My dear friend Sheaffer has reviewed Jane's Transformation! What a treat to get his hoof stamp of approval.
You can READ IT HERE.
And of course, if you want to read the book itself, just click on the book cover on the sidebar to your right. Or do a search on Amazon.
Thank you, Sheaffer!!
billie hinton’s camera-obscura:
life and lessons on November Hill Farm
Monday, February 28, 2011
Friday, February 25, 2011
wind and rain and pondering gardens
We've had a lovely week, although most days have been a little windy. The spring fever has continued, although I abandoned the urge to clear closets and went instead to the arena, thinking I might get it spruced up. The thought of potted flowers sitting on dressage markers fueled me for a while, but then suddenly the back field, now off limits to the equines, called.
I spent about 45 minutes setting up 5 jumps and a row of cavaletti. I put flowers on one jump, white buckets on another, and stuck pinwheels into my compost piles. It was a lot of fun. My daughter rode Cody back there to let him check everything out, and then the pony asked to go back as well when it was his turn to ride. Keil Bay left a full hay net in his stall to go back, and although I thought he might get excited and do a little running around, he was more interested in the subtle greening that is occurring across the ground of the entire property.
We're definitely moving from the bark-chewing dead of winter into early spring. The horses are no longer tempted by trees, but are constantly roaming the fields nibbling at the emerging shoots of grass. Just in the past two days when I look out the window, I'm seeing green instead of brown and tan.
Today we have warm weather, but instead of sunshine we're getting wind and rain. We can use the rain after this time of drying out. Horses will likely be hanging out in the barn and paddocks today, munching hay and watching. Although at 70 degrees I won't close off the front field. If they want to head out and nibble, they can.
It's a good day for me to work on planting seeds. Of all kinds. Vegetables, flowers, herbs, and also seeds for other things: ideas and books, dreams and wishes. If I could sketch right here on the blog, you'd see this:
A garden bed sprouting books, little loads of stone and screenings and sand, hand-knitted ponchos in jeweled colors, notes for songs I could suddenly read and play on the keyboard in the corner of our living room, hand-thrown plates and bowls and mugs, and plants full of little buds holding things like time, the kairos kind, that bloom only one bud a day, for the entire year, so that every single day is one very special flowering gift of between time, in which something magical and special happens.
ADDENDUM:
When I went out to the barn the sun came out. Completely. I'm not sure what happened to the forecast, but after the perfect rain, in which the ground got a good soak but not enough to make mud, the sun has come out, the wind is blowing, and there is indeed a light sheen of green across the fields.
I discovered as I walked down the front hill that the horses and donkeys are sleeping right outside my bedroom windows, which makes me very happy. That's today's kairos bud opening into bloom.
I spent about 45 minutes setting up 5 jumps and a row of cavaletti. I put flowers on one jump, white buckets on another, and stuck pinwheels into my compost piles. It was a lot of fun. My daughter rode Cody back there to let him check everything out, and then the pony asked to go back as well when it was his turn to ride. Keil Bay left a full hay net in his stall to go back, and although I thought he might get excited and do a little running around, he was more interested in the subtle greening that is occurring across the ground of the entire property.
We're definitely moving from the bark-chewing dead of winter into early spring. The horses are no longer tempted by trees, but are constantly roaming the fields nibbling at the emerging shoots of grass. Just in the past two days when I look out the window, I'm seeing green instead of brown and tan.
Today we have warm weather, but instead of sunshine we're getting wind and rain. We can use the rain after this time of drying out. Horses will likely be hanging out in the barn and paddocks today, munching hay and watching. Although at 70 degrees I won't close off the front field. If they want to head out and nibble, they can.
It's a good day for me to work on planting seeds. Of all kinds. Vegetables, flowers, herbs, and also seeds for other things: ideas and books, dreams and wishes. If I could sketch right here on the blog, you'd see this:
A garden bed sprouting books, little loads of stone and screenings and sand, hand-knitted ponchos in jeweled colors, notes for songs I could suddenly read and play on the keyboard in the corner of our living room, hand-thrown plates and bowls and mugs, and plants full of little buds holding things like time, the kairos kind, that bloom only one bud a day, for the entire year, so that every single day is one very special flowering gift of between time, in which something magical and special happens.
