Last Stars and Songs

My husband and I decided to say hi to the horses last night around 10:30, and on our way to the barn we saw a huge star. We weren’t sure if it was a satellite or something else, so we looked it up. Turns out, it was Jupiter and Venus lined up together. Very cool!

If the current trend continues, data center proliferation, they intend to also launch them into space—thousands of them hovering somewhere between sky and moon, further obliterating the starry nights. 

I’m so glad I grew up in a time where the stars were so bright, on some nights, it felt like you could reach out and touch them—just scoop them up in your arms. Those moments of being overwhelmed with the beauty, and mystery, of the universe—of our smallness—and yet, our spiritual, and similar, vastness. 

I mourn that loss for future HUMAN generations. 

—-

Sadly,  I only got one “ride day” this week. It was a Katie Day, and only involved Katie and my daughter riding Epona and Tweed. I volunteered to babysit Pilot because Epona is, currently, the main focus. 

The reason there was only one day is because I was car shopping (yuck!) and entertaining my sister and her family for our last Farm Chicks. 

Farm Chicks is where antique vendors from around the country come to Spokane and converge for two days of farm chicks style shopping. My daughters and my sister have joined me for many years and it has become our annual tradition. Very sad that this will be the last time. 

There seems to always be a non-chick accompanying us and, this year, it was my nephew. 

He is also learning to play the guitar and serenaded us with lovely country oldies throughout the weekend. 

Family, horses, traditions, music—these human things grow more and more important to me. 

As the world rushes frantically down a path that even its creators admit could destroy everything we hold dear, I am rushing equally frantically towards everything that makes us human.

Here is to another day, another week, to touch a flower, hold a grandbaby, (I happen to have a new one), human heart to human heart, to sing a song, to listen to someone else sing a song, and to walk under the stars, moon, and converging planets to the place where our horses nicker sweet hellos at 10:30 at night. 

Dancing In the Rain

Happy Monday, everyone. June has arrived! Where does the time go? Seems like it’s on warp speed.

It was a busy week that ended with my youngest brothers’s super fun wedding—lots of family, non-stop dancing and celebration.

But it started out with a drastic weather change. An absolute deluge of rain on our lesson day.

Normally, I’d take a pass, but we left it up to Katie, and she still wanted to meet. Rain doesn’t bother her, and since it shouldn’t bother us either, we are being trained to ‘Cowgirl Up!’

Here is a montage of that day if you’d like to get a feel for it. This was Wednesday.

On Thursday’s ride, non-ride, Tumbleweed threw a shoe. I hadn’t checked them before we left, and I have no idea where we lost it. No doubt, ‘rainy day’ ride contributed to softer feet and the lost shoe.

 

It was painful for me to watch him walk back. I’d have carried him if I could have. He was quite ouchy. He’s doing well at home now and the farrier has already replaced his shoe. 

After the wedding we entertained my aunt and uncle and cousin who had flown in for it. I put together a tea for them with soup, scones, cucumber sandwiches, chicken salad croissants and salted brownies. Oh, and I finally learned how to make a decent pot of tea after several tries. 

We were so full after devouring the homemade cream scones. I use all of my mom’s recipes and they are just so yummy. You can’t stop yourself. Unfortunately, I didn’t think to take a photo of the food, but trust me—it was amazing!

I had also made these Lemon Possets before they arrived, but we were too full to eat anymore and I forgot to bring them out. Oh well, I guess we will have to eat them tonight by ourselves, because, sadly, my guests are already gone. 

The older I get, the more I cherish every happy moment with friends, family, and my horses. 

The other night, we danced to every song the DJ played, young and old, and celebrated not only the marriage, but each other and that moment we could be together.

When life gives you the opportunity to dance, no matter what that ‘dance’ looks like, take it—even in the rain.

On a Horse I Love “Heaven, I’m In Heaven”

Being on horseback is my happy place, but more specifically, a horse I love. 

Not just any horse. Not just any ride. 

A ride where we look to each other for support. 

That’s my version of heaven.

Katie was gone last week, and it gave me the chance to take three rides on my own. Two solo, one with a friend. Each around 3 hours total. That was good for Tumbleweed and we made a lot of progress with exposure.

On one ride (it’s where we go under the arched tree and ride through fields of knee high green grass) my mind went to a lovely place. I was humming the soundtrack “Heaven, I’m in heaven, and my heart beats so that I can hardly speak. And I seem to find the happiness I seek…” My mind, my attention, went deep into some other sphere. 

A couple of birds flew up and Tweed spooked a da-dump, which instantly shook me out of my reverie. I laughed and reassured him that I was still there with him, but I wonder if he sensed that I was lost in thought, not really present and with him, and felt unsupported when the birds flew up. 

At any rate, his da-dump was very mild and did not at all spoil my mood. 

