Roomba... fieldba?

Last night I reached the limits of my patience with the state of my house. Not that I kicked into full-blown cleaning gear - instead I sat down at my desk and once again began to look at the possibility of the Roomba.

After a few minutes, which were punctuated with Bear the Corgi chasing, in order, Kyra Corgi, several resident felines, and nothing, it occurred to me that perhaps my thought of Roombas constantly circling and cleaning was... not exactly realistic.

Can you imagine the scene here if I set up a Roomba with a less than one-year-old Corgi in the house? Between Bear and the cats, and Kyra provoking them into action from the sidelines, I'm not sure the Roomba would make even half a circuit.

I wrote on Facebook this morning that maybe the Roomba would work if I could program it to say "leave it, Bear" as it made its journey through the house.

And then, my mind went into overdrive.

A pasture roomba!

That scene would be, I'm afraid, even crazier. Between Keil Bay flipping it into the next county, the painted pony herding it, two donkey boys stomping it, and Cody nibbling it, the thing wouldn't make it to the first pile of manure.

All this is clearly a sign that I am emotionally and psychologically ready for spring. The day before yesterday I spent nearly the entire day harrowing the front field - there was ONE DAY where it had dried out and thawed out just enough to do the job, and rain was predicted for that night, so I had to get it done before the rain actually started. In the midst of it, I ran out of gas, one back tire that has a leak had to be filled with air 3x, the mower blades got packed with soil and mulched leaves, and I had to take a couple of breaks just to keep myself going. But I got it done.

Needless to say when I got inside around 4, the house was a wreck and I had to take son to his class. Yesterday I focused on the house. Hence the dreaming of Roombas and wallbas and all kinds of -bas that would take over and do all the things I feel like I never get to in the process of cleaning.

And what a shock when I realized that the one real thing in my fantasy - the Roomba - is not even a possibility because of the Bear! 

When I start obsessing over things like this, it's a sure sign spring is in the air, even if only as a fantasy. But it's not a fantasy - yesterday I discovered the first bulbs shooting their green heads toward the sky.

It's starting. And now there's a race to keep up - I finally sketched out the garden beds last night and began to think about starting seeds.

Couldn't Martha Stewart loan me her staff for just one week? They might be mortified but they could dig in, get me caught up, and then head back to perfection land.

If anyone has suggestions for coordinating house and barn and fields and all the things that need doing in between, I am all ears!

Safety Helmets for USA National Dressage Required on March 1st

It's about time!  Read the full story HERE.

the Irish RM

A while back Sheaffer recommended this television series to me after I posted some foxhunting photos. I finally finished my second watching of West Wing on Netflix and tonight popped in the first disk of the Irish RM's first season.

Oh my goodness! Episode one gets off to a slow start, but once you hit episode two it is off and running.

I love it!

Thank you, Sheaffer!

Found this for a little preview in case you're considering checking it out:

very wise words for living and working with horses

Progress in very small increments. Make smart choices in the sequence of exercises. Never ambush your horse. Never skip a step. First establish trust. 

-Faverot de Kerbrech

I read this quote this morning on Thomas Ritter's Facebook page and immediately copied it to print and put in the tack room on my bulletin board. 

I absolutely love the line "Never ambush your horse."  I think much of what we do to horses in the name of training them and dominating them could easily be considered ambush - not so much the what we do but the HOW we go about doing it. 

Usually because we get in a hurry, expect too much, and then blame the horse for being rude or not responsive or stubborn. 

When I get impatient and demanding with my horses, I try to think about what it feels like to them. They know me. They trust me. And yet, it's still rude if I march up and suddenly demand that they do something without engaging with them first - letting them smell my hands, blowing softly into their nostrils (and then breathing in THEIR breath that they are giving back to me), allowing them to smell the halter or the brush or the bridle or the saddle pad or the whatever it is I've decided they need me to do to them in the name of "good horse care." 

What would I do if someone, even someone I love and trust, marched up and said "Get in this box. I'm taking you to a show. Sorry you have to leave your friends. We'll be back soon." I assure you it wouldn't be a very pretty sight.   

