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!”

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Winter Ridiculousness

My front yard right now

I lived in the Ohio River valley (Northern KY) from age 8 - 18.  So I learned to drive on snow and ice.  Mostly ice.  It's not rocket science.   But strange things can happen, so while our usual 1/2 of snow per year leaves me unperturbed, raining ice pellets & frozen sheets of slush with more snow on top makes the decision to stay in and work remotely an easy one. 

However.  I moved to North Carolina for a very specific reason.  My most hated task as a kid was shoveling snow and I would go to any lengths to avoid it.  I tried the whole Gulf coast thing, but discovered that was merely two years living in a flat, sweaty armpit from hell (aka Texas) and we lived out west when I was younger, so I knew I wanted to stay east of the Mississippi.  So I set my sights on the Carolina piedmont.  It has seasons, but winter is about 3 months of rain and cold wind in spurts (mostly January) with a week of 60 degree days in between.  It still makes me crabby by February, but hey, that's when spring starts!

Today there is over 3" of snow on the ground, coated in a layer of ice, quickly being covered by another layer of snow.  It is not only past noon, but it has been here SINCE YESTERDAY.  I want my money back.

I'd love to go visit the horses, but after watching the ice pellets fall for over an hour and the curtain of fat flakes out the window now, the thought of the bundling and driving and hiking and then driving again and thawing and unbundling, all without having some oblivious nut run into My Precious...cost-benefit ratio = negative.  If we were all at the farm?  Absolutely, I'd march out the back door and at least take some pictures despite my deep hatred of the white devil.

So I'll just keep tying up loose ends of the statewide fisheries conference I have to run next week, I've only been working on it, oh, since last August.  And in the meantime, I will let you enjoy the wonderful video I found yesterday of Swaps, the astonishingly tough and fast 1955 Ky Derby winner who was the great-great-grandsire of Encore's dam and the darling of the recently closed Hollywood Park (I wonder what they did with his statue?).  In July of 1955, he was Sports Illustrated's cover boy and the 1956 Horse of the Year. 

I see the spitting image of Encore in him in the beginning as he walks off the train with his big eyes and bright star -- right down to the surfer bangs!



PS:  It's STILL SNOWING.  I hate being cold.  I hate things that get in the way of my outdoor activities.  I hate snow related sports.  I hate ice.  JUST.  GO.  AWAY.   Because I just hate winter.  In case you wondered.

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I'm A Real Boy, Er, Farmmmm!

But first, don't forget to vote for us and my completely ridiculous face in the Carolina International contest we are losing, LOL!  The prize is a coveted horse trial entry that I long to be able to do.  Thank you for all who have given their support, y'all rock!!

Now, to the topic at hand:

It is, ladies and gentlemen, real indeed.  I give thee...

Flying Solo Farm at dusk

Where I do not live.  Nor do my horses.  But hey, it's a process!  We started from here: 

Almost exactly the same vantage point last August

Things that do live there:

A feed shed!

A wonderful fellow Adult Rider has a farm nearby and the shed had been laying disassembled in her pasture, so she generously offered it to me and even brought her husband over to help put it back together!  Three cheers for no feed tubs in the laundry room!!

Finished fencelines

East side of main pasture opposite house

I have a couple gates to build, a battery for my fence charger to buy, and a few more buckets of dirt to move.  Oh yeah, and maybe put some gravel down in front of the house.  The grader still has some work to do and the factory still has to send a few parts and repairs for the house, but it's passed final inspection. 

If the atmosphere will just cooperate, in about two weeks, my boys will be able to watch this:

Sunset from the run-in site.

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On Love, Loss, Survival, And Sharing

No such thing as too much Cuna-love

I'm tired.  And I get all weird and philosophical when I am tired.  So consider yourself warned. 

This time of year, it would take about three or four of me to do my job, so at some point, my brain switches off for a while and wanders off on its own.  My heart has been with Aimee as she grieves for her premature goodbye to the amazing Cuna-fish.  I know we are all grieving with her.  I have also been glad that she found Courage (and kept his prescient name); from the first time she emailed me his picture, I knew he would be his own kind of special.

It was magical watching the two of them somewhat reluctantly discover each other and then, as they cautiously began to lean on each other, take off on a fantastic trajectory.  I know I said it many times to Aimee, but it always made me giggle, because she had found her Solo, that red horse with an enormous heart and an opinion to match who changed my life forever too.

But physics and life demand that for every meteoric rise, every explosion of love, there must also be a fall back to earth.  Joy by definition cannot exist without its polar opposite, sorrow.  Sometimes we all wonder if having and adoring these incredible partners is equivalent to signing a contract for heartbreak.  I certainly did on that fateful day in 2011 when I realized Solo's journey to our 3DE was over.  

