December 2020 – Go Retire Psychiatrist

Windy Terry Trueblood Trail

Day before yesterday was the eve of Christmas Eve. We ventured out on the blustery day despite the forecast for winds in excess of 40 mile per hour. We got started late in the morning and the temperatures dropped like a rocket in reverse about an hour later because of wind chill. A thin film of ice formed on the lake and it looked like the geese were leaning into the wind, which was blowing hard out of the southeast.

It almost looked like the water fowl were listening for something. In fact, we thought we heard a low-pitched hum when the wind was gusting the hardest. Sena heard it first. It came and went. I think we heard it best when we looked up at a patch of cloud-filled sky on the east side of the trail. One cloud looked sort of like a turtle’s head to me, although Sena thought it looked more like a pig’s head. The hum seemed more noticeable there.

There was a fair amount of excitement several years ago about seemingly pervasive low-pitched hums and many people were very sensitive to the noise. Some of them said it make them miserable. There is even a Wikipedia entry about the phenomenon. One guy even recorded it. I’m not sure if it’s the same sound, but it was similar. I didn’t think it was unpleasant; just odd. It’s unlikely you’ll hear it in our YouTube video, but then again, your hearing may be much keener than mine.

A heavy sign with the word “Skating” on it got knocked down by a powerful gust. We watched a very strong guy set it upright—it blew over again moments later.

Along with the wind, a blizzard was predicted for the Midwest, but it missed us. We barely got enough snow to sweep off our porch.

Merry Christmas! I hope Santa watched out for those crosswinds.

First UIHC COVID-19 Vaccinations!

UIHC Historic Moments

The first supply of the COVID-19 Vaccination vials arrived at the University of Iowa Hospitals and Clinics (UIHC) this week. We couldn’t have wished for a better Christmas gift. As a recent UIHC physician retiree, I know first hand how hard everyone works there. They live the motto: We Stand Together. UIHC is making history—and they’ve been doing that for a long time.

You can find out more about the vaccine at the Iowa Department of Public Health web site.

Way to Go Iowa!

Kindness Alert!

This is just a brief announcement—a Kindness Alert. This past Saturday, we got our first load of snow of the season dumped on us, which meant we had to go out and shovel. Our driveway is pretty big. We don’t have a snowblower. This means we were out there about an hour and a half powering our way through a few inches of wet, heavy snow.

And naturally, that meant the city snowplows plugged in our driveway shortly after we went inside, foolishly congratulating ourselves on a job well done. I think there must be some kind of local ordinance requiring all driveways to be plugged with snow right after the homeowners finish clearing them. I’ve posted about this before.

But then as we watched from our front window, our neighbor interrupted his own snow removal work to clear off our driveway plug and then some. In fact, he used a snowblower and a shovel! He spent considerable time on the job. It was an impressive act of kindness. I remember wanting to rush out in the cold to thank him.

Little did I know that I would have the opportunity to return the favor. Shortly after our neighbor finished, another snow plow rumbled through and dumped more show in our driveway and even spread it around more generously in other places near the curb—and even shoved snow over the curb on the lawn. By that time, the stuff had frozen into small boulders of ice and mud.

I plodded outside again and cleaned it up. Then I noticed that the snowplow driver had also piled more snow on my neighbor’s side. In fact, I did return the favor—sooner than I thought I would.

A big shout-out for my neighbor’s act of kindness!

Wild, Flying Tree Warriors

A couple of days ago, Country Arborists cleaned up the debris left behind in our back yard from the derecho that smacked Iowa in August 2020. They are wild, flying tree warriors. That was a scary storm and if the straight-line winds had blown in a slightly different direction, our house would have been all but demolished.

Like a lot of other people in the state, we’ve been clearing tree limbs. But the massive oak was beyond any tool we owned.

The view from our window was a constant reminder of the derecho. The fallen oak was broken but not separated high up and we had to leave that kind of work for the professionals. Many of the tree removal pros have been extremely busy. Some are scheduling out to a couple of years from now. Country Arborists are just as busy, but made time for us anyway.

We had no idea what was involved in tree removal jobs of this magnitude. When they arrived last Friday, one of the first things they noticed about our back-yard trees was one which they identified as possibly a Native American Trail Marker Tree. This summer, Sena noticed this odd, old tree which was bent at right angles.

Anyway, I filmed the work they did, which was spectacular. They rigged a rope system which allowed one of them to cut the trees at the top, above the difficult terrain. He was like a trapeze artist, swinging from the branches. He carried all the tools he needed on his belt, leg holster, and harness as he flipped his little chain saw (which didn’t look big enough to cut the biggest tree but did) behind his back from hand to hand as needed to get the best angle of attack.

It was cold outside and I had trouble keeping the video camera still because I was shivering. I missed the shots of the biggest trees as they were in the act of falling because of that and a flashing red light on the viewfinder, which I was afraid was signaling either low battery or nearly full memory card. This is something Sena will be reminding me of for years to come.

I will never forget my dismay at missing the moment when the airborne arborist finished off the huge broken oak by kicking it, sending it to the ground with a biblical crash. I had to contain my urge to shout, “Hey, can we get another take on that?”

The big job is done—sort of. A wooded lot is a mixed blessing. Parts of the back yard are almost mesmerizing when the foliage is thick and the birds are flying all over the place. The forest is alive, but it doesn’t live forever. We have to learn how to live together somehow.