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We Are Flying Solo

Showing posts with label farm. Show all posts
Showing posts with label farm. Show all posts

August 14, 2014

Life Smacks You In The Face. Horses Reduce The Swelling Afterwards.


If pain must come, may it come quickly. Because I have a life to live, and I need to live it in the best way possible.  - Paulo Coelho, By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept

give up catThis week has been a rare treat at the real job (and by “treat”, I mean, a quite unexpected awfulness I didn’t see coming).  Every office has its crappy days, but it’s a special occasion when it stands out among a decade.  (I love my job, I love my job, I love my job, I…)

Betrayal, rage, pain, all the fun parts!  I am quite careful & quite diligent at drawing a firm line between my professional life & my personal one, but this monstrosity shoved right through that wall at exactly the wrong time, which naturally just multiplies the offense.  Something tells me I wouldn’t be off base in guessing you’ve been there…

Chocolate helps, but one “normal” person can really only have one expensive hobby at a time.  Which boils down to why we all have chosen to torture surround ourselves with large, suicidal, frustrating, money-burning, unpredictable, mesmerizing, magical, & altogether wonderful horses at every opportunity.  In fact, I find myself wondering if I can substantially increase my tax write-offs by adding “equine-assisted therapy” as a line item.

One of my resident greys
Requirement:  Resident Therapists

The smallest things can save you a drive to the loony bin.  That husky nicker alongside a face that says to you, “Hooray!  You are the bestest sight & I’ve been waiting all day just for you!”


Stomp-whisk-nom slows your breathing in time with horses deterring flies while relishing supper.

Watching the crystalline well-water fill the trough as a hidden broad-winged hawk scolds an uninvited guest somewhere in the oak trees, I can finally feel everything else fade away.  As the grey tree frogs launch their daily chorus, all that's left behind is a very welcome relief.

Could Actual Riding Actually Occur??

Oddly, almost surreally, it is a breathtakingly gorgeous evening:  August in North Carolina has a long tradition of sweating through four shirts a day, as well as fascinating discoveries, such as the fact that you CAN actually sweat underwater.  I guess the memo has gotten lost because my pastures are exploding with green & the air is…pleasant??!

The best part?  Solo digs eagerly in to his favourite spots in the top pasture, which has been resting for a couple weeks.  I carefully pick through Encore’s feet with Durasole, ichthammol, and ThrushBuster, only to find his LF closing up & his RF comfy, and FOUR SHOES ON FOUR FEET (*cough* we may or may not have seen our farrier twice in five days last week *cough*).

bareback solo
Don't be jealous!
How can I help but smile as I buckle the nylon girth of our fabulously stylish bareback pad (bony chick + TB withers = I am not ashamed of my eBay memory foam!!)?  Encore seems to agree: every bridling usually includes a patient pause while I wait for him to unclamp his silly teeth.  Today, though, I lifted the bit to an already-open mouth.  I guess we both got bored!

Yes, you read that right:  bareback pad.  You know, since he’s a “crazy” OTTB and all, after five weeks off, things get very dramatic when I hop on from the trailer fender and we…walk around for a while.  :D 

Getting The Kinks Out

The ride itself was nothing fancy; I mostly just used the terrain for walk work.  Both his front feet still have a week or two of growing to do before I am ready to put them back in full service.

So we wandered around the farm & I even had the gall (says my horse) to pick up the contact & school some lateral work, combined with stretching over his topline (I know, animal cruelty at its worst).  Encore grudgingly accepted once I explained it was simple physical therapy to soften all those tight muscles which have been standing around compensating for sore feets.  I did manage to restrain my “I told you so" once his back stretched, lifted & began to swing as he unlocked his hind legs & loosened into the bridle.
    
Horses Hanging Out 001 (Small) Savouring The Now

Every evening, my pond turns into molten gold when the fading light hits just the right angle.  Flycatchers & a common yellowthroat warbled across the pastures, a perfect counterpoint to the steady four-beat swoosh of hooves through tall grass.

After being grounded for more days than I can count, feeling my horse’s strong confidence beneath me, knowing we both relished the jailbreak, being in each moment & letting it all soak in – well, I don’t need to explain to you how precious those times are!

After I shut the gate, releasing Encore to enjoy fresh grass with his little big brother, I lingered there, watching my happy horses just doing what they do.  Something in that fills you up, as if you were the trough you just tended.  Even if there was old water in it already, you shove the hose to the bottom and the fresh, clean flow revitalizes the supply & pushes the stale, cloudy water out.  You are restored, at least in part, and for today, that is enough
Rock

June 29, 2014

The One Minute Update Post

Thank you, Emily B., I'll try not to kill it!!
So many...so little...things time places ahhhh!  Therefore, you get what you get, but owe you updates, I do!!

