portrait of an afternoon in may

I was on the front porch earlier, enjoying the horses snorting and the sunshine. As I turned to come in the house, this caught my eye. A magical painting of the same scene I'd just been viewing.

twister!

For any local folks who visit here, just wanted to say we're all fine. Around 5 p.m. today I had the very strong sense that I needed to go get horses and donkey in. Daughter and I went out and called - they came in immediately from the back field. In the few minutes it took us to get everyone in and set up with hay, the sky went dark and the wind got so intense I knew something was going on. The horses, Rafer, daughter, and I watched through the back stall doors as it blew through. Lasted about 5 minutes. It took the tarp completely off the shavings pile, and it had been anchored with 4 heavy posts and 5 or so cement blocks. Very odd wind motion - hard one way for several minutes, and then the other way.

When we finally came inside I discovered a tornado had been reported right in our area.

We didn't get hail here but minutes away there was hail two inches deep, and the roads were covered in completely shredded leaves.

But... we're safe and Rafer Johnson is waiting for Hollywood to call and offer him the lead role in Twister: The Sequel. (he's been reading Sheaffer ... :)

willing to be amazed

Someone emailed me recently about my continuing optimistic outlook and tendency to focus on the good things around me.

It's true. I can be almost Pollyanna-esque in my view of the world.

However, I do have bad days, and little fits of angst and obsession about things I can't control. The year my son was born I became obsessed with lead paint. Just ask my husband about the dark green goop he had to paint the bathroom with, in the old house we rented. It supposedly sealed in the lead. After many crying spells and dramatic musings on a house I had previously adored, he tried to get at the core of the problem. Why was I so upset? I remember his face when I went into great detail about the various cracks in the old plaster ceiling and how lead dust was just shooting out of them into the air.

This is the kind of thing that feeds my obsessions - the vivid images come and it can be so hard to push them out of my mind.

Not too long after my revelation about geysering lead dust, the landlord/owner insisted on sandblasting the garage, one wall of which bordered the back yard. I begged him not to do it, and explained about the lead issue and young developing brains. He thought I was being ridiculous. When he had his son-in-law come over to start the process, I stood on the back steps and watched. White paint chips quite literally flew everywhere. Like snow. All over the little garden I had tended for years, into the lawn where my year-old son played. It was my little nightmare image made real and worse than I'd imagined.

When the landlord came over to inspect the work, he found me with a shop-vac, trying valiantly to vacuum up the paint chips in the back yard. It was a futile effort, and I was crying because I knew I couldn't get it all up. I told him we would be looking for a new house, and that I was sorry he had chosen to ignore my request. He left in a huff, but returned an hour later and apologized. He begged me to reconsider, and promised to never raise our already below-the-market rent. He started crying himself.

This is the kind of scenario that could go many different ways, but for me, what always happens is the realization that something bigger is going on. Standing there with the shop-vac nozzle in my hand, a gruff old man crying because I had called him on his behavior, and my in-the-moment decision to give notice on a wonderful house that was so cheap to live in it was almost a miracle, I suddenly knew that something amazing was happening. We were supposed to move. It was time.

I said this to him, and we made our peace. I found a house in a neighboring town where my private practice was already located, where my husband could take the classes he'd wanted to take without the hideous commute, and where my parents could visit so much more easily.

Everything rolled quietly into place.

This is just one example of the "flow" of life I've noticed and trusted for many, many years. I don't really know why. But I've experienced it so much I expect it to happen, and perhaps that's why it does.

Awhile back, someone remarked that they start reading every book looking for something to make them fling it aside. My response was that I start every book I read willing to be amazed. And often enough I am.

In a way, that's the mantra I try to live by. It comes pretty naturally to me, so it isn't a chore. Occasionally it has drawbacks, like when some fantastical idea I have gets shot down by the reality of a budget, or circumstance. Sometimes I have to run through a patch of angst before I get to the flow. But as I get older I find myself skipping that stage and getting to the good stuff much more quickly.

Today, we have gray skies and some mild gusting wind. Potentially severe weather is on the docket this afternoon. But yesterday my husband loaded each stall with clean shavings, and this morning I made myself the brown sugar-cinnamon oatmeal a character had in the book I'm reading. (I read this passage last night before bed and it made my mouth water) I know that when I walk out to the barn there are four horses and a little donkey who will neigh and bray and remind me that, yes, there is lots to be amazed about. And I'm perfectly willing to let them show me.

and the award goes to...

Lots of great blogs! I am grateful to be included on Arlene's list over at Grey Horse Matters. Go check out her wonderful blog as well as the list of blogs she's recognizing. Thanks so much, Arlene!

play therapy with ponies

Yesterday someone sent me a link to a video featuring Alexander Nevzorov. The first half of the video was so horrible I ended up bursting into tears. It was a slide show of still shots showing the improper use of bits and spurs. As I sat crying, my daughter (experienced in what to do after watching movies like Black Beauty, Bambi, and such with me) fast-forwarded to what we assumed must be the "good stuff."

The soundtrack was music from Lord of the Rings, and the video that came next was simply stunning. We became obsessed with watching every Nevzorov video we could find, especially intrigued with the use of the cordeo in place of halter and bridle.

Today, out at the barn, we were playing around and decided to use an old rein as a cordeo to see what Apache Moon might do. He was a pretty good sport once we got him into the arena. She rode him bareback and with the cordeo for a half-hour, walking and trotting and cantering. He kept circling toward a jump in the arena, which was a bit high for today's play, so I lowered it nearly to the ground. The pony was obsessed with that jump. He kept circling right and taking the little jump over and over again, even though he could have easily trotted over it without breaking stride. It was as though he were working through some conflict about jumping. It reminded me quite a bit of traumatized children in play therapy, and how they will sometimes replay the trauma over and over again. It was fascinating to see Apache Moon choose repeatedly to jump with my daughter astride, no saddle or bridle, when he was in total control of where he was going.

After awhile I encouraged her to hop off and do some ground work with him. What he did was so cute she ran in to get the camera. I was sitting in the arena on the mounting block and when she went inside, he stood at the gate watching the back door of the house for her return. There was grass at the edges of the arena he could have nibbled on, but he didn't even look at it. It was pretty amazing. I wish I had video of him waiting for her - his focus never shifted.

So here's one little piece of what they did together today. It's by no means the first time they've done this kind of play together, but it's the first time we've captured it on video. She is using no treats and has a dressage whip in one hand that is mostly getting in the way. I purposely selected this bit because you see near the end that he intrudes into her space in a rather cheeky way and she holds her hand up and lets him bump into her fingertips. His response to that is very dramatic, but then you see him come right back to their connection.