spaces between stars

Sometimes we have to go big in our minds to get a different perspective and to inspire ourselves.

I've been re-reading Gary Zukav's The Dancing Wu Li Masters and he's got me thinking about physics and the universe and, today, Euclidean geometry and how it does not work in a four dimensional world.

There is so much more than we know how to say out loud.

But I think all of us who live with horses and feel the magic that happens when we forget all the dressage instruction, all the talk about aids and correct position and biomechanics, when our bodies relax into the horses' motion and everything is perfect, THAT is the work of riding. And it's impossible, really, to explain how to do it or how it works to anyone else. It involves trust and forgetting and allowing.

Same thing with writing a novel.

Same thing with life stages such as being a mother whose children are growing up, young adults now, and trying to figure out what the new role is.

These are big things to think about. My brain is full. So what better to regain my perspective than to focus on the spaces between stars?

This is what I'm pondering today.

can anyone believe that Rafer Johnson is 8 years old???

I don't know how this sweet and handsome donkey has grown to be 8 years old but he has. We served apples and carrots and watermelon slices for his party and a good time was had by all.

Rafer, we love you! You're amazing.

help with my Thunderclap book promo!

My first novel, claire-obscure, is on sale on Amazon through July 23. 

I'm trying out a new promotional thing called Thunderclap - you sign up and if I reach 100 supporters (but the more the better!) my message and yours are all sent out simultaneously, just one time, on social media outlets. 

This will help me reach new readers.

I would so appreciate a click and your help - let's make a loud boom together! (I promise it won't scare the horses)

http://thndr.it/1KaZXaY

you know it's July when...

The donkeys get slick as seals!

Both Rafer Johnson and Redford are sporting increasingly sleek coats as the last of the winter fuzz sheds out. They look so handsome when their faces lose all the fur and somehow they seem more distinguished.

Yesterday they each stood while I groomed them, helping the last winter fur to turn loose. I know their favorite places to linger with the brushes and they are happy to stand as long as I want them to. They love being groomed.

We had a respite from the high heat but it's back again this week, so most of what we'll be doing is keeping as cool as is possible when the temperature is in the upper 90s.

I need to take the camera out with me and get some photos. I'll try to do that for the end of week post here.

And lest I sit here and bemoan the season too much:

The greenness is gorgeous with all the rain we've had.

The garden is amazing this year! So far we have lettuce, watermelon radishes, delicious cucumbers, several kinds of tomatoes large and small, and blueberries. Also basil.

Coming soon in the garden: peppers, watermelon, cantaloupe, okra, eggplant, summer squash, and figs.

And - we harvested our first batch of garlic this year! It is wonderful.

I do enjoy this season's bounty and beauty but I think everyone who reads here knows that fall is my favorite, so I can't help note that it is on its way. :)

memory of a feisty mare

Kate over at A Year With Horses posted today about her mare Missy and a "scrape" she got into yesterday. Thankfully Missy is fine and her story reminded me of a similar tale that happened years back with our sweet (read on for the feisty side) Salina.

She was always turned out with our geldings and she and Keil Bay were best buddies. She tolerated Cody, adored her donkey boys once they joined our herd, but she and my daughter's pony, Apache Moon, aka Little Man, always had a hard time getting along. 

When Salina first came to us she seemed to like Little Man. But she liked him in the way a mare loves her foal. She tried to mother him and he didn't like that one bit. This mama bear behavior continued for a week or so and then one day I witnessed her trying to herd him away from the geldings. He whirled around at her, and she let loose with a double barrel kick. One hoof connected with his rump and a hoof-shaped piece of white fur literally flew through the air and landed at my feet. 

Miraculously she had managed to connect her hind hoof so perfectly that only the fur with the very top layer of skin was removed. He had a bald patch on his rump but it was not even down to the pink skin. It looked like he had been gently peeled.

From that day forward the battle of wills was on between those two. 

They were fine during turn-out but I always kept them on opposite sides of the barn. Salina was on the near side to our house with her two donkey boys and the three geldings, Keil, Cody, and Little Man were on the far side. 

By the time Salina was in her late 20s we had started allowing her and the donkeys to have the run of the barn aisle during "turn in" time. This allowed her to stand in the barn aisle by Keil's stall, or hang out in her beloved "middle" stall across from him. She and the donkeys had the run of the barnyard and their grass paddock. On the other side of the barn the three geldings could go in and out of their three stalls into the paddock behind the barn and out to the larger fields.

This worked perfectly for a long time. But one day while I was out doing chores, the pony came into Keil Bay's stall and wouldn't leave. He stood just far enough away from the stall's front door so that Salina couldn't reach him, but he stood there staring at her with an evil gleam in his eye.

She got madder and madder. She paced up and down the barn aisle, fuming. He was in Keil Bay's stall, Keil Bay didn't want him there, (though not enough to actually do anything about it) and Salina, as was her way, intended to repair this problem. She flagged him with ears pinned and teeth bared. She lunged at the stall door. He stood as still as a statue, knowing she couldn't reach him. I felt her anger rising. That whippersnapper - who did he think he WAS?

And then after 5 minutes of this she did a whirl in the barn aisle. Which was amazing considering she had arthritic knees and by that point was totally retired from riding and had slowed down quite a bit. She double-barreled the stall door and her hooves went right through the oak. I saw 8-inch shards fly through the air like little missiles.

The stall door had a hole in it I could put my head and shoulders through. Salina had minor scrapes on her hind legs. The door was ruined.

And the Little Man stood in the same exact place he had been. Shards of wood were tangled in his mane and forelock. He still had the evil gleam in his eye, only now it was both evil AND triumphant. I had to lead him out of Keil's back door and close that stall off for the rest of the day. It was a hazard with its sharp fragments.

Salina? She was fine. The pony might not have backed off even a centimeter but guess what? He no longer had access to Keil Bay's stall. Neither did Keil Bay, but sometimes that's just the way the stall door splinters.

I miss Salina. The interesting thing that has happened since her death is that the pony has become sweeter. Whether this is age or relief I'm not sure. And the most interesting thing of all - he has become best buddies with Salina's donkey boys. He treats them with the same love and respect she did, letting them share his hay, hanging out with them all in one stall, and teaming up with them in the field if the neighbors' dogs run loose. He has stepped into her hoof prints. I wonder if that was what she was preparing him for all along.