The Two Year Blur

Last night we entertained friends in our home, something we used to do regularly, but hadn’t happened in two years. 

Two years. 

Where did they go?

I had a lesson with Tumbleweed last Wednesday and it went really well. We’re still working on his balance (and mine) between gait changes, but there is an eager willingness in him and a pride in his work  

Maturity.

There is also a foundation there. 

In my mind, I left off at a not so fun trail ride in 2023, then magically appeared Wednesday with a willing horse, two years later.

What happened in between?

To find out, I reviewed my blog posts. 

I found out that the last two years weren’t blank. They were full of, first, working with Tweed on my own to get past the trail issue, and then, second, reaching out to my trainer when I didn’t feel I was focused enough or emotionally present enough to do the important work of bringing Tweed along. 

I needed eyes from the ground, a guiding spirit, a mentor.

The most important thing, though, was that I didn’t quit, and the investment is clearly there. 

Now that I am coming out of the —what is the word—? I don’t know the right word. But now that I’m coming out of it, I am finding my horse is there ready to greet me. 

Like, “Hello, I’ve been waiting for you.”

The nuts and bolts of our work Wednesday was doing exercises that pushed Tweed’s herd bound buttons. My trainer brought her Arab/Thoroughbred mare and rode alongside us and away from us. Tweed was to maintain vertical flexion and then walk, trot, and lope past her and away from her in various scenarios.

There was a third horse there, too, and he ended up also becoming part of the lesson, though it wasn’t planned. It was a friend of mine just there riding her horse for the day.

Tweed did awesome. The goal was to keep his attention with me no matter what happened, and for me to be proactive, rather than reactive. 

We discovered that he can be really sensitive/emotional, so my trainer had me take it down a few notches and only “think” about transition changes. Hmmm.

It worked, and we started getting really soft transitions, even from walk to lope. I guess just thinking about a transition change also changes your body, and our horses pick up on it. It’s a sort of magical oneness.

In other news, there is still no news.

About Epona, that is.

Although, her trainer did share a photo.

And, as they say, a picture says a thousand words.

Barn Dance

I should rename by barn room, currently dubbed the “Sanctuary,” as The Wild Retirement Room for Killer Cats. 

Tuffy will be 15 this July, and it is no small feat staying alive that long out here in coyote country. 

Yesterday I was thinking about what self-care looks like for me, and I was reminded of how I used to dance everyday until the life change 2 years ago. It ended up being shared dancing with my husband, but it started as private dancing for myself. Nothing big. Just turn on a song and move. Sometimes it was an upbeat song, sometimes it was a slow one--whatever fit the moment.

Though it seems simple to have come up with, I hadn't given myself permission to dance before a Noom course recommended it. Once I started, you couldn't stop me, and I soon invited my husband into it, which he loved, but it became less a private activity. When the divorce arrived at our doorstep, it was like someone turned the music off. 

Well, last night at sundown, as I was out spraying the horses for mosquitoes and closing up the barn, I decided to close the big doors, turn on the breezeway lights, open the smaller sanctuary room door (where Tuffy was sleeping), move the portable speaker into the breezeway, shuffle random songs on my playlist, and DANCE again.

You may remember that my barn was not finished (or started) until after the music stopped in June 2023. If it had been done a  month earlier, much dancing may have already occurred in the breezeway. As it was, the beautiful barn remodel was born into the sadness and silence.

The first song shuffled on my playlist was "Rock the Boat," which really announced a vibe shift. In fact, it sent Tumbleweed out of his stall and into his run. So, I kept my dancing to Foxy's stall who, unbothered, kept eating her hay.  Soon I saw Tumbleweed's head stretched as high as it could go, eyeballs rolling to the side to see what I was doing over there.

It was good for him, and he eventually accepted it and settled.

The second song was "Na Na Hey Kiss Him Goodbye." While I moved to that one, I was thinking about everything negative that I was going to kick out my life.

But it was definitelythe 3rd, and last, song that will be most memorable to me, "Spring in Hours," by Florist. It will be memorable because Tuffy, my wild killer cat, came out of the retirement room and asked for the dance. 

I accepted.

And away we went, me careful not to step on him, and him, gentle and attentive as any dance partner I've ever known, stepping forward and back and to the side, accepting much petting, then purring and stepping.

The random song from the playlist seemed perfect for that moment and for him.

You are the kind of person soul that comes from the flower's center
You landed in this dimension
There's love in all your senses, your arms out wide
While you're inside there crying surviving
Look through an open window
Your eyes keep so much treasure
Hear what the wind will teach you
Feel how your body sings
With the world outside in color
And the world inside you always
Only light inside you now
Only wild inside you now
I think it's the long walk to the next part of your life
Will you hold me dance with me until no more?
You are the kind of person spirit I want to show it all to
Come through the open portal
It sparkles like sun on water
The way we speak our names
It's the same as blowing breezes across
If I can't live without it, I can't live at all
If we can't live without it, we can't live at all
I'm a dream, I'm a fraction
I'm somewhere between the near and the far of the butterfly's wing
There's sound that we hear and sound that we sing
And sound that we use to say, "I love you so much"
Oh, the light inside you now
Oh, the wild inside you now
Maybe there's something that takes us beyond this
And flowers like spring in our arms

Whatever happened last night--ALL of it is what I want in my life everyday for however many days are left to us. 

