the mysterious muscadine caper and the very loyal sidekicks

Monday morning Keil Bay ate breakfast as usual. From his bright blue feed tub, he munched two spare scoops of Vintage Senior, one cup of black oil sunflower seeds, licked his Glanzen and DE and Source, crunched his carrots, and did the grand panther walk back out to the field.

Within five minutes he was back, hanging his handsome head over the stall door, just looking at me.

I knew something was wrong.

He'd torn his hind leg up, not hideously, but inside and out, and the bright red of the blood was most alarming.

I washed it with chlorhexadine, gave him Bute, cold hosed for twenty minutes, and applied triple antibiotic ointment. Walked the back field and discovered he had tangled with a wild muscadine vine. The evidence was laid out perfectly. One pile of horse manure, a number of very hard green grapes scattered on the ground, and a vine, just behind the manure pile, broken.

Tuesday morning his fetlock was swelling. I called the vet. She arrived within the hour and assured me I'd done all the right things. She taught me to put on a standing wrap and remarked how amazing the Big Bay is - how smart and kind and good. I heartily agreed.

So twice each day since, he gets all of the above and fresh wrapping. By Wednesday the swelling had decreased significantly and he was whinnying and cantering through the field to claim the apple offered by my daughter.

Apache Moon has stuck like glue to Keil Bay since Monday.



I think he likes wearing the wrap. He does look quite regal with it on. And he seems almost eager to get his special attention. Walk out to the field to take a picture and... here he comes.



This morning I was so caught up in re-wrapping his leg before leaving for my writing group, I forgot to bring Chase in with me. He was found shortly thereafter, waiting loyally by the barn door.



Dickens E. Wickens was keeping him company.

It's been a notable week. Time to go cold hose.

butterfly bath

We are members of a vast cosmic orchestra in which each living instrument is essential to the complementary and harmonious playing of the whole.

-J. Allen Boone
Kinship With All Life

second bloom

We are not here just to survive and live long...
We are here to live and know life
in its multi-dimensions
to know life in its richness,
in all its variety.

And when a man lives
multi-dimensionally,
explores all possibilities available,
never shrinks back from any challenge,
goes, rushes to it, welcomes it,
rises to the occasion
then life becomes a flame,
life blooms.

Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh
The Sacred Yes

oh my gosh

My quest for the photo of the three crows has ended.



"Wherever crows are, there is magic. They are symbols of creation and spiritual strength. They remind us to look for opportunities to create and manifest the magic of life. They are messengers calling to us about the creation and magic that is alive within our world everyday and available to us."

-Ted Andrews, Animal Speak

striking balance

I'm starting to become much more aware of a somewhat delicate balance that exists between mood, creativity, and for lack of a more precise word, physical zen.

This past weekend my daughter and I were in charge of all the farm chores. By the time we did all the things that needed doing each day, we were in no mood to ride. I had come home from writing group on Thursday with a mission, and it was quiet here and very easy to sit in my garret after doing the chores and dive deep into the first 62 pages of the book. Everything was flowing.

By Sunday evening I'd reached a stopping point with the writing. I needed to back up the new document on my external hard drive, needed to print out the newly revised pages so I could read them on paper instead of the screen, and our house regained its male contingent and the noise level went up.

Monday I had a meltdown. It felt like something was out of balance. My initial reaction was to skip my riding lesson (after a near two-week break, partly due to trainer being out of town, partly due to the heat, partly due to Keil Bay's chiro work). But on a deeper level I knew I really needed to ride. Immediately when I got in the saddle I felt better. The lesson was not pretty but it was good. Keil's hip is moving correctly again and everything clicked. I got off feeling like I'd had an emotional tune-up.

Later in the evening though, I had a second meltdown, but it felt more like getting rid of the dregs at the bottom of the barrel than anything else. And it was true, I slept lightly and well instead of the heavy, dream-riddled sleep I'd been having.

And woke up ready to ride again, and did. Today's ride was sharp with crisp, clean transitions between gaits and some floating moments over trot poles. It did indeed feel like with Keil Bay, as well as inside, I was back in balance.

I'm curious about this, as there seems to be such a connection between mood and writing and riding for me. When I write I tend to get lost in the story. When I ride I get lost in my body and the connection to Keil Bay. Both are immensely pleasurable, but I absolutely need both to create the balance that results in a stable, peaceful mood.

If you've noticed similar balance issues in your own life, I would love to hear about them.