billie hinton’s camera-obscura:
life and lessons on November Hill Farm
My husband took this aerial photo of our Sweet Bay Bald this weekend and I immediately see the figure of a horse, which made me think, wow, we can mow the walking path in the shape of Keil Bay!
Perfect time of year to be thinking about it, since it will get mowed completely in early spring and then as the spring natives come in, we can shift the new walking path to any shape we want to.
Something to think about through this coming season.
It’s definitely autumn on November Hill!
The old blog post I’m sharing below got a lot of hits yesterday for some reason and I when I went back to re-read it, was charmed by my old routine with our herd of six. I remember so well the Hanoverian chorus during feeding time, which involved Keil Bay and Salina whinnying back and forth across the barn aisle, Little Man’s addition to this music, and Cody scraping his teeth along the stall wall, all while the donkeys made squeaky hinge sounds.
Somewhere I have a video/audio recording of this symphony and I need to find it.
It’s quieter now in the barn, but Little Man, Cody, Rafer Johnson, and Redford still love the barnyard and hanging out during chores. Yesterday they were all out there while we trimmed hooves and all visited Keil Bay and Salina’s graves for a bit.
Brave and happy life takes on new meanings now, but here’s the old post that made me smile when I read it this morning:
Of course we have all been thinking of him, and he was with me yesterday on my way to massage, galloping alongside my car with the backdrop of fall colors behind him, all the yellows and oranges and reds of North Carolina trees. It is often how I think of him, his deep red bay color rich and distinct, with fall coloring behind him, and then winter coloring too.
But then I think of him in all the seasons, all the months, all the days. He lived with me through so many years.
Today my husband walked in with a chipping sparrow nest in his hand. We usually find them in the early spring, when the winds are blowing, but here this one was the day before the anniversary of Keil Bay’s passing. I was afraid to look at it because I dreaded the first one without his black tail hair woven in. But when I looked, there was ONE black hair, and as far as I’m concerned that is all the proof I need to know that Keil is still very much with us in spirit.
All the seasons, all the years.
This evening I was driving and the trees were brilliant oranges and reds and yellows, and George Winston’s version of Pachelbel’s Canon came on my playlist. This is now Keil Bay’s song, and I felt him and saw him galloping alongside the car, with Salina, their red bay and deep black bodies muscled and elegant. I burst into tears and sobbed. I miss him so much, still, but I also feel him close so much of the time.
He was and is the King. Love you, Big Handsome Bay.
We are having really beautiful weather on November Hill, with days ranging from the 60s into upper 70s and nights in the low-mid 40s. And no rain for a couple of weeks, which is kind of nice but probably not something we want to go on for too much longer.
This millipede curled up in the night and I happened upon him one morning. The symmetry is so pleasing to the eye, and the tiny legs look like embroidery thread to me.
We have leaves falling and fall plants still in bloom. Three pumpkins on the driveway ledge. A new native plant bed in progress as I move volunteers from odd spaces. The herd is happy and on day-time turn-out now.
The honey bees are moving toward their winter mode, but still have plenty of forage and days warm enough to go get it.
The North Carolina Botanical Garden opened up a virtual session for one of the core classes I need to complete my advanced native plant studies certificate program, but I missed the registration and it filled instantly. I did get on the waiting list though and just learned I’ve been moved into the class, so yay! I’m happy to have this class to focus on in November.
I am doing some weeding each day, some barn and horse time each day, and trying to get back to my daily yoga here at home. This past weekend was my writing weekend via Zoom and it energized me to moving forward with a submission and led me back into one of the novels-in-progress.
Time with family, precious grandchildren, and a season away from the very hard summer are all welcome this week as I move toward my mother’s 92nd birthday and to the one year anniversary of Keil Bay’s passing.
It’s a tender week but I feel strong. Though I did something to my lower back last week and it’s on again, off again aching. It just occurred to me that the lower back is my base of support. It is understandably tired from holding up so much emotion through a season of pain and horror at what humans are capable of when not self-aware and not mentally stable.
I haven’t talked about it here but my mom has dementia and part of the difficulty of the summer was not being able to talk to her about what was going on. And not having Keil Bay physically present was also hard. I think the focus of fall this year is honoring the sense of loss of my own personal supports during a time when I needed them. And also honoring my ability to keep going even without them being there for me the way I was used to. And to take care of my very tired back! Yoga with Adriene here I come!
When I look at the millipede, I see a long vulnerable body curled up tight, stronger and safer in its form. I’ll be doing my own version of that curling up when I need to, and thinking how we can be both safe and tightly furled while also symmetrical and beautiful.
