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.

To Be A Tumbleweed

 

 

Last year I read two books about habits that discouraged making goals because, for many people, goals become end points. For example, a goal like, I want to lose 10 pounds for my daughter's wedding, might work, but after the wedding I might also gain them all back. 

I was thinking about it this year and I like goals. 

In fact, what if goals are just POINTS, (not end points) on a line that extends forever?

My dad once drew a line with two arrows at the end, and he said this is God; he has no beginning and no end. Then he drew a dot on the line, and he said this is you right now. Sadly, I can't remember what else he said. I was really young. But my mind did focus in on the idea of God having no beginning and no end.

My dad believed that our bodies are finite, but our spirits are created to understand, and exist, in eternity. They are eternal  and have no chronological age. While my body might be X years old, my spirit stands outside of time, and has NO AGE.

Goals, for me, are merely a looking forward, more like a "what's next" and how do I get there?

Horse Goals. 

(MORE of this! Walk it, then ride it!)

I want Tweed to TRUST me. I want him to know that wherever we go, we are a team.

Last year we attended a despooking clinic and registered for a 2 hour spot. In retrospect, I would not do that again. Perhaps, an all day clinic, but not two hours. It did not give us the time to adequately work through his fears, and quitting too early in the process set us back.

Also, last year I needed my trainer to help me keep moving forward SAFELY with Tweed because my mind and heart were pre-occupied. This year, I want to be more of an independent team. 

Another goal is to get my grandson going with horses. He's still very young, and he screams with joy when he's on their back--which is very sweet--but it stresses them out. I have a rule around here that you can only ride horses if you also help clean stalls, and he has been doing that for over a year now. He has earned his riding time, ...but I will need to find ways to make it work for both him and Foxy.

I feel like there is one more horse in our future--yet to be revealed--that will be good for the grandkids. No rush though.

Personal Goals.

(The photo I took for my online flute lesson account. That scarf I'm wearing is my old lady scarf and I LOVE it. It's a triangle scarf made of cashmere from the Banana Republic and it is so, so, so soft. I got it this year by fluke, and most days I am wrapped tight in its loving arms of magical angel kisses. Do yourself a favor and buy one before they're all gone!)

I had my first flute lesson with a super fun instructor online yesterday. She is the Flute Lady 101 on YouTube and she travels to beautiful spots, plays her flute, and gives tips. I'd never used Zoom for a lesson before, but once I worked out the snafus on my end, it worked quite well. I'm looking forward to many more lessons with Kate, which is also a goal--take lessons and be on a development program.

I don't know if I shared this, but last summer I would play my flute back and forth to the barn, and our neighbor's cows got interested and came to the fence line. It started a thing--every once in a while I'd walk over and serenade the cows at sunset. They are not a picky audience, but they don't particularly like the high notes.

I don't know how much longer I will have with Tuffy, but I plan to enjoy every minute I can with this sweet sanctuary boy. 

I look forward to my spring 2025 barn garden: new tomatoes, flowers, and probably another batch of jalapenos and habaneros. 

Snow-covered Thyme.

Of course, lots of walks! Whenever we can be outside--rain, snow, or shine--we need to be out exploring.

We have two trips planned this winter. The first one is to Arizona. We purchased plane tickets, but not a hotel/Air BnB. The plan is to wait until the last minute and see how we feel and what the weather looks like. We have five days to just be tumbleweeds and go where the wind blows us.

Perhaps, that will be my last goal for 2025--and the theme--BE A TUMBLEWEED. Tumbleweeds are being blown forward, not in an exact line, and certainly not in a predictable one, but light as a feather and freer than the birds.

Happy 2025!

Happy New Year, everyone!

Things are humming along pretty darn easily around here. The weather has been extremely mild, and all the horses are out together, healthy and happy. I wouldn’t complain if deep winter skips us. 

I go back and forth to the barn everyday, but mostly to take care of my old barn cat, Tuffy, and to practice the flute in my barn music room. 

Tuffy is almost 14 now, and I love having him out there with me. He’s a bridge between the past and present, as I can still remember Cowboy watching over them as kittens. 

The barn room addition was the highlight of 2024. 

Looking out the window from the barn room at sunset. 

It quickly morphed into a music room when I rediscovered my love for the flute after a FORTY year hiatus. Apparently, the piano and guitar weren’t filling the need I had to wail with the woodwinds. I had to buy a student flute to get started. I did that February 2024. I became obsessed with relearning and playing, and by October upgraded to a very magical, beautiful instrument, which has captured my heart even more. When we travel, I miss it and long to get home. 

I don’t know where this flute journey is going to lead me, but there is a flute choir in our city that I’m watching with great interest. 

My barn is a magical place for me: music, Old Mr. Tuffy, my sweet horses, and the barn garden, …quietly awaiting spring. 

The apples from this little tree became daily treats for my herd in late fall. The memory of them eating apples from my hand is a sweet one, indeed.

Oh, the memories of fresh herbs, flowers and tomatoes.

 

It truly is my Sanctuary. 

My husband loves it, too, and we often remark that we could happily live in our barn. 

Our daughter and grandson still live here with us, and we have become quite addicted to him. He left for five days during Christmas and I don’t know if we’ve ever felt so bored. There was plenty to do, of course, but it’s like the spark had gone out of our home. 

We certainly did NOT ask for these circumstances, but we don’t know any other way except to turn sadness into joy. It’s like the fable of turning straw into gold. We didn’t ask for it, but we are DAMN well going to turn it into a blessing. It might take a little time, a little faith, a little ‘one foot in front of the other,’ but with love and dedication—it happens—you go BEYOND mere healing to something much greater. 

Would I have returned to the wailing instrument if I hadn’t needed, so deeply, to speak music out of my brokenness?

Probably not. 

And what a horrible tragedy that would have been, as returning full circle to the flute can now be counted one of the best decisions of my life. 

I can imagine my dad smiling next to me when I play. He and my mom didn’t have much money, but they bought me my first flute on payments, and it opened the door to a life of music and many other musical instruments.

Interesting tidbit: a couple months after returning to flute, I looked down at it and noticed the 222. I had bought a Yamaha 222 student flute without even realizing the significance. It’s like I had been blind and suddenly could see. That is the number my family holds dear as a “message” from my dad. Just further confirmation that it is ALL connected. 

I look forward to 2025 and EVERYTHING it will bring, and I wish the same for all of you. 

If you do stop by to say hi, please give me an update of your own happenings!