We're having more rain. The ground never truly dried out from the last rain, so this morning when I looked out there is standing water everywhere. The only thing that saves us from total mudville is that the property slopes both in front and in back. The barn sits on the highest point, and the previous owners wisely made very slight "ditches" in the various paddocks so the water can drain away.
The riding arena drains like a dream, so it is nearly always rideable, and during times when we have lots of rain, I often use it as an exercise paddock for bored horses. The footing cleans and stimulates the horses' feet, they get a bit of activity, and the fact that Cody will almost always roll before I can stop him is a small price to pay for the satisfaction they feel coming back into the barn.
Yesterday I spent a little while thinking about improvements I'd like to make. Like a gardener pondering seed catalogs in the middle of winter, I'm sitting inside thinking of ways to make various areas better, while outdoors the rain keeps falling and horses munch hay.
Last night I found a site with photos of the exact thing I was thinking of - screen panels with pea gravel or crushed stone. My plan is to make a path from our back gate up to the barn door, where the stone area will extend maybe 5 feet out in a sort of box-shape. I'd like to do the entire small barnyard, at the other end of the barn, this same way, since I use that area for cleaning feed tubs and for hosing/bathing in the warmer months.
At every gate and water trough, I'd like more "squares" of screen/stone, so those areas don't get muddy and horrid when it rains a lot.
I'd never thought of using this system in stalls, but after the great putrid stall spot debacle of a few months ago, I think I might test this system out in one stall to see how it works. The stall base, then the panels, then the crushed stone screenings, then the stall mats, then the bedding. It seems the panels would keep things nice and level underneath.
I've also been thinking about feeding hay inside the barn. We have mangers built in at ground level in each stall and they do keep the hay contained quite nicely. However, unless we totally pack the hay in, the horses seem to run out at some point during the night. I've been reading about slow feeding hay nets and bags, which make the hay last, keep the horses chewing longer, and keep them occupied. None of ours are locked in stalls, but even so, to have the hay last and reduce waste would be a good thing.
The small mesh hay bags were my original choice, but then I couldn't quite figure out how to secure them in the mangers so they wouldn't be tossed all over the barn like beach balls.
These feeders look interesting. They would stand right inside the mangers, and should anyone ever need soaked hay, voila, they would do the job nicely.
I've also priced potable hoses, which I can get immediately. I've been reading about garden hoses and what happens in the sun to the plastic, and don't want to be adding that to my horses' water.
There was also a similar concern about the hard plastic water troughs sitting out in the sun, and someone suggested old porcelain bathtubs. Yikes. I actually thought the hard plastic Rubbermaid troughs with stainless steel inserts would be perfect, but to my knowledge, they do not exist. I'll keep looking and thinking about that.
I'm thinking about making a barn "wish book" where I cut and paste pictures and jot in ideas as I have them. Sometimes living with things a while changes my mind, so it's always good to let the ideas for change sit and simmer for a bit before I carry them out.
NOTE: The slow feeders are VERY expensive, but perhaps provide a model for designing your own, or worth the money if you need the soaking option for an IR horse. Obviously, nets are the cheapest way to go.
billie hinton’s camera-obscura:
life and lessons on November Hill Farm
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
Sunday, January 04, 2009
thinking riding
Daughter came home last night with some books checked out from the pony club library. One, called Thinking Riding, by Molly Sivewright, has completely pulled me in.
The copyright is 1979 but it seems like a classic.
This, in the first 50 pages:
Correct work, fresh air and a certain amount of relaxation are necessary in the horses' daily routine for their proper development and general well-being. By nature, from their ancestors, horses are creatures of the plains; they love freedom and wide open spaces for their minds as well as for their limbs. The horseman can feel and share his horse's contentment as his equine eyes take in far-distant views and activities in the countryside, as he is allowed to pick his own way on a long rein, at a purposeful yet leisurely walk.
The full value of walking exercise is often underestimated; there is no better gait for putting on and establishing a horse's condition, for at the walk the horse moves his head and neck extensively, and all the muscles of his top-line are brought into play and are worked and developed, providing he is ridden correctly, and yet at the same time stress and concussion are less than at any other gait.