I didn’t realize when I last posted that this is October, the one-year anniversary month of Keil Bay’s passing. It hit me later that day, after I put up the photo of him and felt him close. His passing was on October 24th, and I am sure I’ll mark the day with another writing, but the memories from his passing and even more from his life with me are very close and strong right now.
The idea that it has been an entire year since he passed seems wrong somehow. It feels in my mind and in my body and in my heart like it was only a couple of months ago.
I took this photo a few days ago of one of my favorite autumn plantings in the native pollinator bed closest to the barn. The night Keil Bay passed, my husband gathered these flowers and laid them over the Big Bay, and I don’t think I’ll ever look at this combination of colors and textures again without seeing them on his gorgeous red bay coat.
His spirit has been with me this entire year, for months and months he was always close, and gradually through the year he sometimes seems further away, like maybe he’s off with good friends: Brio, Maverick, Lily, Salina, and more I do not know. I have summoned him to help me during hard times this late spring and summer, and he’s been right there.
Often he and Salina are on either side of me, brilliant black and red bay guardians, and now I smile rather than cry when I feel their presence.
It’s notable to me that although I talk to both Keil and Salina at their gravesites, I mostly feel their spirits up high or on either side of me. They are not resting so much as they are moving with me, and moving in open air and open spaces. It’s the rippling of muscle I remember most, the feel of movement beneath the saddle, the tossing of heads and curving of powerful necks as they shift into their big trots, as they coil to burst forward into gallops.
October is one of my two favorite months of the year, the opening to my favorite season. Keil’s passing during October was one of the hardest losses of my life, but remembering him, even remembering the occasion of his final breath, is one of the clearest feelings of love I have ever had.
I know some of you reading here get this because of your own equine friends. I know some might wonder how this could be such a milestone. I don’t really know how to express it other than what I’ve said. Though there is a tribute I wrote to Keil Bay shortly after he passed that is out on submission right now and when it gets accepted somewhere and published, I’ll share it. It’s magical and it captures everything I felt about that night. When I read it to myself I feel the magic of Keil Bay woven into each line.
Meanwhile, OCTOBER. I am celebrating the beauty of this very special month.
The farm is halfway between jungle and autumn these days, but with the weather we’ve had it almost feels like we’re in a holding pattern moving into true fall season. We are not in the area of NC that Helene ravaged through; we got rain and wind and one 15-minute period of what looked like tornado conditions, but thankfully there was no damage. Sadly a good friend in Nash County experienced an actual tornado touching down near her home and I believe 16 people were injured and many businesses were struck down.
Of course this brings me to western NC which is in our hearts always but especially right now, as so many people there are living with true disaster. My son attended and graduated from UNC-Asheville, we have property in Haywood and Madison counties, and so many of my vacations over the years have taken place in the beautiful western part of my state. We did not sustain much damage on our property there and all the people I know personally who live there are safe. The photos and video I’ve seen are heartbreaking.
The worst things we’ve experienced in the past week is a washing machine that wouldn’t drain, water under one garage door, and a very strong smell of something decaying in the woods adjacent to our farm. My husband fixed the washing machine, I used fans and some sunshine to dry the garage floor, and a wake of black vultures managed the very potent smell. I am grateful for small problems and quick resolutions.
Today I’m celebrating a couple of things.
My essay “She Wants To Swim With Narwhals,” which you can read HERE, has been nominated for the Best of the Net anthology. It’s a huge honor for me and I’m so happy the editors felt it worthy of their nomination.
I’m also celebrating Keil Bay, who remains with me strong in spirit and support, and who I am thinking of today actually without any tears coming, which I think may be the very first time this has happened since his passing. I scrolled back to find a photo and this one really spoke to me today and made me smile so big my cheeks hurt a little.
He was and is a saint-king and I miss this kind of Keil Bayness greeting me in the barn.
I see him galloping right now and kicking up his heels in response.
The swamp sunflowers are magnificent outside as are the asters and the beauty berry and the possum haw. I am happy for fall, and ready for pumpkins and a little decorative fun, including our annual “graveyard cake.”
Hope all are safe and if anyone reading here is struggling, I send light and love your way.
Happy fall equinox! I am always in highest spirits when this day rolls around again, but this year it’s almost a life changing event to move into this new and my favorite season. Even if the temps are going to mid-80s, even if I have a hundred things to get done on the farm right now, it’s a turning and I’m happy.
This week I saw a double rainbow that held a lot of meaning for me too, and I’m grateful for that as well.