ADDENDUM:
When I went out to the barn the sun came out. Completely. I'm not sure what happened to the forecast, but after the perfect rain, in which the ground got a good soak but not enough to make mud, the sun has come out, the wind is blowing, and there is indeed a light sheen of green across the fields.
I discovered as I walked down the front hill that the horses and donkeys are sleeping right outside my bedroom windows, which makes me very happy. That's today's kairos bud opening into bloom.
Monday, February 21, 2011
could it be? spring fever?
The past week and a half I've been feeling the intense desire to look out the windows or at the landscape in front of me as I walk around outside and see GREEN. Lots and lots of lush, vibrant green. The excitement of seeing the earlier signs of spring, bulbs pushing up, the spring-blooming redbuds and dogwoods budding ( but not yet blooming), Salina shedding, equines chewing on trees, and the Mystical Kit losing his winter mane mats, are giving over to a cell-deep feeling of impatience and agitation.
I've been walking around overwhelmed with all the things that need doing this time of year. Getting fields and beds cleared and groomed. Keeping track of equines who are shedding and not yet shedding and getting white butt cheeks on warm days. Seeing all the maintenance chores that need to be done in a "new light." Starting seeds. Moving the indoor plants out to the front porch for the spring/summer.
For me, the surest sign that I am managing an acute case of spring fever is when I start feeling driven to do things like clean closets. Usually it just takes one or two to cure me, but this year I have so many other things going on: books to promote and write, a young Corgi who is so furry I am realizing we are probably going to have to have him clipped for summer (he is what is called a "fluffy" Corgi - and we were not prepared for this level of coat care - I've never seen anything like it), monitoring all the different needs of all the animals in the family, getting the sandplay garret back into gear for new clients, etc., etc.
This weekend I found myself washing window sills and curtains in the living room. It's only a step away from that to closets, but instead, this beautiful morning, I'm going to feed breakfast and listen to birds and muck some manure.
Interestingly, our drying out and warming up and getting a large dose of wind, all the things I hoped for a month ago, have put us in the middle of a huge threat of wildfires. There are numerous fires burning in our region, and each day for the past four or five days there are tallies of how many more fires have started. So now the mud is gone, but I'm watching for sparks, and smoke, and hoping we get a day of rain to wet things down a bit.
But Saturday I saw the first butterfly, and although I haven't seen one yet, I suspect the carpenter bees are next line. There's something about waiting for the next season to fully arrive that pulls us forward. Keeps us watching and waiting and going.
It amazes me that the things we dislike about each season are the same things that make us look forward to the next one. It's a cycle, and it's how we mark time in our lives, outside of clocks and watches and appointments and places we have to be and things we have to do.
I've been walking around overwhelmed with all the things that need doing this time of year. Getting fields and beds cleared and groomed. Keeping track of equines who are shedding and not yet shedding and getting white butt cheeks on warm days. Seeing all the maintenance chores that need to be done in a "new light." Starting seeds. Moving the indoor plants out to the front porch for the spring/summer.
For me, the surest sign that I am managing an acute case of spring fever is when I start feeling driven to do things like clean closets. Usually it just takes one or two to cure me, but this year I have so many other things going on: books to promote and write, a young Corgi who is so furry I am realizing we are probably going to have to have him clipped for summer (he is what is called a "fluffy" Corgi - and we were not prepared for this level of coat care - I've never seen anything like it), monitoring all the different needs of all the animals in the family, getting the sandplay garret back into gear for new clients, etc., etc.
This weekend I found myself washing window sills and curtains in the living room. It's only a step away from that to closets, but instead, this beautiful morning, I'm going to feed breakfast and listen to birds and muck some manure.
Interestingly, our drying out and warming up and getting a large dose of wind, all the things I hoped for a month ago, have put us in the middle of a huge threat of wildfires. There are numerous fires burning in our region, and each day for the past four or five days there are tallies of how many more fires have started. So now the mud is gone, but I'm watching for sparks, and smoke, and hoping we get a day of rain to wet things down a bit.
