Life in the Ranch, and Beyond
It has been a few days, and will be a few more, before I post again. Nothing life threatening, but I managed to hurt myself over the weekend and am a bit immobile. A big storm blowing in today so I am off to gather a bit more wood.
Be well, no worries, all will be well, but standing and typing is not enjoyable.
The weather has been enigmatic this Spring. Times of pure joy with the sun beaming, the snow melting, blue skies that warm your soul. This morning is the opposite. Horizontally moving snow, nary a chance of sun in the forecast until tomorrow, and the dog wants to be inside by the fire instead of deck sitting as he loves to do.
I ventured off the mountain, fully, on Tuesday. It was a trip to two grocery stores, supply stores, hardware and auto parts stores. My tenant has been kind enough to let me ship packages to him, so I returned home with both Moon Bug and her sled Dave fully laden.
I had laid a set of tracks last Saturday, but the winds pretty much removed them, but it was an uneventful trip nonetheless. The drifts are deep, but there is not enough snow to bury Moon Bug, so it has been safer to travel than last winter.
I ventured off the mountain yesterday, but only to the local town. A supply run was in order, but the tags on my truck have expired. I shall go out again Tuesday to rectify, but parts were required so out I went. I have a mess waiting for me; bought a couple dozen eggs in a flat pack and tipped them on their side to keep the sun off. I forgot to bring them home, and this mess is sitting on my passenger seat, freezing in the overnight, thawing in the daily sun.
The snowstorm of last week was intense. Nearly 18 inches landed on the mountain top, and the winds kicked up for two days after. Monstrous drifts are everywhere, piled high, and barely a remnant of my neighbor’s exiting tracks from a week prior remained.
Moon Bug did well and I am learning how to catch and ride the drifts. One scary moment on a snow filled drift laden drive. I hope Tuesday goes as well.
By Borman and Kline. Not a sign of a road in sight.
I have not written in a spell, on the site at least. Nature provided a reprieve this past few days. Weather unlike anything I expected, two days reaching fifty in the shade. Much time to reflect, walk my own land, look for signs of animals, and leave technology inside. The snow appears to settle more than melt, but the height has dropped nearly eighteen inches in the last few days. Just in time for the new powder that arrived in the overnight.
It was a light, fluffy, mild affair, but this morning with the snow blower turned eventful when an unseen fallen branch fragment got between the chewing tines and found itself inside blower assembly, and suddenly, no blowing at all. Something snapped somewhere. More snow is planned for tonight, and my old dog wants his routes clear.
I rarely know why something broke when it broke, but a few minutes of snow removal from the mouth of the machine, a few more investigating and I have a working snow blower again. Another set of pins designed to break, say, if you catch a branch in the mechanism. Last Fall I purchased a large satchel of replacement pins for this machine specifically, and am now down to my last forty eight, so I should make it until the real Spring thaw.
I am here for a reason, albeit at times I am unsure if I should be. The stillness and isolation is settling in now, and it is a season of much reflection. Much time in the mind, the consciousness, the depth of what I am, and what I am not. Making peace seems to be the key – that whole wisdom to know the difference, but I prefer elasticity. Not only is it the tool I use for consultations, I prefer to think that old dogs can learn new tricks, versus settling into one’s ways.
My old dog, fifteen plus as he is, can no longer rise the stairs on his own. Often, he cannot lift his back end to land safely upon the couch. He still has a floor bed in the corner where afternoon sun hits, but his preference is upstairs with me at night, and on the couch when I consult, for he can look up the loft to see me whenever he wants to sense such presence.
The old boy, a non barker, sighs, taps his feet now, and after a bit of trust realignment, fully expects me to aid his hips onto the couch, on demand, and same for rising to the loft. Rather than change his behavior of where and when to sleep, he changed his interaction with me. Elasticity. If a fifteen year old hound can manage it, so too can I.
I will adapt to why I am here, and continue to learn what I must learn. It is a process. A path, at times, I wish I was not upon, but it is what it is. I used to hate that sentiment, but, it is what it is.