Showing posts with label miscellaneous. Show all posts
Showing posts with label miscellaneous. Show all posts

Thursday, July 15, 2021

Sounds of the Months

 

Here are some videos that I made this year.  I like to hear the different sounds of the months.  This first one is in February, when we played with the dogs in the ice. 


This video is from the last day of April, which was the little lamb named April's first day outside.  


Jamie catches a snake in this video from May.  


The little chicks have feathers now, and are ready to go to their new homes.  This video was from thier first days, in June. 


Also from June, our flock of ewes with bird song.  The deep rumble is the ram, calling to the girls from his adjacent pasture.  


Here's a video of my flock as they emerge from the coop. 

Enjoy my sounds! 

Thursday, September 10, 2020

Poor Old Tree

 

Our big silver maple, which was our biggest front yard shade tree, no longer stands.  It was partially dead, and loaded with dangerously crumbling limbs, but we resisted cutting it down for a long time.  One of the dead limbs was home to a pair of blue birds this year, who raised several clutches.  They've been gone for a few weeks, and I watched the tree at dusk several nights to make sure it wasn't a home for bats.  

Brandon was brave, and stood beneath the dead limbs to saw away at the trunk.  His chain saw was a bit small for such a large tree trunk.  The saw also has a leaky gas tank and a dull blade, so the irritation of making the saw function was a nice distraction from the fear.  I really wanted to hide from the whole experience, but needed to watch so I would be ready to respond to an emergency.  

He managed to saw a big slice out of the trunk on the side it was leaning to, and then he was ready to make the back cut that would fell it.  Partially dead trees are dangerous to cut down because the rotten wood inside can make it unpredictable.  Also, once the tree begins to move, the dead limbs could fall down.  I was so nervous my pounding heart made it hard to hold my phone still so I could capture the fall.  

Once we could hear the trunk start to pop and crack, and I thought it was about to fall, I started filming, but it took almost four minutes for it to finally drop.  Brandon kept making more cuts and backing off, then making more cuts.  I could hardly stand it!  The video above it just the last forty seconds, when the last cut finally takes it down.  Whew!  We both felt exhausted, like we had been for long heart pounding run.  

This tree will live on through the many seedlings that we have allowed to grow.  We have at least eight nice silver maple saplings that will some day make a shady forest.  I'm sure these are all from seeds dropped by the old tree.  I will miss the shade, but the cut trunk smells nice, and we will make lots of firewood out of the trunk and limbs, and wood chips from the small branches.  

Monday, August 24, 2020

Foggy Morning Commute

Can you feel the hint of fall in the air on these foggy mornings?  I'm resisting the end of the summer, despite recent conversations about firewood stock piles and winter hay.  I'm not ready! 

Brandon is in the second week of the fall semester, and he's learning new technology so quarantined students can follow his lectures and do their homework remotely.  His nose gets raw from wearing a mask while teaching, and he said sometimes he has to go to his office, take off his mask, and scratch his beard like a dog!  

His classes start early, so we are up before the sunrise and ride into town together.  It's nice to be able enjoy the changing light on the landscape while he drives.  It's also nice that we encourage each others coffee addiction and indulgence in Starbucks.  I'be been arriving to work early and jittery from the caffeine. 


Someone told us that when they moved to Kentucky, they really wanted to buy a place out in the country, but ended up with a place in town and closer to work because they were afraid of the daily commute.  I've had at least a forty minute commute to my job since I started working nearly twenty years ago, so I'm used to it.  I enjoy listening to the radio.  Actually, at the end of the work day, when I drive away from town and toward the forests and farms close to home, I can feel tension and work worries leave my body and my mind.   


