Four Seasons of Life

We survived the fires, but two big ones broke out around us. The conditions were perfect for something much worse—dry heat and high winds. Unfortunately, we have another hot weekend coming up. I kind of thought we were out of it, but Mother Nature isn’t done with us yet. 

Bring on Fall! 

A good friend wrote me yesterday and asked if I wanted to ride, but I told her I am on full time babysitting duty and have been for the last two years. She was surprised. I guess I didn’t tell everyone why I’m not riding as much. I’m pretty sure I’ve explained it on this blog, but probably not well enough to my local friends. When all this happened, I kind of isolated myself and threw everything in to getting through it. I told her that in September I will have two days a week free and we will ride then. 

Bring on Fall!

In the meantime, we are getting a lot of family time and we are blessed to have so much of it around us. Tonight we’re having Thai Tuesday with the kids and on Saturday, taking some on the boat. We’ve hosted family for the last two weekends also, and had a trip to Texas (I stayed home to babysit) to see family. 

The work on the house next door continues, but we still have a long way to go. We knew it would be a big project, and it is. For example, it’s a large house and every smoke alarm was beeping for new batteries. ✔️ done. The furnace hadn’t had the filter changed in four years. It was completely clogged. ✔️ done. The refrigerator was broken and the contents spoiled. We cleaned it out. ✔️ done. Mowing. Almost done. And so much more to be done. 

Nature doesn’t take much time to reclaim itself. All it would take is a fire and nature would win the battle entirely. Poof! That’s how transitory our lives are. 

There has been a theme this year. The year my husband’s dad died there was also a theme: Christmas Carol by Dickens. We somehow saw it performed three times, twice here and once in Omaha when we went to visit him a week before he unexpectedly passed. 

This year it’s Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. We have heard it performed the normal way and then in interpretations by Max Richter (my absolute favorite) and Piazzolla, also beautiful. 

It has made me wonder which season of life we are in. The busy-ness sometimes makes me think summer, but the reality is probably autumn. It’s definitely not winter.

Someone recently said that babysitting duties keep us young and contribute to a longer life. Maybe prolonging “summer” and “fall” has that effect. 

If so, I will live a long time.

Bring on Fall! It is, after all, my favorite season.  

Mysterious Ways

My lesson was canceled for today due to a windstorm and the highest level of fire danger. We are staying put and guarding our homes. We are not as vulnerable as my trainer’s place (which is further out) but we do have a fire hazard next door to us. 

The house next door was sold four years ago, but health and family issues of the new owner kept her from occupying it. As you can imagine, it is extremely overgrown around the house (we let our horses graze the pasture and another neighbor cuts it for hay.) 

Though we each have 10-14 acre lots. The actual homes were built very close to each other. We have a gate between the two that we used to go back and forth to visit one another. 

This year we talked about our daughter renting part of the house and caretaking it, and she asked us to do that, but it took until this week to hammer that out and get keys. Yesterday, my husband went over with the tractor and started to mow through it, but the weeds are higher than me, and you have to be really careful not to mow down spigots and other items hidden in the grass. (We had to talk with the former owners to find the appropriate locations of the structural items.)

There have already been some casualties, clay pots, but nothing too bad. Our tractor overheated with the work and the actual heat of the day, almost 100 yesterday, but he was able to get a good part of it done between our homes and in front of hers. Unfortunately, there is a half dead tree that hangs onto her roof and would present a huge danger if fire ever reaches the property. 

The inside of the house was in decent shape, but there had been obvious break-ins. Three windows are cracked and we found three doors wide open where cats had gotten in and killed birds. It appears the initial break in was through a window that was left unlocked. You can see a muddy footprint on the table underneath it. 

It’s going to be a lot of work, but it will be nice to have daughter and grandson next door for maybe the next year, longer if we’re lucky, and it will be good for the neighborhood to make it less of a fire danger. I don’t know if she will come and live in it or sell it. Time will tell. The downstairs has its own separate apartment, so they can both live in it, if that’s what she chooses. (She says that’s what she wants to do, so that is what we’re operating from.)

She is lucky (and so are we) that there were not permanent squatters. Through the years we had run off people who would go back there and park, but it’s impossible to know what happens at night when we’re sleeping. Our daughter will be installing Ring cameras, first thing and we turned on the porch lights to signal it is no longer abandoned. 

