cross of invocation

Yesterday afternoon I was out at the barn, enjoying the sunshine, the mid-forty degree temps, and the sight of four horses and two miniature donkeys soaking in the sun. Although it is still a bit of a mud-fest in the paddocks and high-traffic areas, they had nice hay, clean water, and good company.

My daughter had just shown me something neat - a number of hoof prints in a muddy patch that had filled with water and then frozen. When you stepped into the print, the ice made a satisfying crunch and interesting patterns.

There was nothing monumental about the afternoon, but it held a sense of peace and a good feeling that is, I suppose, easily missed if you're not paying attention.

I happened to look up, and a jet had made a sign in the sky. For years I would see what I call giant runic crosses in the sky, and my habit was to take each of them as a good omen, a sign of fulfillment and good things. I haven't seen as many of those in the past year, which doesn't mean things aren't good, but perhaps that I no longer need the symbol to remind me.

Yesterday's giant symbol was one I'd never seen before. I enjoyed it in the moment for what it was, feeling blessed in some way and also intrigued that as I continued to work in the barnyard, the entire symbol floated east in the sky.

Later in the evening, before dark, I was answering someone's question about an arthritic protocol for horses I'd mentioned on a forum, typing that it was something I'd looked into for Salina. I ended up on the phone with my husband, talking through the whole thing again, thinking about whether this medication is something we should go ahead and try for her, even though most of the time she seems to be fine, given her age and the condition of her knees.

Just about that moment I heard a commotion in back, and looked out the glass doors just in time to see Salina galloping in from the back field, leading the herd, bucking and kicking up her heels like a young filly. Rafer Johnson and Redford, her Donkey Guard, were bringing up her flank, one on either side, doing their fanciest donkey trot with heads turning right and left, like young officers in a magical and elite formation.

"I guess she doesn't need that medication just yet," I said into the telephone, and then marveled at how she always seems to sense my worry and does something to reassure me.

This morning I went in search of the symbol from yesterday's sky, and found that it's called a "cross of invocation."

It was often used to mean "take this medication with a blessing" - and has made me think today that sometimes all the medicine we need can be found by simply looking.

A giant mark in the sky, a galloping black mare, ice in a hoof print.

a warming trend and some mid-week meandering

Although it is 16 degrees yet again this morning, we are headed into a warming trend this afternoon, as the temps roll into the 40s. Each day until the weekend we will jump up 10 degrees or so, and by Saturday will be in the 70s. I think all of us here at November Hill are ready for spring.

Yesterday my daughter reported that when she went out to check on hay, the donkeys and Salina were in the barnyard, joined by a single deer who had been there long enough to be ignored by the partial herd.

I had seen footprints in the snow the day before, coming over the fence, through the woodline, and into the barnyard, so it's possible we have a deer who wants to be a horse hanging around.

Most of the day we spent going out, doing chores, and coming in to warm up again. Keil Bay rolled in the cold mud and plastered his entire left side. The only thing to do was let it dry, and brush it out before sunset so he could get his blanket back on.

It never really warmed enough to thaw the pumps, although I managed to get the barn pump clear so I could do waters. On these cold days, I begin to get a sense of the routine of a working farm, where the day stretches ahead and certain things have to get done before sunset. Other things can't be done until the sun has warmed things up a bit. A rhythm to the day forms, and on some deep level, is very satisfying.

Another rhythm in my day, thanks to Kim at Enlightened Horsemanship, is the hourly gong that sings out as if by magic from my computer. It's like a call to stillness, a moment to pause and do nothing but listen. Each time it sounds, I make a little sound of surprise and pleasure. It's quite wonderful.

Yesterday in a comment over at Peggy Payne's Boldness Blog, I wrote:

Boldness in the Moment, Joy in the Process

And Peggy remarked that this phrase was needlepoint worthy.

I hadn't stopped to consider my own hastily typed in words, but after seeing her response, I realized that I love the idea of what I'd written.

We haven't ridden since Friday due to rain, snow, and windy cold, but hopefully we will return to the routine this afternoon, or tomorrow, depending on how much the arena thaws today.

Meanwhile, I have continued my editing, which has its own rhythms - page by page, section by section. This novel goes back and forth in time, and as I work through the pages/sections, it feels very much like I'm defying time itself, slipping not only into the lives of the characters, but into their youths.

This novel is more complex than the first two, as it weaves several stories together, in a way that we never get to do in our own lives, because we don't have the ability to go back and forth between perspectives, back and forth in time, making the connections that link them all together. This is the same book that I was working on back in the blog archives, putting the sections individually out on the floor of the garret to try and organize the flow of the story. It's a nice thing to be editing through it now, experiencing the results of many incarnations of arrangement. It has taken me awhile to get it right.