I suppose in a way it is a non-negotiable bargain, but at the same time, your heart cannot be broken by something unless you love it so much that it is a part of you.  Almost three years ago (which is hard to believe), I had to say the same goodbye to my beloved Smokey-dog.  She was not in constant pain, but I knew that her old body was worn out and it was only a matter of time before she injured herself, so I made the decision to spare her that frustration and loss of dignity.  Dr. Bob, well-known to Solo and Encore, helped me let her go; even though he assured me that I was giving her a great blessing and that she led a wonderful life, it didn't make it any easier.

We both climbed Table Rock when she was 15!

It still brings a lump to my throat, thinking of that day, of driving home alone with breathless sobs because all I could think was how  much she hated being left behind.  For months afterwards, I would catch myself listening for the jingle of her collar or I would almost see a glimpse of her around the hallway corner before I remembered she was gone.

But she visited me in dreams; she was warm and happy and I got to hug her in a furry silence filled with love and peace.  And the gifts and lessons and memories she gave me during her life are still carried in my heart every day. 

Thinking of losing Solo terrifies me, although I know that it is inevitable since the damn creatures won't agree to outlive us, selfish beasts that they are.  At the same time, the idea of never having met him just makes me feel...empty.  Imagining the last 7 years of my life without all of the places and adventures we shared, even the arguments, compromises, and the disappointments (ok, maybe we could have skipped a FEW of those) along the way -- how much poorer a life that would have been.  The doors that he opened, the confidence he gave me, the lessons he taught:  Solo didn't just make me a better rider, he made me a better person.

I will always miss them both.

Some of you know that my life mantra is "Nothing lasts forever."  And it has gotten me through many seemingly impossible times.  I unexpectedly lost the person who made Solo a part of my life, but I am still here. 

It applies to good things too, as even the most perfect of moments, loves, and partners are only ours for a while.  Nonetheless, I have learned to hold each of them as a treasure, no matter how fleeting, and I would not voluntarily give up any one of them to spare myself the grief.  Because that doesn't last forever either. 

So I try to collect that love and then pass it forward, because in a funny, completely unscientific way, sharing love does not reduce it, but rather multiplies it.

I will let one of my favourite poets sum up my own rambling attempts:

I would like to believe that when I die that I have given myself away like a tree that sows seeds every spring and never counts the loss, because it is not loss, it is adding to future life.  It is the tree's way of being.  Strongly rooted perhaps, but spilling out its treasure on the wind.     -May Sarton

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So, There's Water Polo, How About Water Eventing?

I should probably just keep a snorkel in my truck at this point.  Even the reservoirs can't hold any more and soil that "never gets muddy" is oh so muddy.  My neighbour tells me he has never seen it this saturated, so at least now I know what to plan for.  He may be regretting selling me his high spots now...

A few of you have noticed, but out of random curiosity, I have placed a poll for you in the sidebar directly above the social media buttons.  Tell me how you get your "fresh reading material" updates and how you follow along with your favourite bloggers!

Since no story ever gets to just wrap up smoothly, despite the fact that they've started power line work and I should have electricity in two weeks (yay!), complications abound.  An insulation subcontractor who for some bizarre reason uses a single-axle dump truck (suspected to be made of lead) with a tarp over it instead of a box truck, wandered up my (completely soaked) farm driveway with half the truck off the edge, resulting a lovely mud slop.  Duly added to list for builder of "things contractors messed up" -- it is a short list, and I think an unavoidable one, but no less annoying for all of that.

The lump mid-cannon on the outside front

With perfectly synchronized timing as my financial assets hit rock bottom until my old house sells (soooo....close....), my truck decides that it might like a couple of new injectors or a driver module.  While it occasionally misfires on a couple of cylinders, I hope against hope it's a $10 wiring harness instead (yeah right), but as long as it is sporadic, after consultation with diesel mechanic, it's fine to keep driving.  It still runs so I waved goodbye and pleaded with My Precious to just be patient, as mom doesn't have $900 to feed you right now.

Feeling left out of the fun, Encore popped a lateral splint, which I discovered on Sunday.  Probably being silly in the pasture.  On the plus side, it's cold, hard, not painful and he shows no lameness while walking and uh, leaping on a packed dirt road.  I consult with Dr. Bob and monitor closely, pleading some more that it's just one of those cosmetic ones.  Just don't start limping!  At least we won't be doing much in the next couple weeks (of mud).