——

Speaking of my daughter, the divorce was finalized in July and he remarried the next day. For me, that is a relief. It shut the emotional door. While, of course, I’m sad it happened, I realize how intricately our lives are intertwined with the grandson we all love, and my only concern now is that they ALL do well. I pray that each one of them heals, finds happiness and creates loving homes for the children. So far, that seems to be happening. 

It is not a coincidence that the keys to the house next door arrived on—guess what day…?  Yes, the exact day the divorce was finalized. She said they were in the mail two months before, but she actually sent them days before the finalization and a mysterious big, HEAVY package showed up at our gate. We didn’t know who it was from, and were a little scared to open it, but when we did, it was full of children’s books and keys. It was further confirmation to me (and my daughter) that everything is in God’s hands, and He works in mysterious ways. 

Re-Creating the Conditions

If you’re following along with my latest posts about first trail rides, on our last ride Tweed lost his attention at the equestrian camp ground and hill past it.  From now on, my lessons with Regina will be covering what bubbles up on those rides, so we met at that same campground and re-created the scenarios. 

As I parked across from the campground and saddled up, Tweed was agitated and wanted to eat grass (distraction), but after Regina arrived, we warmed up in the meadow doing those basic attention exercises—as soon as he lost focus on the circle I turned him in towards me—at walk and trot. The ground was uneven, so he had to pay attention to his balance. 

We then moved to a hill and did the same thing. Tweed was agitated at the trot because it required that he give it 💯 of his attention, which he wanted to divide between me and a big group of horses heading out. He didn’t do anything big, but I’m glad I wasn’t riding it. 

When we had him relaxed at the trot in a circle on the hill, I bridled him and we went back to the hill to do the same work in saddle. 

Key points: 

Going downhill I was to hold my hands very low, working length reins, and give him freedom to move, mostly using my legs to guide him. 

Going uphill, I posted the trot because he wanted to either walk or lope, and my hands were still working length, low, but I was to give him his head and only check his speed with my body and the demands of the hill.

When we had that going well, we went a bit further out to another hill and worked on descending in vertical lines. For that, I did need to ask for direction with the rein aid, but the goal was to use inside leg and push his hind quarters over with a steady working length rein. 

Something in the meadow had him on high alert, and then that big group of riders came by at a distance. Regina just had me stick to it—trust the process—and he mellowed out. 

We rode back to the trailer over the same hills, which he did very well, then ended it on a positive note. 

I was really happy that all the same things that happened on the trail also happened in today’s lesson and Regina gave me tools to work through them. We’re going to do the same work the next time we meet until he is rock solid. 

I am so lucky to have a trainer willing to meet us—literally—where we’re at!

Fear of Riding the Trails

I have a ride coming up next week with a woman who takes lessons from my same trainer and is a seasoned and accomplished horsewoman. Her horse, from everything I’ve seen, is a pretty solid guy. 

The issue is that in her later life she has developed a bit of a phobia of riding the trails. It’s partially due to silly things other people have done on rides and / or the difficulty in finding someone to ride with that is willing to do whatever it takes to make it successful. It is also, like in my case, a new trail horse for her, thus a new adventure. 

Whether or not it materializes is yet to be seen, but I assured her I would help it be successful. It can be short and sweet or whatever she wants it to be. I even told her I have no issue getting off and walking them, if she feels the need. In fact, I often dismount in unpredictable places so that Tumbleweed never associates the trailer with the end of a ride. 

We’re going to meet with our trainer beforehand and do some work together in a more contained environment, then head out.

I share her concerns, so fully get where she is coming from. I’ve been on rides with people who did dangerous things and it’s not fun. 

I am the boring stickler: don’t run them up hills or back to the trailer and, honestly, don’t do anything that the whole group isn’t comfortable with first. I don’t like to see people “let big things go,” as it is often a precursor to their horse getting naughtier. At the same time, I don’t like to tell people how to handle their own horses. It’s a conundrum that comes with riding out in groups.

What are your own experiences and thoughts about this topic?

More Happy Trails

 

Another day, another trail ride. 

Tweed is coming along very well. He is new to it, so everything is a potential hobgoblin, but he worked past the scary things and never did anything BIG. The worst reaction was a halt and look (2x) and a fast descent down a hill (1x). 