  • The Bump(s) turned out to be bruised veins.  No, I had no idea horses could do that either.  Told you he was creative.  But Encore is cleared for work (we're not telling him!) with application of magical Dr. Bob creme to bruises, oh except for the obligatory sole bruise.  However, if he is sound enough to do a big, powerful floating trot across rocky dirt for his dinner...he is sound enough to ride on footing, dammit!  

  • I will be updating our "For Sale" tab with new items and more information!  Don't miss your chance for some great deals on clothes, tack, & more -- and yes, TFS desperately needs to raise some monehs.  The horses are eating well, but textured feed is a bit crunchy for me, even in milk!

  • Just a thank you.  I am so lucky to know a really neat group of people who made the effort to come out and share some food and relax yesterday evening (FARMWARMING PARTY!).  In the shade next to the pasture, on a beautiful, low-key afternoon, it was wonderful to introduce some of my horsey people to my fish (work) people, while actually getting to sit still!  

A bottomless thank you to BFF for organizing the details & telling me to stop freaking out and take a shower, and to her husband for making the most amazing vinegar BBQ chicken and green beans.  I love you all and am so very grateful for your friendship, generosity, and willingness to put up with me (although, I should think that last is fairly entertaining at times).

June 21, 2014

Please Press Pause

June Sunset (Small)
Taken from the tractor seat...
Letting the diesel idle, I pause the tractor on a berm in the top pasture.  It’s that quiet intermission when the sky holds its breath as the treetops cradle the last wedge of setting sun.  There’s a marked contrast between east and west; the latter glows in warm orange as the pond reflects a silver version of the same scene and the darkening pines set off the beauty of the painted clouds. 

Off to my left, though, the eastern sky has less placid thoughts.  Bulging piles of pink thunderheads rumble between strobe flashes of cloud lightning.

In between the two – there is me.  Me and two grazing horses, each with an ear cocked to the storm, should it decide to change direction and chase them to shelter.  Tonight, though, the front holds its course, withholding water, but consoling us with a cool wind to dry out the sticky air.  I never want to leave this moment.

If only that were possible.  But I can close my eyes and sneak back there in my mind once and a while.  In the meantime, responsibilities await.  Some are fun (build farm stuff!), some are not (read federal register notices!), most lie in between (find vanishing fishes!).

Horse Things Still Happen

Fenceing Sunset
No more poison ivy rubbing!
To my great incredulity, there is progress in some areas (hey, this is rather a feat these days!):  I have finished fencing taping off the main portion of my lower creek pasture so the horses can enjoy it complain that it's itchy out and there are bugs. 

Encore is back in work, errrr, well, let's use that phrase lightly, shall we?  Look, I sweat A LOT, and when it's 80% humidity at 8 pm...  But he's had a couple very nice long-lining sessions (once we were clear that yes, you do have to go forward even though you are in one of your pastures) and the rest of my focus has been on trotting/cantering hills and small obstacles in a balanced rhythm and some bareback lateral/transition work to build his hind end back up.  That butt strength is his critical and most difficult training need, just as aerobic conditioning was for Solo.

I just might give myself permission to take one lesson as a gift to myself in hard times.  Dangit.  Now that I've typed it, Encore is in his paddock right now, looking for something poky or a rock with a usable edge.  Or a stick.  Or a clod of dirt.  *eyeroll*

Are any of you managing to get in some ride time in the burgeoning sweatbox???

June 9, 2014

I Love My Hippopotamus

Especially when he does landscaping, too!  It's Mr. Shiny's favourite part of summer.



Apologies for crappy cell phone vid, interesting things always happen when you don't have the real camera nearby!

June 6, 2014

The Journey Of The Tragic Hero

VA HT May 2011 088 (Medium)
Quiet Moments
I apologize for the rather scattered nature of my last post, but hopefully you were sufficiently distracted by pictures of pus and PONY!

PROBLEM

I have been thinking a lot about this blog lately (among other things, my brain is a hamster on drugs, remember).  Because there is a conundrum.  Longtime readers know that my writing (ok, world) centers around Solo and his big little brother, eventing, horsemanship, and associated topics. 

As our Facebook page notes, it focuses on “being an adult amateur, putting your horse first, and fighting for your goals in a sport that has no mercy for the unprepared or faint of heart (or wallet).”  Aside from an occasional note about the unique challenges (and sometimes awesomeness) of my real job, my personal life is, well, personal.  For myself, the latter is neither relevant nor appropriate content re: my mission statement.

That being said, those of you who have been wonderful supporters along the way also know that my policy is 100% open honesty (pretty sure that’s redundant but my level of give-a-shit is low right now).  Result: conundrum.

SOLUTION?