The reason all this is so well-timed is that the state gives this lovely little holiday gift to its employees.  We normally are paid on the last working day of the month.  However, in December, the paycheck comes in two weeks early, before the Xmas holidays.  Which means you get six whole weeks to freak out relax and practice your planning skills until January's check appears.  Two more weeks, two more weeks...

H2Y8SAV65C2V

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When Bloggers Collide

It appears there were multiple horse-y blogger holiday road trips from Texas to North Carolina (um, because this is where it's at, hello!) at the end of the 2013 and one of them resulted in a close encounter!

Like, REALLY close!

With a little coordination, I had the distinct pleasure of finally getting to meet jenj from Wyvern Oaks and her husband, Sean (dude, they joust AND event, I mean, c'mon).  If you follow Jen's blog, you know 2013 was a true F-you from the universe year for them and she and I have chatted often through gmail about the heartbreak and poverty of horses.  But we also have shared the magic and the irreplaceable joy they bring with them. 

If you have not seen her new and adorable-to-an-illegal-level partner, Paddington the Haffie, you need to go check out his blond charmingness now (he's kinda hard to miss)!!!  Oh, and her husband was nice too.  (*wink* TFS loved you, Sean!!!)  And they are movie commericial stars now!

Sean photographs Jen photographing Encore mugging the carrot lady.

Awesome Jen, the most bestest Solo, and the most dorkiest me (I love my llama hat, I found it in Ecuador!  Solo not-so-covertly checks to see where that 5-lb bag of carrots went.

Speaking of getting together with other bloggers and sharing laughs (hey, it's better than crying), I discovered several changed and new networks for horse bloggers that you may have noticed in my sidebar (that I'm still working on, arg!).  There is still the great Haynet, but there is a new group just starting on Google+ (I know, BUT interwebz rumours are that FB is on its way out for businesses/marketing and G+ is gaining ground) -- join Horse Blogger's Network and help make it awesome!

Many of you probably already know the Horsebloggers group, which I THOUGHT I was a part of.  However, it appears they have updated their site and I found I was no longer on the list, horrors!  So head over and check, you may need to re-add your blog to the directory.

Happy blogging and here's to sound horses and a COMPLETELY UNEVENTFUL (hear that, universe???!!) 2014!

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This Is How We Roll: Turnout Blankets, Part Deux (Or Trois? Quatre?)

In case you need someone to state the obvious, it's winter.  Cold, wet, dark winter.  Unless you live in Florida.  Or the US SW.  Or the southern hemisphere.  Or...well, I don't care, it's winter here!

This leads to cold, wet ponies and our need to muddle through the excessive array of horse clothes and, with little empirical data, figure out if there is any reason we actually need to spend $400 on a freaking sheet of nylon that will be rubbed into a pile of horseshit, urine, and wet clay.

I've talked about turnouts a time or two in the past:  (1) The original November 2011 review of the Weatherbeeta Landa midweight turnout, the Rider's International rain sheet, and the beautiful ears-to-tail midweight rug from EquestrianClearance.com.  (2)  My stupid self-jinx wherein one month later Solo destroys his own blanket after 5 years of faithful service.  (3)  The April 2013 review of SmartPak's 10-year Ballistic Nylon sheet, wherein they actually do honour that guarantee! 

Lessons learned:  A 600D turnout is just fine if your horse is (a) by himself, (b) top dog, or (c) in a generally placid group that don't bite each other and don't seek out pointy things.

Also, if you DO need to fix some things, I just handsew the tears, then seal with this waterproof seam glue and, if needed or in too much of a hurry to sew, slap on a Stormshield patch.  Yes, they work!  Thank you, SSTack!

So what's on the runway this winter?  Well, things are a little simpler now that the boys are separated, thanks to Solo's decision to use Encore as his personal chew toy and getting a little bit carried away (I can't tighten a girth over raw, chewed-up skin, that's just not very nice).

Rainsheets:  Encore is shedding the wet in his second SmartPak "indestructible" sheet.  Sooo, they are not quite indestructible, and this one has a very small hole now, but the important part is that they ARE pretty tough and, even more important, SmartPak DOES back up their product.

Not Solo.  His is purple.  With green trim.  Oh yeah.

Solo is still wearing his McAlister 600D sheet.  They both had these at the beginning of last winter, I believe I got them on sale at Horseloverz, but Solo, naturally, ate Encore's.  His own is still 95% intact; the only flaw is that his big QH chest combined with cheap metal on the chest clips equaled the top clip separating from its base on the upper chest strap.  I just flipped it around so the clip goes through both the metal loop and the hole in the chest strap.  It works the same, and all the rest of the hardware is fine, so I reckon it's doing well and it still keeps the wind off and he is dry.  Not sure that brand even exists anymore, looks like Horze has moved into that price point.  

