I have, since we moved here about ten years ago, equated Halloween with the onset of winter. Most years, it’s snowy and blustery on this particular day. This year, it’s no different. Right now, at 5 p.m., the wind’s blowing hard; in fact, the sound is akin to that of an ongoing roar. And every so often, the sound of the wind is pierced by the sound of the wind generator. All day long, I have had to listen to this: whoo, whoo, whooo, shrieeeek, whoo whoo shriek, shrieeeeeeeeeeek, shriek, whooooooooooo skrieeek. Most, listening to this would have gone mad by now. I don’t know why I have not. I guess that Casper the friendly ghost, who has, I hear, faded into oblivion and consequently lives in a noise-free environment, would like for me to join him. But, like Dylan Thomas,

The wind blew the loose snow away leaving the compact snow

I’m refusing to go gentle into that good night.

I hoped for a warm, sunny day. My sense was that this would then be a harbinger for a mild winter. I was (of course) attributing causality to an instance in which causality does not exist. Weather is weather, always varied, always in a state of flux. But I can say with utmost certainty that we’re now on the cutting edge of winter. I wish it was the far cutting edge, but alas, it’s the near cutting edge.

I’m trying hard to remain upbeat. This morning, I donned my Refrigerware suit and, with shovel and rake in hand, filled the sled with manure and snow clumps. Then twice, I took it uphill and emptied it. Having the suit on makes my outdoor life much easier.

I knew that there would be no riding today. Refrigerware suit be damned, it’s far too blustery to be horseback riding. So, I’ve instead been doing indoor work. I’m now nearly done with my TTeam article on the subject of Hrimmi and her balance related issues. Writing complements my work with the horses because it slows me down, and thus forces me to reflect upon what it is that I’m attempting to accomplish. In this case, I’m working at getting her to be able to put equal weight on all four legs. As it is, she’s a bit lopsided in the front, and extremely narrow in the rear. I’m writing about my dealing with a perceptual problem. I’ve been figuring out what to do in a very inductive fashion, taking things a step a time. At the same time, I’ve been dealing with a writing-related problem. The question that has surfaced is how do I incorporate how-to information into a narrative? As with the perceptual problems, I’ve (again) been working in a very inductive fashion, taking things a step at a time.

I’m at loose ends when it comes to the hands-on practices that I’m trying to employ. But I’m a bit more adept when it comes to writing about it. In fact, I’m light years ahead of where I was when I was in graduate school. I was then struggling to figure how to incorporate academic writing into narrative discourse, and vice-versa. Back then, I didn’t have a clue as to how to proceed. This was why I didn’t get very far. My having graduated was not reflective of my accomplishments, but rather, that those in charge had no choice but to set me free. My whooing and shrieking about killed them.

I have since (that is the past ten years) focused my energies on writing about something more tangible, in this case, horses. In the process of doing so, I’ve had instances in which I’ve had to incorporate academic writing into narrative discourse. (Here, academic writing is defined as that which is factual, expositional, and informational.) This has been a piecemeal process – but my having just successfully imparted how-to information (that is, a form of academic writing) into my story (that is, a narrative) means that I’m making progress.

It takes a lifetime to become an adept writer. I suspect that when I reach my utmost level of competency, that my problem solving days will be over. Bored, I’ll then find other things to do with my time. Perhaps I’ll get a few more horses. More horses equals more manure which equals more time.

Next: 326. 11/01/12: First of the Second to Last Month of the Year