In the mornings we drive on the highway down a long hill where the rock has been cut away for the road, so there's a high wall topped with trees on either side right before a long bridge over a big river.  The river valley is usually filled with a dense cloud of fog, and sometimes I can't see the sun or the other side of the bridge.  It appears that the cars in front of us disappear into the mist.  This always triggers a memory from my childhood, of a cartoon where some kids get on a roller coaster, pass through a fog to a new dimension, and end up in a new world of magic and adventure, but they can't figure out how to get home.  Entering the bridge fog in the mornings makes me a little apprehensive.  Where will I come out on the other side? When I mentioned this memory to Brandon he knew exactly what I was talking about!  It's the Dungeons and Dragons cartoon intro from the 80s!  Now I know!  Do you remember this too?  

Tuesday, April 7, 2020

Sewing and Mowing


Have you tried wearing a mask to the grocery store yet?  I did it, even though I felt silly going shopping like a bank robber.  It helped that there were lots of other silly looking folks wearing their masks too.  Some people had home-made masks like me - one lady even had a white tube sock pinned to her face!  


Brandon and I spent nearly all day on Saturday sewing face masks.  We cut up vacuum cleaner bags and sandwiched them between cloth, with the hope that the vacuum bags would filter better than just cloth.  These masks can't be washed, but we figure as long as they are only used once, then left in the sun on the dash of the car for three days before being used again, they will be virus free.  


The most time consuming part was cutting, ironing, and sewing the straps needed to tie it to your head.  Now that I've used the mask, I think shorter straps would have been fine.  The worst part about wearing a mask, other than pulling my hair when I tied the straps, was having my glasses fog up when I exhaled, especially if my head was tilted down.  I tried really hard not to touch my mask, face, or glasses while I shopped and I couldn't wait to get out of the store and take it off so I could breath freely without foggy lenses.  Turns out, if you try to stop breathing so your glasses don't fog while you pay at the register, you start to pass out.  Now I know!  


I ran the sewing machine and Brandon cut and assembled all the parts, and we managed to make a mask for everyone in our close family.  Despite all the warnings about avoiding travel, we make a big circuit on Sunday and delivered masks and eggs to our family.  It was nice to see folks, even if we did have to say hi from the driveway and couldn't stay for a visit. 


Brandon managed to squeeze in some mowing between bouts of sewing.  The newly mowed grass smelled wonderful, and Wendigo and I wandered all over enjoying the tidy green carpet. 


The sidewalk project isn't complete yet, but already think it's really going to tie the lawn together!  

Thursday, July 18, 2019

Lawns and Forests


There's Brandon, mowing the grass as he loves to do.  I've mentioned before how he keeps expanding our yard.  We both enjoy the contrast of the tidy lawn against the shaggy edges of our hay fields and natural areas.  My landscaping plans tend to have long term goals, and short term weeds, so it's nice to have something clean and even to break up the tangle. 


This area on the west side of the driveway used to be a jungle of tall weeds and old fence posts.  It's evolved to a smart looking lawn with plenty of room for guest camping and parking. 


The east side of the house is where we've allowed small volunteer tree saplings to grow.  Mostly silver maple trees, but also locust, green ash, red bud, and paw paw trees are growing here.  The trees closest to the house had their lower limbs trimmed.  I would like to keep clearing the honeysuckle vines from the tree trunks and trimming the branches so that in time it looks more and more park-like near the hammock.  


We initially let this area grow wild.  This allowed the small trees to get a foot hold, but the Japanese honeysuckle vines dominated the un-mowed vegetation.  I like wild places, and want to provide plenty of wildlife habitat, but I would prefer more diversity than a mass of honeysuckle.  We tried letting the goats eat the vines, but without fences, what worked best was to mow between the trees with the bush hog, then keep the vines suppressed with the lawn mower.  If I really want to promote native grasses and wildflowers, I think I need to exhaust the honeysuckle vines through mowing, so they don't just grow back the instant we stop cutting them.  Herbicide would work too, but I'm not ready to try that just yet.  Burning would be great, but we would have to get brave enough to try it, and I don't feel very brave so close to the house.  It's a good thing Brandon likes to mow.


This is the view from the hammock - already the sky is being covered by the leaves of our little trees!


