RIP Keats Meow

Last weekend we lost our lovely black cat Keats to a very unexpected and quick illness.  We are still in shock and still reeling from how things went downhill for her so very quickly. We took her sister in for complete bloodwork to make sure we are not dealing with something genetic, and so far, so good for Muffine Eloise.

It has been a rough season for us here and also for many of my readers. I feel like all of us deserve nothing but good news and easy living for the rest of 2012, at the very least.

Goodbye sweet Keats. I am still seeing her all over the place, out of the corner of my eye. She is buried beside Chase, our Corgi boy, in the back yard right by our back door, underneath the butterfly bush which was a favorite spot for her.

On other fronts, I left on Tuesday for a writing retreat, had some online privacy concerns, and am still trying to sort out how to maintain an online presence that feels right to me - over the weekend I set the blogs so that only I could read them - that was the only way I could figure out to quickly secure them without deleting anything. The result was that it looked like I had gone to membership only, and I know many of you felt I had left you out - I got many emails asking to be added to the list.

Well, right now there IS no list - and I am working on streamlining my online sites so there is ONE place to find me online. It might be that I do end up with a private blog and will announce that if I decide to go that route.

Meanwhile I came home yesterday to find Cody covered in hives - I think due to some fire ant bites that sent his system into overdrive. So am busy sorting that out with him.

Bear with me as I figure out these online issues. Will make sure that those who want to can stay in touch one way or another. You can always email me using the contact button either here, or at November Hill Press.

Thanks, all...

why we have so many butterflies and bees on November Hill

Thanks to husband for cataloging the colors for me this year!

herd dynamics: jealousy in July

Last week I was doing barn clean-up while the horses were in with their fans and hay. Our usual routine during this time of year is to rotate the three geldings one at a time through the end stall on Salina's side of the barn - in the afternoon I close the sunny end of the barn and that stall feeds to the grass paddock at that end - so each gelding gets an afternoon to himself, the other two geldings get to share the three stalls on their side of the barn, and everyone gets a little change of routine which seems to keep them happy.

Since Salina's pressure wound is still healing (it's much better but she has had to regenerate skin tissue over the hip point which is taking time) and she is on limited night-time turn-out, I like giving her that entire side of the barn so she can have her choice of stalls, barnyards, etc. The donkeys stay with her at night when we bring her in, so it gives them more options as well.

Keil Bay and Cody have become extremely close buddies over the past year. They've always enjoyed grazing together, but this year I've noticed that Cody enjoys going into Keil Bay's stall and they stand in there and nap together during the hottest part of the day. It also effectively shuts down the pony's favorite thing to do - which is run Cody out of whatever stall he's in, and take over Keil Bay's stall, which makes Keil really angry. (this was why I started rotating them to the other side of the barn, to give each one a break from the pony!)

But when Cody and Keil Bay are in one stall there is no room for the pony to squeeze in. He can't chase Cody out if he has to get past Keil Bay to do it. And he can't horn in on Keil's space if Cody is already in there.

I had to laugh when I witnessed this new dynamic. And I noticed that the pony and Redford had become grazing buddies - Redford goes through the fence during the day to head out and graze with the pony. But for whatever reason, maybe just because the pony and Keil were the first "pair" to live here together, Apache Moon has not given up trying to get that best buddy spot back.

The day I was seeing all this last week was also a day when I rode the Big Bay, and while I was tacking up, he and Cody had a mutual grooming session over the stall door. I noticed the pony watching this closely - and then he came into Cody's stall and chased him out, right at the time when Keil and I were heading to the arena.

When we got back to the barn and I put Keil in his stall, Apache was watching and waiting and managed to beat Cody in there.

But instead of being bossy and taking over Keil's best fan spot, Apache started a very meticulous mutual grooming session. He was so obviously doing his best job, using his lips and teeth gently, moving up and down along Keil's neck (which he has to reach up to do) and paying close attention to what Keil Bay wanted. It was only a moment before Keil reciprocated and the two of them stood there for nearly half an hour.

Cody was in his stall looking left out.

Salina was by this time in her stall getting her first lunch. When I let her out, she took one look at the pony taking over Keil Bay (he is her favorite too), marched briskly to his stall door and started flagging. The pony lunged at her from inside the stall. She didn't back up, but she had to turn her head to keep clear of the pony's bared teeth.

Apache had lured his best buddy back and he wasn't letting even the boss mare stop him.

I admit, the next day I let Keil spend the day with Salina on her side of the barn, with both stall doors open so they could intermingle as they wished. Salina got a full body bath and we soaped and sponged and sprayed all her favorite spots. The donkeys were happy to go out with Cody and the pony. And Keil Bay and Salina got some senior time together.