I love the writing style, and there are nice sketches throughout.
The copyright is 1979 but it seems like a classic.
This, in the first 50 pages:
Correct work, fresh air and a certain amount of relaxation are necessary in the horses' daily routine for their proper development and general well-being. By nature, from their ancestors, horses are creatures of the plains; they love freedom and wide open spaces for their minds as well as for their limbs. The horseman can feel and share his horse's contentment as his equine eyes take in far-distant views and activities in the countryside, as he is allowed to pick his own way on a long rein, at a purposeful yet leisurely walk.
The full value of walking exercise is often underestimated; there is no better gait for putting on and establishing a horse's condition, for at the walk the horse moves his head and neck extensively, and all the muscles of his top-line are brought into play and are worked and developed, providing he is ridden correctly, and yet at the same time stress and concussion are less than at any other gait.
I love the writing style, and there are nice sketches throughout.
Saturday, January 03, 2009
thoughts on thieves and light
I was summoned to my office yesterday b/c the historic house it's in had been broken into on the first evening of the new year, and every office but one ransacked.
When I got there the CSI had just left. It was eerie walking into my sandplay inner sanctum and finding his business card with contact info lying on the wooden table by my chair.
The break-in was very odd. There was almost no evidence of entry from the outside, but inside, most of the individual office doors had been violently kicked in. The doors were original to the house, solid wood, and seeing deadbolts intact but holes ripped in doorjambs, as well as the splintered oak of the doors was heartbreaking.
With the exception of one office, which had been trashed a bit, the rest were oddly intact, and the things stolen made very little sense. In my sandplay space, which had nothing of commercial value but did have my incredibly valuable-to-me sandplay collection, not a figure was out of place. The thieves opened the closet door and looked inside, and in the inner sanctum they took a lamp and dipped a hand into 2 out of 3 sand trays.
I have a large clean paint brush I use to smooth out the trays between every client, and I always do that right before leaving the office. It's common for clients who don't use the trays to put their hands in - the smooth contained sand seems almost like a blank page that calls out to be marked in some way. But the fact that a thief paused in the act to do so made me wonder about what was going through his/her mind in my little space.
The lamp was a personal favorite that has been in my therapy offices for many years now. It was unusual but absolutely not expensive. Still, it has been the lamp for most of my practice that sits between the client and me during sessions. The light was soft and perfect, and I couldn't help but think "they stole the light that connects me to my clients."
Instead of leaping to anger and wanting justice, which would normally be my next leap in such a scenario, I have been thinking of how the thief might use the lamp, and what will happen when that powerful light shines into *their* space.
I have worked with mostly trauma victims, including many children, and that lamp, and those sandtrays, hold potent energy indeed.
My hope is that the lamp shines some light, for whoever has it right now, on boundaries and violation of such. That all the brave and courageous words and emotions that have been shared in the soft circle of light that little lamp has cast over the years offer invisible but powerful support to someone choosing a different path, and a more honorable one, in this new year.
When I got there the CSI had just left. It was eerie walking into my sandplay inner sanctum and finding his business card with contact info lying on the wooden table by my chair.
The break-in was very odd. There was almost no evidence of entry from the outside, but inside, most of the individual office doors had been violently kicked in. The doors were original to the house, solid wood, and seeing deadbolts intact but holes ripped in doorjambs, as well as the splintered oak of the doors was heartbreaking.
With the exception of one office, which had been trashed a bit, the rest were oddly intact, and the things stolen made very little sense. In my sandplay space, which had nothing of commercial value but did have my incredibly valuable-to-me sandplay collection, not a figure was out of place. The thieves opened the closet door and looked inside, and in the inner sanctum they took a lamp and dipped a hand into 2 out of 3 sand trays.
I have a large clean paint brush I use to smooth out the trays between every client, and I always do that right before leaving the office. It's common for clients who don't use the trays to put their hands in - the smooth contained sand seems almost like a blank page that calls out to be marked in some way. But the fact that a thief paused in the act to do so made me wonder about what was going through his/her mind in my little space.
