Age Undetermined

April 11th was my “birth” day, and, as is traditionally the case, my husband asked me what I wanted to do:

Anything. Just name it. He said. 

We’d had a family birthday dinner on the Sunday before it, so I just wanted to be with my daughter and grandson and then, when they had to go their separate ways, get in the car and wander together, alone.  

(I smashed my bare foot into a chair at the Sunday party and it still hasn’t healed, so that has put horseback riding, long hikes, and biking on the back burner.)

We went for an easy walk in the country where the purple widow’s grass was abundant. It was as if God had set out the most beautiful bouquets for us. 

3 generation photo. 

The first half of the day with daughter and grandson was lovely, but they had plans for the afternoon. 

The second half of the day, wandering alone with my husband, took us to Whitestone Rock on Lake Roosevelt, about an hour and a half away. We usually go there by boat, and swim or float on paddle boards underneath its massive watch, but there was a road to an overlook that we’d never explored. It ended at the old Whitestone winery, now out of business, but still there sitting quietly unoccupied. 

We were able to park and hike to an overlook. 

Behold, Whitestone Rock. 

Someone, had placed a gnome on the overlook. 

On the drive to Lake Roosevelt, we were able to reflect on birthdays and life and the crazy speed at which it’s all going. 

This birthday, chronologically my 58th, was bothering me just a little, and I wasn’t sure why. As we talked I was reminded that it is closer to 60 and 60 is the age my dad got prostate cancer. Both my grandparents on my dad’s side died at age 67. And, since we’re nine years apart, 60’s for me will mean 70’s for the love of my life, my husband. Naming those things, subconscious fears, I suppose, also took their power away. 

Throughout my birthday week I had received calls, visits, and lunches, and many people asked me how old I felt. 

At first, I searched for a number,…30, 40, 44, 50, 60…? In truth, though, no chronological number seemed to explain me or the way I feel. 

My mom told me that people who feel younger tend to live longer. 

What about those of us who feel ageless? 

I love where I’m at right now and who I’m with in life. I have this feeling, the same that I always have, that it can’t get any better.  There is nothing I hope for, except MORE of this—more time to play my instruments, to ride my horses, to enjoy my friends and family, and to LOVE those I love. 

So, cheers to living outside chronological time and being undefinable, even eternal. 

Let’s raise a glass to embracing the many blessings of being alive,… and loved. 

Addendum: Reality

The funny thing about blog posts is that about the time you publish them, you get contradicted. If not contradicted, at least a new *caveat emerges.

 

My daughter and I had plans to go the equestrian area today. I had my trusty mantra: everything is going to be GREAT! I had positive visualization from loading to hauling, and so forth. 

But when we loaded Epona, she wasn’t okay with it. She pawed, held her head high, and threatened to pull back. It was also clear she was in some distress, as she was breathing hard when you looked at her flank.

Reality happened. Positive visualization is, indeed, a good plan, but part of being a horsewoman is recognizing the reality, too--the needs of our horses. And sometimes those are things we could not have predicted--especially when other people and other horses are involved.

We didn't know how long it would take, or if she'd even be okay loading, but our plans changed to address her needs. I unloaded Tweed who had been loaded in front, and Shiloh spent time with Epona loading, unloading and standing tied in the trailer. 

I decided to work Tweed by having him stand calmly at my side for the entire duration. It didn't take long for him to start doing BABY things. 

What are baby things? Trying to be in my pocket. Sniffing my hair or gloves. Putting the rope in his mouth. Etc. I am determined NOT to see him as a baby this year, so I put him to work when he did any of those things. He had to back up, come forward, (yada yada, you all know the drill) whenever he came into my bubble.

New rule: you don’t approach me unless asked. 

And yet, look at him.  He has baby written all over that face! (No! Stop! He's not a baby. Not the baby. Not my baby. Repeat.)

Since we had this big change in our plans we took the opportunity to deworm the herd. 

