Coop's Corner: We'll Call This One A Tie

Saturday, December 8, 2012

We'll Call This One A Tie

The snow fence install was dictated by me to be a win for me; accomplished pre-frozen ground and before any real snow. Today's task was to get the mower off, the blade and tire chains on. When we got home early AM, we had just enough snow to make the ground white.

Normally not a gambler, putting some of these 'winter' projects off until the bitter end seems to somehow sit well with me. Of course these things should be done on a nice warm, autumn weekend and even I know that. This may just be one of those grand "Do as I say and not as I do's".

One of the first things to do was swap the garden tractor's spot with the walk behind snow blower. Normally a good starter, the blower wouldn't even fire today and after sitting all, hot summer in our plastic-covered hay shed, I was confident I knew why. Out with the spark plug, a very dry spark plug which confirmed my thoughts about a resolution. A thimble-full of gas down the hole, plug back in, wire on and it started and stayed running with one pull of the cord.

No, I didn't run over Percy. Whenever she sees me moving anywhere outside, she gets in front of me at a safe distance, lies down on her back and wiggles her feet in the air. One, maybe two times out of ten I pick her up and we discuss the world's problems until I get to my destination. She really likes world problems.

Hopefully my next tractor will come with a heated seat....

The old Ford, older than even I am....

The trouble with gloves.....recently discussed over here

The "Process".....anyone that's ever diapered a rhino will appreciate this arduous task.....

More help and more world's problems....We do pretty well, at least I'm not doing jobs while lying down or at the very least, kneeling down. Oil changes can really be a problem.

The sun was working its magic by early afternoon. The snow on our garage's full length porch was yielding a phase change.

Once again, I had lots of help, some of it feline-ish, additional help from Sarah Jarosz, Johnnyswim and Blossom Dearie. I'd never have accomplished much of anything without everyone's contributions.

8 comments:

Keith - Circle BlueDecember 9, 2012 at 6:29 AM
I keep putting off spraying down the scoots with Boeshield. I suspect I'll get caught and have to spray the Symba down with WD40, then wash it off in between the episodes of chemical warfare, and then finally get around to giving her some real protection. Oh well, if it weren't for my ability to procrastinate, I might not be really good at anything.
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Coop a.k.a. CoopdwayDecember 9, 2012 at 6:45 AM
It's the road chemicals that normally stop and start my riding season. The cold, sand, etc. don't bother me in the spring but I do my best to hold off until the residue is washed clean.

Historically, the salt was mixed with sand around here. Now many (our county) areas use a liquid that comes out of pickup mounted sprayer, the spray patterns obvious on dry roads, maybe 10" apart. So, much less sand in many places, especially on bridge decks and nasty corners, intersections and so on.

I think the Symba's are beautiful machines with impressive build quality...hope you like yours!
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SonjaMDecember 9, 2012 at 3:39 PM
Percy seems to be a bit of a drama cat, lying down on the tire tracks pretending to have been run over.

But it is true that without cats the world problems would remain unresolved.
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Coop a.k.a. CoopdwayDecember 9, 2012 at 8:37 PM
Sonja, she's definitely an opportunist and knows how to play me.

Just got in from cleaning off 12" outside, fed the cats in the barn before I started and never saw them again after that.

Opportunists but not stupid.
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Martha December 9, 2012 at 9:12 PM
I bet your landscape looks a lot different now. Mine does, too. About 3 inches now.

You really have a nice bit of property. Looks like a lot of work, but I wouldn't mind having it!
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Coop a.k.a. CoopdwayDecember 10, 2012 at 6:41 AM
Martha, last night I might have considered swapping with you. I intend to stay rural if at all possible but there are times small town rural looks enticing. We do truly value our privacy.

We've been here over 20 years, built every stick in the house and Great Gramp on mom's side started it all in '84 when he came from Germany. It does feel like home.
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Martha December 10, 2012 at 9:35 AM
That would be mighty tough to leave. Tougher to sell to a stranger.

WI land can be inexpensive, but you have to be able to live out and cope with isolation and major inconveniences. I like about 5 acres and good neighbors. That's perfect.
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Coop a.k.a. CoopdwayDecember 10, 2012 at 10:27 AM
You have very well described our "perfect". We sold everything but 20 acres and have neighbors easy to live with. The decision to sell the chunk wasn't an easy one but balanced out practical and emotional at least by our definition. Our daily commute challenges the practical but for now, we think it was the wise choice.
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Others say....