Insulated blankets:  In the aftermath of Solo's nylon-ivorous (?) rampage, I found a couple of 1200D Centaur blankets on steep sale and decided to try a new brand.  Given their low price, I've been pleasantly surprised!!

Obviously not Solo. Duh. But that plaid!

Solo has the mid-weight; nice nylon lining, evenly-distributed insulation, totally waterproof and breathable, nice, durable leg strap snaps.  The only thing missing is chest snaps, but it does have velcro and buckling straps won't kill me, I don't have to blanket 10 horses.  Naturally, in a sale, you don't really get to pick colours, so he rocks the blue and brown plaid (at least it's nicer in person).

Since Encore has been in work, usually has a higher clip, and burns calories when he blinks, he got the heavy-weight, high neck version.  I like it just as much as Solo's.  The only colour option was black (you get even fewer choices at 81"), so he looks a bit ninja, but he really seems grateful when I put it on and it has helped a lot in my constant efforts to hold his weight.  The high neck even gives His Wussiness an extra draft collar.

Encore's high neck version.  On not-Encore.

Both the Centaurs have a nice, weighty, well-made feel for them, neither have rubbed, shifted, broken, or torn and they've kept my boys protected on these 25 degree, breezy nights this week.  They don't get too sweaty if the sun comes out during the day (I can't always be there to pull blankets), so I don't have to worry about gross overheating thanks to good breathability.

I did pick up one extra in case Encore's Centaur didn't make it, as Solo did manage to rip it once before they were separated; during one of SmartPak's clearance events (I always blanket shop in June/July).  I got one of their super nice insulated blankets for something ridiculous like $60, but I'm saving it for backup, so it's nice and clean in storage.  I also still have his older (multi-repaired, but still functional) EquestrianClearance mega-warm blankie just in case too.  Hey, spares are important!

Fingers crossed, but so far, things are looking warm and uneventful in the horse clothes category this winter!

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Homesick

I miss my boys.  They haven't gone anywhere.  But between work and selling and building and maintaining and trying to be everything else, I've been elsewhere. 

The dark, the cold, the rain, they've gotten to me more than usual this year, thanks to the extra stress.  I end each workday utterly exhausted and when I can get to the farm, usually the most I can muster is hoof picking, blanket switching, and some treats.

I miss the quiet brush of bristles on hair, as a soft muzzle turns and gently touches my hip to say, "I'm here."

I miss the settling sound as I place the saddle on a blanketed back.

I miss the unmistakable jingle of girth buckles and the blunt meeting of teeth and bit.

I miss swinging my leg into place and knowing I am home, on a strong red horse who doesn't care what we do as long as it's something.

I miss the way working with the horse allows me to be focused, calm, and conscious of every part of my body in a way that escapes me everywhere else.

I miss structuring an exercise or a ride to guide the horse towards the correct answer and those first steps when he finds it.  Then connecting those steps to build a path towards a goal.

I miss that swinging walk on a loose rein when we can both just be.  Where I listen to the four-beat rhythm that matches my heart and we breathe in the evening together.

I am aching to return to that place and its melody of familiar notes.  In two weeks, the solstice will mark the beginning of the end of short, dark days and offer the first hints of brighter days ahead.  And none too soon, because by the end of January, I have usually run out of patience for endless grey and am more than willing to trade my soul for a leaf bud.

But that's not the most important part.  No, it's hoofbeats and the creak of leather and even the frosty cloud of air puffed from cold nostrils that I'd trade for now.  If I can just peek under the right rock, one of them, I'm sure, is hiding that train ticket back to where I belong...     

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Technology Fiddling: Warning

In an attempt to be a little more design-relevant (and ok yes, because I am a giant geek and love playing with geek things in an attempt to be as cool as BFF), you may notice small changes around the blog.

Content and feeds will remain (hopefully) unaffected, search though I may for a widget that gives me more time to write.

Really, I'm just apologizing in advance if you try to do something and it doesn't work.  Although I do try and be thorough.

Please do let me know, though, in an email or comment if you are having an issue with any teknology-interwebz-related stuffs!!  I work almost exclusively in Firefox, so I may not realize if there is a cross-platform or just an "I tried something out of my league" mistake.

Thanks!  As a consolation that you hopefully won't need, cute horse picture!  Ok, it's from 2010, but Solo never stops being adorable.  Although that blanket did get eaten by an equine pirahna a couple years ago, sigh.

Iz spring yet?

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I Hate Darkness

What my horses are doing right now.  Why the mud pillow?

The time change:  it's what every working horseperson dreads.  You come home from work, it's dark already and feels like the day is already gone and it takes all your willpower to layer up, saddle up, and mount up.

