more signs of autumn

I went out on the front porch just now to take a photo of the fog. It's lifted already, and it's cooler out than I expected on this gray day. Immediately I noted the trees - several are changing colors to gold and red already, and even the green ones are a duller green. Autumn is happening around us.

There are three dead garden spiders on the front porch. They have lived and died, and I believe the perfect egg sacs I see hanging in various spots up near the porch ceiling belong to them. I am both afraid of and fascinated by spiders, especially the yellow and black ones, the ones I grew up knowing as the "writing spiders."

They represent writing in all its glory: the mystery, the brightness, the sticky web, the creativity, and the fear, too. I think if we as writers don't feel a little fear as we write, we probably aren't going deep enough. We are staying in the zone of our own comfort. The novels and poems and stories that touch us deeply are the ones that go further. Readers can feel the journey of the writer between the lines of the story.

It was sad seeing the spiders curled on the porch, legs unnaturally bent, color already fading.

There is one huge one left, just outside the porch but perfectly visible through the railing. She had a gigantic horse fly in her clutches. I'm glad there is still one living out there, writing until I get the keyboard and take up where I left off with the books.

I tried to take a photograph and the little icon flashed - the battery was dead. Fitting on this autumn morning when the end of so many little seasons are all around.

ergonomically speaking, with a jungian twist

I now have about one-half of my ergonomic set-up in place. My laptop is on the bigger desk in the living room, with a new chair that adjusts every which way you can imagine. I have the sapphire blue wrist rests. I've picked out the new keyboard and once that's plugged in I will raise the monitor and get a foot rest.

I can feel the difference with each change, which is a good thing. Maybe I can finally get back to the books!

In the midst of this ergonomic upgrade, my laptop has been acting up (it's old, and has been great, but I think it's on its last legs). I'm replacing it with a desktop, as the portability issue is much less now that it has been in the past.

I'm looking forward to the big screen and the ease of typing.

All that said, not writing for these past few weeks is turning me into the Grinch. I've said before that when I don't write, I start to feel like the top of my head is going to blow off, much like a volcano erupting.

I've been feeling that way lately. The horses keep me from getting to the far edge of blowing, but it's like having my energy at low boil. I'm ready to move on and get back to the page.

Last night I dreamed I was going into a department store. I was shopping for exercise equipment, shoes, and clothing. The exercise stuff, you might guess, represents the need to write. Between the ergonomic stuff and the not writing my body is feeling all out of whack. So in my dream world I was heading out to fix it.

I was very excited. Hopeful. I stepped into the elevator and while trying to figure out which button to push - floor 2 or 3? - women kept getting on the elevator. It ended up being packed. And when we pushed the button, finally, the elevator didn't move. There were windows, and we could see we weren't moving. Stuck!

But then something happened and the elevator began to lift. There was a moment's relief and then we all realized something was wrong. The elevator was buckling. That word - buckling - was the word used in the dream, and we all kept shrieking it. "It's buckling!"

I'm not quite sure what that means yet, but I'm sure it carries its own message. (I just read that in engineering, buckling is a "failure mode." Exactly how I've been feeling with regards to writing!)

So the elevator was buckling and then the bottom dropped out. Another moment of panic. Then I realized as long as I kept my arms and feet in the right place, (aha! hands and feet!) I wouldn't fall out. I was safe.

Someone managed to call for help on the phone, and they said "is the elevator buckling?" Duh - but they also said they were on the way.

By this time the elevator had left the building and was twisting and turning out over the parking lot. We could see all the workmen and machinery gathering to help us. They managed to get the elevator to go back into its "tunnel" and we were able to step out into the second floor.

Right where we had been heading all along.

However, I realized it was the wrong floor. I had misremembered where the exercise stuff was, so I needed to go up to the third.

Obviously I took the stairs! But this too had its own danger. Every stair step was piled with big bags of food, spilling out. Beans and cookies and flour - all the ingredients anyone would ever need to create pretty much anything. It was all out of place, too much, unusable in the way it was being stored. I stepped around it and made my way up to the third floor.

Which was flooding!

There were pools of water everywhere and a clear, perfect stream of water was spilling in from a high-up window, like a fountain. The sales clerks were walking in circles, trying to figure out what to do.

I decided to head back down to the first floor.

I navigated the stairs full of ingredients. I got caught up in a crowd of women trying to get to the first floor and realized in the crowd, with all the junk on the stairs, I had lost my shoes.

There was no way I was going back to find them. I felt sad for a moment - I liked those shoes - but then decided I would buy new ones, better ones, and it would all be fine.

Then, as I walked toward the first floor, down a long passageway, I realized my shoes had miraculously found their way back onto my feet.

Back in my own footprints - this is one of my images of being centered. I use it for myself and with clients. Get in your footprints. Get centered.

And then I woke up.

we hit a category 5 here tonight with Hurricane Rafer

Latest report from the barnyard:

Rafer Johnson bucked tonight when it was time to go back to his stall!

Wouldn't it be fascinating if we could have radiographs that matched his progressing activity?