But I think I have made a decision (reference said hamsters above while laughing about lack of decisiveness in statement of decision).  Although TFS (Team Flying Solo) is an entity I often reference, as is (now) FSF (Flying Solo Farm), the title of this blog remains “We Are Flying Solo:  The Journey Of A Horse & His Girl.”  Just like Solo’s name, there are many layers there, but our story IS about the journey.  And no journey (except maybe a really boring one) is complete or worthwhile without highs AND lows.

Notre_Dame_Academy
Go Pandas! They get to wear polos now?!
If perchance anyone who went to high school with me reads this post, they will giggle at the title along with me.  But it is also A Thing.  I had the same, phenomenal, AP English teacher both my sophomore & senior year of high school.

Mrs. Bricking was the kind of teacher who challenges you to constantly raise the bar, with the motive of opening the minds and eyes of 15-18 year-olds, who are sure they know everything, to a broader view of the world, and the powerful themes and tools that great literature provides.

Spiderman Fail
I totally just used Spiderman; but he fits
Which brings me to the title:  it was there I learned about this nearly ubiquitous tool of story-telling.  The “Tragic Hero” is the main character, usually the protagonist (read:  good guy/woman/thing), and we love her (gender pronoun chosen for simplicity).

She is rife with good qualities, but she always has a “Tragic Flaw,” an Achilles heel, which is required, otherwise you wouldn’t have a story!  It may be an unrequited love, a physical weakness, a negative personality trait, what have you.

As a result, she travels the worn path of the “Tragic Journey.”  Its outcome is uncertain, but there will always be a build-up, a “Tragic Fall” (yeah, everything is Tragic, LOL, goes back to the Greek Tragedies of Sophocles and his peers) to the nadir, the lowest point of the journey.  The Hero(ine) must then struggle to rise from this nadir in order to triumph (or not) in the end.  Think about your favourite movie or book plots – see it?

THAT’S NICE, BUT WHAT, SO YOU’RE A HEROINE NOW?

Hardly.  But that is how I arrived at my conclusion that there is a story that I have not yet written down which needs to be told, because it most certainly is not only a part, but both initiates and shapes OUR entire journey.

A few of you know the details, but I experienced my own nadir in a trauma like no other several years ago (not horse-related) and it continues to haunt my steps.  No doubt you have noticed a change in the blog and I can tell you that it is not, in large part, due to the purchase and move to the farm.  Rather, the reverse is the case, where Flying Solo Farm was born of the Tragic Fall in an attempt to salvage what pieces of the future remained.

Uwharrie Ride 3_10 004 resize
BFF & the amazing Texas Pete at Uwharrie NF
IT ALWAYS TAKES A TEAM

So I hope that you can be patient with me as the epileptic hamster tries to find his way back to the wheel in the dark.  Blindfolded.  On three legs.

I do count myself very lucky in having BFF and Erica, who have been unbelievably awesome help, along with THREE incredible neighbours, the wonderful network of Area II Adult Riders and the eventing community. 

They’ve got my six and I am also thankful every day to my mother, who helped make it possible for me to have the most wonderful scenery ever, including my two orange buddies, in which to negotiate the maze and find my way back to this woman.

Gallop (or walk, or just hug) on and don’t worry:  my ridiculous dorkiness and penchant for crazy adventures which never go according to plan remains intact, so you need not cry yourself to sleep that your life shall be unfulfilled without the TFS posts (haha).  Writing is wonderfully cathartic and I hope to continue to share posts with you and of course am reading all of yours!  

And I am still determined as ever to get my amazing Encore (daily thanks too, CANTER MA!) to a T3DE, it’s just going to take a little longer than planned (oh wait, it was a horse plan, that’s a given).

Evening therapy sessions by the pond
One very tired Eventer79 --

Out.

May 31, 2014

Farm Ownership = Endless Discoveries

To those who follow us on social media, these little “surprises” may sound familiar.  For the rest of you slackers wonderful people, here lies the confession that I really have abandoned the last shred of my dignity:  I made a hashtag in Twitland.  *so much shame*  I had such noble oaths (once the little pound signs were explained to me) that I would never become one of Those People.  At least it wasn’t a big fall.  Does it make it any better if searching for my own hashtag only finds two of them – even the internet is embarrassed for me…

Yes, I even make stupid faces while driving tractors
After I began living at the farm, though, it didn’t take long for these little moments unique to home horse-keeping to pop up.  Even those which elicited “not-family-friendly” exclamations made me laugh knowing that I was not likely the first (nor the last) to have the experience (with no small bit of incredulity, as in “was I really that stupid again!?).  What choice did I have, really, for sharing on the go?  (justification!)  And so the tag was born.      

For my pasture-mowing peers, both newly-minted and counting-the-decades, I know you KNOW.  I think we can all learn something (in most cases, “Don’t do that.”).