The nature trail, as we call it, cuts through the tall vegetation near the tree line.  In the winter we see rabbit, deer, and coyote tracks in the snow on our trail, so we know we aren't the only ones to appreciate it.  


Most of these tall herbaceous plants are goldenrod, poison ivy, and honeysuckle.  The rabbits love to dart in and out of these tall plants.  In the background, you can see small sycamore trees from our early tree planting efforts.  There's also a few silky dogwood trees in the corner near the stream, where the ground stays wet.  It's nearly a wetland.  I would love to dig a small pond in this area, so we could host wetland plants and amphibians.  


See all those dead trees?  Those are the ash trees that were killed by the emerald ash borer, and our future firewood supply.  We see wood peckers drilling holes in these trees, and the hawks use them as perches while they spy on the chickens.  Brandon swears he saw a bobcat, twice, in these narrow woods on our eastern boundary.  The neighbor says she saw a cat climbing a tree, and thought it was a mountain lion.  I might believe there's a bobcat, but have my doubts about a mountain lion in farm country.  Some fat house cat might be creating a stir in the neighborhood.  


Early this summer I heard a wild turkey gobble while I relaxed in the hammock.  I grew up in a house in the forest, so I feel at home in the shelter of trees.  I'm happy to see our wild places become more like real forests.  At the rate these trees are growing, it won't be long!  

Wednesday, June 12, 2019

Power Connections


Most of the time when I'm admiring our expansive sky view, I try to ignore this pole.  I frame my photos so it doesn't mar the perfection of the clouds.    


As I was enjoying the in-coming storm clouds, and watching the flashes of atmospheric electricity lighting the sky in the distance, I looked at this leaning pole with it's mess of wires, and thought about the power that travels to us on those wires.  Coal is burning somewhere so we can have that power.


The power that allows Brandon to sit in the yard during a storm and look at his mobile technology!  I don't think about it that often, but we are actually physically connected to our neighbors.   


Can you see the wires that run over the swaying hay field all the way to our good neighbors house?  The birds use these wires as perches.  Kites are magically attracted to the wires. 


I'm trying not to view the pole as an eyesore or a symbol of dependence and atmospheric pollution.  I would like to feel gratitude for the pole, the connections that it allows, and the technology that it represents.    


After all, if I didn't have that pole, I couldn't show you these moody blue storm clouds, could I?  Thanks, ugly pole.  

Tuesday, February 19, 2019

The Yard Light


Flying at Night, by Ted Kooser, 1939

Above us, stars.  Beneath us, constellations.
Five billion miles away, a galaxy dies
like a snowflake falling on water.  Below us, 
some farmer, feeling the chill of that distant death, 
snaps on his yard light, drawing his sheds and barn
back into the little system of his care.
All night, the cities, like shimmering novas, 
tug with bright streets at lonely lights like
his.  


Tuesday, December 12, 2017

Pleasant


We were discussing our birth months and our astrological signs with some friends, and someone said to me, "You're a Libra? That must be why you are so pleasant."   


I take this as the compliment it was meant to be, but I have thought about this label several times lately.  Pleasant isn't the most dashing moniker!  If you only know me from this blog, would you describe me as pleasant?  I was told by a friend that she likes to read this blog, in part, because the subject matter is light.  Especially when the news headlines are most often dark or stressful.  


It's nice to think of my words and pictures as a source of pleasantness, or light.


Another friend of mine told me that she was usually stressed by what was reported to be happening in the world before she even made it to the office.  She was angry or disturbed every day, during the solitude of her commute.  The morning headlines where enough to make her feel the weight of the world even before she took on the stresses of her daily job.  


I don't follow the news.  I've stopped paying attention to things outside my sphere of influence, as a matter of self preservation.  Selfish?  Sure, but who will protect my pleasant thoughts if not me?  Stuff seeps in, through conversation, so you don't have to worry that I will live blissfully unaware of the worlds big events, because trust me, someone always takes the time to fill me in.  Bombings, shootings, tsunamis, wildfires, sex scandals - all that stuff finds it's way to me, but I don't seek it out, and I try not to let it in passively.  I like to control my own message.


