I'm inside with a cold watching my husband roll the hay barrow down the hill. The sun is out today, and although it is 30 degrees with winds blowing in (up to 35 mph by the afternoon) the geldings were out playing this morning and we decided to give them some hay out in the sun, on top of the snow, and give them a few hours out of their blankets so they can run and roll and get some sunshine all over their bodies.
My son had this cold last week, then husband got it, and daughter. Finally, on Christmas day, after most everything I needed to do had been done, it kicked in for me.
Fortunately my Christmas gift was a Kindle, which I've been eagerly awaiting. I've had the free Kindle for Mac software on my desktop for months, and although it's great for doing research or checking formatting issues, it's not all that much fun to slide my desk chair into place and settle in for a good read.
I tried putting the software on my old Mac laptop, but it's just too old to support this new technology.
And I spent a long weekend with an iPad a few months back, buying and reading most of Jonathan Franzen's novel Freedom, enough to know that reading a book on an electronic device was vastly more appealing than I ever thought it could be.
Since Christmas morning when I opened the Kindle and powered it up, I have carried it around the house with me, charmed by its lovely habit of putting a new image onto the screen each time I put it to sleep. It's like a mini-magical Etch-a-Sketch, and who knew that putting a device to sleep would be so much fun?
I finished Freedom, bought Emma Donaghue's Room, am nearly done with that, bought Caroline Leavitt's Pictures of You for next read, and have downloaded samples from about 10 different books I've been wanting to browse.
The Kindle is light in the hand, easy on the eye, and the ability to shop for a new book and have it in my hand in less than a minute is like some kind of childhood fantasy come to life.
I thought I would be sad about the lack of color, but to be honest, as someone who adores black and white photography and pen/ink sketches, the black and white images on the Kindle are so charming I really don't care about the color.
That's not to say I won't be first in line when Amazon puts out their color version.
Love, love, love it - more than I can say.
billie hinton’s camera-obscura:
life and lessons on November Hill Farm
Monday, December 27, 2010
Sunday, December 26, 2010
snow day!
No need to take any photos - the blog itself is exactly what it looks like here right now. We woke up to 5 inches and it is still snowing - gorgeous landscape but of course we know what it means to horse folk: extra mucking, a week of mush and mud, and sometimes, a few grumpy equines.
Inside the house I am grateful for the two LL Bean Waterhog door mats I finally got - should have gone ahead and gotten 2 more for the laundry room!
Corgis are bringing in balls of snow on their bellies every time they go in and out. Mystic is outside in bliss - he is one snow-loving feline.
And the power is off and on, so I'm going to go ahead and hit send before it catches me.
Will close with one of my favorite poems from childhood - which reminds me what I wanted so much way back then, and now have, and thus I can end on a grateful note:
Inside the house I am grateful for the two LL Bean Waterhog door mats I finally got - should have gone ahead and gotten 2 more for the laundry room!
Corgis are bringing in balls of snow on their bellies every time they go in and out. Mystic is outside in bliss - he is one snow-loving feline.
And the power is off and on, so I'm going to go ahead and hit send before it catches me.
Will close with one of my favorite poems from childhood - which reminds me what I wanted so much way back then, and now have, and thus I can end on a grateful note:
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Friday, December 24, 2010
merry christmas!
I still love Thelwell's ponies after all these years! Here's to a very happy holiday weekend for all. We may get snow for Christmas tomorrow - and then in a week highs in the 60s! Crazy weather but it keeps us on our toes.
Best holiday wishes and a happy 2011 to come.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
winter solstice 2010
Without doing anything special, I began celebrating this year's winter solstice yesterday just after sunset. I was at the barn, preparing stalls for horses and donkeys, and as the geldings came in to gather beneath their shelter off the back of our barn, I let them through so they could join Salina and the donkey boys in the big barnyard.
As I did that I noticed the big yellow moon rising behind the back field, as though she knew she would be eclipsed later in the evening and needed to shine especially bright as she ascended.
This is why it takes me so long to do chores. I end up stopping: to watch floating horses, laughing donkeys, felicitous felines, luscious light, and fancy full moons.
Cody let me know that he was ready for a clean stall with a full manger when he began to try getting into the hay tent from the side. As strong as they are, I quickly imagined him ripping the entire tent in half, so trotted out with a lead line and asked him to come on in. His stall was ready. He went in gladly.
After a few minutes, Keil Bay sauntered in, assuming his, too, was ready. And it was, so I opened his stall door and waved him in.
Salina came in, followed by the donkeys. Their side was ready too, but Salina was too busy guarding the barn door so the painted pony couldn't come in to notice. The painted pony was so enjoying the barnyard he didn't really care that his stall wasn't ready yet.
Since the wheelbarrow was full and I knew my husband would be home at any second, I decided to wait and let him dump the last load so I could get started on grooming.
Every few minutes I walked out to the barnyard to look up and see how high the moon was and how she had changed from yellow to an almost uncanny blue/white.