I present for your entertainment (and as a gift, corrected for the horrific grammar that is cruelly forced on me by that 120 character limit):

But...teh pretteh...can't go inside
  • Yay! When you forget to take off your half chaps & spurs, you just leave them at back door for next time!
  • Doh! My self-draining hose setup DOES work. And can siphon 1/2 the tank before I notice if I forget to remove the hose.
  • 0.o  That "simple" project in your head that you can "quickly" cobble together?  Just don't.
  • Oops. Put on work uniform fleece AFTER throwing am hay.
  • Yay! Your horses always appear at the gate when you come out the back door-it might be feeding time!
Wear real shoes to kick
  • Oh, hai, neighbour’s excavator driving past my living room!
  • Oops. Right when you think you’re a tractor badass, you get the drag caught on your tape fence.  :/
  • A good hose quick-connect is THE SHIT.
  • You never go inside on a pretty night. "Just one more thing!"
  • Never say "They won't go anywhere, they'll just eat grass."  :/
  • You can hike a 3-acre pasture in slippers.  In the dark.
  • Once you start pulling dead plants from along a fenceline, you can't stop.  So...hungry...

Low:  You DO need it!
  • That moment you realize you don’t even have to put on pants to feed. Note:  did not practice. But i could.
  • You never knew how much you needed the tractor...till it was gone.
  • You are late for work...because you get stuck staring out your windows at the awesome.
  • You can't kick a 3-pt hitch very hard in flip flops.
  • Oh, that’s what low gear is for!
  • Feeling shitty? Move your chair.
  • Going to a clinic and I don’t even have to start the truck! #greatneighbors
  • You're not really bush-hogging ‘til you bend a fencepost with the loader. #Fml
A good chair view = therapy
Share what you've screwed up discovered – maybe I can avoid a future *facepalm* or two, my head is getting sore! 

May 25, 2014

Fun With Power Tools: How Poor People Build Jumps, Lesson 1

Hey, #mindyourmelon, right?
Want to build your own portable flower box for $5 in under 30 minutes?

Didn't think so, m'kay, bye!  ;P

Now that I have your attention and slavering hope that there might be a useful post ahead -- those of you who follow us on Teh Facebooks and Twitland saw the exciting results of my spurt of inspiration (thanks, Erica!) on Friday.

A better description for this project may be "why dumpster diving pays off," but who doesn't love working out some aggression with a Skilsaw anyway??  LET'S GET READY TO...REDNECK SOME SHIT!  (Note: I must include thanks, growing up with a genius mechanical engineer dad who just about rebuilt our entire house taught me many useful skills!)

Preface from the Safety Nazi:  Dude.  Tools are awesome, but don't mess aroundWear your safety glasses, close-toed shoes, ear protection when necessary, and pay attention.  Horsewomen (don't feel left out, boys) are badasses, but the good kind work smarter, not harder.  You can do anything you set your mind to, but make sure you have been properly instructed, know your equipment, and always plan ahead. 

What I Used (but there are lots of options I'll try to cover)

Photobombing level.
Tools:
  • Skilsaw (optional)
  • Drill loaded w/ drill bit (optional)
  • Impact Driver loaded w/ screwdriver bit (my new love plus I hate changing bits -- that goes for horses and drills ha, but also optional & you can use a screwdriver bit in your drill or a hand screwdriver)
  • Measuring Tape (optional
  • Pencil (or Sharpie, crayon, paint pen of your choice, optional, feeling easy yet?)
  • Wood Screws (w/ good sharp ones you don't HAVE to drill anything)

Lumber:  (2) 2" x 4" scraps (dimensions optional)
              (1) 1" x 6" scrap (dimensions optional)

Other Materials:  Yer flowerz & a camera so you can share your masterpiece.  And a phone in case you have to dial 911.  Hey, "proactive, not reactive" doesn't just apply to riding.

Dang.  Click to read labels.
Step 1:  Get your shit together (don't worry, not mentally, I'd never try that dangerous task!).

I dug my three pieces of wood out of my scrap lumber pile (collected from house construction dumpster; I didn't use a level, it was just in the bag).  They were all around 26" (I didn't care, just wanted it small enough to move easily), I just cut the end off one to match the shorter one (optional).  One also has a diagonal cut on end.  Don't care. 

In the photo above, the yellow box is drill bits and the cardboard box is leftover screws from my HorseGuard fence insulators.  Real pencils work better than mechanical pencils for wood, but I was too lazy to walk to house.  The drill & driver came as a set when my trusty Black & Decker finally died after over 10 years of very hard work in 2013.  Since I had to replace it and was moving to the farm, I made the switch last year to lithium batteries.  Worth. It.  As I learned from my dad, buy a good tool and you only have to buy it once.  And these really are a phenomenal deal if you do your own work, I use them every single day.  I didn't even know what an impact driver was but it came with the drill...and now I don't know how I ever lived without it.  Never strip a screw again!

