I'm officially the mother of two teens - and this birthday wraps up a month that resembles a domino run of celebrations.
I'm a big fan of simple breakfasts, but today I'm making pumpkin pancakes and this weekend the celebration includes a mile-long ziplining through the forest adventure as well as a trip to a tiger rescue.
And of course there will be a nice meal that ends with cake and ice cream and candles.
Otherwise we have had several cool days and frost advisories at night - but are moving into a much warmer weekend with a high near 90 and some possible thunderstorms. We need some rain, although it will be best if it waits 'til Sunday as I noticed yesterday that the local hay fields were being cut. No rain until the hay is baled and stored, please!
The grass is growing, the garden is growing, and buttercup patrol is in full swing. I'm back to the front field for the second round of mowing those things down. Usually three times and they don't come back that season.
No need for chemicals and we sort of enjoy the brilliant yellow until it's gone.
billie hinton’s camera-obscura:
life and lessons on November Hill Farm
Friday, April 30, 2010
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
healing prayer and thoughts at 10 p.m. EST
A note from me:
Thank you all for the healing thoughts. I won't keep posting this request, but just know that each night anyone is welcome to join in the ritual for H, who has a long healing path in front of him.
It is a sobering thought that a close contemporary in age to my oldest son is going through this. Of course it happens every day to many families around the world, but as we all know, when something like this happens to someone we know, it becomes so much more personal.
Someone wrote on FB today that teenagers heading into adulthood are like baby turtles trying to get to the sea. That made me tear up b/c I remember several beach trips when my son was a toddler when my husband helped some misguided baby turtles who were heading to the pier lights instead of the ocean.
Thinking of it that way, I almost want to institute a nightly healing ritual for all teens everywhere. Adolescence can be such a tender and tempestuous time.
A friend's son is in need of prayer and healing thoughts after a major drug overdose and brutal beating. He is in intensive care, and although he has sustained brain injury, a medically induced coma, surgery to stop internal bleeding around his heart, and other injuries, the latest report is "cautiously optimistic."
A number of us who have known H and his family since he was very young are planning a candle-lighting all around the globe at 10 PM EDT for anyone who wants to participate and simultaneously send healing energy, thoughts, prayers, mojo, vibes and whatever else we think might help. Please feel free to participate. Light your candle at 10 PM EDT and leave it burning for at least an hour... longer if you wish. Focus on sending healing energy to Henry. Some of Katie's friends will remember when we did this several years ago when E was a baby and very sick. I know Katie valued that immensely then and will appreciate it just as much now. Thank you to Cee who set this up for us.
ADDENDUM:
You can read an update on H's condition HERE.
The rad-mamas, an online group of moms who have been together since my son was an infant (15 years) have decided to continue the nightly candle-lighting vigil for H until he is out of the hospital. We invite you to join us in sending healing energy and prayer to H and his family.
AFTERNOON UPDATE from Katie:
Thank you all for the healing thoughts. I won't keep posting this request, but just know that each night anyone is welcome to join in the ritual for H, who has a long healing path in front of him.
It is a sobering thought that a close contemporary in age to my oldest son is going through this. Of course it happens every day to many families around the world, but as we all know, when something like this happens to someone we know, it becomes so much more personal.
Someone wrote on FB today that teenagers heading into adulthood are like baby turtles trying to get to the sea. That made me tear up b/c I remember several beach trips when my son was a toddler when my husband helped some misguided baby turtles who were heading to the pier lights instead of the ocean.
Thinking of it that way, I almost want to institute a nightly healing ritual for all teens everywhere. Adolescence can be such a tender and tempestuous time.
A friend's son is in need of prayer and healing thoughts after a major drug overdose and brutal beating. He is in intensive care, and although he has sustained brain injury, a medically induced coma, surgery to stop internal bleeding around his heart, and other injuries, the latest report is "cautiously optimistic."
A number of us who have known H and his family since he was very young are planning a candle-lighting all around the globe at 10 PM EDT for anyone who wants to participate and simultaneously send healing energy, thoughts, prayers, mojo, vibes and whatever else we think might help. Please feel free to participate. Light your candle at 10 PM EDT and leave it burning for at least an hour... longer if you wish. Focus on sending healing energy to Henry. Some of Katie's friends will remember when we did this several years ago when E was a baby and very sick. I know Katie valued that immensely then and will appreciate it just as much now. Thank you to Cee who set this up for us.
ADDENDUM:
You can read an update on H's condition HERE.
The rad-mamas, an online group of moms who have been together since my son was an infant (15 years) have decided to continue the nightly candle-lighting vigil for H until he is out of the hospital. We invite you to join us in sending healing energy and prayer to H and his family.