And I'm wishing that was the only thing I had to worry about!

I apologize for being an absentee blogger so much this fall.  It feels like someone flipped a switch in my life:  I was hanging out all summer, my horse was lame so I didn't have much to do outside of work and I had all this free time.

Now I would give my arms for a little boredom -- is there a happy medium??  It will take me considerably longer to put together the horse trial story, so will some photos of an awesome OTTB trying his heart out do?

Let's see, what else have I got:

This happened:

Yes, that is a Shed-In-A-Box full of my boys' winter supply of hay.  I ran about in a panic once we finally had time to assemble the shed on the farm (it is just a simple ShelterLogic thingy from HomeDepot, since I am poor and in a hurry) because I wanted to buy decent hay before the price rocketed to winter levels.  So if their shelter ever arrives, the boys will have a selection of either a slightly sun-faded but still quite good orchard/rye mix or a leafy green timothy/orchard mix.

We crammed my horse trailer and another small truck with as much hay as they would hold (which turns out to be 75 bales) and sprinted back to finish the shed and fill it before that evening's forecasted rain.  I already had my moisture barrier and pallets from my house construction site, so after we got the shed walls on, we started stacking.

Watching skeptics swore I would never fit it all in, but I had done very careful math (even geometry, for cod's sake) with volumes of hay bales and sheds so I held the faith.  DANGIT, IT FIT!!  Vindication feels good.  Although now I am annoyed that I forgot to turn the bottom bales on their sides, but I'm not taking it all out to fix them.  So far it's nice and cozy and dry and I'll add a few pieces later to critter proof it.

OH!  And this happened:

I am fostering BFF's tractor because she is awesome and we had a chat (she previously owned a farm, but the tractor has been mostly sitting in the woods since they sold the farm).  It took me approximately...42 seconds to become obsessed with it.

It's had a lot of time off, but still runs beautifully and it brought its good friends, Bush-hog, Harrow, Augur, and best of all, Bitey Bucket (yeah, yeah, 4-in-1, but that sounds boring).  So I am hoping I will able to beautify it again over time and will certainly be able to keep it from being bored.  I completely confess to squealing with glee when I picked up an 8' telephone pole with said bitey bucket and moved to a different location.  Bonus:  bucket can also open up and be used a box blade or light-duty dozer or backgrader.  Theoretically.  I need to practice more before I am any good at that!

What can I grab next?

Because of work and house and farm duties, I haven't been able to see the horses much, aside from quick visits.  I purposefully did not touch Encore for a week after his horse trial; he had gotten a bit work sour and cranky and was looking a tad ulcer-y.  He's getting a few weeks of ranitidine (already gets U-Guard and alfalfa pellets), but when I visited yesterday, he was already looking happier!

So the young'un gets some time off for now, then he will spend the winter getting strong on the trails and fine-tuning some skills.  He showed me he had the scope and was ready to attack Training Level, so a-schooling we shall go!

Next week, I hope to hop on Solo and play around.  He needs something to do too this winter, so once I get tractor and fence put together, hopefully I will have earned some more weekend time to myself!

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In Which Apologetic Blogger Is Apologetic Again

Maybe I should rename the blog, ha.  But I am sorry, I have not been able to write much for quite some time.  The process of pulling the farm together has been a road of a million steps, although at least now, much of the legwork for the house construction is done.  The job and the rest of  life, along with trying to keep Encore strong through his back and hind end (success!) during busy season, just eats me alive!

I have so many posts floating around in my head, in draft form, on a list, but it's so hard to get them from that rather scary place to here.  I know that those of you who spend a lot of time writing know what I mean:  in order to write something meaningful, that I believe in and can read without cringing or falling asleep, the vibe has to be right, for lack of a better description.  Energy, time, mojo, and heart have to come together for the creation. 

It feels as if things are coming together on the farm front, although once construction starts, that just a whole new road with its own set of steps!  But I remain hopeful that as we move into fall, I'll be able to get some more writing in and have less crises to deal with. 

Up next though, hang tight for a contest!  You can win your very own Absorbine TryPak to make your very own shiny steed -- I hope to have details up this weekend, so keep an eye out and be a winner!!

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A Run-By News-ing

Encore appears to be back to pretty much normal, eating and behaving like himself.  If I pinch his neck skin, recovery still seems a tiny bit slower than Solo's, but I only put about half-credence in that as I've done plenty of tests on that procedure in that past and found it wildly variable.  At least everything seems to be functioning normally and he doesn't appear to have any immediate plans to drop dead on me moments before we leave town.  Although he is still a horse...

What's everyone stressing about?  Chill, peeps.