I don’t like it when he does the fast, racy downhill, as it is a sign of not paying attention. I try to direct every foot on the downs hills and even stop him. He did great on all except one, and I think it was the only one where he was following down—which might explain it. He is definitely better leading than following.

It was interesting to see what he found scary because they weren’t things I would have predicted.  There was a stump he didn’t like, then a couple of large rocks. There was also an electric transfer station that all the horses find scary at first, and he did, too. We eventually rode through an equestrian campsite and he got excited about the new horses being unloaded. We passed another trailer on the road and Tweed talked to the horse being hauled. The horse talked back to him. 

It was a longer ride, so he got a lot thrown at him and he held it together. Bravo, Tweed!

Tumbleweed is going to be a great lead trail horse. In fact, he led out most of the ride. There were only a couple of times where he balked and the other horse had to lead us through. The majority of the time it was reversed and Tumbleweed was the one leading the way. The other horse stopped and refused to go a couple of times, which put them way behind us where they had to eventually trot to catch up, but Tweed didn’t seem to care. 

At this portion of the training, there is no substitute for just riding out. He needs constant, positive exposure, and lots of it. I’m going to do my best. 

On a side note, the thin halter was too small for him, so I did have to order a new one after all. Almost there. 

Happy Trails!

Once Upon a Time, The End

I was so euphoric on Friday when I wrote my last post that I realized later it sounded like a fairy tale and we were at this part:

          They lived happily ever after. The End. 

In fact, we are only at this part of the trail riding story:

Once upon a time, there was a woman who raised a beautiful, brave horse named Tumbleweed. The woman dreamed of someday riding the trails with him, and she spent many days (years) preparing for it (more work on herself than him).  Soon, they were ready to set out.

One day….

In other words, we are at the beginning of this new chapter. 

I am already frustrated that I can’t get right back out and build on what we started Friday. I worked with Tweed at home yesterday and today I am going out of town. The grandson gets home tomorrow and babysitting duties resume. I am going to have to be very creative. 

In the meantime, I am piecing together all my old trail gear:

After my ride Friday, I was thinking how I wished I owned a thin riding halter, just in case I want to hop off and walk him through something or tie him somewhere.

I began researching them and almost bought one, then a light went off —…Um, I own one and used it often with Cowboy. 

Ok. 

But do you still have it?

The picture already gave it away. Yes, I save everything. 

The next thing was finding my packs and seeing what was still in them and what they needed. 

This is what was in them: sunblock, trail maps, roll on fly spray, and hand sanitizer (my last big rides were during the pandemic, and I had a lot of hand sanitizer!)

This is what I added to it: a first aid kit, ice pack, and vet wrap. Then, a utility knife with a hoof pick. (Cowboy had a shoe hang by one nail on a ride and I was only able to get it off because a friend had a similar utility knife.)

Finally, I was remembering back to some particularly buggy rides that inspired me to invest in riding masks. I looked them up on Amazon and saw that I had purchased them in ‘18 and ‘23. I’m sure they’re in my collection out there, but I ordered both again because you can never have enough fly masks. My horses are hard on them.

The visibility is excellent with the Cashel Quiet Ride masks. I didn’t think they created any issues when I rode with them before. 

And last, but not least…

A friend made me a knife sheath long ago, and I have it tied to my saddle at all times. A horsewoman always needs a knife. 

I forgot this essential, my side purse for the phone, reading glasses, car keys, and another pocket knife. 

 

Right now I can’t think of anything else to add. 

How about you, what’s in your bags?

The Way Back Time Machine

On the sidebar of this blog you will find “My Favorite Blogs”-you’re all on there, (many have gone dark 😭), and if you’re a horse blogger and not on there and would like to be, let me know. 

There is also “Popular Posts,” which is generated by blogger stats. Since I took many of my old posts off last year during some weird, wild hair of mine, that section has been more representative of diverse topics. 

Well, anywho, I do peek at that sidebar every so often and today I saw this one “A Sensitive, Neurotic Horse May Be Just What the Doctor Ordered.”  It’s a time capsule that is relevant to my situation yesterday and some of you commented on it way back then. 

Within it there is a link to another post: Equine Anxiety from a Psychiatric Perspective.  It is based upon a conversation I had with my husband about human anxiety and how it can be applied to horses. (Your comments from the way back Time Machine are fun to read!)