Michael Blumenthal, in his poem called What I Believe, writes:

I believe that, when all
the clocks break,
time goes on without them.

I'm not sure how that connects exactly to what I've written today, but it's been in my head all week long and it seems to have informed today's meanderings. The poem in its entirety is a favorite of mine, and worth looking up.

one more thank you to Whinny Warmers

It is 16 degrees out this morning, with the remnants of our snow making it look and feel colder, and the very mushy ground is now rock hard. Water tubs had to be broken, and it's the kind of morning when I fret about Salina and her arthritic knees, which can get stiff and sore in the cold.

I wondered this past fall why someone hadn't come up with something to keep horse legs warm - and then I discovered that someone had.

Whinny Warmers are what I call "leg warmers for horses." I ordered two pair for Salina back before Christmas, hoping they would work, but not expecting much. There are a lot of "miracle" products out there that don't stand up to equine use.

When they arrived, I was instantly thrilled with the quality. They are soft and well-made, and when we put them on, Salina accepted them immediately. Surprisingly, they stay up easily without being tight or restrictive. They make a noticeable difference in Salina's comfort in the cold, they wash and dry beautifully, and the cost was very reasonable. What more could I ask for in an equine product?

There is more. The owner of Whinny Warmers saw a photo here of Salina wearing the warmers, and noted that I had mentioned the company and recommended them to anyone seeking socks for horses.

He emailed to say that he would like to donate Whinny Warmers to the rescue of my choice.

I sent out a couple of emails to two of my favorite rescues, the NC USERL and Primrose Donkey Sanctuary.

I heard back from our local USERL quickly, and Whinny Warmers were sent within two days to every single horse they have in their care right now who might benefit from extra warmth on the legs.

Yesterday, I received an email from Sheila at Primrose Donkey Sanctuary, telling me that she has been busy and was just now getting to my email, but that she has two donkeys who could use the Whinnies: a mammoth donkey (Tabolinsky) and a large standard gelding, 35 to 40 yrs. old (Amos) who has a hairline fracture in the left front pastern. Amos protects and guides Patsy - a 14 yr. old jennet - who is totally blind and he is her eyes. They are trying to keep him going as long as they can and think the leg warmers will help.

Mr. Petterson had already donated so many Whinny Warmers I was hesitant to ask for more. But the two donkeys in need at Primrose touched my heart, so I sent the email on. Mr. Petterson emailed overnight to ask for the address so he can put the Whinnies in the mail.

I want to say another big THANK YOU to the Pettersons for their generosity and for the Whinny Warmers, a great product for equines.

They also have a product called Summer Sox which protect equine legs from flies - I'll be trying those this year too, and will report on the results.

And finally, for anyone here who reads Sheaffer's blog, Primrose is where TJ, the infamous mini mule, lives. Sheila passed on an update and said that TJ will accept treats but is still wary of hands. She says she can tell that he wants her to touch him - and that she will give him all the time he needs to learn to trust humans again.

I'd like to ask that if you have healthy, beloved equines, give them a hug today. And then find a rescue and send them a donation and a thank you for all they do.

snow melting

The sun is out now and the snow is beginning to melt, although tonight we have temps falling into the teens so everything is going to freeze back up again.

Meanwhile, though, I have turned everyone out of the barn, put Keil Bay on the near side for a change of pace, and put the donkeys and Salina out on the other side where they can march around and stand in the sun.

Everyone has a little hay to munch on, and stalls are mostly mucked. I need to top off shavings and get the water buckets cleaned and refilled, but the hardest part of today's work is done, with thanks to a daughter who works hard.

I'm doing pages of editing as I make my way through the day, and we're taking a break now to enjoy last night's roast pork - which is today's barbecue sandwich.

Mugs of cocoa after lunch, and then we'll be back out at the barn to finish up.

snow falling

My mom called earlier tonight to say that the day I was born it snowed 9 inches. I am a little bit intrigued with the notion that it snowing today marks some sort of circle in my life, but it's fine with me if we get a smattering and not the whole nine yards.

The Mystical-kit is sitting outside on the deck rail, by the butterfly bush, a favored feline spot here, watching the snow fall as it also dusts his silky gray coat.

I tried to get a photo, but it didn't come out well, and I've been editing and decided more editing is probably a wiser choice than fiddling with my camera for the perfect shot, not to mention getting it to upload.

So, I'm sitting here typing, shortly will be editing again, and if I look to my left through the laundry room window, there is the silvery wolfen kit-meow, who I believe thinks it is snowing just for his personal entertainment on a winter's night.