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Not to sound weird, but…you know you’re in love with your horse when you leave off working with him, but you don’t want to wash your hands, shirt, jeans—or anything that still has his smell. 

We’ve come to that point. 

When I look back, it is the smell I remember most about them. My heart horses. The memory of it transports me through time. Way back. To my happiest of happy places.  

And now it is Tumbleweed who I’m learning. 

Awww, love. 

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This post is going to be random thoughts. 

Let me start on our most recent trip to Arizona, where we took to the road to scout out potential winter places. 

First, Sedona. 

I love the red rocks. 

There’s a scripture in The Bible where Moses asks God what he should be called, and he answers, “I am that I am.”

When I see the red rocks I feel like I’m seeing the fingerprint of the Creator. Evidence left behind. Proof that there is a divine being, and all it requests of us is that we first recognize  its existence. 

I am. 

You are. 

Everything else falls in place. 

How does it happen? I do not know. But it happens to millions who go there every year. 

I ran into a “local” at a trailhead to the Birthing Cave, a recent transplant, and she told me it is the work of the vortexes. I told her I don’t believe in them. 

Oops. 

Don’t question the vortexes. 

When I got back from the walk, she had put a card on my car door, and wrote:

Vortexes = spiritual energy amplification. 

Okay. Maybe. 

Yet,…does this need amplification?

I don’t think so. 

Here’s another caveat. 

Another local transplant commented that she liked my hat. 

Then she said that I “played the part well.”

Cough. Cough. 

No honey, it is Sedonites playing the part of me. What you see is what you get. 

But I get her point, she thinks everyone visiting Sedona is a caricature of either the western theme or the metaphysical crystals, psychics, vortexes—seeker. 

The town has 10,000 residents, yet hosts 3.5 million people a year. On weekends, the traffic is backed up for miles and miles to get there. 

Is it worth it? Yes! But go in the off-season. Live there? Well, they tell me that there is a thriving community and they learn to exist around the tourism, but it’s too much for me. 

I will remain a…caricatured tourist. 

Our next stop was Prescott, Arizona, which proudly boasts “The World’s Oldest Rodeo.” (And Whisky Row.)

There was a whole street of old saloons, like this one. 

We really liked Prescott, but it’s kind of out there, and the winters, though warmer than Spokane’s, are still too cold. 

Next stop, Wickenburg, AZ, also a rodeo town, and the winter roping Mecca for horse people. 

Wickenburg was the only place we saw people out riding the trails. 

It was a very cute town, and checks all of our boxes, but to live the way we’d want to live there would require making it our primary residence, and that isn’t happening. 

All roads lead home to Spokane. 

A place where wearing a straw hat and cowboy boots still isn’t playing a part. 

A place where you can dust off those boots, put on a clean pair of jeans and shirt, and attend a world class symphony. 

Or drink some world class wine. 

Our place. 

A place we often see fingerprints of the divine eternal, …

But no vortexes. 

Ready and Willing

My boy is growing up and earned a new nickname. I will still refer to him here as Tweed or Tumbleweed, but I took to calling him boy this year after the other geldings passed away, and then somehow that morphed into ‘Boo.’ I still sometimes call him “T,” too. My husband calls him Tum-Tum. (He’s probably very confused!)

At any rate, he is such a different horse since the geldings died and left him the sole male in a mare herd. Life got real. It softened and matured him. It almost remade him. 

“Boo” has a soft, easy sound, and it seems to fit the new Tumbleweed, the one getting ready to turn a whopping 6 years old in May.  

I met my trainer today for our first lesson since last fall, and she saw it, too. She couldn’t find the exact word she was looking for, but it’s something of softness and willingness. Agreeable. More yes than no, like he’s waiting for direction. She thought the change was most likely due to the mares, and whatever they’re doing. (My guess is Cowgirl more than the others because since the geldings died, there isn’t  a barrier between her and T, not even Foxy.)

Regina wrote to me afterward and said:

Very exciting work today. He is ready for more:-)

The plan is to work on getting smooth canter transitions this spring so that we’re solid in all gaits and he is able to move confidently under me. Regina said that if anything happened on the trail, or we just want to canter, if he isn’t strong at it he will get anxious, and that could be a mess. 

There is a rider after me taking lessons with a 6 year old Friesian mare. (She’s big and beautiful!) Regina wants us to work together on trail riding. Specifically, riding with, then away from another. And, if they get bothered, work on strategies to calm them. 

I need to call my farrier and request shoes because I think this is all going to move fast this year. 

I am extremely excited, because there is a change in me, too, and it is something like healing into forgiveness, love, and gratitude. 

It’s how you feel when you’ve survived something big. 

My work with Tumbleweed enhances whatever is happening in my heart. It feels like we were made for this moment. 

A Room With A View

A woman must have money horses and a room of her own if she is to write fiction. play music.  Virginia Woolf (changes by me)

I love my new barn sanctuary. 