I've gotten, mmmm, pretty much nothing done on my "to do" list, given aforementioned horse paranoia and driving about the state for work.  It has rained, snowed, sleeted, and blown my truck nearly into the ditch this week, although of course, at the moment, it is sunny and quiet.  Till I leave the office, I am sure...

A beautiful weekend awaits, however, so I will be cleaning and packing and shopping and staring and scratching my head trying to put together the puzzle of ten days worth of food/gear/clothes/whatever.  At least if I get desperate, we will only be two hours away.  Diesel prices are crushing, but it can be done!

Solo is busy shedding, so despite what the atmosphere tells me, it is apparently spring.  Are you getting ready?  Daydreaming counts...

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I Am Not An Endangered Species

The icy rain hit both (yes, I had on two) layers of hoods as the 20 mph wind cut around my legs.  Damn.  It's finally winter.  About on schedule -- January and early February are usually when we see our coldest temps, but even still, 2012 was the warmest year yet, so I make no predictions. 

As I slogged through an ankle-deep slurry of mud, manure, and horse pee, I confess I thought bad thoughts about people who rant online about how no one is a horseman anymore, no one puts in the real work, no one is a thoughtful rider these days.  I was the only person in sight as I tucked my horses into their insulated blankets and made sure they had a clean, dry shed floor to stand on as a break for their feet from the mud (and last summer I had wondered if matting the shed was worth the work, ha!).  I wasn't there to ride or longe or anything else -- my 20-mile commute was purely to prepare my horses for the winter storm blowing through that night.

Tomorrow, I will haul at least one to an indoor arena (Solo is barefoot AND a giant wuss and finds the occasional rock in our arena to be a gross insult) due to two weeks of rain (Encore is the tough brother, he can work at home with no complaints) and Sunday, Encore will be doing some road and speed work while we test out a new bit.

I know I'm not the only one putting in my time in the dark.  I know there are other people who lay awake at night thinking about their current feeding regime and conjuring up one thing to improve in the next ride and waiting impatiently for the next time weather and schedules and diesel money align so they can trot 13 miles through the woods and fields, working now because it would be unfair to expect a spring season otherwise. 

We are here, in the freezing rain, under the stars (and sometimes clouds), staying on our toes and keeping the horses' routines creative and varied after we are done scraping off the mud.  After the ride, we don't come back to a fancy stall or a Florida hammock (well, I sure as heck don't anyway), we just shake off our jackets and follow the headlights home so we can do it all over again tomorrow.

I write this to you, Event World At Large, so that we are not dismissed in favour of a false nostalgic narrative.  Every day, I work so hard to not only do my best for my horses, but to learn and observe and try new things that will make us a better team.  Our kind are not unicorns in that we are neither singular nor imaginary; but our greatest quality is that you don't have to believe in us -- we will journey on regardless.

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Silly People Pay To Traipse Through Mud; I Get That Pleasure For Free

Yeah, I never did get that whole "yay, let me pay you so I can roll in the mud and ice and get really dirty AND we can call it a race!!!" thing.

It's hard to wax poetic between mud-wrestling my way up the hill in the dark to sweep-search a paddock for equines and holding work meetings at night (horrors - I do NOT get paid enough for that).  I am DETERMINED that both Encore and I will scrape every last ounce of time out for PT in order to arrive in spring ready to run.  Logically, I know that we have to work hard now and put in the time so we can have fun later, but it takes every ounce of stubborn willpower I have not to collapse home on the couch after work.  It would be much appreciated, atmosphere, if you would at least stop peeing on us.

Of the three of us, Solo is doing the best of all -- his weight is fantastic, his feet are, well, nevermind, they are as good as they can be, and he is so much more settled and content now that Amber has given him a job to do.  I have been trying to find time to ride him during the week, as he stares quite pointedly at me over the gate, but I have so far been thwarted.

This weekend will bring us two sunny, 74-degree days (just for the record, CLIMATE CHANGE I HATE YOU, and I know this is very bad in the long run....but I am going to enjoy my two January days of not-rain).  Sunday will find us hopefully cross-training with our BFF and her endurance racing cohorts.  Except they go around the jumps.  We...might not, heh heh heh.

I  know I'm not the only one picking mud out of my hair after a longeing session -- are you managing to squeak in a ride or two in the dark?

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What, Is It A Holiday Again Or Something?

Yeah, I don't really "do" holidays.  I don't know, maybe it's the pressure, the expectations, the completely illogical rules of them; most likely, d, all of the above.

But when I have not one, but two amazing horses in my life, every day is Christmas morning.  Every day, I see their faces and even after seven years, there's a part of me that can't quite believe it's real.