Long-time readers here will know that I have a needle phobia, and that one of the things that helped me overcome it to the degree I have was when Keil Bay needed Adequan injections. 

(note: he no longer needs them - I discovered that human grade glucosamine and chondroitin given together at tx doses for his weight works even better and costs MUCH less) 

What most readers won't know is how I got the needle phobia. When I was very young, I was afraid of the shots I needed to get, and at that time it was considered okay to simply hold the child down and administer the injection. They did that to me until I was old enough that I have a very clear memory of two nurses (it took TWO) holding me so the doctor could stick me with the needle.

By gosh, I got those vaccinations! But I also got a lifelong phobia that really needn't have been the result had they only stopped to think:

Progress in very small increments. Make smart choices in the sequence of exercises. Never ambush your horse. Never skip a step. First establish trust.

Funny how the words apply to all of us. And that NOT following them can have similar results whether we're dealing with a child OR a horse. 

How many times in a day of working with our horses do we simply demand that they submit to our will? It makes about as much sense to them when we demand and insist as it made to me when those two nurses held me down. And you can bet I never did cooperate. I fought harder the next time.

Some of us fight harder, others give up and comply - but in some ways that is worse. A little bit of our spirit dies when we have to submit to something we are not sure about. 

Find your own example of a time you were ambushed. And then think about that the next time you do it to your horse. You might be surprised - I always am - at how that impatient, demanding person you've become in the moment simply melts away. And even more surprising - your horse will feel the melt happening and what was difficult will likely become that much easier to accomplish.

an evening with many hooves

Yesterday afternoon I felt well enough to tackle the ongoing chore of hoof care for the herd here on November Hill. We've had many weeks of wet ground and almost as many weeks of sick humans, so after their trims on Friday I was determined to get back in the swing of things.

It was time for Salina's lunch so I got her tub ready first and went to let her in. She was, as usual, waiting by the gate, accompanied by Keil Bay, who is determined that at 21 years of age, he, too, should be brought in for a mid-day meal. Because he was covered in dried mud and clearly needed some attention, I let him in with Salina.

He followed me around like a big puppy, doing his best to look hungry. Salina wisely went into her stall and waited for her tub.

Can you guess how this turned out?

Keil Bay didn't actually get a full meal, but I couldn't resist a small meal of soaked timothy cubes in the barn aisle while I picked his feet. He was about as happy as he could be.

After the two seniors got their meals I realized the paddock needed mucking, so I sidetracked onto that and ended up letting everyone into the big barnyard while I worked.

By this time it was nearing sunset and I had not yet started the hoof cleaning I came out to do!

But it needed to be done, so I set up a "station" in the barn aisle with a tub of soaked timothy cubes inside the wheelbarrow, a hay net to the side of that, my cleaning materials, and brought in Cody so I could get to work.

I've done this in different places and different ways, but I really liked the way it turned out yesterday. I had a big jug of clean water, a flat pan to put the hoof in, my hoof pick, scrub brush and cleaning materials, and my little bottle of oil of oregano in my pocket. We have lots of red clay here, and without a thorough cleaning of the hooves, it's hard to see what the bottom of the hoof really looks like underneath. So I scrubbed and rinsed and treated as necessary with the oil of oregano.

One hoof at a time. Times 6 equines. Equals 24 hooves.

As I finished each horse, I put them into their clean stall with hay for their evening stall time. Fortunately my husband came out and helped - otherwise I might still be out there working!

But what I found, again, is that there is a rhythm to almost all chores, and if we take the time to set up properly, and then look for the rhythm, the chore progresses more easily and with some pleasure.

Yesterday the barn was clean and quiet and DRY, and for the most part the equines were content to have a little meal while getting their feet cleaned up.

I think I hit a little bit of a zen moment as I studied each clean hoof. They began to look like artwork - varying colors and shapes and individual characteristics. A sharp contrast to how they look day to day, the color of the earth they walk on.