Here is the portion of that convo that I find interesting today:

——

“Husband:  Sure. [Seems to be eager to talk about one of his favorite topics.] There are cells, deep inside the brain that release norepinephrine, it's adrenaline, and that is released throughout the brain and affects all the major structures of the brain such as the cortex, which is where thinking goes on. So, people have scary thoughts, it affects the hypothalamus, which is what controls heartbeat, breathing and, of course, those go up in a panic attack. And then, norepinephrine stimulates nerves that go to the peripheral nervous system, which creates the shaking, sweating, and all those sorts of things, as well as the gut which can go into spasms and become part of it. That can go on from anywhere between ten minutes to two hours, and then, those people experiencing a panic attack will be drained, but it will replenish itself in a few hours.

The interesting thing is, while panic attacks usually start in some kind of situation of fear and anxiety, after a while, the thing that's really painful is that people fear having a panic attack itself--they fear the feeling of anxiety, and then they can become housebound.

Me: How do you stop a panic attack once it's started?

Husband: You have to start with a top down approach, so you go to the thinking part of the brain and start to rethink what's going on, re-frame what's going on, learn new ways to relax, learn to control at least one physiological parameter, because in a panic attack physiology is out of control. This tells the brain, I might be partly out of control, but I'm not totally out of control. And, eventually, you have to begin to expose yourself to feared situations, in small doses, so you can begin to re-experience them as more pleasurable now.

Me: So, for instance with Cowboy, panicking about water or anything else, how would that apply if they're already at the feared object?

Husband: If they're already there, try to get them to relax without having them go further. Don't let them run away. For humans, you have to get them to recapture some bodily function that they can control. Eventually, you want them to experience the feared situation as a pleasurable situation.”

——

In the follow-up article, I wrote this:

“The things I took from that human/horse panic attack connection were:

1. Control some physiological parameter.
2. Use a top down approach and get them thinking.
3. Do not pressure them forward, but get them to relax and not run away. (In retrospect, #3 should be amended a bit because it’s not real clear.)
4. Help them experience the feared situation as a pleasant situation.”

—-

So, here I am a decade or so later, did it work with Cowboy?

Yes.

When I switched to that modus operandi, Cowboy and I grew into the most exceptional trail riding partnership. I earned his try and his deep trust. That trust (and love) was one of the greatest accomplishments of my life. 

Did he do absolutely everything I asked? No, but he always “tried” to do something towards it and he regularly went across water (which was his worst fear even before I got him.)

Did I feel super safe on his back? Yes, so safe. It was like we were one. 

Did he want to go on rides with me? Yes, and he’d even walk past the trailer on purpose to keep rides going. 

Was he a happier horse? Oh yes.

In a nutshell, I want with Tumbleweed what I had with Cowboy. ❤️ That sums it up best. 

Interesting to hear what all your thoughts are now, a decade later. 

—-

On another note, if you don’t own ZOCKS, you need some. I bought several pair five years ago and they are perfect for summer. Mine are finally getting thin from use, so I had to first remember what the heck they were called (zocks) and then buy them again. Worth the investment. 🙌

I Have a Trail Horse 🥹

(That’s the face of happiness right there.)

Oh my, what a day! I’ll just say it right off the top, the short trail ride with my friend went great! All the work we’ve done was there—from checking in with me to asking which foot to put where, what speed to go, and if I wanted to stop going down a hill or stop going up a hill, walk back to the trailer, be able to stop and pay attention (even when the trailer was in sight), and to lead out with a new a horse following behind.

See that ear turned back to me? That’s what I had the whole way. If I lost it too long, I’d ask for vertical flexion, squeeze him forward if he tried to stop, and then release it. (I also sat deep on my pockets!)

When we got back to the obstacle course we did some light work before the lesson, and these two sweeties came along.

Be still my heart. I joked that Tumbleweed could be their long lost brother since they share the same coloring. 

So, we attempted the bridge again, but he still wanted to avoid it. I accepted a nose touch and a foot on it because he had done so well on the trail (the big prize) I didn’t want to undo everything we gained with a fight. 