So despite the bottomless, money-eating pit, despite the stress, despair, anxiety, obsession, psychosis, sleep-deprivation, and all the rest, each day is still a gift because of them.

My day today was riding Encore on a sunny, blue, t-shirt kind of day and discovering that he can once again perform a left lead canter without feeling like a washing machine on spin.  I laughed a bit, thinking people who didn't know better might feel some kind of pity, seeing me at a farm, absolutely alone, accompanied only by the singsong of donkeys and geese.  When in reality, that was just about the best gift I could have been given.  A warm, companionable quiet in the place I love most.  And the best part is, I get to open it over and over and over and over....

I hope each of you had a piece of joy in your day and the joy of peace with a wonderful horse.

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Dancing Beneath The Stars

I stood on top of the hill, waiting for Encore to work his way through his supper.  My head was craned back, 30 degrees feeling like 20 once I stopped moving and the cold air seeped in through my edges.  I racked my mind, trying to remember where Gemini was, my astronomy class and fascinated study of the night sky almost two decades in my past.  I finally concluded that if everyone could see tonight's meteor shower, it must be in the southern sky.

So I waited.

A satellite buzzed overhead, its steady glow seeming to traverse the galaxy like a pelican cruises the tips of the waves, effortless in medium in which we are helpless.

I have loved the stars as long as I can remember; my childhood evenings were filled with my mother pointing out the royal arrangement of Cassopeia and the warrior Orion, with his faithful dog at his feet and a brute of a bull on his shoulder.  I came to love them even more over time, because they were the one thing we couldn't reach, the one thing that was truly perfect because humanity couldn't touch it and therefore couldn't mess it up.

As I watched this night, I was struck again by their impossible magic, even though I know the science -- giant balls of fire and gas; the meteors themselves, tremondous rocks hurtling through space and burning trails of flame and debris through our atmosphere.  Yet to us, each star is but a tiny point of light, watching us, and those roaring meteors merely white streaks of an instant, like a single note struck on a piano key in the near-infinite chord of a universal melody.

I also wondered, how long has it been since someone first looked at the incomprehensible brilliance at play above with a horse at their side.  The horses even have their own constellation!  How many people over centuries have watched a tail of ivory trace an arc against blackness while an equine partner chewed into the silence nearby?  How long have horses and humans danced together on the stage watched over by Antares and Vega and Sirius?

I suppose I know the answer already, but it still opens a door in my mind whose hinges had become rusty with disuse.  It brought into question time and perspective and the quiet truth that it is really we, our species, who are a brief single note echoing into the span of geological epochs.  We are the miniscule flashes of an instant, but oh how much sweeter the note is when it is accompanied by hoofbeats and the swish of a tail, by the soft sighs of contentment into a pile of hay, all while massive gravitational forces play on scales our minds cannot even comprehend and entire solar systems are born and die before their light even reaches us.

Yet all we see are those brief trails, a reminder that the warm, powerful neck beneath our hand, the strong quiet heartbeat that drives the horses who teach us about love and patience and strength and exhilaration, all of these are but brief opportunities and we must, we MUST grasp them before their light burns out, the purity of the moment lost and overwhelmed by the blinding arrival of dawn and noise and traffic and rules.

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An Emotional Blender

Our farrier met me in a bitterly cold wind this afternoon and pulled Encore's shoes; the final touch ending my desperate attempt at a fall season.  At least I won't have to get all crabby about riding in the dark all winter. 

It's not all bad -- Encore no longer shows any pain in his hip or hindquarter from his ligament injury, which is great.  Now we just need to work on loosening up the tight tendons and ligaments in the area and make sure to keep them moving throughout the winter.  The Majykal Hotwalker (my new best friend) will help keep his muscles toned and hopefully, the round pen and a lovely rider of a friend can keep a hint of topline on him.

In addition, there is Amber.  Delightful, thoughtful, enthusiastic Amber who showed up out of nowhere and brightened my life really at its darkest moment.  She will be helping me keep Solo in shape and showering him with the attention he has been craving.  I laughed out loud on Sunday as I glanced at him:  Amber was brushing him and his bright eyes and pricked ears were locked on me, saying, "FINALLY!  Thank you for this most excellent minion!"  He was in heaven.  At least until he found out there would be SOME work involved.  But he was quickly bribed back to joy with a giant peppermint stick.

My surgery comes next Friday and this week is a crazy one at work, so the clock is ticking.  I will be stockpiling feed and digging out my old crutches and relishing my last moments with my legs wrapped around a warm, wonderful horse.  I lean against their necks and breathe deeply, hoping I can save up their essence to get me through to the other side.

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Waiting....