We taped Tweed and Epona inside the barn where the ground was level:

Epona 1150-1200 lbs and a little over 14-3 hands

Tweed 1250-1310 lbs and a little over 15 hands (we figured he was closest to 15-1

You all probably know this, but if you have a horse that is really difficult to paste (Tweed and Epona are not that horse--they are superstars for pasting, but Cowgirl is a ferocious beast at pasting time!!), well, if you have one like Cowgirl, you can mix apple flavored Ivermectin into their grain and they will eat it. Since we're no longer competing with humans for Ivermectin, it is readily available in apple flavor. As far as I know, there is no pelleted form of Ivermectin in the USA, but I did see some in Australia.

Another thing I want to mention is that I found my perfect HELMET. 

I have always hated helmets with the heat of a thousand suns. I was convinced they interfered with my peripheral vision and made riding more dangerous for me. But I wore them...sometimes. 

Well, I found the perfect one for my head, and now I love it and love to wear it. It doesn't feel like I'm wearing anything. It's like an extension of my head.

It is the Troxel Liberty Low Profile helmet with the dial-fit band. (photo above.)

I love it so much that I was telling my trainer that I should probably buy another one, just to make sure I always have it. She recommended I contact Troxel. In fact, she said she was told the 5 year helmet rule began from date of manufacture. We looked at the sticker inside the helmet and it was manufactured in February 2023, 2 years ago! That would mean it only has 3 years left.

I contacted Troxel last night, and they got right back to me. They said they cannot guarantee the date of manufacture when they send it to you. It could be 2023 or 2024. However, they said they do guarantee them for 5 years from PURCHASE, as long as it isn't involved in a fall.

So, long story short (again) I love this helmet. I have ordered a hard case for it, and I plan to keep it in the cab of my truck, NOT bouncing around in my horse trailer. I will probably buy another one and store it at home, just in case I need it or for other riders who come here. 

The representative also said that it was one of their most popular lines and they do not plan to discontinue it--or the color I love, "Bluestone Duratec".

Is there anything better than having a helmet you love to wear?

I’m Queen of the World!

Life with horses can go from moments like, “I’m the Queen of the wooorrrllldddd!” …

To

“I’m going to dieeeeee!” in one day. 

Usually, it’s in-between. 

Way back when I first started Leah on the trails, I found myself often expecting the worst, and that worry before the ride detracted from the fun. 

At the same time, I interviewed pianist David Lanz on my old podcast and asked him how he handled stage fright. He told me that he had a method of visualization before performances. He would sit for five minutes and imagine himself playing beautifully, and even imagined the kind words of appreciation after the performance. 

I decided to do the same before a ride with Leah. 

I sat down and imagined everything going great, from loading (she hated the trailer and would paw a lot) to hauling a long distance (I worried about my truck or trailer breaking down on the freeway or someone pulling out in front of me) to tacking up, riding, and returning home safely. 

The first time I did the visualization, it greatly improved our time together, and she developed into a wonderful trail partner when Cowboy was on the sidelines with equine head shaking syndrome. 

Today, I had my lesson with Regina, and it approached “Queen of the world” level, but more than that, it made me feel like Tumbleweed is a blank, but willing, slate. 

There is something different about him at almost SEVEN (yikes! can he really be seven?!!) There is more of a foundation, more maturity, trust, and willingness. The willingness is what I’m talking about. It’s a certain level of looking to, and waiting, for me. It’s a certain form of grace—horse to rider and rider to horse—where you are still getting to know each other, but you trust where you’re going.  

Regina worked us through the sticky feet issue pretty quick. On the ground she wanted me to get more of his attention, strive for less drama, engage his brain and his feet (she taught me an exercise for side passing him along the fence on a lead). In saddle, we worked on fine tuning my communication of requests and releases. 

It was a refresher from last year, but it seemed like a lot of it finally came together—in both Tweed AND me. Both of us were like mutually saying, “Aha! We get it now.”

Much of it is a case of the solids we had left off with last year, but it’s also those same solids having marinated over the winter and matured in our partnership. 