Step 2:  (sorry, forgot a picture)  Lay your 1x6 flat on the ground.  Set your 2x4's where you want them on top (now your box should be assembled upside down).  Mark the inside edges of the 2x4's with a pencil on your 1x6.  Now you have an area on each side of your 1x6 to drill pilot holes so you don't end up shooting them through the edges of your 2x4's (ah, experience...)

Step 3:  Uh-oh, I spy a slight problem (aside from crappy phone camera depth of field fail).  My screws will be a bit short for a secure grip on the 2x4's.  I am too lazy to walk to the house (errr, theme...) to dig through scrap hardware box.  Solution:  I will drill pilot holes with appropriate sized bit for screw (you want to choose one just a tiny bit smaller than your screw diameter [I very scientifically hold them next to each other and eyeball it] so the screw can still bite into the wood).  Then I will use a larger drill bit to countersink the screws so I can drive them deeper without totally splitting my 1x6 to bits.

Sounds complicated.  Not.  In the drill bit picture, I used the 2nd bit from the right to drill the pilot holes through the 1x6.  Note:  I ONLY drilled through the 1x6, with it sitting on the grass because (1) I'm an idiot and would totally drill through my stall mats and (2) I don't want to drill into the 2x4 because I want the screw to have its best grip there

Then, I loaded fatty bit (seen in drill, I think it's 1/4") and on the top side of the pilot holes, drilled a larger opening just as deep as the head of the screw so the top of the screw will be flush with or slightly below the surface of the wood.  Now the screw will reach farther into my 2x4.  Woot!

Step 3:  My holes are drilled in my 1x6 so I line it up on top of my 2x4's and install screws.  Tips:  (1) Put a foot, weight, or a knee on the assembled box so it doesn't move during drilling.  (2) I put in corner screws first so they will hold the boards aligned so the rest of the screws are easy.  (3) This is where the impact driver is handy-the screws will be tougher to turn when they hit the 2x4 but the driver just laughs and does its thing.  (4)  I used 4 screws on each side.  3 would have been plenty.  I have a problem with over-engineering.  Because I am now kicking myself for not running a bead of wood glue in each seam before the screws.  Since plastic flowers are SO HEAVY.

WTF level??!
Step 4:  Woohoo!  You have a nice little box, as shown (you can see the diagonal end on one 2x4, I just left it, not important).  I was totally going to just eyeball the holes for the flowers, but I decided it would bug me later when they weren't centered, heh.  I had 5 stems (that's my $5 project cost, since I had everything else) so I just measured and marked where each hole would go, starting with the center and working out.  Naturally, I discovered diameter of stems was larger than diameter of chosen drill bit (*facepalm* of course, but I wanted to be conservative so stems wouldn't blow out).  Went up one bit size, all good.


Finit!!  Arrange, enjoy, and be creative!
You can now stain it, paint it, add more flowers, add more holes, use the sides, plaster with stickers, dance around it giggling at your awesomeness (hey, it's the little achievements), or...

Just Jump It!!!

May 10, 2014

Mow, Mow, Mow Your...Oats?

Waaaah - it's 75 and we want our shed!  Spoiled babies!
Before I turn the key to spend the next 47 hours bush-hogging (I missed you, traaac-tor, oh yes I did, I missed you, traaac-tor, weeds must be rid...eh, use your grammar imagination), I wanted to, well, tease you.  Hee.

Coming soon to a blog near you!

(1) Yes, there is a wrap-up to the Heart of the Carolinas awesome at Southern Eighths.  I am continually expected to actually work for my paycheck (wtf?) and it cuts into my photo processing time. 

(2) Beloved foster tractor has returned from the spa refreshed and better than ever!  Interested in tips for your bush(hog) baby?

(3) FREE STUFF!  If you are lucky enough to win, that is.  It's big, it's new, and you'll wonder how your life was ever complete without it.

(4) TFS' own variation on the "blog hop."  You'll want to get in on this one! 

Now that you're on the edge of your chair/couch/bed/saddle (neck strap!), I'll be off.  *insert heartless snicker followed by wave of guilt*  I do issue my repetitive apologies once again for my intermittent blog failure.  We are all busy, naturally, and my own problem is complicated by the fact that I am haunted by the thought of posting something "not good enough."  As a result, most entries are the result of several hours of work, which leads to the gaps you see here.

Yesterday's mowing....I have a XC course, er, jump!
To my fellow bloggers, I AM visiting and reading with delight/sympathy/excitement/fascination as you share your parallel journeys.  Even though I rarely have time to comment, please know that I have not descended into neglect of my dear friends o' the blog-o-sphere!

Time to wake the diesel and flush out the bunnies...


May 1, 2014

I Never Really Wanted A Farm

Delima & I survey Snowy River country in Victoria, Australia

Whaaa...?!?