With Tumbleweed, on the trail is literally my happy place, my heaven, but I need to be more cautious about going too deep into it lest I be transported to the real heaven too soon. 

I’ll leave you with some photos from around our place. 

The barn planters. 

Spanish Lavender.  

The old rust bucket planter 

Roses

Peonies, that’s how you know it’s Memorial Day.

And one of the butterflies we raised with our grandson, Pilot. It’s our second batch of Painted Lady caterpillars. We successfully hatched four and released them to the world. 

They flew off to their own fate, like we all do.

Happy Memorial Day!

Playing With Ponies

 

During Tumbleweed’s recovery from colic, I had an epiphany’ish moment, and it was this: I care about him too much to write about him in a way that minimizes the heart of his story and our journey together. 

I decided that I would either close up the blog or only post more rarely and allow his story to breathe and take shape. I settled on a weekly reflection. 

Every Monday I will try to post a thought or two. 

My thought for this Monday is regarding a Warwick Schiller webinar I attended this weekend on horses and separation anxiety. 

It was really good and informative, and he began it this way:

“Separation anxiety is anxiety and anxiety isn’t anything someone wants to have. Your perspective when you’re working on this stuff will have a huge effect on the outcome. So when I’m doing this work with horses, I’m NOT trying to fix the problem. The horse doesn’t have a problem. The horse does not feel safe, and they need to be helped. The intention behind any action can change the action. If you do something for a certain reason, it comes across one way, and if you do something for another reason, it comes across another way.”

From that beginning framework he shared his ideas on how to help a horse through separation anxiety, the most common form of it being a horse who is left behind by a buddy. 

——-

For the last couple of weeks, we have taken an approach to separation that is much more subtle and slow. 

If Epona is working, I ride Tweed off and away, then back, then away. 

If we’re on the trail, we practice leading and following. Epona might drop pretty far behind, get much further ahead, or we might ride them side-by-side. So far Tumbleweed has done exceptionally well, as has Epona, who seems made for trail riding. 

It’s so fun to have both of our “babies” on the trail together now. It feels different, like we’re not “working” anymore, but instead, we’re playing—playing with our sweet ponies. 

A Deeper Connection

 

It has been over two weeks since my last post.

Two weeks ago, Sunday, Tumbleweed came in from pasture with a gas colic. That set off three days of fear as I waited and prayed his system would return to normal. Hourly checks. Watered down food and mashes with as much as salt as he would tolerate (per doctor’s orders). And time.

He recovered quickly, but the vet told me it takes about three days for their systems to return to normal, and that proved to be true.

We got back to work slowly and have had several wonderful trail rides. Not surprisingly, the time together bonded us more deeply. He has done his best rides since his colic.

I took him off chasteberry during that waiting period, and I probably won’t put him back on. He’s doing too well to need it.

More time in saddle, and out in the big world meeting people (and donkeys) has made Tweed a budding lead trail horse.

Epona is starting on the trails, and he enjoys leading her. He seems to be taking care of her, in his own way, by being more mature.

I’ve decided that Tumbleweed’s desire to take care of his mares is natural and noble. Here he is with his five girls. 

And here he is after he settled from Epona riding away from him. He didn’t like it, at first, but became resigned and cocked a leg. (What more could I ask for? Good boy!!)

And that’s how we have handled buddy sour lately, the natural way. Give them jobs and let the natural process unfold. 

Our training is largely finished with Tumbleweed, but the new plan is to use him to bring Epona along on the trails. (My daughter riding Epona above).

We will keep doing what we’ve been doing, lots and lots of trail exposure and longer and longer rides. I’ve found the longer the ride, the better he does. 

His fitness level is just off the charts this year with all the early work he got. Katie said that he has finally matured into his body. 

For example, he knows how to use his body up and down hills. Last year he was still a bit goofy in his body, and that led to some insecurity on his part (and mine.). But that is gone. I feel like I have a horse underneath me now. A horse who can lead out and go wherever we need to go.

One of my rides was with a friend’s horse who I rode with last year and had issues. What a difference. He didn’t pay any attention to what that mare was doing or how far she fell behind. It was just me and him, and he went wherever I pointed. He was still a bit looky, but a good kind of looky, the kind that lessens with exposure. The kind that listens to me for reassurance.

Maybe it took a colic to get us to this partnership. Maybe those hourly barn checks bonded us in a deeper way. If so, I guess I’m thankful for it. 

I will leave off with a few images of our spring. 

This crabapple tree we planted two years ago stopped us in our tracks everyday while it bloomed. We could also see it from our front windows. 

What a gift. 

A last bleeding heart. 

Summer snowflake 

Kwanzan Cherry. 

Summer snowflake 

Apple tree blossoms

Blue vinca