I'm terrible at it.  So perhaps it's a good thing I've been left in charge of the farm this weekend while everyone is shining their silver at the State Fair.  With still about 30 horses left behind and a pony with an eye infection, plus pasture dragging and arena mowing -- oh wait, skip that one, the mower wouldn't start.  At any rate, better than fidgeting.

I don't want to do anything meaningful with Encore until Dr. Bob has a chance to set right what is sore.  Solo is quite of out shape; we did a bit of walk/trot work the other day (see our FB feed) and he was fantastic, but it definitely woke up some long-slumbering muscles who now whine in protest.

So instead, tonight I rode out bareback into the sunset, Solo's familar sway beneath me and Encore's bright face at my knee as we ponied him through quarreling mockingbirds and the fat-rolling scramble of groundhogs in a perfect early fall evening.  It was good to get them both moving slightly faster than a lazy pasture amble and good to be on a horse after tractors and pitchforks and grain scoops and hoses.

Only two more days, two more days....

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Shhhhh, Did You Hear That?

It was nearly like the sound of a new post forming.  This only counts as half of one though.  I must apologize for a quiet summer; field work is rather like being slowly eaten alive, yet still-half enjoyable?  And the universe continues its focused plan to smoosh me, but fails as yet...

Solo has been finessing his guilt skills, trying to push his nose into the halter hole when I get Encore.  I take him out for a trail ride or a work session when I can, but there is so little time.  He has lost all that hard-won muscle and I'm a bit sad on the trail, where he stumbles and tires easily compared to the muscle-bound athlete he was before.  Before everything changed.  I look at him now and am frustrated, I want more for him but my plan to bring him back to shape this winter ended before it even began.  I can read his frustration too, we know each other too well.  But he will be my rehab horse in a couple of months, so I have hope yet to pique his interest.

Our barn wall speaks truth.

Encore and I have our final practice run this weekend in Southern Pines; next stop the Adult Team Challenge in VA.  We've joined up with three of our fellow Adult Riders to make a kickass team, so look out, because Team "Smurf Cocktail" will be looking to burn up the leaderboard!  If I can manage not to do anything stupidly obvious, perhaps Encore can bring home his own giant ribbon...

Dr. Bob comes up on Tuesday for a pre-flight chiro adjustment.  Encore's left hip has gotten tight again, which I have learned means that some cracking and re-rotating is in order.  For us both, funnily enough, I see mine tomorrow morning, ha.  I will do my best to assure that we are in our finest fighting form. 

Because October is already here, with November on its heels.  By the time I hit the O.R., I'll be broke and exhausted, but there will be plenty of time to nap later and no lessons to pay for for quite some time.  So I'll live right now, thank you.

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Can I Make The Impossible Possible?

This is how it goes:

Monday I am getting ready for field work, fixing the stuff broken in last week's field work, or driving to field work.

Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, I am usually DOING field work on travel status, which means I am in a hotel somewhere in the economic wasteland (but gorgeous rivers) that is the coastal plain of our state.

Friday, I'm fixing the stuff we broke this week and planning and coordinating staff for the next week.

Saturday, I am exhausted and it is 102 degrees, but I stuff myself into the truck and drive north to ride Encore.  Since he hasn't been ridden in a week, I have to somehow wear him out before I can do anything focused (I have discovered the round pen is very helpful because he HAS to balance or he will fall). 

Sunday, he is much more rideable but I am tired of sweating, even though the temperature has dropped to a balmy 99.  Nevertheless, I truck up and try to do something worthwhile.

I ache to ride Solo too, but what little time I have must be devoted to the youngster.

Because we WILL have a fall season, SO HELP ME COD, because my knee surgery (thank YOU, VA Horse Trials 2011) is scheduled for November 16th (just after the Adult Team Challenge in VA, how fitting) and after that I will not be able to walk until mid-January and it will be 8 months to full recovery if I don't explode first.

Encore needs a schedule (which I can't give him) and I need to build his hind end, especially his left hind, which is still a bit weaker and tight from his pre-injection body habits.  We've made some progress; our dressage lesson today "showed a nice Second Level trot" and because the arena had not been mowed, Mr. Finicky Legs passaged over the 10 inch tall weeds while I laughed at him.  I guess that's one way to get hock action...

Blogging:  EPIC FAIL.  Unless you want to hear about all the fish I can't find because they have somehow vanished.  Who would have thought that the rivers had changed since the last records of the species 50 years ago?  Oh wait...

On the plus side, in November I will have time to write the series I have been saving in my head that I think you will enjoy.  Since I will not be able to do anything else.  Although I have already decided that sitting on a lazy, retired horse is a non-weight bearing activity....

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