I'm still fascinated by the connections they each make and how they reconfigure as needed when they feel the bonds being shifted.

As an aside, Keil and I had several nice rides last week. The nicest thing was how absolutely good my body felt in the saddle. We walked, did a little sitting trot, and for the most part Keil Bay led the ride. He found a nice figure 8 pattern using the entire arena and when the sun came out from behind the clouds, he headed for the shade offered by one or the other of the big oak trees. I rode on the buckle with one hand on the reins and enjoyed my relaxed body and the Big Bay's lovely stride. It was another of those days when it felt like we were back in time, riding because that was the way one got from one place to another.

Right now Apache Moon has come to my window to remind me that yes, it's time for breakfast tubs!

And this just in, research on Monty Roberts' round pen training method.

I'm not a fan of training methods that use the "make something so unpleasant they do what you ask" pressure - it's not anything I'd want anyone using on me. Certainly does nothing for developing a relationship built on partnership, and this research seems to address that aspect of this kind of training.

bald-faced hornets and heat waves

Popping in briefly to share what I think is a fascinating example of how the larger ecosystem of November Hill works.

After a mild winter, in spite of using fly predators and fly strips and doing all the things one is supposed to do to reduce flies around the barn, we were still seeing what I consider a lot of them.

We used Summer Whinnies for Salina and Keil Bay as needed, liberal amounts of my summer of 2012 fly spray concoction, fly masks, and even with all this, I still felt there were just Too Many Flies.

Suddenly we noticed a new face around the barn.

These bald-faced hornets were around the barn doors, inside the barn itself, and although they didn't feel aggressive to me, we researched them to find out what we were dealing with.

As it turns out they are considered quite docile in terms of hornet personality, and I found several mentions online of these hornets hunting flies. So when I went back out, I started observing. Indeed, they were in the barn hunting flies. We decided to let them stay and see what happened.

A week later, in spite of rain and heat which usually make the number of flies explode, my sticky fly strips are nearly empty. The Summer Whinnies are in the tack room, clean and ready but not needed. The horses are happy and not fussing.

And the bald-faced hornets have moved on. I saw two yesterday.

We hoped to find their nest, but thus far haven't found it. These nests are pretty stunning to me, and I'd love to see one:

Now that the hornets are gone we're dealing with the heat wave that seems to be affecting much of the United States this weekend. Yesterday it was 101.8 in our barn aisle, and needless to say, we're doing a lot of cold hosing, feeding extra salt in the feed tubs, and keeping a close eye on all of us as we move on with routine during this extreme heat.

It is day two of a five-day wave, and we're moving slowly, taking our time with chores, keeping cold drinks in the barn, and of course doing no riding. 90 degrees F will seem like a cool spell after this!

Hope all are faring well as we move into July!

make a nesting now

The wonderful Alexander Shaia is here spending time with a few of us sandplay therapists this week and last night he read this poem. 

Alexander has a wonderful book out that talks about what he calls the Quadratos journey. You can read more about that HERE.




Coleman's Bed

Make a nesting now, a place to which
the birds can come, think of Kevin's
prayerful palm holding the blackbird's egg
and be the one, looking out from this place
who warms interior forms into light.
Feel the way the cliff at your back
gives shelter to your outward view
and then bring in from those horizons
all discordant elements that seek a home.

Be taught now, among the trees and rocks,
how the discarded is woven into shelter,
learn the way things hidden and unspoken
slowly proclaim their voice in the world.
Find that far inward symmetry
to all outward appearances, apprentice
yourself to yourself, begin to welcome back
all you sent away, be a new annunciation,
make yourself a door through which
to be hospitable, even to the stranger in you.

See with every turning day,
how each season makes a child
of you again, wants you to become
a seeker after rainfall and birdsong,
watch now, how it weathers you
to a testing in the tried and true,
admonishes you with each falling leaf,
to be courageous, to be something
that has come through, to be the last thing
you want to see before you leave the world.

Above all, be alone with it all,
a hiving off, a corner of silence
amidst the noise, refuse to talk,
even to yourself, and stay in this place
until the current of the story
is strong enough to float you out.

Ghost then, to where others
in this place have come before,
under the hazel, by the ruined chapel,
below the cave where Coleman slept,
become the source that makes
the river flow, and then the sea
beyond. Live in this place
as you were meant to and then,
surprised by your abilities,
become the ancestor of it all,
the quiet, robust and blessed Saint
that your future happiness
will always remember.

David Whyte from River Flow: New & Selected Poems 1984-2007
©2006 Many Rivers Press