The friend I was with (only after being asked by me. I asked, since you just rode with us, what would you suggest I work on during the lesson?) …She wasn’t sure she should answer that trick question, but after some prodding she said she thought I shouldn’t have given up on the bridge obstacle until he went across. She doesn’t think he should get in the habit of saying, NO.

A valid point, although I countered that his heart was beating pretty hard and I could feel it through my fenders. I didn’t want to get bigger, especially after the trail ride and before a lesson. It wasn’t a battle I wanted right then.

When my lesson was about ready to start, I brought it up with Regina—when is it too much versus “not enough?”

Regina said she understood the concept, but with the bridge still being broken, she didn’t want to school him on it and risk him getting injured. She suggested to do the same work, but on different obstacles—the sand pit and the big logs. 

The sand pit obstacle is harder than the bridge, and I’ve added a few stops and turns to it. As we were schooling on the sand pit, and Tweed was doing awesome, my friend called my name. Her horse had broken free and was running across the park to get back to her new boyfriend, my beautiful boy. 

I dismounted and Regina told me to keep my attention on Tumbleweed. We could see the sweet mare running towards us like a heat seeking missile. Tweed didn’t know how to respond and flagged his tail, arched his neck, but Regina’s advice was spot on. I turned my attention to Tweed and he returned my attention almost 💯. He calmed right down. Regina secured the mare and all was well.

We restarted the sand pit obstacle and I worked on sharpening my turn cue.

Finally, we went to the logs. Up to that point Tweed had only accomplished it from the ground, and not with me riding him. 

We did the same thing—got a long straight start, checked him ahead of the obstacle with vertical flexion, sat back on my pockets (it felt super far back, but it works), and gave him the reins. 

Tada!

I am building a confident horse and a partnership! The thanks goes to my trainer, Regina. All those building blocks she added filled the holes. There were times I didn’t know how what we were doing related to trail riding, but it did. She said today that because we worked in all these things, when I ask for them on the trail they comfort him. He is familiar with it and it supports him. ❤️

We have so much more to accomplish, but it is safe to say, I officially have a trail horse now. 

As I write, I am beginning to tear up because I am so happy. The last two years have been hard, but we didn’t stop, and now this. I am deeply, deeply grateful. 

Not least of which, I am grateful to Tumbleweed. I’m not sure if he is a late bloomer or if my life complications slowed down his progress. (Maybe a little of both.) But what he is turning into is a strong-minded trail leader. We’ve achieved that essential quality, togetherness. 

Just wow. Wow. Wow. 

What We Are Training

This week to ourselves has been fun. I forgot what it was like to have so much time to fall in love with my horse. 

Yesterday, we were back to the park, but rode the obstacle course in saddle. Tweed did them all, except the bridge. I could only get his feet on it and have him rest there. 

I didn’t want to take steps backwards when he did all the others absolutely perfectly—one step at a time—stopped when asked, forward when asked. Even at the mounting block, where he is always good, he was better. He didn’t have to be positioned, but instead moved his own body to my sweet spot for me to get on.

After getting his feet on it, I got off and walked him across the bridge, and he did that with no problem, which tells me, at this juncture, it’s more about carrying a rider over it.

I chose to tell myself he was trying to take care of me after what happened the other day. The experience shook his confidence in delivering me safely over that obstacle. Whatever the case, when I looked at it that way it filled my heart with love for him and I hugged him really hard and he melted his head into me. Just melted. That release of tension and lack of any resistance was confirmation I’d done the right thing.

The other day I came across a Facebook post and it said we are always training something—good or bad. We even train confidence. I want Tweed to, first and foremost, trust me and want to spend time with me. 

Today, we’re heading out for his first trail ride with a non-herd horse. A friend invited me, and I feel like I can trust her to give me the time I need to work through whatever comes up. After the ride we have a lesson.

Here’s that post from Tim Anderson Horse Training:

“ Everyone Who Rides Is a Trainer—The Real Question Is: What Are You Training?

There’s this common idea floating around that there’s a line between riders and trainers. Like “trainer” is some special title reserved for professionals, and everyone else is just a rider along for the ride. But here’s the truth, plain and simple:

If you ride a horse, you are a trainer.

You’re either training that horse to be better—or you’re training that horse to be worse.

There is no neutral.

That might sound harsh, but horses are always learning something every time you interact with them. So the real question isn’t are you training your horse, but rather, what are you training them to do?