Keil Bay was fairly well covered in dried mud so it took awhile to groom him. Cody was thankfully not so dirty, and Salina and the pony were miraculously very clean. The donkeys had no mud - it would never occur to them to roll on wet ground - they save the rolling after rain and snow for the barn aisle, where they are sure to get some good dust worked into their very furry coats.
They did have some hay tucked into their fur, and they love the feel of the brushing, so I gave them each a good turn.
Although it wasn't yet the longest night, I felt as though it was, and decided there is no better way to spend an evening than just the way I'd spent it.
A well-used (in terms of manure and urine) stall transforms to a fluffy, clean one with fresh hay and water via the fairly meticulous application of hay fork and muck rake.
Dirty (and happy) equines come clean with a little elbow grease.
The checking of water troughs and the night-time rituals of bringing rinsed feed tubs in to the feed room, where they are lined up in order, the removal of hoses that are laid out down the hill so they don't freeze up overnight, and the pause to listen to horses munching when I turn out the lights.
All guided by the magic of barn time and marked by the rise of a very special moon.
Although we will celebrate today's solstice proper with intention and some special rituals, it was last night's impromptu celebration that marks, for me, the shift toward longer days and light.
Happiest of solstices to everyone!
As I did that I noticed the big yellow moon rising behind the back field, as though she knew she would be eclipsed later in the evening and needed to shine especially bright as she ascended.
This is why it takes me so long to do chores. I end up stopping: to watch floating horses, laughing donkeys, felicitous felines, luscious light, and fancy full moons.
Cody let me know that he was ready for a clean stall with a full manger when he began to try getting into the hay tent from the side. As strong as they are, I quickly imagined him ripping the entire tent in half, so trotted out with a lead line and asked him to come on in. His stall was ready. He went in gladly.
After a few minutes, Keil Bay sauntered in, assuming his, too, was ready. And it was, so I opened his stall door and waved him in.
Salina came in, followed by the donkeys. Their side was ready too, but Salina was too busy guarding the barn door so the painted pony couldn't come in to notice. The painted pony was so enjoying the barnyard he didn't really care that his stall wasn't ready yet.
Since the wheelbarrow was full and I knew my husband would be home at any second, I decided to wait and let him dump the last load so I could get started on grooming.
Every few minutes I walked out to the barnyard to look up and see how high the moon was and how she had changed from yellow to an almost uncanny blue/white.
Keil Bay was fairly well covered in dried mud so it took awhile to groom him. Cody was thankfully not so dirty, and Salina and the pony were miraculously very clean. The donkeys had no mud - it would never occur to them to roll on wet ground - they save the rolling after rain and snow for the barn aisle, where they are sure to get some good dust worked into their very furry coats.
They did have some hay tucked into their fur, and they love the feel of the brushing, so I gave them each a good turn.
Although it wasn't yet the longest night, I felt as though it was, and decided there is no better way to spend an evening than just the way I'd spent it.
A well-used (in terms of manure and urine) stall transforms to a fluffy, clean one with fresh hay and water via the fairly meticulous application of hay fork and muck rake.
Dirty (and happy) equines come clean with a little elbow grease.
The checking of water troughs and the night-time rituals of bringing rinsed feed tubs in to the feed room, where they are lined up in order, the removal of hoses that are laid out down the hill so they don't freeze up overnight, and the pause to listen to horses munching when I turn out the lights.
All guided by the magic of barn time and marked by the rise of a very special moon.
Although we will celebrate today's solstice proper with intention and some special rituals, it was last night's impromptu celebration that marks, for me, the shift toward longer days and light.
Happiest of solstices to everyone!
Friday, December 17, 2010
warmer, sunshine, and poetry in motion
This morning I was getting feed tubs ready for mixing. Salina had already come in to her stall to wait, and the donkeys were lining up as well.
Cody had gone through the open back gate into the arena, where he'd been herding Redford a few minutes earlier, so I asked Kenzie to open the closer arena gate so he could come through into the paddock and get ready for breakfast.
She opened the gate, but Cody didn't come out. He tossed his head in his characteristic circle toss, inviting both Keil Bay and the Little Man to come in and play.
I was shocked when Keil Bay accepted the invite, since he tends to be so focused on breakfast he is nearly always waiting at his back door, ready to bang if need be.
But this morning, after all the wet stuff that came down yesterday, I guess he welcomed the no longer frozen footing, the sun beginning to shine, no ice in troughs, and a generally warmer day. The knowledge that breakfast was coming was such a sure thing he was willing to forego it for a little romp.
Cody trotted around the arena, soon joined by Keil Bay. The Little Man really didn't do much except hunt for acorns, but my guess is he'd already done his morning exercise.
Although I am usually pretty focused on serving breakfast, I dropped the tubs I was carrying and stood watching the two big boys move. At one point they trotted toward the center of the arena from opposite ends, whirled their heads at one another, pivoted, and bucked, each kicking one hind leg up, completely in sync. It looked like they were doing a dance, mirroring one another's every move.