I have spent the majority of my life in and around all manner of farms, from California to Arizona to Kentucky to Australia to Wisconsin to Ecuador (ahhh, I need to finish that series!) to the Southeast, from the dirt lot behind a house to managing a neighbour's private barn to closing sliding doors that cost more than my truck.  My manure fork dug out pee spots in old clay-based stalls in the '90s and I stacked frozen water buckets in the heated viewing room during turnout and I dragged full muck buckets in a sled over 8" of snow and ice to the pile...uphill. 

Sure, I could strip a stall and return it to pristine condition in less than 15 minutes and I learned how to leave a hose so it always drained itself and I found out where you should NEVER put your gate/trough/shelter/riding area/feed and I even learned how to manage your chores so you had plenty of ride time.  But I also learned that being responsible for the maintenance of your horses' living quarters was more hard work than even some of the most experienced boarders could imagine.

Invasive flathead catfish, bad!!  They be eatin' our natives!

Board It Is!

We all know that the perfect boarding facility is as tangible (and accessible to us mere mortals) as the Jabberwocky; if you don't own it, compromises are required, but with research and experience you can generally find something that's a good fit for you and your partner(s).  In fact, SprinklerBandit recently did an excellent job discussing "How to be a Happy Boarder"!

If you've read this blog for a while, you know that I work full time and then some as a freshwater wildlife biologist, which means I travel weekly from April to November, my schedule changes every hour during field season based on weather, I'm a crabby cat lady who guards her personal space like a troll (hee), and oh yeah, I work for the state.  When you combine incredibly poor career choices ('follow your dreams', they said, haha, ok, I'm partly kidding, I couldn't do anything else, it's my passion) that produce tiny paychecks for long work-weeks with the amazing insane financial priorities of a horse owner, well, it's easy to see why farm ownership was never on my "want" list.

It All Falls Apart

 But three years ago, everything changed.  2011 began a rather spectacular series of "events," a word which doesn't even approach adequacy, that culminated in my own personal nadir (thank you, Mrs. Bricking - my equally terrifying & incredible high school English teacher for two years - I never thought I'd get to use that one in conversation) when my entire future disappeared in a single sentence in early November of 2012.  That's another story for another day.

Skipping a few details, the spring of 2013 found me blundering about the metaphorical woods for a new path forward.  Or any direction really, as long as it was away from the bottom of the hole.  Enter (after exhaustive mathematical exercises) a fateful ride on a mule (the kind with wheels) at the height of a beautiful Carolina spring and the rest is in the record books.

I write Twits...the apocalypse must be nigh!

Mission:  Reboot

The most surprising part?  Once we settled in, I have loved every. single. moment.  Always skeptical of those goofy "backyard horse ladies" on COTH and the dubious claims that they would never board again, I've had to eat all my doubts now that I stand in their shoes muck boots.  I have less time to write rambling masterful blog posts, so those who follow us on Facebook and, to my everlasting shame, Twitter, have noticed that I am beginning to rely on their forced brevity and immediacy for updates (those who don't, you are clicking "follow" or our sidebar buttons now, right???).  And I am so grateful that I am an uncompromising planner and I held out, because I would NOT want to try to do this on a property I did not lay out for maximum efficiency.  That's another story too!

I still have a long way to go, both in terms of healing and of the "30-year farm plan," and I don't think I can afford diesel until 2019, but it's all a little easier when I dissolve into giggles watching the horses gallop for the sheer joy of it in their own game of "Let's Pretend We're Terrified Of The Mower So We Can Squeal And Run."  Note:  don't forget to glance in front of your mower periodically to see if you are about to drive into a ditch.  Just sayin'...




April 20, 2014

I'm Not Dead!

Or at least I don't think so?  I want to go for a walk!  *insert gong here*


Perhaps the whack in the head would be simpler...  But before that, despite brain overload and resulting AWOL status, I can throw distracting shiny pictures at you!!

The sun gets tucked in for bed over the driveway
Farm life, as my peers know, holds never a dull moment; just this morning it was CSI Wildlife in the front pasture while I investigated last night's very odd doe-icide with all the fascination of a curious biologist.  With nothing left at the scene of the crime but a tail, two ribs sucked dry of marrow and a pile of intestines, this experienced predator profiler was interested indeed -- I love having predators around, they are so vital to the ecosystem and there are so few of them left to do the work, but each species leaves its own calling card with the remains and this one fell outside the lines.  But that's another story for another day!

Off the floor, YESSSS!
Despite the unexpected, I love it all.  Too much, in fact, it pains me to have to leave when there are so many fun projects!  And, true to the horse person nature, the house itself sits in chaos, boxes covering the floors, still holding their forlorn contents.  The feed shed however, finally got its own shelves and I spent a good 45 minutes organizing and finding a place for ALL THE THINGZ.  I love interior decorating...when it involves hay string and blanket bags!