But Saturday I saw the first butterfly, and although I haven't seen one yet, I suspect the carpenter bees are next line. There's something about waiting for the next season to fully arrive that pulls us forward. Keeps us watching and waiting and going.
It amazes me that the things we dislike about each season are the same things that make us look forward to the next one. It's a cycle, and it's how we mark time in our lives, outside of clocks and watches and appointments and places we have to be and things we have to do.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
we have a birthday today!
And later I will get a birthday portrait. But for now, let me wish the happiest of birthdays to Redford Donkey.
He is three years old! And spent yesterday evening chasing a very wild Bear Corgi all over the front field. Which gives you an idea of the personality of young Redford. What do you do when a wild at heart young herding dog escapes and runs huge circles in your territory?
You herd HIM, of course!
I was most impressed that Redford, although indicating clearly that he was in charge, and that this wild running of circles was not acceptable, did not in fact go at Bear with the intention of stomping him to death.
Keil Bay looked on with amusement and the pony headed out to take up the call of duty should Redford need back-up.
It was probably good we'd had a day so warm every equine had white butt cheeks by 3 p.m.! They indeed came in to the barn for cool wet hay and fans. So were not quite in the mood to go into wild herd antics over a Little Bear. (actually now grown into a Big Bear)
Happy Birthday, dear Redford! We know our farm is safe with you in charge. (and we are glad you have that 750 lb. pony backing you up!)
He is three years old! And spent yesterday evening chasing a very wild Bear Corgi all over the front field. Which gives you an idea of the personality of young Redford. What do you do when a wild at heart young herding dog escapes and runs huge circles in your territory?
You herd HIM, of course!
I was most impressed that Redford, although indicating clearly that he was in charge, and that this wild running of circles was not acceptable, did not in fact go at Bear with the intention of stomping him to death.
Keil Bay looked on with amusement and the pony headed out to take up the call of duty should Redford need back-up.
It was probably good we'd had a day so warm every equine had white butt cheeks by 3 p.m.! They indeed came in to the barn for cool wet hay and fans. So were not quite in the mood to go into wild herd antics over a Little Bear. (actually now grown into a Big Bear)
Happy Birthday, dear Redford! We know our farm is safe with you in charge. (and we are glad you have that 750 lb. pony backing you up!)
Friday, February 18, 2011
and the fog has lifted...
I had an eye exam yesterday afternoon and pupils dilated, which resulted in a foggy sunset and evening. Then woke up this a.m. and when I opened the blinds the world was foggy - real fog though!
Now, as the sun has come out and burned the fog away, my pupils are back to normal, all the fog, both induced and actual, is gone, and we are looking at the possibility of an 80 degree day.
Which is kind of crazy, given that it is February and horses have full winter coats! I am thinking maybe I need to turn the fans on for them this afternoon!
Right now I have a Corgi Bear and a Wickens cat in full-blown playfare in the kitchen, a house that needs vacuuming, and morning chores to do. But even the possibility of such a warm day is also triggering a touch of spring fever.
Wouldn't it be fun to pack up this whole menagerie and head for the beach?
A private, safe, perfectly contained beach where they could all run wild while I sat in a chair and listened to the sea.
The fans in the barn have a slightly oceanic sound, so this afternoon I might be out there, sitting in a chair, eyes closed, transported.
Happy Friday and happy weekend!!
Now, as the sun has come out and burned the fog away, my pupils are back to normal, all the fog, both induced and actual, is gone, and we are looking at the possibility of an 80 degree day.
Which is kind of crazy, given that it is February and horses have full winter coats! I am thinking maybe I need to turn the fans on for them this afternoon!
Right now I have a Corgi Bear and a Wickens cat in full-blown playfare in the kitchen, a house that needs vacuuming, and morning chores to do. But even the possibility of such a warm day is also triggering a touch of spring fever.
Wouldn't it be fun to pack up this whole menagerie and head for the beach?
A private, safe, perfectly contained beach where they could all run wild while I sat in a chair and listened to the sea.
The fans in the barn have a slightly oceanic sound, so this afternoon I might be out there, sitting in a chair, eyes closed, transported.
Happy Friday and happy weekend!!
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