At the Farmette #12 - Just another day in paradise...

The farmette is located on a tiny barrier island in the Atlantic. I feel very fortunate to live in such a beautiful place. There are great views everywhere you turn. Here is a sampling from 2015...

✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎


                                    ♬♪♫ On the Fourth Day of Christmas... ♬♪♫

At the Farmette #11 - All Creatures Great and Small...

We share the farmette with many living things.

My favorite encounter this year happened during the big 'ol drought we had for most of the summer. I noticed the resident rat snake (usually found keeping the hay barn mouse free, or scaring the tar out of me as I move hay bales) slithering down the wall of the chicken coop. As per usual, I snapped a couple of pictures.

While watching her, I remembered finding a few eggs suspiciously smashed, or out of place that week. Since she was bee-lining into the coop, I picked her up to re-direct.

Then - something sort of magical happened. I suddenly had a thought - really more of a picture - in my mind, that the snake was super thirsty. As she twined around my arm, I put her head over by the rim of the full rain barrel. Lo and behold, she began to drink. She drank for a full minute while I held her over the barrel. Sadly I'm not coordinated enough to water a snake and video, plus I was kind of in shock, so you'll have to take my word for it.

Here's a selection of our fellow residents -

This one isn't supposed to live north of southern South Carolina

Polyphemus Moth - anyone else read Girl of the Limberlost?

Seven's extra toes came in handy here

RIP

This is the thirsty one

 ✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎

                                          ♬♪♫ On the Third Day of Christmas... ♬♪♫

Sittin' chilly

In the Arena #158 - Size matters...

So I think Val and I have been having an impromptu fluffiness contest. I wish I was kidding.

Oh - also - I'm winning.

I used to be able to rely solely on my job (landscaper) to fulfill my exercise needs. The combo of hitting 50 and being sidelined from most physical activity for months while my arm healed up started the ball rolling, and did very unsettling things to my shape.

While I've never been tiny, I have always been fit and strong. There is only so far I plan to go in the pants / breeches size department. THERE WILL BE NO RESORTING TO ELASTIC! I've been walking / running five days a week for the last month, got a jawbone for keeping track of all the vitals, and am making better food choices. Or really just thinking before I shove something in my mouth. (chocolate makes the worries go away) My goal is to lose 25 lbs. It will take a while - shooting for June. I'll stay accountable here on the blog. Any recommendations on running shoes would be welcome.

Meanwhile Val has totally lost his topline. It may have slid down and become extra belly. No amount of shimming could fix the fit of our Neidersuss. While I am all about riding bareback, we do need the option of a workable saddle.  I lucked out and found a lovely County Warmblood on ebay, which fits both of us beautifully. We've been doing short rides - aiming for a nice forward walk at this point - and slowly increasing as fitness improves. Lucky for Val - his eating habits can basically stay the same - there's just more activity in his future... activity not related to his jaw muscles.

I've also cheated on Val a few times a lot - more on that in a future post. :D

New saddle fit and proof of fluffiness...

                                                          ✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎
              
                                                   ♬♪♫  On the second day of Christmas...  ♬♪♫


                       

From the Farmette #10 - When the troubles arise, you know I'm the cool coper (II)...

Xmas card outtake - aka cookie monster

 Two years ago I set off on a road trip with my horse...

I was so looking forward to the fun, comradery and challenge of a mini dressage clinic. Located in the middle of nowhere like we are, these opportunities are rare. I wanted to shake us loose from the rut we were in - trying to make progress on our own -  no trainer input or eyes on the ground. I had very high hopes.

A few days later we returned. Val with a barely-caught-in-time case of founder in both fronts, and me with a badly broken arm that would eventually need surgery to repair.

The fallout from these events was overwhelming.

The deadline of my five year mortgage deal on the farmette arrived this fall. I've been unsure how I could meet my obligation ever since breaking my arm / being out of work for months / acquiring a giant hospital bill. Anxiety and depression crept over me. I thought I was handling everything, but in hindsight...