I took this Monday off to make a four-day weekend, filling my planner pages with overly-ambitious lists.  Only I forgot to include "exhaustion recovery" in there.  But every tidbit I cross off is insanely satisfying.  Although naturally, since the tractor remains in the spa for its freshen-up, the mower has decided it would rather not use its blades either.  No bush-hog, no lawn mower (although I've been poking at it and I feel close to figuring it out), plenty of spring rain and 10 acres of lush grass...and all I can do is pick at it with my electric string trimmer until the batteries need recharging (I wrestle with enough two-cycle engines at work, HATE).  Yep, it looks just as hilarious as your mental picture!  Hey, I love my trimmer!!

We have progress though --

That run-in that started (9 Jan) with my stunning foundation skillz?
By Feb 2nd, it was sheltering some...things for me (why do farms make us instant hoarders?)
By March 21st, it was a fully tricked-out facility -- don't show these to too many folks, I know I'll have 4* riders beating down my door for space any minute!


Dang, I should raise board!!
New, windproof small court dressage arena
In addition, thanks to my horses' morbid fear of all things resembling white tape, I was able to close the end of the top field with the Dollar Store version (don't tell them it's not even hot -- and not even close to the quality of my wonderful Horseguard) and the boys are getting their spring shine on, frolicking in long gallops across 3 acres of grass, grass, GRASS!

Can't complain about the kitchen window view
Encore:  Dude, have you been polishing your ass??
But I think we're all about ready for a very long nap...can someone call my boss and let him know?

March 21, 2014

Notes From The Madhouse

Be forewarned:  an unbelievably horrific three day long work assault meeting has left many brains crippled, so sense is not to be expected in any of the following statements.  And I hope CHP doesn't mind me borrowing a couple of their awesome graphics!

Dancing Dining With The Stars
TFS will be packing up and heading south this evening to participate in the long-awaited and tantalizingly star-studded Carolina International CIC*** and Horse Trial entrance onto the world stage!  Not only is it a qualifier for the 2014 Adequan Gold Cup series, but it brings a spotlight to our very favourite competition grounds, the Carolina Horse Park, about which I've written so many times.

Bruce Sr., Torrence Watkins, J. Michael Plumb, Karen Stives, and The Wofford
Alongside BFF and Solo's (hopeful) new minion (oh, what should her nickname be???  Blog Stalker?  No, that sounds too negative, although I love blog stalkers -- She Who Longes Children?  LOL), I'll just call her Erica, for goodness sake, we shall oogle and analyze the FEI*, **, and *** XC riders as jump judges.  If you haven't checked out the entry list already, well, what, do you live under a rock????!  Becky Holder Event Team, Colleen Rutledge, Kate Chadderton, Jan Byyny (currently sitting in first place after a lovely dressage test -- follow the link for video), our Carolina Will's, Faudree and Coleman, our new 'neighbour', Doug Payne, along with Arthur and Tate and Shiraz and Teddy and Wundermaske and William Penn and Pirate and Catch A Star and...dinner with the 1984 Gold Medal LA Olympic Team (Jimmy Wofford, Bruce Davidson, Karen Stives, Michael Plumb, and Torrance Watkins)!!! *fangirl implosion* And many many more eventing friends and 'family' that, well, we are hoping will wander by our chair on their coursewalks, because frankly, judging 300+ horses, I can tell you from experience, doesn't leave a lot of time for social calls.

(left) Can't Fire Me (Teddy) watches as Courageous Comet gives Dad a lesson at the winter farm in 2013; I bet I won't catch Teddy lying down on Saturday!

Related Online Crap
To the best of our ability, TFS will be live-tweeting (oh my cod, I'm so embarrassed I just typed that) from the event tomorrow, so you probably want to go ahead and follow us now so you don't miss out on the unmatched randomness and hilarious dorkiness that is our trademark!  Oh yeah, and The Becky StalkingI've also started a series of sometimes exciting, sometimes ironic, always entertaining #farmownerdiscoveries, as those of you who follow us on Facebook have probably discovered.  Like/follow/click/tap (take your pick from our media shortcuts in the sidebar) and join the insanity!  

Flying Solo Farm Stage:  Implementation
Crossties are up and fence tape is charged and mats are down and feed is stored and neighbours are supplied with excessive amounts of emergency contact information.  The door, my friends, at long last, is not only open, but strewn with bits of hay and mud and cat hair.  In addition, speaking of cats, one of them puked on the carpet recently, so I guess it's definitely home now. 

Blogger Mental Health & Plans For The Spring Season
The former is long lost.  The latter:  try not to starve, dream of times when you could purchase diesel, fatten up orange bellies after move stress shrinkage, remember how to ride a horse, learn our new trails, annoy visit with new neighbours...

And above all else, drink in the moonrise over MY east line of oak trees while a grey fox yips, at least four species of frogs sing across the pond, a great-horned owl greets the stars, and a brown bat makes adorable swoops after the first tiny insects of the year.  Through the bone-deep fatigue, those long-missed melodies are indeed balm for a great many things. 