It's pretty clear he is ready to be back to a normal donkey routine.

little storms

I was amused to see that the new tropical storm moving about at sea is named Kyle. My daughter and I speculated after Josephine that the K-storm would be Keil Bay. And it's pretty close!

Last night I was standing in the barn aisle taking a quick breather after my ride on the fanciful Keil Bay. I had let him out in the front field for a last hour of grazing before coming in for the evening. Salina and Rafer Johnson had been let out to the barnyard to graze.

Yesterday Rafer Johnson went through the fence (the non-electric part) two times, in order to get himself into the paddocks closer to his herd. He is definitely making moves to be back in the normal routine here. He will take any opportunity to leave his stall - no more leaving the door ajar as you muck him out - if you do, he might not be there when you turn around!

I was keeping a close eye on him for that reason, but he sneakily went into the little barnyard, which is fine, but then eased through the fence into the grass paddock, which is also fine, but separated from Salina.

I should have known what was coming next, but I didn't. Salina suddenly realized Rafer was nowhere to be found and she went trotting into the big barnyard to look for him. I opened the stall up that leads out to the grass paddock, and she trotted through there. Suddenly a flash went by. I saw the blur and felt the breeze. Something whirled past me into the big barnyard. It was only when it stopped that I realized - it was Hurricane Rafer!

He had heard Salina and they'd missed each other in the grass paddock. He tucked back through the fence and galloped through the barn aisle to find her.

It took me a few moments to even remember that Rafer Johnson has a CAST on. How the heck is he managing to gallop?

Three weeks and counting to what I hope is a smaller cast and a bit more freedom.

And may Tropical Storm Kyle be kind as he moves by.

opening new eyes to old problems

Yesterday we had the acupuncturist/vet out for the pony's second acupuncture session. This time she had me lunge the pony at a walk/trot in each direction so she could take a look at his movement, demeanor, and overall willingness in the arena. What she saw was a decent representation of the issues we've had with the Little Man.

He is a sharp looking pony, and he can be absolutely stunning both in the field and under saddle. He is talented, and a good soul, but he can also be stubborn and tense.

After the movement, she did a physical examination of his hind legs. She found mild soreness in the hocks, primarily in the left, and feels this is not due to a recent occurrence, but something he has been dealing with for a while. She thinks we may be looking at mild arthritis.

I was shocked. This pony is 8 years old. He's had many, many people involved in his care and training and performance. No one has ever looked to the hocks as the source of problems. I suspect we've been fooled by the good and bad days he has. When it's good, it's really good. And when it's bad, it's not bad enough to assume something is really wrong. We have never gotten past the 'pony' attitude or the tightness in his neck and shoulders. We never looked at what might be "behind" these other issues.

After I got over the shock yesterday, I began to think of things he does from a new perspective. He stretches his hind legs straight out behind him on a regular, near-daily basis. I've never seen a horse do this before - it looks like he is doing pony yoga. That now makes perfect sense. Think of the older folks you know with arthritis in their hands, and that measured, drawn out stretching they do with the wrists and fingers. It's exactly the same thing.

His grumpiness makes perfect sense if he has been experiencing mild pain. And the fact that he comes out of the arena soft and mellow fits perfectly as well. Once the hocks are moved and warmed up, they feel better.

I began to note how he stands, the way he shifts his weight, and suddenly it all clicked.

This vet specializes in Chinese medicine, and has a background in dressage. She asked me to try to view everything to do with the pony from the perspective of his hind legs - and the instant I did that, I began to see many, many things I hadn't seen just one hour before.

She suggested we continue with his work under saddle, but that we pay close attention to the warm-up period, that we let the hocks guide us. Walk him in big figures, with no sharp turning, until the stride lengthens from behind. She assigned me the task of watching for this while my daughter rides. Once he's not only tracking up, but getting some over-reach, we can move to trot work. And the trot work should continue until I see that lovely, soft swinging tail that makes the S-shape as it moves. It will only make that shape if he's moving through, with balance and rhythm and suppleness. Only then can more "work" be done.

I knew exactly what she meant. I've noted that tail movement before when my daughter rides, but not realizing what a useful clue it is in assessing soundness.

For now, as we continue assessment and treatment, which will include acupuncture and probaby x-rays, we'll back off jumping and galloping.

I feel relieved and grateful that last year when he was jumping 2'9" and then went sour to jumping, we LISTENED. There were a few folks who felt he should be made to do the work, but we backed way off. I wonder now what damage we would have done, both physically and emotionally, had he been made to continue jumping that height.

We did the warm-up exercise this morning. It took nearly 30 minutes for the walk stride to track up. It took 10-15 minutes for the trot to become balanced and the tail to swing in that characteristic way.

The vet also suggested that we apply moist heat to the hocks, mostly to let the pony know we now understand where the issue is. She said when he realizes we understand where the pain is, and show him that, his trust will increase, and he will relax and allow us to work with him to make things better.

My daughter and husband applied the moist, warm towels yesterday afternoon in the back field. The pony loved it, they said, and stood calmly while they wrapped his hocks in what I hope transmitted warmth, love, and the nurturing attention that comes from being heard - not only by the hock, but his whole pony self.