Facing the thought of losing the farmette tipped me over into crippling anxiety by the summer. The feeling of scrambling to keep my head above water was the norm. Pair that waking most every night around 2 am only to fall back asleep just before the alarm rings. Some of you ladies out there know what I'm talking about...

Fast forward to the end of October.

Due to (finally) earning a substantial raise, taking on a handful of private clients and through sheer force of will, I negotiated a new mortgage. I now own my property outright, if you don't count the bank of course.

There is a little breathing room around getting the construction loan, though it means I'll be living in the Shimmy Shack through another hurricane season and a few more winters. That will just make eventually living within four solid walls, under an actual roof with actual heat, and having my possessions again, even sweeter.

I've also made taking care of myself a priority. Diet, exercise, sleep schedule etc. It makes a huge difference in my mental state and ability to cope with stress. I'm finding as you age there is less slack in the system regarding health. Disappointing, inconvenient, but a fact of life.

There are many bloggers out there much better at sharing personal stuff (non-pony variety) than I am. Every post I started since the spring has quickly been tossed into the whiny - self-centered - probably oversharing file. Commenting has kept me in the equine loop, and I've enjoyed living vicariously through your blogs. Non-horse-related life has been my priority, and there's been less free time than ever before. Thanks to those of you who have checked in on us. Hopefully visiting here will be more rewarding in the future.

On that note, today will begin my bloggish present to you all - twelve days of Christmas style. A series of year-end catch-up posts with a delightful holiday horsey media surprise thrown in at the end.

✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎✴︎

Despite the future of the farmette being up in the air most of the year, 2015 brought many upgrades. New garden beds and some clever recycling of landscaping materials into a fence. I sold produce and eggs to local stores and restaurants as well as individuals.

A six week stint of no rain followed by twenty four inches of rain over two weeks limited yield, but gave me valuable insights. Must. install. drip. irrigation.

I am also zeroing in on what crops work well here. Success in farmetting is hard won, and takes experience which must be earned. Sweat equity.

               
                                            And the promised delightful horsey media surprise -
                                                           on the first day of Christmas...

WW

In the Arena #157 - Two birds with one stone, or in defense of the ottb...

Finally, something to jog me out of the place where everything I tried to write for this blog -

sounded whiny,

sounded boring,

was complaining,

was complaining about the stupid weather, which = whiny + boring.

[With any luck, this post will conveniently combine catching up on the past year's worth of never published posts, with a blog renaissance. To anyone who has continued to stop by and see if we're still breathing - thank you.]

Recently I came across several posts and comments out there about knowing what horse is right for you, knowing when a horse is not right for you, which types of horses are right for which people... it got me thinking. So here's our story.

I am the owner of a 2002 model ottb. He was found for me by my trainer at the time (as a seven year old), whose school horses were nearly all thoroughbreds.

I had invested in four years of dressage lessons with her. For a few summers before that I was a trail guide. Lots of barn watching and catch riding. By no means a super confident rider, but I felt ready for horse ownership, with my trainer's guidance.

Was Val crazy / wild / hot when I got him? No. He had three years off the track (trained, injured I suspect, never ran), eventually doing hunters, some low level jumping, and recovering from injuries before we met. Could he become crazy /wild / hot? Yes. He wasn't above exploiting my lack of leadership and my inexperience.

Less than a year passed before my trainer lost her farm and moved away. Living in the middle of nowhere means that finding any dressage trainer at all is tricky. Finding the kind of person I want to work with - not "putting the horse in a frame", not seesawing on his mouth, not using gadgety tack, but improving rider skills / seat / feel by listening to the horse - even trickier. The nearest candidates are 5 - 6 hours away.

We had some setbacks, and made some progress too. Slow, micro progress, but it was ours alone, and we earned it. Then, summer before last, I was overjoyed to finally find a biomechanics trainer. After a few successful road trips for lessons on her horses, I scheduled a mini-clinic so I could take Val with.