I was already stopped to turn so I had the perfect chance to photograph it.
On the farm: the deciduous trees are starting to look like they’re considering dropping some leaves. The lush green of summer is fading a bit and the dogwoods are already turning colors. The fall flowers (asters, goldenrod, NY ironweed, mistflower) are blooming, and we have a huge crop of maypops along the front porch this year.
Apache is one more month healthy, the herd is happy, and the cats and dogs are doing well.
I have returned to an older writing project after a creative brainstorm at Weymouth and will be doing a final edit of a trilogy that I’ve now condensed into one longer novel. This one has a TV pilot episode all but finished and I’d like to move these out as I move into fall.
I have a couple of short pieces out on submission and that feels good too.
There’s a breeze blowing over the farm, I’m washing the next-to-last horse blanket today, and other than that my only plan is to relax.
Welcome, autumn!
I am so grateful I had a few days/nights at Weymouth Center For The Arts And Humanities as a writer-in-residence last week. It’s been an intense time here this spring and summer with family matters that have taken up so much space in our lives there was not much room for creative work.
One of my trilogies is now a single hefty novel with a TV pilot episode to boot, and this is only possible because of a few days of retreat time in which I was able to work and enjoy the support of a long-time writing friend while doing so.
And Weymouth got a new writer’s kitchen! It’s lovely. Every wall looks different but the stove and vent hood is super nice with the tile backsplash.
So happy for the time and I am definitely feeling renewed with creative energy.
Our son planted this fig tree close to 20 years ago. It was a tiny tree that has taken root and thrived. The past few years it’s been growing huge numbers of very large figs that are feeding our family, offering joy to parents, son, and now my son’s own children. It’s been a true blessing this summer and now on into fall, as we continue to pick the fruit and enjoy the time together as we share this harvest.
The fig tree symbolizes strength, resilience, power, protection, and longevity.
All these things have special meaning in our family right now and I’m so grateful to this beautiful tree for providing them for us.
As I look at the photo, behind and to the left, I see a sunny clearing. I didn’t notice it as I took the photo, but in this moment I realize it’s Keil Bay’s gravesite, with Salina buried just past him.
Of course Keil Bay and Salina were both strong personalities, loving friends to my family, powerful, protective, and long-lived in body and eternally in spirit.
We are surrounded by this energy here on November Hill and I feel it every single day.
It’s time - these two poems capture so much for me, and every autumn I read them again.
The Wild Geese
Wendell Berry, 1934-
Horseback on Sunday morning,
harvest over, we taste persimmon
and wild grape, sharp sweet
of summer’s end. In time’s maze
over fall fields, we name names
that went west from here, names
that rest on graves. We open
a persimmon seed to find the tree
that stands in promise,
pale, in the seed’s marrow.
Geese appear high over us,
pass, and the sky closes. Abandon,
as in love or sleep, holds
them to their way, clear,
in the ancient faith: what we need
is here. And we pray, not
for new earth or heaven, but to be
quiet in heart, and in eye
clear. What we need is here.
Wild Geese
Mary Oliver, 1935-
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
The natives have taken over and the birds and insects love it! I’m taming things a little where needed, but here at summer’s downhill slide, leaving the things that serve this little/big ecosystem I live in.
Whenever I glance out the windows there are birds flying by, insects wafting and hovering, and so much activity as they forage the native plantings. It’s a rich and vibrant ecosystem and there will be all winter to tidy things up.
On Sunday my grandchildren and I were watching with great delight this little spider wrapped around her two beautiful egg sacs outside the window. The dried leaf stem blew into the web that extended about 20 inches down from what you see in this photo. It was dangling by the stem down there, blowing in the mild breeze.
When I woke up on Monday morning, she had brought the leaf stem up to her egg sacs and somehow turned it all the way around and positioned it so the curve of this leaf became a perfect shelter for her and the eggs.
I don’t know how she did it but I take it as a metaphor for myself right now. It’s a little miracle that inspires. I can and I will provide safety, protection, and shelter for my children and my grandchildren. So much love.
Hawk or owl? I am not sure but have been perusing feathers online this a.m. Either way, I love that this was front and center by the barn as the tree trimming was completed yesterday with not too much fanfare at all. The horses were aware but not fearful and I’m glad this particular event is behind us now.
The sun is out this morning, the air is cooler and less humid, and even the fact that my beds are full of weeds is not too daunting. I’m aiming to do a half hour a day and get them back in shape by Labor Day!
Figs are still plentiful and ripening each day, autumn-blooming flowers are beginning in the beds and landscape, and the early color dogwood is now blushing with orange all over.
