and the award goes to...

Lots of great blogs! I am grateful to be included on Arlene's list over at Grey Horse Matters. Go check out her wonderful blog as well as the list of blogs she's recognizing. Thanks so much, Arlene!

play therapy with ponies

Yesterday someone sent me a link to a video featuring Alexander Nevzorov. The first half of the video was so horrible I ended up bursting into tears. It was a slide show of still shots showing the improper use of bits and spurs. As I sat crying, my daughter (experienced in what to do after watching movies like Black Beauty, Bambi, and such with me) fast-forwarded to what we assumed must be the "good stuff."

The soundtrack was music from Lord of the Rings, and the video that came next was simply stunning. We became obsessed with watching every Nevzorov video we could find, especially intrigued with the use of the cordeo in place of halter and bridle.

Today, out at the barn, we were playing around and decided to use an old rein as a cordeo to see what Apache Moon might do. He was a pretty good sport once we got him into the arena. She rode him bareback and with the cordeo for a half-hour, walking and trotting and cantering. He kept circling toward a jump in the arena, which was a bit high for today's play, so I lowered it nearly to the ground. The pony was obsessed with that jump. He kept circling right and taking the little jump over and over again, even though he could have easily trotted over it without breaking stride. It was as though he were working through some conflict about jumping. It reminded me quite a bit of traumatized children in play therapy, and how they will sometimes replay the trauma over and over again. It was fascinating to see Apache Moon choose repeatedly to jump with my daughter astride, no saddle or bridle, when he was in total control of where he was going.

After awhile I encouraged her to hop off and do some ground work with him. What he did was so cute she ran in to get the camera. I was sitting in the arena on the mounting block and when she went inside, he stood at the gate watching the back door of the house for her return. There was grass at the edges of the arena he could have nibbled on, but he didn't even look at it. It was pretty amazing. I wish I had video of him waiting for her - his focus never shifted.

So here's one little piece of what they did together today. It's by no means the first time they've done this kind of play together, but it's the first time we've captured it on video. She is using no treats and has a dressage whip in one hand that is mostly getting in the way. I purposely selected this bit because you see near the end that he intrudes into her space in a rather cheeky way and she holds her hand up and lets him bump into her fingertips. His response to that is very dramatic, but then you see him come right back to their connection.

just another day on the hill

After several years of seeing 3 crows everywhere I go, there has been a shift. For almost two weeks now, I'm seeing 1 crow instead. The crows have always represented my books - when the 3 first appeared, it was when I had suddenly gone from one novel to three. I suspect this shift to 1 has something to do with my intention to focus on the second one until I get it out there. It certainly gave me pause and a very potent reminder when I looked out the window and there was ONE.



Today was a Cody ride, and what a pleasure it was. Sunshine, a cool breeze, and a willing, soft horse. He was quite happy to hang out at the barn after breakfast to get some hay and a good grooming before we tacked up. Keil Bay stood in his stall and reached his muzzle out to me every time I walked by getting Cody ready. He wanted his own ride, but he got a grooming and his own hay, so he was happy.

Even Apollo Moon came to the barnyard to hang out, which is a rare occasion. Dickens (who I today started calling Whickens for no good reason except it was fun to say) was NOT quite sure he liked having his territory encroached upon. Nothing dramatic happened, just this bit of posturing and then the daughter sent them off to sulk at being thwarted in their masculine display.



Cody and the pony went out front, but Keil Bay seemed offended that he wasn't being ridden nor was he being given a special barnyard privilege. So of course I gave in and let him come in with Salina and Rafer Johnson. Rafer was working hard at remembering the good things that come with halters. Butterscotch! You can see how awfully hard he worked.



It's hard to believe he is heading quickly to being a one-year old donkey. Quite the handsome young gentleman.



After awhile of hanging out and watching these three, a storm blew up, quite suddenly. The wind whipped and roared a bit, the sky was that scary greenish-grey, and I opened Salina and Rafer's stall door and said "go." Salina went. My daughter got Rafer's halter off and he went in too. Keil Bay came in the barn aisle and when I took his head and attempted to guide him into his stall, he raised his head and stopped. Will I never learn? I opened the stall door and pointed. "Go on in." And so he did.