While I was tacking him up for our first lesson, the trainer, in a major hurry, rushed into the stall with me and began to "help" saddle him. He got wiggly. When she scooted around behind him to get out of the way, spooking him and blocking me in, he swung around into me, pinning me at the stall entrance, and breaking the living tar out of my arm.

If that wasn't bad enough, because I'd knuckled under and hadn't insisted on stalling Val upon arrival, (what we had planned initially as there was no dry lot), he was pastured on rich grass - enough to make him super lame on both fronts with raging digital pulses, within 36 hours. In retrospect, this likely added to his behavior while tacking up. What a nightmare.

Fast forward through trailering my horse home seven hours. (one-armed + standard transmission) Through the surgery I couldn't afford. Through missing four months of work from my landscaping job. Through being assured (wrongly), that my injury would be covered by the trainer's insurance. (not without me suing her) Through putting a serious hit on my down payment savings. Through taking care of my horse and farm one armed. Through an extended depression. Through endless groundwork while I recovered my health and my confidence. Through screwing up the courage to ride again...

Fast forward to today. Val standing out in the middle of his paddock. Wind gusting 40 mph. At liberty - no halter, no lead rope - for an hour, while I shed him out, curried and brushed every inch of him. While he showed me where the ticks were (in his man parts) and let me shove my head up in there to find them, and my hand up in there to remove them. While he held up all four hooves for me to pick. While he didn't move one step.

Are we madly rising up the levels? No, but I hop on bareback and feel totally comfortable. Do we trail ride solo? Not yet. But he's super appreciative of my amateur trimming attempts. He'll back up a dozen steps on my hand signal. In close quarters, he (now) respects my space. I can put his blankets on, over his head, out in the pasture, at night. He ground ties. He's awesome at self-loading.

Am I accomplishing what I envisioned when I brought Val home? Not exactly - circumstances have led us down a different path. But I have learned valuable lessons - some painful, some expensive. And I'm a much better horsewoman now.

Are ottbs for everyone? Maybe not. They can be challenging. They require a tactful rider. They're forgiving of your inadequacies, as long as you're humble enough to admit to having them. I have high hopes for finding instruction again, once my house is built. (!) In the meantime, we'll keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Are ottbs for everyone? Depends on the circumstances. But isn't that true about most horse / human combinations?



 

The Equestrian Blogger Gift Exchange or A Mysterious Xmas Miracle(!)

!Surprises!

The equestrian blogger gift exchange event that Tracy at Fly On Over organized last year was so much fun. When I saw she was kind enough to host another one this year,  I was super psyched to participate again.

It is every bit as fun to arrange the gift you send, as it is to receive yours. Looking forward to the report from my giftee. :D

Sooo, I got a call from my dad on Christmas day, saying he was on his way over for our holiday meal, and he had a package addressed to me. What???

Apparently, an ex-neighbor from my last address, (where I lived well over three years ago) called my dad when he couldn't find a number for me. A package had been delivered across the street, and was sitting forlornly on the porch of my old house, now unoccupied. Thank goodness for nosy ex-neighbors, otherwise that package would never have made into my hot little hands.

(There was actually another xmas miracle. Every single one of the eighteen fresh eggs my girls donated for the caesar salad deviled egg plate peeled perfectly. Every. single. one.)

Dad arrived and handed over a box from Dover saddlery. Pretty much always a good thing to get something from Dover so - yes - that must be mine. All mine. I tore it open, thinking that it might be from my Secret Santa.

Inside was a fresh, white, pristine dressage pad. A thing unheard of in these parts for, well, since I moved onto the farmette. No house = no washer/dryer, so I don't have many any opportunities to wash filthy horse items where I borrow my laundry access.

Underneath the pad was a beautiful horseware winter hat and scarf set - something I would never get for myself, but have admired when window shopping.

After fondling (and trying on where appropriate) my gifts, I dug around looking for a clue about which of you sent it and found -

- nothing. So sad that I can't thank you specifically. Please fess up - whoever you are, and thanks so much for the lovely, thoughtful gifts.

♡♡♡ To all our blog friends ♡♡♡

You don't know what you've got til it's gone...

