had been diligent about not leaving behind a stray screw on the floor of the stalls that might poke the feet of the future tenants. As I stepped up on the ladder to mount the final board, the entire box of screws flipped off the ledge and dumped in a heap below. Oh, joy.
Time to clean up and stop fighting the trend.
The upgrade of two stalls is complete. That leaves two to go. We are making progress.