AFTERNOON UPDATE from Katie:
He looks better to me this afternoon. Cousin Thomas doing sound and scent therapy with him alongside the high tech machines. I feel sure it's helping. Lots of love in the room with him.
he prowled, he growled, he yowled... and now she's home
My daughter's cat Mystic had a rough weekend with her off on a photographic expedition with her dad.
The first day he prowled the house and yard, as if he were searching for her, or waiting for her, returning to her room periodically, where he sleeps (we call it his lair!) and then coming out again to renew the prowling.
The second day he was grumpy, seeking attention from me but then growling in a low rumble when I picked him up for a cuddle.
The third day he was roaming the house aimlessly, yowling. Fortunately he didn't have to go to the next level of distress, because she came home! My son had Mystic in his arms at the door when she walked in.
She took him, snuggled him, and he was back to his usual Mystical Kit self, playing and stalking and trying hard to be a Cowboy out at the barn. (thwarted only by the presence of the REAL cowboy, Dickens E. Wickens, who has that whole desperado thing going and doesn't want the company!)
I have never seen a cat so attached to one person, but it seems this type of cat tends to that, and he definitely is.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
a couple of birthdays and the gift of connection
This morning I was awakened by Kyra Corgi, who I believe thought I was rudely sleeping in when clearly it was breakfast time. Six a.m. I got up, fed her and the felines, and decided to repeat my lazy woman's way of feeding early morning hay - open the gates and let the equines have at the round bale.
It was still covered by the tarp I put over it last night in advance of the rain that came through, but I figured (correctly) that the horses and donkeys would nibble around the edges and get plenty.
Since they spent at least part of the night in their stalls due to the rain, there was some mucking to do. I did most of it and then came back in for coffee and a break before feeding breakfast tubs.
When I went back out, the sun had burst through the clouds, and as I finished up the last of the mucking, down at the far end of the dirt paddock, I thought: I should probably take the tarp off and let the bale air out since it's going to rain again tonight and it will have to be covered again.
But I needed to finish mucking, and let go of the thought. Then I heard a loud crackling noise and looked back to the barnyard. Keil Bay was dragging the tarp completely off the round bale. It was a big tarp, and it required him to take it in his teeth and walk away to pull it, which is exactly what he did. And then he looked at me, and it was clear he was saying: there you go.
A few moments later a big wind blew through the barnyard, but up high, so that suddenly, in the morning sunshine, all the big trees did a shimmy, like horses shaking after a roll, loosing raindrops that looked like twenty little rain showers all around the barn.
We're celebrating two birthdays this weekend. Keil Bay is 21 and Apache Moon, also known fondly as the Little Man and The Pony, is 10.
They got an entire bag of baby carrots yesterday, and will get more in the way of shared treats for the herd today and probably again tomorrow. But it occurs to me. How do you say happy birthday to a horse that means the world to you?
Anyone who reads here regularly knows we have a special herd of equines. And I love them all dearly. But Keil Bay is very special to me. He's the horse I found late one night when I typed my ideal criteria into dreamhorse.com and he's the one horse that popped up when I hit "search."
There was little doubt when I met him that he was the horse for me. Ever since he came to live with me, first at a boarding barn and then to November Hill, he has showered me with gifts.
When I needed to overcome a slight fear of his huge trot, he did a very elegant spook at the gait to show me I was secure in the saddle. When I worried some over his huge canter, he did a spook and spin that was so balanced and elegant all I knew was that one moment we'd been cantering one way, and the next, we were going in the opposite direction. There was nothing anyone could have said or done that made me more secure than those two elegantly executed spooks. In a matter of a few moments, Keil Bay proved to me that I could ride anything he might offer.
One afternoon he took me over a few baby jumps in the arena and reminded me what it felt like to ride as a girl, many years back, with no fear and the pure joy of going fast and going airborne.
He twirls lead ropes and tosses halters to entertain me while he waits for his breakfast. He does yoga stretches that make me smile. He turns radio dials from classical to rock and bobs his head when the chiropractor hasn't yet found the spot that needs adjusting.
Keil Bay is often referred to as The King around here. And I often say he's The King of All Horses. But what Keil Bay is really the King of is Bringing Me Great Joy, and sometimes I wish I knew what I could do to thank him for that.
A riding teacher told me when I first brought Keil Bay home that he didn't need constant rewards from me. That the reward for him, just as it was for me, was the connection we shared. That as much as it meant to me when we read one another's minds, and found moments of pure harmony during a ride, and shared humor and fun, it meant equally as much to him. And that was the reward for both of us.
She was right.
Thank you, Keil Bay, for being my dream horse. And a very happy birthday to you and to the Little Man.
It was still covered by the tarp I put over it last night in advance of the rain that came through, but I figured (correctly) that the horses and donkeys would nibble around the edges and get plenty.
Since they spent at least part of the night in their stalls due to the rain, there was some mucking to do. I did most of it and then came back in for coffee and a break before feeding breakfast tubs.