We had one honeybee colony abscond, which also happened last year this time, but our net gain means we still have 4 very active colonies.
Life is full right now and some of the hard things are a wee bit less so this week. I’m gettng massage, chiro, and will soon be doing some therapy with EMDR which I am so very ready for. The main thing is this: I have done hard things, I can do them now. I am good at noticing the joy in small moments, the beauties in a day, and that is a very big part of moving through tough times.
I feel the strong presence of my dad, whose strength and care is so helpful to me now, and I also feel the strength and security of Keil Bay, Salina, and my first horse Bo-Jinx, galloping circles of safety around my entire family. Just thinking of these supports in my life brings a deep healing breath to my body.
When I do the online videos shared by Yoga With Adriene she often says: take the biggest breath you’ve taken all day. This is a great thing to do when things get hard, big, intense. When you read this, try it out! It helps so much.
November Hill is breathing with me and that too is pure comfort.
Channeling this peaceful day with dogs this week:
I hope everyone has made it through Debby, or is soon to be viewing Debby in the past tense! We have had, and are still having, much rain and a little wind. The farm is soggy and the skies are gray, but we have been lucky compared to those who have had tornados, power outages, and big trees down.
Just before Debby came through we had “contracted by our electric co-op tree trimming crews” on the lane, and they destroyed our mailbox and dumped huge oak branches all the way down the front of our fence line, damaging the native shrubs I planted. That was bad enough, but the supervisor’s rude, verbally abusive behavior went way over the line, and I ended up on the phone with our electric co-op and the corporate headquarters of the contracted company, whose name I’ll share here in case you ever have to deal with them. Xylem Tree “Experts” is based in Virginia and send crews out to many states on behalf of the electric companies who hire them.
Just remember, you have rights as a property owner and you can generally contact your state’s Utilities Commission to stop whatever it is they’re doing wrong. In the case of these contracted tree trimming crews, they themselves have no rights regarding your property. They don’t hold the rights of way, they have no claim to be on your property. If there is anything to be discussed, it’s between you and the power company itself, and your state’s Utilities Commission has the power to pause everything until something mutual can be worked out.
The tree trimming crews that are contracted almost never live in the communities they’re working in, and they seem to generally be arrogant and rude when confronted. If this is upsetting, call 911. No worker has a right to intimidate you on your private property.
The day they destroyed our mailbox and damaged shrugs, our co-op instructed them to leave and not to come back. We are scheduled to meet with our co-op person on Tuesday and he has assured me he will personally supervise the remaining work that needs to be done, with me or my husband also present. Note that the crew supervisor told me the day of the damage that he WOULD come back and that they WOULD finish the job. Um, no, you will not, and get out of my space.
I’m in contact with corporate offices to get reimbursed for their damage and have filed a complaint against this supervisor.
In more pleasant news, we have a little birthday girl in the family this week. My granddaughter is now one year old! We’re excited to celebrate her and also her big brother, who told me yesterday that he wants to ride Little Man when he gets older. Little Man had chiro this week and had nothing other than a normal maintenance adjustment, which his vet said was pretty remarkable considering the kind of surgery he had. We are happy that he (and Cody too) are doing well. Next visit the donka boys get their turns.
Here’s to summer sliding quietly into fall.
And I must say it: I’m so very happy to have Kamala Harris and Tim Walz on the Democratic ticket for November. What an amazing voting experience this will be!
We are swimming in beautiful, huge figs right now, and I’m enjoying my son and grandchildren’s delight in picking and eating them. In the throes of a long, hot, and in many ways difficult summer, this simple pleasure is sustaining all of us.
We’ve had enough good rain to rejuvenate the pastures, and the front field has totally come back to very green life. Apache has been able to return to full time turn-out with his herd and they were invited to head into the front pasture yesterday. Every time I glanced out they were heads down and grazing. It was a sweet thing to see. And it’s August! So we’re heading toward my favorite season and although we still have some heat left to sweat our way through, knowing cooler weather is coming makes me so happy.
Right now the goldfinches are devouring the coneflower seed heads. I love seeing these bright little birds in the garden. This photo came from my husband this morning.
I’ve been able to do small gardening tasks almost every day for the past week, mostly tidying up the grass around the driveway with my electric weedeater. It’s nicely self limiting due to its battery charge, which helps me limit myself and not get into the deep rabbit hole of trying to do “the whole thing.”