We got hay doled out, the other two in, and left everyone munching calmly while the rain started to fall.

waiting on rain and musical stalls

It rained early this morning, but then cleared out, so after breakfast I kept Cody in for his ride. It became obvious when I groomed him that he needed a bath more than a ride, so I got the shampoo in the wash bucket and let him graze while I soaped him up. I spent an hour or so soaping and rinsing and checking for ticks. I always clean the brushes when I give a bath, so I got sidetracked doing that while Cody dried and munched on hay in the barnyard.

Meanwhile, no rain. Keil Bay got wind that I was hanging out in the barn doling out attention (not to mention hay), so he came back in from the field and got a flake for himself.

Salina and Rafer Johnson soon followed. More hay.

Then Apache Moon came running too. Everyone wanted to hang out at the barn.

My daughter and I mucked all the stalls and paddocks and decided to switch things around today. We let Salina have the main paddock and access to stalls along with Rafer Johnson and Keil Bay, and put the pony in the barnyard with Cody where they had access to the barnyard, barn aisle, and Salina and Rafer's stall/paddock.

I like to mix things up once in a while, so that no one gets too dependent on a certain way of being turned out or stalled. Periodically I separate everyone into different spaces for a few hours, just so they don't forget how to be apart.

They seem to do well with this musical stall game - in fact, they rearrange themselves if left to their own devices out there.

I've been writing and doing laundry and making lunches most of the afternoon - now it's time to go see if I can squeeze in a Cody ride before the rain hits. If it hits - it's cloudy but thus far no wet stuff.

And we're getting in a load of hay today, so it will be nice if the rain holds off until it's in the barn.

explosions in the mind

After working on novel pages this morning, I went out to the barn and fed breakfast. Keil Bay knew it was his day for a ride, so he stayed up at the barn instead of marching back to the field with everyone else.

I groomed him from head to hoof. He needed the full treatment, not because he was dirty, but because he needed attention. I love taking a really long time to get him ready for his ride, when I'm not rushed and he knows there is nothing else in the world I have to do, or would rather be doing.

After we had one minor catastrophe - he came all the way into the tack room with me, and he is a big horse for that very tight space - we had our ride. Very pleasant. Little things led to some good moments. I had no real agenda, but one formed on its own and we both followed it.

After, he still didn't go back out to the field, but tried to come in the tack room again and scared me to death. I was absorbed in cleaning my saddle, and suddenly he was there. I sensed something and when I turned his eyes were looking into mine. I screamed. He leaped straight back and fortunately went right through the door as he leaped.

Stood there looking at me like I had gone crazy. I was so deep in cleaning the saddle, his presence was its own little explosion. He came right back into the edge of the doorway to get pats and would have marched on in again had I not said no.

All this led up to me being really ready to go back to novel pages when I came inside. I was thinking about how much I love taking time with every little step of grooming and tacking and then warming up and riding. Then untacking and winding down, with Keil Bay hanging out with me as I go. How making time for all those little steps allows for spontaneous good ideas and good moments to bubble up. That almost never happens with a rushed, forced ride.

And the same is true for writing. I enjoy the process and have come to trust the little steps along the way. I know that some parts of the process are not as exciting but staying engaged and finding the good in each step allows for the bursts of creativity, the magic moments.

Sitting here thinking about that, I picked up Ellen Gilchrist's Falling Through Space and opened to this:

"A piece of writing is the product of a series of explosions in the mind. It is not the first burst of excitement and its aftermath. It is helpful to me to pretend that writing is like building a house. I like to go out and watch real building projects and study the faces of the carpenters and masons as they add board after board and brick after brick. It reminds me of how hard it is to do anything really worth doing."

My writing is often illuminated by how I approach a good ride on my amazing horse. I love how each thing seems to weave in with the other.