Long story short, it was fun and he made me feel like I was transcending this earth just a little bit. Floating. Flying. Borrowing his wings. 

How is that for a positive visualization?

Saddle Up, Buttercups

My trainer, Regina, told me once that if you stop a horse solid on something, it will pick it right back up after being turned out for winter. It’s an interesting concept, if for no other reason, because it shows you what you had solid. 

Riding season has started up

I know, because of buttercups. 

Here is one I found on a hike a couple of weeks ago. My husband and I had a bet to see who could find the first one. It was me. We also have an ongoing bet on who can find the first tree that seems formed by a vortex. You know, the kind that grow in a swirl of energy, as they do in vortex spots in Arizona. We want to find a local vortex. We haven’t found one yet, but we’re still looking. 

Back to Tweed. 

We spent the day at the equestrian park with friends last week. It got to about 72 degrees and sunny. As you can see, he is very fat coming out of winter. He is what you’d call an easy keeper. 

We started the day doing obstacles, and Tweed did great. That is no surprise, considering how much time we spent on obstacles last year. They were solid. 

The second half of the day was riding in the arena, and that went well, too, but at the end of our work he started getting stuck in the feet and losing his attention. I think it was just getting to be too much for his first day away from home. I got him moving again and then ended it, making a mental note to contact my trainer for a first lesson (April 2). 

We will work through whatever is there. Most likely, I didn’t do enough before getting on. He had done so well with everything else that I didn’t spend much time on ground work. Just a couple of bends and I popped right on up into the saddle. 

We went for a walk at the end of our day, and by that time he was a little sweaty and itchy. As we descended one sandy hill, his knees buckled and he got part of the way down before I smacked his rump with the rope and got him to pop right back up. He wasn’t happy about that, and he gave me the evil eye for the rest of our walk. 

Once back, I unsaddle him and let him roll in the round pen as I visited with the others, then we called it a day and returned home….where hay had just been dropped off. 

More round bales, and we just had a load of small squares delivered, too. We are doing well in the feed department. I don’t plan on putting them out on the pastures until mid-May, so we will still have need of it. I also want to find a care lease of an older equine the grandkids can ride, maybe even my husband. As of now, unless he rides Cowgirl, Epona’s mama, he doesn’t have a horse to ride with me. I’d like to have an older solid lead horse to help me with Tweed. My sister had one that would have been perfect, but she care leased him closer to her house so her granddaughter could continue to see and ride him. We’re two hours away—and that is too far. I’m hoping one of my friends has one that could use some TLC here. 

Old Post: Our Arizona Adventures

*Oh gosh! I had this update sitting around growing cobwebs! So many things happened since this trip, good and bad. 

Old unpublished post January 2025:

Our “tumbleweed” adventure ended up blowing us back to Tucson, Tombstone, and Bisbee, Arizona. We looked at the weather forecast and decided we wanted to experience a little sunshine and hiking, and then my youngest sister and her husband decided to be tumbleweeds, too, and joined us at the very last minute. 

Our great-grandmother, Alice, homesteaded 160 acres at the Gila and Salt River Meridian, outside of Bisbee. I have the exact coordinates of that property, and I plan to find it on our next trip down there, hopefully, in fall. It is where my grandfather was born, and where his mother died in childbirth when he was only 1 1/2.  Her death, such a strong woman, changed the trajectory of my grandfather’s life. 

Here are some photos from the trip:

Hiking around Tucson, AZ. We stayed near Catalina State Park. 

Hiking with my little sister and her husband. 

Equestrian area in Catalina State Park. It was empty, but what a great place to camp with horses.

So many great restaurants. This was one of our faves: El Charro.

Tombstone, AZ

I got a new holster for my gun in Tombstone. 

Random photos of Bisbee, AZ, the town my great grandmother immigrated to and homesteaded in 1905. They call it "Mayberry on ACID." They are 100% correct to do so. Funky, crazy, edgy, town.