Today, I’m enjoying a morning quiet time with Pixie sitting on my lap purring and pushing her face into my arm, which she loves to do, Bear lying on the floor belly up, Baloo perched on the sofa with his face to the window so he can monitor the driveway, and Violet on the very large dog bed asleep. Clem is sleeping in the laundry room, and Pippin, Isobel, and Mystic are napping upstairs. The herd is in the barn with fans and hay.
It is possible to endure very hard things and also find moments of calm and beauty. This is my mission right now and I think it’s a good reminder to all of us. Find the calm and beautiful moments, as many times as we can do so in a day, a week, a month.
I’m reading in various places on the internet posts in which the authors are asking horse people to stop bashing equine sports and its abuses because if they continue, the horse industry itself will die out.
And my response to this is:
If competitors cannot treat horses humanely maybe the industry should die out.
Maybe there shouldn’t even BE an “industry” that uses horses for financial gain and ego boosting.
Maybe anyone who loves horses, or professes to, should consider that if you own a horse or even if you’re just watching someone else “own” a horse, it’s your job, your responsibility, to advocate for the welfare, health, and wellbeing of that horse. Speaking out when we see abuse is always the right thing to do.
A response to my response this morning suggested that if there is no horse “industry” then what purpose would it serve to even have horses?
My response:
No purpose for anyone to have horses? How about because we love them and enjoy living with them and riding them in ways that promote their, and our, health and wellbeing? I have lived with 6 equines for the past 20 years. My amazing mare who passed at age 30, my heart horse gelding who passed at age 34, and now my son’s 19 year old horse, my daughter’s 24 year old pony (yes, the one who she bought at age 7 with her own money and rode in Pony Club for years), and our two miniature donkeys ages 16 and 17. All these equines have been with us since age 2, 4, and 6 months of age. They bring joy to me every single day. I have learned about equine nutrition, hoof care and trimming, EPM, PSSM, senior horse care, bodywork for all of them, and how bonded a herd of horses becomes to one another and to the humans they live with. This is the true journey of humans and horses, not the industry that makes money off them.
Have we gone so far outside the rails of compassion and common sense that we actually think there is no reason to live with horses if there isn’t industry and competition and training and making money off these amazing animals?
I’m so done with this way of thinking. It represents the worst part of being human.
In our little horse world, dear husband decided last night on a whim to go ahead and turn our little herd out together for the first time since Apache’s surgery and recovery. Oh, how happy they are! I’m so glad we’ve reached his third month post surgery. Now we count down the rest of the year with him to get all the way through this year’s big event for a very amazing Little Man.
As is true every summer, the button bushes are hubs of activity for birds and insects. I’m grateful for the resources these natives offer on either side of our driveway!
We’ve hit the rainy season here on November Hill, with plenty of sunshine and heat but now regular rain which has given everything a deep watering and turned the landscape around us into a jungle. It’s welcome right now, after a hot, dry period that took its toll.
Our potager is doing well. There are so many things on the farm that could do with some photos and I hope I can get around to them all this weekend.
Apache is doing really well. He and Rafer Johnson (who, by the way, has turned 17 years old!) are now turning out to the back pasture and in another week or so the herd will come back together as one for their turn-out time. Rafer’s birthday party has been delayed but we will make it up to him for sure.
I admit I am more than ready for the fall this year, more so than usual, and I know it’s still a couple months away. Right now I’m taking in all the green, the lush foliage, the front pasture (which has been closed off for several weeks now) going green green green.
I’ve been in a dry spell with my writing this past couple of months, and I know autumn is going to bring me back to it.
My family has been through a rough time recently and although we are moving forward into a better place, it’s still in process and still not at all comfortable. The only way through is through, though, so onward and upward we go.
One thing I can say: I love my husband, I love my children, I love my grandchildren, I love my animal family, and I love my very dear friends, some of whom read here and to you I say thank you. I feel your support and I am so grateful.
As usual, I am sustained by the actual land we live on. November Hill literally holds me up on a daily basis. And I want to notice that and write it here. What a gift it is to feel connection with the very earth I stand on every single day.
Right now my family is experiencing a tragic and extremely distressing situation that I cannot go into at this time, but the persistence of these morning glories in our lives is a bit of a metaphor right now for me.
If you pray, if you send out light, if you offer healing, hopeful energy, we welcome that right now. I am a hopeful person by nature, and I am someone who harnesses every hopeful sign I see in the world around me, particularly the natural world. I am sending out my own light and love on a near constant basis this past month and today and I believe that if those who know me share in this it will be a powerful effort that makes a big difference.
Love to all who read here, and thank you for any positive thoughts you send our way.