Training Isn’t a Job Title—It’s a Result

People tend to think “training” is some formal process that happens under the guidance of a paid professional with a whistle and a plan. And yes, good trainers absolutely have a method, a process, and a structure. But the act of training happens every time you swing a leg over, pick up the reins, or even halter your horse.

Every time you ride, you’re teaching. Every time you handle your horse, you’re reinforcing something. And the scary part is—if you’re not intentional about what that something is, it’s usually not good.

You might be teaching your horse to:

ignore the leg,

push through the bit,

lean on the forehand,

avoid pressure,

spook to get out of work,

blow through transitions,

or flat-out disregard you as a leader.

And you might not even realize it’s happening, because a lot of bad training doesn’t feel bad in the moment. It just feels like a horse being a little “off,” or having a “bad day,” or “not liking that one thing.”

But horses don’t do things at random. They do what they've been trained to do—on purpose, by accident, or through neglect.

You don’t have to be a world-class rider to train a good horse. But you do have to be consistent. You have to have standards. You have to be present and paying attention. And you have to stop blaming the horse for things you’ve allowed, tolerated, or failed to address.

You’re training with every cue, every aid, every reaction. If you ask for something and your horse ignores you, and you let it go—you just trained them that your cues don’t mean much.

If your horse gets pushy at the gate and you say, “Oh, he’s just excited,” and you let it happen—you just trained him that excitement is a reason to ignore boundaries.

And if your horse stops listening altogether, but you just keep riding the same way hoping it gets better, you’re not just holding them back—you’re helping them get worse.

That’s training, too. It’s just not the kind that leads to a better horse.

Training Happens In the Small Things

It’s easy to think training only happens when you’re working on something obvious—like leads, stops, or lateral work. But training happens just as much in the boring stuff:

Does your horse stand still when you mount?

Does your horse wait until you ask before moving off?

Do they lead respectfully, back when asked, yield their hindquarters, soften when you pick up the reins?

Those little things are where all the real training lives. That’s where your horse is learning who you are, what you expect, and what they’re allowed to get away with.

Good training isn’t flashy. It’s not about spinning fast or sliding far. It’s about the small habits that build a safe, reliable, responsive horse. That’s what real trainers focus on—every single ride.

You’re Either Teaching Good Habits—or Reinforcing Bad Ones

Horses are pattern learners. If something works once, they’ll try it again. If something gets them out of work, they’ll remember it. If you let them drift to the gate one day, you’ve just taught them the gate is an option. If you bump the reins to slow down and then let them blow through that cue because you’re tired—that becomes the new standard.

What you allow is what you teach.

What you ignore is what you teach.

What you’re inconsistent with is what you teach.

So if your horse gets worse the more you ride—don’t look at them. Look at you.

Because whether you meant to or not, you trained that.

The Best Horses Aren’t Born—They’re Made

People love to compliment good horses. “He’s such a nice horse,” they’ll say. And that might be true. But behind every “nice” horse is someone who made sure that horse learned the right things. Somebody held that horse accountable. Somebody didn’t excuse away the nonsense. Somebody trained—every ride, every day, every moment.

And here’s the kicker: if you’re not training your horse to be better, you are leaving a blank slate open for them to teach themselves—and what they teach themselves usually involves shortcuts, resistance, and ways to avoid pressure.

That’s not a flaw in the horse. That’s just a horse being a horse. It’s your job to teach them better.

So… What Are You Training?

You don’t have to call yourself a “trainer” to be one. The horse doesn’t care about titles. The horse only cares about what you’re teaching them today.

So ask yourself:

Am I training my horse to soften, or to brace?

Am I training my horse to listen, or to tune me out?

Am I training my horse to be confident, or to be anxious?

Am I helping them progress, or letting them stall out?

Because like it or not, you are training your horse every time you’re with them.

That training can build a better horse, or it can break one down.

It can build trust, or it can create confusion.

It can build habits that last a lifetime—or habits you’ll be fighting for the rest of that horse’s life.

Final Thought: Own the Job You Already Have

You don’t need to be a pro to train your horse well. You just need to take ownership of the role you already have. Be aware. Be consistent. Be intentional.

Because every rider is a trainer.

And every horse is the product of that training.

What kind of horse are you making?