First Trail Ride with Leah

I had a busy two weeks entertaining family. Lots of family. In fact, almost our entire combined family. Everyone traveled at once, and converged, at various times, upon our house. 

That meant the horses were off for two weeks because I did not have even one spare moment to play with them. At one point, the grandkids asked if we could have horse time, but that day I was making a brunch and then dinner for 25-30. 

It was a super fun whirlwind of activity, and I was tired, but as the last guest was pulling out, yesterday morning, I hooked up my truck to the horse trailer and headed out to meet Regina with Tweed and Leah. 

Tweed was amped up after that much time off, but Leah knew her only job was to stand and look pretty, which she did so well that I had to snap this photo. 

There was some huge group of kids right behind Leah in that photo. They parked themselves there all day and were running all over the place and being super loud and unpredictable. It was an organized group of some sort, but I don’t know what their goal was there or why they chose the equestrian area.  At any rate, they made a good training opportunity. 

We worked on all the same stuff we usually do, seeing how long Tweed could maintain his frame on a loose rein (2-3 steps) and then collect him back into vertical flexion. Regina found that turning him in a wide circle (in vertical flexion) then immediately asking for the canter as we ended the circle, set him up best for collection. She was telling me to do that, but I kept confusing her directions and trotting onto the circle for a bit, then asking for canter. When I finally understood her, we had beautiful trot to canter transitions. 

I had plans with my husband after our lesson to ride Leah and Tweed on the trail. In retrospect, it was a dumb idea since he had never rode Leah (she was only ever ridden by me) and Leah hadn’t even been ridden AT ALL in 2-3 years. You can imagine her shock when her job description quickly shifted from looking pretty to figuring out what in the hell this new rider wanted of her. 

And off we go!

Leah walks out fast. She’s a big horse, I always had her ride lead, and she was amped up with my husband. Tweed could barely keep up, and we often had to trot to catch up. 

We went along pretty well for a while, but eventually we ran across a party of four horses and riders and Leah wanted to follow them home. She started to pull that direction and escape my husband’s control. I was paying so much attention to them that I couldn’t focus on Tweed, but he was getting equally amped up. I asked my husband if he felt safe enough to dismount and walk the rest of the way with her so that I could school Tweed in the trees. 

My thinking is that Leah is already a trail horse, I rode her all over for many years, but she and him need time together in a controlled environment. Tweed, on the other hand, is somewhat new to trail riding, and his schooling takes priority. 

With my husband safely on the ground and Leah back to only looking pretty, I began my work. I would check in with T, but if I didn’t get a response, I’d ask for vertical flexion, if he acted upset about that, we’d circle into the trees and work, then go back out on the trail and repeat. It worked really well, and he got back into his thinking brain. 

The ride was about 45 minutes, which is rather short (but eventful) and I didn’t want them to think coming back to the trailer was a reward, so we went to work again—for Tweed it was a repeat of the morning class, plus riding over the obstacle course, and then in the arena with a new horse (a friend of mine arrived) and Leah (who my husband had finally figured out with my direction) and for Leah, it was round pen work, then arena. 

Leah’s issue was speed. She wanted to control the speed by breaking into a trot and taking control. My husband kept pulling on the reins and asking her to “walk.” I rode Tweed over to them and gave him a mini lesson on my old girl. When she speeds up, turn her in a wide (keyword: WIDE) circle and back the other direction. Do it immediately when she picks up the trot. 

Of course, it worked like a charm because Leah is inherently lazy AND smart, and she knows the drill. When we went into the arena, he did the same thing and it didn’t take long before he had a solid citizen. They looked really good together at the end, but I didn’t get a photo. 

My husband had so much fun with her that he wants to go again this afternoon and work on those basics and a little trail work. I think it gave him a new appreciation for foundational work, since he is so used to riding the dead broke grandkid horses who you just point down the trail while you drink a beer. Leah has been that horse for me, but after so long a time off, he has to earn it with her. 

By the time we were finished, Tweed had been working for 3 hours, and he was more than happy to cock a leg and fall asleep. 

My husband had brought a bottle of wine, which we also shared with the friend who had showed up. 