This magical room has allowed me to do what I love near the animals I love. It’s the closest I’ve ever come to actually living with them. 

I practice the flute everyday, scales and songs, squeaks, screeches, yet they don’t run out of their stalls. They remain curious. 

Somedays, I walk the breezeway, playing a melody for each horse. They seem to like it. 

The snow returned this morning, and I blame Aurora and Shirley for sending it to us! Haha!

Last night, I had a Dune Date with my oldest son and daughter. (We saw Dune 2 at the theater.) When I got home at 9:30, it was raining hard and the horses weren’t in the barn. My daughter and I booted up and went out to bring them in, and boy were they excited to get into their cozy stalls. 

This morning, that rain had turned into this—snow—April Winter! Surprise!

I think I need to trek out to the barn again and play a song for sunshine before I begin their room service. 

What a Calm Horse

Last year, my trainer, Regina, said that if you train your horse right, you should be able to put it away for the winter and start back in spring right where you left off. 

I was skeptical, but I trust and, therefore, believed her. When you think about it, it’s not much different than “what you release is what you teach.”

Yesterday, I took Tumbleweed back to the equestrian park. It was a beautiful day, 71 degrees and sunny. Lots of green grass. 

(The neighbor’s place below, on our walk)

The park was full of fresh horses and riders. Mares being silly. Geldings being distracted. In fact, I ran into many of my friends heading out for trail rides, and they all told me that their horses were full of it.  

Sarah, the trainer who started Tumbleweed, gave me that sage piece of advice in his 3 year old year. I asked her how I would know he was ready to ride. She said, when you have his full attention. If you don’t have his attention, don’t get on. 

Simple, right?

I spent the first 30 minutes doing just that. If he looked at the other horses, and he did, or if he whinnied for them, and he did, I would send him out. When he gave me his full attention, he rested. When I had his attention, I got on and rode. 

Guess what? Regina was right. Tweed took right off where we left it last November. My friend rode along with us and she just couldn’t say enough good about him. That’s a good looking horse you have there, Linda! Look how calm he is! 

Yay, Tumbleweed! 

We stood talking for a little bit and Tweed wanted to tune into her gelding, but I redirected him, and he settled right down. I told her that for right now, I want him to know it’s about him and me only.  When he’s in saddle, he doesn’t have to worry about other horses because he’s safe with me. 

He didn’t really have that concept down last year, but he does now. 

It’s going to be a fun year with Tumbleweed, and we’re off to a great start. I have to get him shod when I get back from a trip we’re taking mid-April, and I have lessons scheduled with Regina to further develop his, and my, trail skills as a team. Team is the keyword. 

I hope that by mid-May, early June, we are on the trails full time with a rock solid foundation and partnership. If we have that, we can do anything. 

Wish us luck!

The Ring Arrived!

My ring arrived today from Scotland, and I can't stop looking at it.

Cowboy's. Hair. Cowboy's hair. Cowboy's hair!!

Wow.

I held it up to Tumbleweed and he smelled it for a long time.

The ring maker offers an option of sealing the hair on most of her rings, but this style doesn’t allow for it. The hair is raw. At the time, I wanted that because I didn’t want a barrier between my skin and Cowboy when I touch it.

I couldn’t take my eyes off of it all day yesterday. When I was playing my flute. 

Wow. 

On the way out to the barn. Wow. 

Standing in my kitchen. Wow. 

Standing in front of Cowboy’s old stall. 

I kept thinking, this is Cowboy, and I was dealing with all the emotions over again, but in a different way. I was wondering what it meant to carry a soul with you. How can I access it?

I don’t have answers to that question. Yet. 

It also occurred to me that this ring is not one I will be able to wear daily. It’s a ring for going out or living a more leisurely life. I contacted the maker about getting one for everyday wear, and that is when she told me about sealing the hair, something she can do with the other styles, but not this one. The other styles are also inset deeper, which protects the hair even more. Since this current ring isn’t sealed, you wouldn’t want to get it wet. 

I wouldn’t change a thing about this one because I love the raw hair, but I did order this one. 

Unfortunately, she sent the remaining hair back to me, so I will need to go through the whole process again. 

I took Tumbleweed to the state park a few days ago. I was amazed that he remembered everything we did last year. It was as if no time had passed. He was ready to work. 

I wonder if being the only gelding has made him grow up. Mares never play. They’re always serious about one thing or another. Perhaps, Tweed was relieved to get away. 

The last time we were at the state park together, Cowboy was still alive and a vital part of my life. This time, it was just me and Tumbleweed. When we got home, there was no horse waiting for me at the gate, only Tumbleweed by my side. 

Back in the day, Cowboy would hear my truck and trailer pulling in and he’d come to greet me. Every single time. 

Now, Tumbleweed greets me. 

I decided that at the end of this season I’m going to have Sarah make one more ring to commemorate our first year alone together. It’s going to be Tumbleweed’s tail hair. Why wait until they die? We have a lot of years to look forward to, and almost six that are already behind us. 

Wow.