The lamp was a personal favorite that has been in my therapy offices for many years now. It was unusual but absolutely not expensive. Still, it has been the lamp for most of my practice that sits between the client and me during sessions. The light was soft and perfect, and I couldn't help but think "they stole the light that connects me to my clients."
Instead of leaping to anger and wanting justice, which would normally be my next leap in such a scenario, I have been thinking of how the thief might use the lamp, and what will happen when that powerful light shines into *their* space.
I have worked with mostly trauma victims, including many children, and that lamp, and those sandtrays, hold potent energy indeed.
My hope is that the lamp shines some light, for whoever has it right now, on boundaries and violation of such. That all the brave and courageous words and emotions that have been shared in the soft circle of light that little lamp has cast over the years offer invisible but powerful support to someone choosing a different path, and a more honorable one, in this new year.
Thursday, January 01, 2009
we are stardust people
I just reprised Joseph Gallo's New Year's post from last year on mystic-lit, and I encourage everyone to head over there right now and read it.
It's one of my favorite blog posts of all time, and that's saying something, considering how many blog posts I've read, and written, and think about writing.
This year as I read it, part of the Eleanor Lerman poem Joseph quoted stood out. In an odd but clear way, it tells the story of my second novel ms, the idea that what we experience and see and think of as distance and separateness is only there because we think it is, or expect it to be.
Everything affects everything else, and although we can't see it, or know it, exactly, when we even think something, imagine it fully in our minds, we impact someone someplace else. And that energy goes on and on, connecting us in a long chain of events we might never know.
I tried to capture some of that in my book, how, among loved ones especially, the connections are strong, and what seem like coincidences are not co-incidents at all, but sequences that got started years before, rippling outward in ways we don't really know how to track.
My hope is that the book will get born between hard covers soon, but either way, it's out there, having its own impact on things, setting off dozens of sequences, the same way we all do, every single moment. I like that idea, and I'm taking it with me into the New Year, as I get the third one ready to sail forth.
If you're reading here for the horsey content, imagine this applied to horsekeeping. And riding. Horses don't draw lines the same way humans do, and that, I believe, is their magic.
May the new year be full of magic for us all.
And this is true: You are a stardust person.
Muons are passing through you as you read this.
Cosmic rays are building you up and breaking you down.
Seas are evaporating, gases are freezing into planets,
planets are spinning off into the void.
Hold out your hand and watch the pions dance,
watch your nuclei exchanging forces with the universe,
watch the miracles ebb and flow as endless joy
folds into endless silence and everything is
everywhere all at once and it goes on and on.
-from Eleanor Lerman's poem Our Post-Soviet History Unfolds
(photo credit to Matthew)
It's one of my favorite blog posts of all time, and that's saying something, considering how many blog posts I've read, and written, and think about writing.
This year as I read it, part of the Eleanor Lerman poem Joseph quoted stood out. In an odd but clear way, it tells the story of my second novel ms, the idea that what we experience and see and think of as distance and separateness is only there because we think it is, or expect it to be.
Everything affects everything else, and although we can't see it, or know it, exactly, when we even think something, imagine it fully in our minds, we impact someone someplace else. And that energy goes on and on, connecting us in a long chain of events we might never know.
I tried to capture some of that in my book, how, among loved ones especially, the connections are strong, and what seem like coincidences are not co-incidents at all, but sequences that got started years before, rippling outward in ways we don't really know how to track.
My hope is that the book will get born between hard covers soon, but either way, it's out there, having its own impact on things, setting off dozens of sequences, the same way we all do, every single moment. I like that idea, and I'm taking it with me into the New Year, as I get the third one ready to sail forth.
If you're reading here for the horsey content, imagine this applied to horsekeeping. And riding. Horses don't draw lines the same way humans do, and that, I believe, is their magic.
May the new year be full of magic for us all.
And this is true: You are a stardust person.
Muons are passing through you as you read this.
Cosmic rays are building you up and breaking you down.
Seas are evaporating, gases are freezing into planets,
planets are spinning off into the void.