"it was auspicious to approach any situation from a deferential, inquisitive place. Conceding that there is much to learn is the best blueprint for discovering something new." ----B. Fuller

The Man straightened stiffly above the block of salt fixed to the stake and looked at the young cattle ringed about him. The pasture was holding out well and the stock was looking good. This bunch would be ready to sell in another month, maybe sooner if the market was right.

A stir among the cattle down near the river brought him round to face the swinging bridge he'd built years before. Someone was coming toward him from the bridge. Someone in breeches, but it didn't look like a man, somehow. What was a woman doing in his pasture this time of night?

He bent over the salt again; maybe if he paid her no heed she'd go on past and let him mind his own business. He heard her footsteps come nearer and stop. "Good evening," she said.

Her voice was smooth with book learning but friendlier than most, and somehow almost shy. When he made no answer she went on, "I've been sitting on your swinging bridge....I thought I'd like to say thank-you...." Her voice stumbled a little, then she tried once more.

"You are Mr. ____". His name sounded strange in her voice, but she went on to tell her own.

"That's what they've called me the last sixty-eight years," he said, looking past her face to the hills fast darkening under a single star. "I reckon the woods are free for those that like to walk there."

The unfamiliar voice laughed a little. "That's what Emerson said: the grove belongs to the man who walks in it with an open heart....On that basis I guess I've owned part of your woods for a good many years.....". She made a final effort. "I've always wanted to thank you....."

Something deeply hidden stirred in him. "There's a stump up there, in the notch of the woods", he said slowly, "that before the timber grew so tall you could stand on it and see all over this country."

He kept still a minute, remembering, then, "I used to stand up there an' look at things, an' wonder how they come to be like they was, an' how the hills was created, an' all the things in Nature.... I told my wife I guessed all the religion I ever had I got standin' on that old stump, a-wonderin'..." He turned his face away from her.

She helped him out. "I know about that, a little. This afternoon I saw......." Her account of a thing she had really taken time to look at eased him, and he answered with telling of the badger den at the foot of the swinging bridge.

When she had gone, he turned to watch her. After a moment she stood clear and unmoving against the sky. You could hear the sounds of the river where she stood. She was one that could stand still long enough, he thought, really to hear what a body was saying, or a river.

Then she walked down the farther side of the slope and was gone. ------Margaret Snyder from A Chosen Valley

Fall was the end of harvest, end of the growing season, a burst of color and sun-warmth before killing frost turned the land gray and cold. Fall was a moody time, full of both life and death, a time when we were reminded of the power outside of us, reminded that the seasons happen to us. We do not invite the change to come.-------Ben Logan, from The Land Remembers

When you get those rare moments of clarity, those flashes when the universe makes sense, you try desperately to hold onto them. They are the lifeboats for the darker times, when the vastness of it all, the incomprehensible nature of life is completely elusive. So the question becomes or should have been all along, what would you do if you knew you only had one day, or one week, or one month to live. What lifeboat would you grab onto? What secret would you tell? What band would you see? What person would you declare your love to? What wish would you fulfill? What exotic locale would you fly to for coffee? What book would you write? ------- Ben Tyler

We were also cautioned about journeying far from home. As an example of the dangers, the town had a badly crippled lady named Lucy, who as a girl had traveled to New York City. As she traveled along a sidewalk, sightseeing, she was struck by the outstretched hand of a suicide who had leapt from high above. Her spine had been shattered and for the rest of her life, she was to walk bent forward at the waist, tapping the sidewalk with two black canes. Whenever the subject of travel to a big city was raised, someone would say, "Just remember what happened to Miss Tripp." ---- Ted Kooser, from Local Wonders

"Steamboats are like wedding cakes without the complications...." ----Mark Twain

"It's not about having lots of money, it's about having lots of options......." -----Chris Rock

As the very proud father of three former ponytail wearers, hopefully I can get away with this....."For the past few years it's been fashionable for young women to wear ball caps and to snap the strap on the back under their ponytails. I like the looks of that, their shiny ponytails jauntily swinging, but it's hard not to think of the rear ends of horses. There's a piece of harness called the crupper that goes just under a horse's tail to keep its nose down. If the horse lifts its head to look for a way out of whatever predicament it's in, the crupper tightens and hurts the horse. But it's foolish for parents to think that a ball cap might keep a young woman from running away. Anybody can see they're made for running." ------Ted Kooser, Local Wonders

"I tell the guy's girlfriend that the only difference between the book's main character Phaedrus and myself is that I am neither brilliant, tortured or insane, she looks at my bike and there is an uncomfortable silence." --------ahendepe (a.k.a. Vermin)