Time for Self Care

It is time to concentrate on my health. The last two years have been an emotional whirlwind and my own needs were placed far, far, far back in order to fully concentrate on other, more pressing, ones. 

However, it is true that if you don’t take care of yourself, you won’t be able to help others—very well, or maybe not at all. 

My foot injury is probably what made me realize how important health is, especially mobility. I made an appointment with a podiatrist only to cancel it two days later when my foot finally began to feel better. Week 4, day 2. If it keeps getting better at this rate, I won’t need an appointment.

But oh man will I enjoy getting my life back! Hiking, biking, riding Tweed and the others. This has been a GORGEOUS spring! I’ve never seen one more beautiful here and May is just getting started.

I’ve also restarted Noom for the encouragement, psychology / science, and accountability. I’ve been doing a lot of “fog eating” the last couple of years. (Babysitting puts me in that state.)  It’s time to pay more attention.

We got Epona safely to training, but haven’t heard much in updates. Hard to say what that means, but it usually means they’re in an adjustment period and no news is good news.

Cowgirl and Tumbleweed miss her. 

Epona’s Going Off to Training

I am the best horse hauler I know and the only one I trust 💯 to haul my own horses. That is because 1) LUCK and 2) driving EXTREMELY cautiously. 

I was hauled in the back of a horse trailer a few times, once over a speed bump that sent me flying, and though those experiences gave me MORE respect for slow turns and preemptive, sensitive driving, I came wired that way.

I have had plenty of near misses: deer running out in front of my truck, objects flying out of trucks ahead of me and into my path &, of course, technical difficulties. 

Luck and extreme caution saved us. 

However, with all the many trips I’ve driven, I still get nervous about long hauls. Mostly, because of the variable of the horse itself, which is somewhat out of my control.

It is why I spend so much time hauling Tweed (and my past mounts) so that I can trust them back there WITHOUT a camera. Some people have cameras, of course, but I don’t know how they can drive AND monitor the horse. 

I’m old-fashioned. 

I close the door, drive away, and say a thousand prayers for a safe trip along the way. 

Don’t try having a deep conversation with me until my trailer is safely emptied at the destination. I am mentally locked and loaded. 

It’s draining— and when I get home I throw myself into a comfy chair, pour a large glass of wine, breathe a huge sigh of relief, and celebrate. That’s the fun part…

But I’ve got to do everything in between the fun part now.

Wish us luck.

Only Positive Vibes

Foxy is a wonderful horse for ‘the littles rides.’ She knows that they are short, sweet, and easy. She nuzzles them before they get on, keeps calm and slow for a few times around (which is about all they’re good for), and begins licking her lips at about ten minutes in, knowing that her grain reward is not far away. 

It has always been a coveted job at our house, and two have held the position before her: Old Red and Penny. Mostly Old Red, though, because he lived to 37 and performed the job until the end. 

Tumbleweed was calling for her and pawing at his gate, but Foxy paid no attention to him. 

I don’t have photos of my lesson with Tweed yesterday, but I do need to brag on him, because he deserves it. 

I showed up to my lesson at 2 pm, and since I haven’t fully healed from the toe / foot injury, Regina asked if I’d like to warm him up in saddle. 

It had been 4 weeks since he was ridden, but he was so calm that it was an easy yes, and up I went. 

We were in the round pen for only a few minutes, working on vertical flexion and moving along in a straight path, and he did so well that we decided to head to the arena. 

I side passed him to the gate, he opened and closed it like a ranch pro, then to the arena gate, where he did the same. He’s even getting so good at it now that he nudges it perfectly with his nose to get it in position for me, like Cowboy used to do. 

In the arena we worked on more of the same—anytime he fell out of frame or got looky I asked for vertical flexion and when he got back to work I gave him back some slack. 

The centerpiece of our work was walk, trot, and lope transitions, and she wanted them fast, super fast, almost faster than my brain works. But those exercises resulted in a much more sensitive and responsive session. Tweed started carrying himself better, in anticipation of whatever would come next. 

One thing (of the many things) Regina told me which stood out is that a good gauge of whether or not he’s carrying himself properly (besides feeling it in his back, etc) is how long it takes him to organize his body when I ask for vertical flexion again. After the exercises we did, that reorganization was almost instantaneous. 

I was so impressed with how mature Tumbleweed was and how hard he worked for me. 

When I went to unsaddle him, he ground tied, also like Cowboy did. It was a deja vu kind of day. He kept giving me these snippets of what I’ve felt before and seen before, relaxation, trust, willingness. In a word, I guess it would be partnership, even after so much time off. 

All of this work we’re doing is always with trail riding in mind. If I’m asking for vertical flexion when I lose his attention, Regina is saying, “And this is what you do if it happens on the trail.” She’s training me to be proactive and to maintain a close connection to support him. Someday, he will be a seasoned trail horse and not need all that support, but that will take time. 

I think country life is the best life for kids. My grandson seems very happy here riding horses, his bike, the 4-wheeler with grandpa, and “walking the dogs.”

I hope what we’ve given him here has made up, just a little bit, for what he lost. He is certainly surrounded with love. 

What a great season of life.