a little bit about a lot of things

It's an odd springtime day - a cool wind is blowing through, and I take it we'll have rain tomorrow, but for now, the sun is shining brilliant on the bright green grass and the cats are climbing high into the barn rafters trying to get at birds or mice. The horses came from the back field when I called for their early evening session in the front. Keil Bay came with big lengthened strides. Cody followed, but Keil would not let him through the gate so he spun and waited. Apache cantered from the very furthest corner of the back field and charged Keil Bay further afield. Cody dashed through while he had the chance. Rafer Johnson ran halfway but then stopped to wait for Salina. He walked purposefully in front of her and then, just as they came through the gate to the good green stuff, did a double buck to celebrate.

Geese are flying by overhead, honking loudly.

I spent a few minutes refilling a pollen-dusted water trough and putting DE on fire ant hills and then came back upstairs hoping to get a bit more done on my novel edit. I hit a stuck spot on Thursday, wrote past it Friday evening, took yesterday off, and sailed on into new material this morning. I made sure to stop at a point where things were flying, so it will be easy to jump back in.

I wish I could adequately sum up the workshop I did this weekend with Bessel van der Kolk. The work he's done and continues to do in finding the best treatments for trauma is truly wonderful. After seeing his summation of the latest and best brain research I now understand completely the science behind equine-assisted psychotherapy with traumatized people. He made a number of revelatory statements that I wish I had in front of me. I did take some notes, but mostly I sat and soaked in his passion for the work and for abandoning the many aspects of our mental health systems that re-traumatize patients.

His focus on things like yoga, group theatre, body therapies, and other experiential treatments reminded me of so many of my own cases where I did unusual things with very good results. I spent the drive home last night recounting some of those stories in my head and remembering the clients and their journeys.

These big impersonal workshops aren't always so good, but this one not only taught me things, it renewed my spirit.

Funny little synchronicity - I sat by two women who ended up knowing a number of former colleagues from my public mental health days, and I also met a man who is starting an equine-assisted psychotherapy practice with his wife. Funny how out of close to 300 people, I ended up right beside these 3.

M. and I managed to get taxes done today, which is such a relief. I keep receipts for all horse/farm expenses and the grand total for 2007 was slightly less than 2006 but is still a staggering figure.

However... all one needs to do to let go of that dollar figure is walk outside and stand by any one of the horses. Actually, I just heard Keil Bay snort from my garret window and that single sound says it all.

captured sunlight

Sometimes in the early evening when the sun is setting it creates a very mystical light out at the barn. It's almost like there's an exact moment where everything goes still and then shifts from daytime to night.

This was one of those times, and as I was looking out, I realized the setting sun was perfectly captured in the barn window. For just that moment, it was ours.

stuck in a hotel ballroom

Today is day one of a 2-day workshop I'm taking with Bessel Van der Kolk on trauma. He's wonderful, but the hotel ballroom atmosphere nearly always gives me a headache, and right now, after lunch and awaiting the second half of the day, I wish I were in the barn mucking stalls or cleaning tack or, as I did last night, standing in my backyard taking pictures of horses brought in for a lovely treat.

Do you think Keil Bay can stuff any more of the green stuff into his mouth?

green

Osage (more commonly known as Muffine Eloise) in the butterfly bush. Photo courtesy of my daughter, who has a keen eye for the sublime.

I love cats because I enjoy my home; and little by little, they become its visible soul.

-Jean Cocteau

oh, deer

I got home fairly late last night from my office, around ten p.m., and as I drove into the driveway spotted a yellow tabby cat running from the back of the house into the woods. The cat stopped just inside the tree line, and sat on a little hill, waiting for the car to go in the garage.

This wasn't great news - I immediately started thinking through the complications of incorporating another feline into an already ego-laden mix. When I got upstairs I headed right out to the back deck to see if the cat had come back.

It sounded like someone was hammering in the barn. I realized I hadn't yet seen my husband, and wondered if the horses had knocked a board loose or something. Maybe he was out there fixing it. But in the dark? The barn lights weren't on.

Back inside getting my barn shoes on, I was surprised by my husband wandering out of the bedroom, and it hit me - something strange was going on outside.

I hightailed it out there and came face to face with Keil Bay, who was, shall we say, knocking on the stall door with his knee. The front field is resting until the end of April and the horses are so ready for night-time turn-out. I turned on the lights and looked in the stall mangers. Empty. Keil Bay stood his ground, staring me down. WE NEED HAY.

I distributed hay and got everyone munching. Came inside to have a snack and take the dreaded antibiotic, then upstairs to check email. After ten minutes or so I heard Salina trumpet. It's her "someone is doing something he's not supposed to" call.

Back downstairs, back into barn shoes, I listened out the door. It sounded like someone was banging the gate to the front field. Aha - they're planning a paddock break! I took the big flashlight and headed out there.

As I went through the backyard gate into the barnyard, I realized there was a herd of deer right there with me. At first I thought Rafer Johnson had escaped and multiplied! But he poked his head out the back door of his stall and said hello, and I turned back to the deer. They did not run or whistle in fear. They just stood there, hoping, I suppose, that I would toss some hay and go back in the house. We stood all together for awhile under the crescent moon. It seemed none of us were going to make a move, so I upped the ante a little and turned on the flashlight. They didn't budge. I turned the light onto them, one by one, and checked them out. There were no deer in the headlight eyes. They calmly stood watching me. The horses by now were completely intrigued and all standing at their respective paddock fences watching the show. It really did look like an audience and a stage, with a spotlight dancing wildly over the cast and backdrop.

I took a few steps toward the deer. They continued to stay put. It was only when I got halfway across the barnyard that they hustled into the woods. Even then, they stayed close, not bounding down toward the back, but hovering, still hoping I would leave.

I checked out the gates to the front field. No tampering detected. Horses still had hay. I said goodnight a second time and came back up to the garret.

A few minutes later I heard a flurry of sounds outside my window. Walking of many feet, munching of grass. Had the horses escaped to this side of the house?

It was the herd of deer. They came back out of the woods and marched right down the drive to my window, where they stopped and grazed. After awhile, they continued down the drive to the strip they love, and perhaps after that they jumped the fence into the front field and had themselves a feast.

Deer represent gentleness and awakening to new adventure. In Celtic lore, deer are fairy cattle and divine messengers.

It was a busy night! (and I'm leaving out the whole section of the story where the yellow tabby returned to the front porch for a 3-way stare-down with Apollo Moon and Dickens E. Wickens, who had to be carried bodily in)