When I went back out, the sun had burst through the clouds, and as I finished up the last of the mucking, down at the far end of the dirt paddock, I thought: I should probably take the tarp off and let the bale air out since it's going to rain again tonight and it will have to be covered again.
But I needed to finish mucking, and let go of the thought. Then I heard a loud crackling noise and looked back to the barnyard. Keil Bay was dragging the tarp completely off the round bale. It was a big tarp, and it required him to take it in his teeth and walk away to pull it, which is exactly what he did. And then he looked at me, and it was clear he was saying: there you go.
A few moments later a big wind blew through the barnyard, but up high, so that suddenly, in the morning sunshine, all the big trees did a shimmy, like horses shaking after a roll, loosing raindrops that looked like twenty little rain showers all around the barn.
We're celebrating two birthdays this weekend. Keil Bay is 21 and Apache Moon, also known fondly as the Little Man and The Pony, is 10.
They got an entire bag of baby carrots yesterday, and will get more in the way of shared treats for the herd today and probably again tomorrow. But it occurs to me. How do you say happy birthday to a horse that means the world to you?
Anyone who reads here regularly knows we have a special herd of equines. And I love them all dearly. But Keil Bay is very special to me. He's the horse I found late one night when I typed my ideal criteria into dreamhorse.com and he's the one horse that popped up when I hit "search."
There was little doubt when I met him that he was the horse for me. Ever since he came to live with me, first at a boarding barn and then to November Hill, he has showered me with gifts.
When I needed to overcome a slight fear of his huge trot, he did a very elegant spook at the gait to show me I was secure in the saddle. When I worried some over his huge canter, he did a spook and spin that was so balanced and elegant all I knew was that one moment we'd been cantering one way, and the next, we were going in the opposite direction. There was nothing anyone could have said or done that made me more secure than those two elegantly executed spooks. In a matter of a few moments, Keil Bay proved to me that I could ride anything he might offer.
One afternoon he took me over a few baby jumps in the arena and reminded me what it felt like to ride as a girl, many years back, with no fear and the pure joy of going fast and going airborne.
He twirls lead ropes and tosses halters to entertain me while he waits for his breakfast. He does yoga stretches that make me smile. He turns radio dials from classical to rock and bobs his head when the chiropractor hasn't yet found the spot that needs adjusting.
Keil Bay is often referred to as The King around here. And I often say he's The King of All Horses. But what Keil Bay is really the King of is Bringing Me Great Joy, and sometimes I wish I knew what I could do to thank him for that.
A riding teacher told me when I first brought Keil Bay home that he didn't need constant rewards from me. That the reward for him, just as it was for me, was the connection we shared. That as much as it meant to me when we read one another's minds, and found moments of pure harmony during a ride, and shared humor and fun, it meant equally as much to him. And that was the reward for both of us.
She was right.
Thank you, Keil Bay, for being my dream horse. And a very happy birthday to you and to the Little Man.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
it's going to be a long weekend
My husband and daughter have set forth on a photographic expedition and the chores are overwhelming me after only one day. It's amazing how much work it is when one person has to do it all.
The equines were absolutely nonplussed yesterday evening when I put on fly masks and opened the gate to the front field. They got a few hours of bliss and I could barely get them to come in for dinner so I could close the field off and move them onto the back again for the night. Keil Bay came in when I called - and finally Salina and the donkeys begrudgingly came, but Cody and the Little Man HID from me and had to be retrieved with a flashlight.
I went to bed last night with an ice pack and an NSAID, remembering something the vet said to me a few years back: Bute is your friend.
Maybe he was talking about ME and not Salina!
This morning I was awakened before dawn by Moomintroll on my chest, pushing at my face with his mitten paw (he's polydactyl). My husband does the early morning cat, Corgi, and hay for equines feed, but today I had to drag myself out of bed and do it myself. I confess that I simply opened the gate to the barnyard and let all the equines come in to the round bale until breakfast.
I may be exhausted but I will be very popular!
The equines were absolutely nonplussed yesterday evening when I put on fly masks and opened the gate to the front field. They got a few hours of bliss and I could barely get them to come in for dinner so I could close the field off and move them onto the back again for the night. Keil Bay came in when I called - and finally Salina and the donkeys begrudgingly came, but Cody and the Little Man HID from me and had to be retrieved with a flashlight.
I went to bed last night with an ice pack and an NSAID, remembering something the vet said to me a few years back: Bute is your friend.
Maybe he was talking about ME and not Salina!
This morning I was awakened before dawn by Moomintroll on my chest, pushing at my face with his mitten paw (he's polydactyl). My husband does the early morning cat, Corgi, and hay for equines feed, but today I had to drag myself out of bed and do it myself. I confess that I simply opened the gate to the barnyard and let all the equines come in to the round bale until breakfast.
I may be exhausted but I will be very popular!
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