Hold out your hand and watch the pions dance,
watch your nuclei exchanging forces with the universe,
watch the miracles ebb and flow as endless joy
folds into endless silence and everything is
everywhere all at once and it goes on and on.
-from Eleanor Lerman's poem Our Post-Soviet History Unfolds
(photo credit to Matthew)
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
big wind and big dreams as the year rolls out
I woke up this morning to sunshine and big cold wind, a solid 20 mph with gusts up to 40 mph - not my favorite riding weather. Not yet sure if I will ride or not today, but the wind is definitely drying things out.
The herd has hay out in the sunshine and access to shelter if the wind gets to be too much. The barn is situated so no wind is gusting through. That's as good as it gets on these blustery days.
Googling around this morning, I happened quite by accident on a gorgeous 7-year old mare for sale. She is schooling 2nd/3rd level and is - did I mention this already? - absolutely stunning. She also happens to be Salina's daughter!
I have found Salina babies before, and wanted them all, but this one has really captured my fancy. She's only a few hours away. Sadly, she is out of my price range, but I emailed anyway, to see if in this market they might lower the price.
My husband, if he is reading this, is shaking his head. But a girl can dream, can't she?!
I can't help myself - the thought of partnering with Salina's daughter for the next 20 years makes me smile with glee. She looks like Salina, without the tiny white sliver moon on her forehead, and without the white anklet, but she's as big as Keil Bay, and very powerful in the body. You can easily see Salina in her, the perfect carriage, and the sensitivity combined with sensibility.
I think dreaming big on the last day of a year is a good thing. I'd love to hear what everyone else is thinking about today. What dreams do YOU have for '09?
An update: I have been having the most fun today emailing back and forth with both Salina's daughter's trainer/broker and her owner/original trainer, who says she had a very difficult time selling her. (meaning she originally bought the young mare as a project to train and sell, but then fell head over heels in love with her) She wrote that Salina's daughter had a very unique response to training - more like a one-on-one conversation than a "say/do" session, and that what they both had trouble describing to perspective buyers sounded very close to the way I described Salina in my emails.
Salina's daughter is now partnering with a pretty prominent person in the dressage world, so it looks like I can at least keep tabs on her as she goes.
While I would love to have her myself, I have to say it has been a blast today, learning about her, writing about Salina, and feeling excited at being able to watch her progress. A delightful way to end the year.
The herd has hay out in the sunshine and access to shelter if the wind gets to be too much. The barn is situated so no wind is gusting through. That's as good as it gets on these blustery days.
Googling around this morning, I happened quite by accident on a gorgeous 7-year old mare for sale. She is schooling 2nd/3rd level and is - did I mention this already? - absolutely stunning. She also happens to be Salina's daughter!
I have found Salina babies before, and wanted them all, but this one has really captured my fancy. She's only a few hours away. Sadly, she is out of my price range, but I emailed anyway, to see if in this market they might lower the price.
My husband, if he is reading this, is shaking his head. But a girl can dream, can't she?!
I can't help myself - the thought of partnering with Salina's daughter for the next 20 years makes me smile with glee. She looks like Salina, without the tiny white sliver moon on her forehead, and without the white anklet, but she's as big as Keil Bay, and very powerful in the body. You can easily see Salina in her, the perfect carriage, and the sensitivity combined with sensibility.
I think dreaming big on the last day of a year is a good thing. I'd love to hear what everyone else is thinking about today. What dreams do YOU have for '09?
An update: I have been having the most fun today emailing back and forth with both Salina's daughter's trainer/broker and her owner/original trainer, who says she had a very difficult time selling her. (meaning she originally bought the young mare as a project to train and sell, but then fell head over heels in love with her) She wrote that Salina's daughter had a very unique response to training - more like a one-on-one conversation than a "say/do" session, and that what they both had trouble describing to perspective buyers sounded very close to the way I described Salina in my emails.
Salina's daughter is now partnering with a pretty prominent person in the dressage world, so it looks like I can at least keep tabs on her as she goes.
While I would love to have her myself, I have to say it has been a blast today, learning about her, writing about Salina, and feeling excited at being able to watch her progress. A delightful way to end the year.
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