Sunset over our creek pasture

March 11, 2014

I Rode A Horse...Or Two!!

We don't work no more!
It's true, don't believe the rumours -- I sort of remembered how to ride and I didn't fall off!  And it was sunny!!

The horses were caught quite off guard, having come to consider me merely as She Who Bringeth Foods.  So when I put Solo in the cross-ties (I HAVE CROSS-TIES) and put the saddle pad over his back, I could hear his mental, "Whaaaaaaa?"

I think both were pleasantly surprised though -- I finally rode Solo on Flying Solo Farm and It Was Good.  The boys once again dropped a bunch of weight in the move and lost most of their muscle and feet from standing in the mud all winter, but I have lots of hay and finally, daylight!

Solo and I hacked around the top field, said hello to Trainer Neighbour, even did some trot and canter over a telephone pole fencepost I'd brought up.  Mr. Shiny and I thoroughly enjoyed ourselves, although I regretted not putting the spurs on, I really should know better after 8 years!!!!

It was well into the 70's though, and none of us have any condition to speak of, so it was short and sweet, but the footing was excellent:  my soil shopping paid off indeed considering our Icepocalypse 27 on Friday.  Already on a roll, I simply traded horses and took Encore up on the longe to stretch his legs.  I expected racehorse, but he was rather pleasantly blase about it all.  Some stretchy trot, some canter that needs its butt back, and Bob's yer uncle.

But the best part of all (well, ok, maybe tied for best) was putting the horses up, throwing out hay...and walking 45 seconds to the back door.  Wow.  I went back up the to feed shed to get something and returned to the house again - just because I could.

My brain and body are fried.  Even writing this requires a pitiful dragging of each staggering sentence out of its slumber, but we're actually there.  Here.  Even the inside is starting to look a little bit more like a home.

Thanks, BFF, it never would have gotten painted without you!!

March 6, 2014

It Was A Dark & Windy Night In North Dakota

At least, that’s what it felt like Monday night as an assault of horizontally-driven snowflakes pelted my face and hands while I daisy-chained extension cords.

It was my first official work-then-home-to-farm day.  As of last Saturday, I am officially residing in the new house, although “moved” would be a strong word.  I have my bed, washer, dryer, and pets along with clean underwear and work clothes.  So we’ll stick with “residing.”

Gee, thanks, mom
My boss and I had spent the day in a project meeting about four counties south.  Having had no internet access, I knew the weather was supposed to be around 50 during the day with some rain and then plummet to 14 that night.  So I’d left the horses nekkid and figured I’d throw their blankets on when I fed that evening.

Oops.

My first clue came as we drove south and all the DOT signs along I-85 flashed “WINTER WEATHER ADVISORY IN EFFECT FROM NOON UNTIL MIDNIGHT.”  Well, both the boys had their shelter from precipitation and it had been 70 all weekend, so things could only change so quickly.  Right?

Wolverine work truck
We did manage to wrap up the meeting around 2:30 pm so we could hightail it 2.5 hours home.  Our dubious entertainment was watching both whip antennas on Boss' work truck turn into icicles as the wipers’ Effective Clearing Radius shrank to a tiny rainbow of windshield.  The incredulous hilarity continued when we picked up my work truck in Durham and both of us chipped through solid ice with the corners of our scrapers so I could have a teeny patch of windshield to look through.  I was certain I’d break a window; even back home in the Ohio River valley, it was rare for the freeze to occur that hard, that fast.

By the time I arrived home, the roads had turned into skating rinks of flashing lights and crumpled metal.  So quick and unexpected had the severity of the storm been (it was LITERALLY 75 and sunny the day before), many people didn’t even have coats in their cars.

I’m certainly no stranger to winter horse care and have everything I need to do it comfortably, including my beloved heated watertub.  But none of it was set up, naturally, given that Sunday was summer.  Frantically, as the weak daylight disappeared, I threw out serendipitously pre-stacked hay as I curried icicles off the horses and dragged crunchy, frozen blankets over them, forcing frozen straps through buckles with fat glove fingers.

Plz no moar winterz
We finally got squared away though, and I spent the entire time mentally screaming gratitude for the wonderful Adult Rider friend who’d given us the cozy feed shed and brought her family over to help set it up, and to ACB for his tremendous assistance stacking hay, setting posts, moving pallets, and the gift of the beautifully blinding magnetic LED that lit up the whole shed and the curtain of lost blizzard that pushed its way around all three of us.

Tripping over my own boots as I took them off in the mudroom, and staggering to the nearest folding chair (hey, it has beer-holders), I caught my breath and tried to figure out when we’d been sucked out of the Carolinas and into some Midwestern version of hell. 

All I could hear was a sardonic voice in my head cackling, “Welcome home!”