I might not be able to hold up my end of the dinner party conversation with out turning the talk to the challenges of goat breeding, but otherwise, being uninformed isn't a problem.  It's actually kind of pleasant.  

Thursday, October 5, 2017

Lordy, Lordy...


Tomorrow is my birthday.  My fortieth birthday!  Strange, isn't it, how a fortieth birthday seems to represent a certain maturity, but is also a reminder how much there is to look forward to.  If I think about all the life experiences that came with the first forty, and then try to imagine what the next forty will bring... I don't know if I'm excited or exhausted!  


But maybe that's one of the good things about entering middle age.  So many of my big ticket items on life's to do list are less demanding of my energies now.  There are check marks in the columns for school, marriage, career, dream home - even donkey ownership!  I can relax now, right?  I got this. 


Not that I expect anything to remain static, but I feel optimistic, which surprises me.  Shouldn't I be worrying about wrinkles and retirement plans?  Nah.     


Something about milestone birthdays encourage declarations.  Like that country song about the next thirty years, where he "conquers his adolescent fears" and plans to eat a few more salads and not so many beers.  Me too. 


I plan to grow things in my dirt.  I plan to have such good dirt. 


And I'll go to work, and do a good job, and I'll make more memories with my friends and family.  And I'll watch the sunset with my puppies. 


And I'll snuggle the cats.  Whether they like it or not! 


I'll do all those things, and even more.  Or I won't.  How would I know what the future holds.  After all, I'm only forty!  

Wednesday, May 24, 2017

Old Timer Gorilla


Last night was my first night conducting a bat survey for the summer survey season.  It was also the first night, in many years, where Brandon didn't come with me as my field technician.  After a few weeks in horrible field conditions during a previous survey season, a job nick-named by those who participated as "adversity training," where trucks got stuck in mud, lightning storms threatened lives, and all the survey sites involved hiking for miles through mud with heavy gear, he was less interested in giving up a summer of studio work for a summer job.  I tease my boss that she broke Brandon's spirit with that job, and he's throwing in the towel.  In truth, we have a menagerie of animals and gardens that can't be abandoned for days at a time, so someone needs to stay home in the summer, and Brandon is thankful to be able to dedicate the time to his studio practice.  


I miss spending the night hours with Brandon while we wait for bats to be caught in our nets, but working with someone new is fun too.  My new coworker is a recent college graduate.  

This morning, as I was getting dressed in my hotel room, I paused for a moment when I noticed my travel sized q-tip holder.  It's meant to be disposable, but I have refilled it many times over the years, and I keep it in my travel toiletry bag.  I paused because I realized that my q-tip holder is as old as my new colleague.  I've been traveling, with q-tips, for as long as he's been alive.  


I've noticed that recent work related documents refer to me as a "senior" ecologist.  When I participated in a workshop earlier this year, to learn about a new analysis software for identifying recorded bat calls, I made friends with the two young ladies that sat at my table.  These smart women were just getting started with their careers and marriages, and as we talked and got to know each other it came home to me that I might be one of the old timers now.  When we talked about work related stuff, I tried to keep myself from comparing everything to the way it used to be, like an old timer would do.  What happened to the folks that used to be the old timers?  Retired now, or worse, I guess.  If they are gone, then who the heck knows what's going on?  Not me, surely.      

Last week, someone even asked, while standing over my shoulder, "Rain, you're getting grey hair aren't you?"  Ack! 


Despite the all the jokes about mid-life crisis, and being over the hill, I find myself a little surprised that the signs of my maturity are surprising me.  Not that I'm forty - I still have five months in my thirties, thank-you-very-much, but it's no coincidence that I'm noticing all these things now.  Even my body is announcing to the world that I am a fully matured primate with life experience, and I have the grey hair to prove it.  If I were a gorilla, you could tell by my silver hair that I was quite successful at living, right?  
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