(And on another hopeful note, Apache is now on turnout with Rafer and they are loving the freedom as he continues on his recovery journey.)
Apache Moon on one of his grazing times in our back yard, thanks to dear husband who has taken this on and made it happen many times a day for this stall-bound pony boy.
He’s doing very well and as of today has 12 days left until he can move to turn-out from his stall into the little barnyard that adjoins it.
Rafer Johnson continues to be a very good friend to the Little Man, with his open stall across the barn aisle and at nights access to the big barnyard where Little Man can see him and know he’s close by.
I’ve read that if a horse does well for the six months following this kind of surgery, and wasn’t prone to colic before, they generally return to that low risk zone. I so hope this beloved little man takes that path.
Right now our focus is on getting through July 4th and this wave of high heat days. At that point, we’ll be anticipating Rafer Johnson’s birthday celebration on July 19th! As I say at every birthday at the barn now, it is mind blowing that he will be 17 years old. I hadn’t thought about the difference between Little Man’s age (24) and Rafer’s until right this moment, but wow - these two boys have been friends for 16.5 years now. In any case, it will be a wonderful excuse to celebrate Rafer’s life and also the fact that these two can move on to many more happy years of friendship.
The forecast today is 97 and thankfully/hopefully the trend that it’s been a few degrees cooler on the farm than what is predicted will continue. We have a good breeze this morning and that too may help the heat not feel quite so intense for those of us who cannot come inside!
I am grateful on these hot days for the fans and for the big oaks that shade most of our barn and keep it cool.
Yesterday I did more watering of some garden beds and also in the morning did some weed-eating of stilt grass to keep it taking over. The upper terraced bed looks quite good thanks to my weeding efforts in the spring and also with the addition of the short-leafed mountain mint, which is thriving. The two button bushes on either side of the driveway are now blooming and creating a kaleidoscope of activity as the bees and butterflies and moths and birds go back and forth to the flowers.
In a moment of possibly heat-induced irrationality, I decided to power wash the front porch, was thwarted mightily when the outlet on the porch died and took the two inside outlets with it, but I rallied enough to just use the hose by itself with my finger the only engine to make the water flow stronger. The porch really needed some attention, and as dry as it is, the water surely gave some relief to a number of insects and the plants around the porch. I’m not exaggerating when I tell you the cats stretched out in the afternoon as the porch finished drying and looked especially content in the clean and tidied space they love so much.
All the litter boxes got a good cleaning and even the loss of power for 4 hours in the heat of the afternoon did not bring the feeling of accomplishment down!
I’m not planning any big or sudden such projects today though!
May we all stay safe in this severe heat and may we also get a break from it soon.
I’ve been exhausted for the past two weeks, since Little Man came home, settled in, and was checked out with two thumbs up by our regular vet practice. As is true for mothers in general, I think, we manage to put off sickness, exhaustion, and all the things that come with maternal cellular focus and worry until we know things are okay, or at the very least, stable, and then we … sleep? Fall apart? Catch our breaths?
The summer heat is hitting us this week too, and I took a long nap on Saturday and a short nap today and neither kind of nap is the norm for me, so I can tell that I’m playing catch up.
We have 19 days to go until the pony king gets his back door opened up to his small barnyard paddock. I’m sure he and Rafer will be thrilled to be back to that normal, which, this time of year IS the norm for summer days. At night they’ll be able to open into the grass paddock and graze alongside Cody and Redford in the front pasture. By August we’ll be back to herd turning out together.
When I write that seeing one horse and donkey in the front pasture seems odd, I mean it. It is so rare that we ever split the herd up or have needed to keep one in, seeing Cody and Redford, or one or the other if they’ve wandered apart from one another, is just not right. I find myself counting. I’m still shocked to see 4 and not 5 when they’re all together. I still search for Keil Bay as my eyes go from one to the next in my counting sequence. It’s going to be good to see them all together again.
We’ve had heat and no rain for the past 4 or 5 days, or maybe even longer, as I’ve been too distracted to count days without rain. I’ve been doing some watering but need to do more of that for the further out plants that went in earlier this spring and need a little pampering this first year during the heat. I’ve only managed to do one patch of stiltgrass removal but I’ll get back into the swing of a little weeding work a day.
The terraced beds look pretty good right now. This is the view from the back deck looking down. I glimpse these beds from the laundry room window as well as any time I drive in or out, and it’s a joy. Right now everything is white and pink but soon the yellows will begin to come in.
And more white when the button bush blooms!