Keil Bay started at C and cantered straight up center line, doing an absolutely gorgeous collected, balanced, powered from behind canter. Cody trotted like an upper level dressage horse, with absolutely gorgeous suspension (and he's a Quarter Horse!), and that elusive schwung that is hard to describe but when you see it in action you absolutely stop and hold your breath it's so beautiful.
I recently tweaked their minerals, tightening the ratios (Ca:Ph and Fe:Cu:Zn:Mn) even closer to the "ideal." I have no idea if this is why they are looking and moving so beautifully or if they just both hit their best strides at the same time on this welcome morning. Whatever the reason, it captivated me. Even Redford stood and watched, as if appreciating each step.
Sometimes when I watch competition dressage I am disheartened by the mechanical movements that seem to get the high scores. The whole discipline begins to look labored and the horses look constrained and unhappy.
And then I see what Keil Bay does when he feels good and wants to show off, and what Cody does too. The fact that what they are doing with their bodies so obviously FEELS GOOD to them is all the difference between classical dressage and competition dressage.
Watching horses in double bridles, muzzle to chest, looking like something is going to literally explode out of their necks, always causes me to tighten up. I feel the muscles in my shoulders clench, feel my own neck draw up as though it's being pulled out of alignment with the rest of my body.
But this morning, watching the Big Bay and Cody, my entire body relaxed. I felt like my legs had taken root in the earth, and yet at the same time my upper body felt free and flowing. It occurred to me that this is the way to judge what you see when you watch horses being ridden. How does YOUR body feel?
With every step the two geldings took this morning, I could feel the movement as if I were riding it. And I wonder, when I get back on either/both, if that sensation will carry through and bring my own lightness and balance up a notch.
I suspect it will. Even now, writing about it, my body feels soft and supple. Poetry in motion. A simple but profound gift.
Cody had gone through the open back gate into the arena, where he'd been herding Redford a few minutes earlier, so I asked Kenzie to open the closer arena gate so he could come through into the paddock and get ready for breakfast.
She opened the gate, but Cody didn't come out. He tossed his head in his characteristic circle toss, inviting both Keil Bay and the Little Man to come in and play.
I was shocked when Keil Bay accepted the invite, since he tends to be so focused on breakfast he is nearly always waiting at his back door, ready to bang if need be.
But this morning, after all the wet stuff that came down yesterday, I guess he welcomed the no longer frozen footing, the sun beginning to shine, no ice in troughs, and a generally warmer day. The knowledge that breakfast was coming was such a sure thing he was willing to forego it for a little romp.
Cody trotted around the arena, soon joined by Keil Bay. The Little Man really didn't do much except hunt for acorns, but my guess is he'd already done his morning exercise.
Although I am usually pretty focused on serving breakfast, I dropped the tubs I was carrying and stood watching the two big boys move. At one point they trotted toward the center of the arena from opposite ends, whirled their heads at one another, pivoted, and bucked, each kicking one hind leg up, completely in sync. It looked like they were doing a dance, mirroring one another's every move.
Keil Bay started at C and cantered straight up center line, doing an absolutely gorgeous collected, balanced, powered from behind canter. Cody trotted like an upper level dressage horse, with absolutely gorgeous suspension (and he's a Quarter Horse!), and that elusive schwung that is hard to describe but when you see it in action you absolutely stop and hold your breath it's so beautiful.
I recently tweaked their minerals, tightening the ratios (Ca:Ph and Fe:Cu:Zn:Mn) even closer to the "ideal." I have no idea if this is why they are looking and moving so beautifully or if they just both hit their best strides at the same time on this welcome morning. Whatever the reason, it captivated me. Even Redford stood and watched, as if appreciating each step.
Sometimes when I watch competition dressage I am disheartened by the mechanical movements that seem to get the high scores. The whole discipline begins to look labored and the horses look constrained and unhappy.
And then I see what Keil Bay does when he feels good and wants to show off, and what Cody does too. The fact that what they are doing with their bodies so obviously FEELS GOOD to them is all the difference between classical dressage and competition dressage.
Watching horses in double bridles, muzzle to chest, looking like something is going to literally explode out of their necks, always causes me to tighten up. I feel the muscles in my shoulders clench, feel my own neck draw up as though it's being pulled out of alignment with the rest of my body.
But this morning, watching the Big Bay and Cody, my entire body relaxed. I felt like my legs had taken root in the earth, and yet at the same time my upper body felt free and flowing. It occurred to me that this is the way to judge what you see when you watch horses being ridden. How does YOUR body feel?
With every step the two geldings took this morning, I could feel the movement as if I were riding it. And I wonder, when I get back on either/both, if that sensation will carry through and bring my own lightness and balance up a notch.
I suspect it will. Even now, writing about it, my body feels soft and supple. Poetry in motion. A simple but profound gift.
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