I am so happy my husband is enjoying horses again and is excited to ride with me because the next phase of making Tumbleweed a full fledged trail horse is going to take a lot of riding WITH another horse, and a lot of Leah looking pretty while we work out the kinks. I think she’s going to love her new job. It will require a lot of standing around watching Tumbleweed do all the work. Every horse LOVES to be in that role. Haha.  

Two Years Later: Thank You

On the two year anniversary of “the day our life changed,” I choose to celebrate the wins. There are so many miracles and “wins” that I will only cover a few, but just know that despite the adversities, we have been blessed beyond what we deserve.

1. I’m alive! We’re all alive! That might seem an easy accomplishment, but it really isn’t. I’m so thankful we’re all alive! And, as an addendum, my body is healed up, too. Yay!

2. Though my time with Tumbleweed became rarer, and my mind was in survival mode, I didn’t give up. I reached out for help, and we kept growing together. Now we are ready to fly.

Sometimes in life we might be forced to take *seemingly small steps, just never stop taking steps. “The journey of a thousand miles…”

3. I picked up the flute again after 40 years and began to breathe my stories & songs into that magical instrument I had never fully appreciated. 

I had my first recital last Sunday, and was not afraid to play in front of others. The song I chose was Amazing Grace, which was perfect. 

When you are tense, and life throws so much at you at once, much of it out of your control, you really do have to stop and breathe. A lot. Often. Always. 

Playing the flute reminded me to breathe everyday, and from that breath, even find beauty (and healing) in the musical vibrations coming back to me. There are several studies about how music heals at the cellular level. I felt it happening in me these last two years. Thank God for music! It has saved me, body and soul, more than once. 

4. I have a deeper love for my husband, deeper respect, deeper trust, and deeper thankfulness. I didn’t think that was possible after 23 years. Hardships have the power to draw you closer or break you apart, we drew closer. 

5. I am thankful for my barn and barn garden, the sanctuary that was started two weeks after it all happened, and finished as daughter and grandson moved home with us, just in time to further help the healing process. 

The last two years have taught me, yet again, that you can’t escape suffering in life. It happens to everyone, no matter how perfectly you try to organize your life, or hide from it. Suffering, and sadness, will find you. 

But in your suffering and sadness, you can also find an otherworldly grace, …and miracles, many of them, all over the place, everywhere you look. 

They are our love notes from the universe, saying you can do it! You have everything it takes! You are glorious, and you are loved, and you were created for this moment. 

Embrace it, breathe, cry, and let yourself feel. 

Then look around and say thank you. 

Thank you. 

Another Fun Lesson

Today is expected to be in the 90’s, maybe even 100, so I met Regina early for a lesson at the park. We will both be busy for the next two weeks, and won’t be able to meet again until after that, but I will have several opportunities to work with Tweed while our grandkids visit and get their horse fixes. 

Because of my broken toe and back issue, I have been happy to make up for lost time in saddle, especially rebuilding my core strength. I continue to take flute lessons and had my online recital yesterday, (Sunday.) It is amazing to me how important core strength is in producing clear tones and sustained breath. A strong core is essential to so many things in life.

Back to today’s lesson.

The equestrian area hosted an obstacle clinic last weekend and there were still some wet spots where they had water obstacles. The variations of shade versus light, and wet versus dry, made a great spot to work Tweed.

Here’s how things went down today, in order:

1. No groundwork. Tweed was relaxed right out of the trailer, so I tacked up and mounted.  

2. I chose spots on the fence to ride towards, and after 3 strides, would ask for another direction and another and another. Eventually, I rode more strides, but if I lost his attention, I’d choose another spot and immediately turn him. 

3. He did very well, but no surprise, he lost a little of his attention around Leah—so after awhile we rode circles around her. I used one rein, and brought it up for vertical flexion when he sped up, slowed down, or looked around to spot trouble. I was controlling his body through space and time. Taking the reins, and giving them back fast when he softened. 

4. The dark, wet patch caught Tweed’s eye. The time in which it would take a horse to process that change in footing, however, was not consistent with maintaining our trot through space and time. Of course, he’d have liked to have stopped and looked at it, but that’s not always practical on the trail. They need to trust us and Regina wants that level of acceptance in our work. 