We learned last night that the owners of the property we’d been hoping to buy accepted another offer, which we could not counter due to our waiting game with the one thing being in place. It will be, but not in time for this property, unless this offer falls through. I’m trusting that the right thing will happen at the right time, as that has always been the case with us and real estate, and I’m confident that trend is carrying forward to this next and presumably final move.
For now I’m circling back to my summer plan: do a little of a few things every day.
They bumped his discharge up a day because he was feeling very good, all his tests were great, and he tried to run away from the techs who were charged with taking him to hand graze. That was the story we were told, but the transporter told me this morning they said he actually DID get away and ran all over the place two times so they stopped taking him out. They assured us no damage was done to stitches and they ultrasounded him to check on the intestinal repair.
Apparently his recovery is the fastest they’ve ever seen from this kind of surgery. I’m not surprised at all, and am very grateful for it!
They were expecting him to try to make a break for it today while loading to come home, and battened down the hatches as a precaution, but when my husband took the lead line and led him out, he marched right onto the trailer without any problems at all. He’s a smart little guy. He knew he was coming home!
Here on November Hill, the herd of three and I prepared for his arrival. After I fed them breakfast I told them he was on the way home. And these two stood in exactly these spots until the trailer pulled in about 25 minutes later.
When the trailer pulled in, Cody started whinnying and was very excited. I was a little surprised that he was so vocal, but it reminded me that he, and all of them, lost Salina and then Keil Bay, whose hasn’t even been gone a year yet, so I am sure they were all overjoyed to see that in fact they had not lost another family member. On some level I think they knew he was alive and returning because they didn’t grieve the way they did when they lost their two Hanoverian friends.
The reunion:
Best buddies together again. :) And the Little Man in his stall.
He’s eaten hay, had half a bucket of water, and a small wet meal. Dropped a very nice pile of manure and is set for hand grazing in about 15 minutes. We have a schedule and a list to detail what goes in and what comes out. This will be our routine until July 5th or so.
I didn’t get a photo, but Rafer Johnson is right outside Little Man’s stall with his own hay to eat right there, together. And Rafer has access to the stall right across the aisle if he wants to use it. Cody and Redford are in and out of their double stall to the back. All nice and close so Little Man is not lonely. Home!!!
He’s doing great, coming off a couple of meds, no signs of laminitis or sepsis, eating his feed and dropping manure, and gets to go on a hand graze today!
Husband gets to visit today while I catch up with clients, and I’ll get back to him tomorrow. So so grateful and relieved to see this progress.
Wednesday afternoon:
He’s bright and alert, was happy to see us, and is still doing very well. It was hard to see him in full ice boots, with iv in neck and very long surgical incision - but he is not in distress or pain and one of his vets reminded me that the surgery itself is a huge procedure for any horse, so he is recovering from something very major.
He has a great team and he’s the cutest pony ever, so getting a lot of attention from everyone.
I think I am going to take another nap!
Newest update as of Wednesday a.m.:
Little Man had surgery and around 4:30 a.m. was in recovery and starting to wake up. The surgery confirmed strangulating lipoma and that was removed along with around 5 feet of intestine that had died. The surgeon felt good about the surgery and said it went very well. The next hurdle is getting his intestinal motility going normally and gradually introducing feed. I am hopeful that this very spunky pony will come through this, but of course it’s a major surgery and no one knows how things will go.
I went out just now to tell his herd that he made it through this first phase of treatment, that he needs herd energy, and they were all very vocal and happy to see me and hear this. Salina is here with the herd and Keil Bay has spirited to the vet school hospital to stay with Little Man. I told Little Man this last night before he left, and my husband (who went to the hospital with him) was able to give him hugs before the surgery from all of us and to talk to him in recovery this morning before coming home.
I’ll go see him at mid-day assuming things are going well. Right now I’m assuming the very best.
*******
Little Man is very sick. Vet is on the way.
UPDATE:
It is a strangulating lipoma colic. He was in a lot of pain - this all came about between noon and 5 p.m. or so. He was down in his stall and was able to get up and go into grassy barnyard but needed to lay down again, up and down a few times but no thrashing. It was very clear something was seriously wrong but nothing we’d ever dealt with before. Nearly white gums, respiration was normal.
We gave banamine which relieved him some while vet was on the way. This was our first time using NC State’s Mobile Equine Emergency After Hours Unit - they now take calls after 5 p.m. and on weekends for our vet practice. They were great - the vet was a surgeon and was extremely knowledgeable and kind.
He will be going into surgery in the next hour, so around 12:30 a.m. EST. Please send him good thoughts. If he had other health issues or were older, we wouldn’t have gone forward, but he has been and is such a healthy, happy pony we knew we had to give him this chance.