I'm heartbroken.

One of my all time favorite bloggers - Teresa from Journey with a Dancing Horse - has had an absolutely horrid accident at her farm, and lost her beautiful Andalusian gelding Steele. To make matters worse, if that could even be possible, the incident was caused by a thoughtless and negligent neighbor who couldn't be bothered to be responsible for his dogs.

Steele was as gorgeous, smart and sweet a young horse as anyone can ask for. What's more - Teresa is a great deal of the reason he turned out so well. She got him a little over two years ago as a baby, and has done a magnificent job preparing him to be her riding partner. She had just backed him this past May.

Teresa's thoughtful, tactful training was just beginning to reap rewards. Their story is a great education in how to bring up a baby. It has been a joy to follow their progress.

Until now.

Please drop in and let her know you're thinking of her. And don't forget to hug your horses.

The Flyaway Horse

Oh, a wonderful horse is the Fly-Away Horse-
Perhaps you have seen him before;
Perhaps, while you slept, his shadow has swept
Through the moonlight that floats on the floor.
For it's only at night, when the stars twinkle bright,
That the Fly-Away Horse, with a neigh
And a pull at his rein and a toss of his mane,
Is up on his heels and away!
The Moon in the sky,
As he gallopeth by,
Cries: 'Oh what a marvellous sight!'
And the Stars in dismay
Hide their faces away
In the lap of old Grandmother Night.

EUGENE FIELD

In the Arena #156 - Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind...

"Riding is a metaphor for life lived well and wisely."

 "The virtues needed for riding, are the same as those for an ethical life."

Charles de Kunffy

Next week will make one year since I packed the trailer and headed up to Maryland for a clinic. Five days of much needed instruction, and one-on-one time with Val. I had high hopes...

Hopes which were dashed before even mounting up once. A combination of extreme nerves (excess equestrogen) + poor judgement + not speaking up for my horse, led to a badly broken arm, eventual surgery, four months out of work and near financial disaster. Not exactly what I had in mind.

As soon as the doctor cleared me, I managed to hop on Val for a handful of rides. Mostly because I feared if I didn't do it then, I never would. Sadly, progress ended there.

Gradually, life began to feel overwhelming. The implications of being injured again practically paralyzed me, as I use my body to make a living. Catching back up financially so I have a hope of building my house in a little over a year, felt impossible. Nothing seemed engaging enough to warrant blog posts. I was teetering on the edge of depression. I slept too much and ate too much. :(

With some time and perspective under my belt, I realize now things weren't all that bad, or drastic, or boring. In the "down time" I built a chicken coop, and raised a dozen hens up from day old chicks. There are two new garden beds, and lumber + plans to fence the garden for protection from critters and weather.

 
On the pony front, my trimming skills have steadily improved. Val's feet look the best they have since I pulled his shoes. Val developed a few new skills too. He reliably comes from the back of the pasture when he's called (cookies!), backs up 10 - 12 steps on hand signals alone (a long way from the cookies) - unhaltered - and his behavior being led now is perfect, even with big distractions.

If I learned one thing from the arm incident - it was that I needed to reinforce (and be consistent about) the concept of personal space with Val, no matter how exciting or disturbing things get. A big, costly hole in my training was revealed.

Despite the positive developments, I was still down in the dumps, having trouble with motivation on the riding and blogging fronts. And every day that went by made it that much harder to tack Val up, or sit down and hit the keyboard. Something had to give.

Two weeks ago my riding buddy N emailed me with details of a clinic only a few hours away, with Charles de Kunffy. Auditing was affordable, so I signed up. I'll do a full clinic review in an upcoming post, but suffice it to say my mind is blown. Mr. de Kunffy is one of the last living links to the old masters of classical dressage, and it was an absolute privilege to watch him teach for a day. His clinic was the key to unlocking my riding block... Thank you Mr. de Kunffy! :D

I am constantly amazed at what a mental sport riding is. Attitude is everything, in riding. Attitude is everything, in life.