5. Regina told me to maintain the trot & collection, point him toward the dark patch, and sit my butt way back in the saddle. If he moved around it, don’t make a big deal, just turn him back towards it and go the other way. When I turned him, she asked that I sit even further back, like going down a hill on a trail ride. Really free him up to turn. Back and forth. Up and down. Maintain speed. No slowing down. No speeding up. It didn’t take long at all before Tweed was treating that patch like any other part of the arena. (Regina commented that it would be good to do the same thing through certain water patches we will find on the trails.)  

6. At that point, Regina had me stop and rest him in the wet spot. He almost cocked a leg and relaxed, but then he got that ornery look and started pawing. Regina said he was preparing to roll, so go back to trotting along the fence line, then try again. The second time he rested and cocked a leg. 

7. At the end of our hour, we practiced work to rest transitions, because sometimes you have to stop and wait on the trail. We rested away from Leah who, by that point, he wanted nothing to do with.  He figured out Leah means work, and he wanted to be far away from her. But if he reacted to the outside environment while he was supposed to be resting, we went back to work on transitions and eventually came back to rest. 

It was another fun morning with my boy that ended on a positive note. He is getting it big time. No groundwork needed and very little correction, just consistency in directing his body and speed. Regina said though, that the beginning exercise, choosing a spot to ride to, vertical flexion and releases, for a few strides, was actually much like the groundwork exercise of having him move out a little and then face up. It was engaging his brain in the same way.  

That will be our last lesson for awhile, but we will have some great training opportunities around here in the meantime. 

Trying to Save the Unsavable

There are two plants that I am trying to save, the orchid given to my mom in March 2022, when my dad died (she left it here at my house), and an azalea my daughter brought with her after her heartbreaking divorce, in December 2023, when we sold her home. 

First, the orchid. 

Full confession: I am a killer of orchids. Having received many as gifts from friends, I never found out how to keep them alive. They come in small plastic pots, perhaps, a little moss shoved into them, but that’s it. 

When my dad’s orchid started to die, and it took a year for that to happen, I went to the internet to find out what I was doing wrong. 

Turns out, the sitting water was rotting the roots of the orchid. I purchased an orchid pot, replanted it into mostly moss, watered it once a week, pouring off the excess water, and prayed it would survive. It has been over a year, and so far it is still alive, and I see NEW growth. Yay!

Now, for the azalea. 

We moved our grieving daughter out of her home in December 2023. She came here with her 2 year old baby boy, our sweet, sweet grandson, and currently the joy of our lives, 2 cats, a dog, and an azalea. 

The azalea wintered in the garage, occasionally got watered, and flourished. It clearly had a will to live, despite the neglect.

In spring 2024, I planted it into my barn garden. It survived, but didn’t thrive. Winter came and almost killed it. 

Almost. 

As you can see, there is still a little green. And where there is green, there is a possibility of life. 

It is at the barn garden, but now back in a pot, and if it survives summer, I’ll overwinter it inside. (Because I am determined to hand it to my daughter one day, ALIVE and thriving, when she is healed enough to move out, and on). 

So, say a little prayer for saving the seemingly unsavable souls we are given. 

Life has no shortage of such beautiful things. 

Peonies

This morning the green fists of the peonies are getting ready

to break my heart
as the sun rises,
as the sun strokes them with his old, buttery fingers

and they open–
pools of lace,
white and pink–
and all day the black ants climb over them,

boring their deep and mysterious holes
into the curls,
craving the sweet sap,
taking it away

to their dark, underground cities–
and all day
under the shifty wind,
as in a dance to the great wedding,

the flowers bend their bright bodies,
and tip their fragrance to the air,
and rise,
their red stems holding

all that dampness and recklessness

gladly and lightly,
and there it is again–
beauty the brave, the exemplary,

blazing open.
Do you love this world?
Do you cherish your humble and silky life?
Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath?

Do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden,
and softly,
and exclaiming of their dearness,
fill your arms with the white and pink flowers,

with their honeyed heaviness, their lush trembling,
their eagerness
to be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are
nothing, forever?

Mary Oliver