Brave Little Man loaded onto a huge trailer in the dark barnyard and stood up all the way to the vet school hospital. Rafer Johnson stood at the barnyard fence and watched until he drove away, then brayed loudly. We are all pulling for this pony boy who we have loved for 20 years.
I haven’t posted much about the trip yet, but it was magnificent. I loved Shetland more than I expected to, and I really did expect to love it, so in the end I loved it a lot!
I think the way I would characterize it is that Shetland is both rugged and tender. You can see these things in these two photographs:
There’s something about the tender lying alongside the rugged that is so powerful. We were there to see landscape and wildlife, so we didn’t go into the towns like Lerwick, but we drove and took ferries all over the country and I never saw a fast food restaurant or anything resembling a mall. I loved that about Shetland.
I’m still feeling the peacefulness of being there and the feel of its wind and its sunshine and just a little of its rain.
Getting back into my routine this week with daily gardening, mostly hand weeding the native beds again, starting with the upper terraced bed, which was overrun for some reason. I’ve been pulling weeds for three days and also cutting the tall goldenrod back by 2/3 so the summer blooming plants aren’t dwarfed. I’m pulling out some of the tall goldenrod too, but allowing some to stay for autumn forage. It’s a great plant but as I have noted many times, I made a big mistake putting it in any bed!
Husband is catching up with some mowing in the mornings before it gets too hot and I started the daily groom and insect proofing of the equine herd yesterday, as we are definitely now fully in that time of year. All appreciate having their legs and bellies sprayed with the nontoxic but noxious spray I’ve been using the past few years. It works the best of anything I’ve ever tried and although they “improved” the smell, it is still not something you want to get in your eyes or nose. We do they spraying in the barnyard and I aim carefully.
Redford donkey still doesn’t allow spray but was happy to have me apply Coat Defense powder to his entire body. It smells good and he enjoys the rub in part. Everyone looks good and were noticeably happier after the spa treatment.
I think Cody is looking particularly handsome these days.
Unfortunately I have not yet gotten his saddle on site and haven’t started riding. I was so excited for that and still am. It will happen.
The volunteer elderberries are quite stunning right now:
All doing wonderful jobs controlling soil erosion, stormwater run-off, and providing amazing food and shelter for birds and insects. If I get my ducks in a row, maybe I will make some elderberry syrup or cordial or jam when the berries are ready!
I spotted the first Monarchs yesterday and am happy the milkweek is abundant and ready to provide food for the very hungry caterpillars.
The large blueberry bush in the back yard is loaded and will be fun to pick from when the berries ripen. We also have many figs on the fig tree and will see if they ripen earlier this year as they did last year.
The potager is looking very lush - I didn’t get photos yet but we’re harvesting lettuce, spinach, kale and have cucumbers and tomatoes on the way. Husband planted everything this year and has done a great job keeping it watered on these hot days.
We’re all happy to see the barn swallows nesting in the barn and are all keeping a look out for snakes. I noticed a very long snakeskin outside the barn yesterday - we welcome the black racers and other black snake species but also always offer some help to the birds when we can.
We have had bunny nests too and I think they’re all safely out at this point.
While we were away, husband encountered (and relocated) a large copperhead in Poplar Folly and also an Eastern box turtle who was allowed to remain. I haven’t made any progress on my work back there but I’ll get around to it eventually. There is much to do and I’ll continue rotating around the farm doing some daily work without going into overdrive. I have committed to that and I’m sticking to it.
I’m happy to have writing weekend coming up in June and also a reading of my work with Door=Jar which I’ll share this week. It’s online and anyone reading here is most welcome to join us there.
We got home from Shetland yesterday and it was completely amazing, as is arriving back on November Hill. The very best thing about traveling to new places is how much it opens you up, and also how when you return to the routine of home, so many of those routine tasks seem elevated and special. Right now I am sitting on the sofa with Clem leaning into my left hip and Bear stretched out on the floor in front of me and these things are remarkable in this moment.
So first, a glimpse of Shetland:
It is both rugged and tender at the same time. There are almost no trees. I loved it.
And now, a return to November Hill and my gardens and family. We have so many trees! The whole world here on November Here is green and lush and blooming. There is no sea and no wind.
We are up to six honeybee hives! The barn swallows are back!
I am so happy to have had the ability to travel to Shetland, and I plan to go again. I am grateful for home and all the living beings here. I will always come back! That is the beauty of travel in a nutshell for me.
