Eternal Optimism

Yesterday must have been a bad dream. On Sunday, I was out in the yard wearing a t-shirt, loving the budding of Spring. By 10 am, the very next day, the ground was covered with yet another depressingly white blanket, and all signs of green were gone. Miraculously, this morning, as I opened the back door to go out and feed the horses, there wasn’t a hint of winter. All the snow disappeared overnight, as if I had imagined it. Only I didn’t, and here are the pictures to prove it.

The horses didn’t enjoy the interruption of the rites of Spring either. Silk stayed in her stall all day, giving me that sad-eyed look, resigned to her fate. Her daughter was just plain grumpy. Siete would take a quick turn around the pasture every few hours with her tail flagged up high, snorting like a dragon. She’s as done with mud and snow as I am. Each time I watched her prancing and tossing her head, I thought that’s exactly how I feel.

On top of the bad weather, I threw out my back last week. It was definitely my body’s way of telling me to stop stressing and cleaning up after all the flooding. So, I’ve been forced to slow down and take a few days to contemplate my life. It appears to me that the state of my small piece of land is a mirror for how I am feeling. We’ve both survived a rough patch. The barn is splattered with mud and needs a thorough cleaning. So do I, and a diet and a new haircut are mandatory. The corral must be dug out and new footing needs to be brought in and properly graded. I’m personally digging into my business persona and refreshing my presentation and goals. After hibernating for all these months, I’m ready to emerge like Persephone and start to open up in new and exciting ways.

Today, it’s horsey spa day. The girls are going to get cleaned up with the shedding blade. I’ll put all the fur from their winter coats out behind the barn for the mama birds to use to build their nests. With warm water from the hose, those white socks on both horses’ feet will be revived for at least a few minutes before they run through the mud and blacken them again. The chorus of bad weather predictors are chanting that we’re getting more snow tomorrow night. Still, seeing the sun shining right now and listening to the birds chirp, I’m reassured that these last little hiccups of winter will soon be over.

Just like the little green sprouts didn’t freeze and wilt under that unexpected onslaught of snow yesterday, I’m not going to let the obstacles that fall in my path keep me from coming into flower. Years ago, a friend gave me a lovely old French ceramic tile that says “joie de vivre”. It sits on our mantelpiece and as I noticed it this morning, hobbling down the stairs with my sore back, I decided that it will be my new mantra.

In These Dark Days

Once again, my days and nights are occupied battling against the elements of Nature. We had torrential rain on Sunday and Monday that flooded my hay storage and Siete’s stall, among other places in our house and garage. I am tired of blogging about the weather, but it is my constant nemesis these last three months. Last night and this morning, we’re getting a few more inches of rain and everything that flooded earlier in the week is flooding again.

The horses have been taking it very well. Siete spent one night sharing a stall with her mother before I was able to dump enough wood pellets into hers to soak up most of the water. It still bubbles up when she steps in the front, but there’s a dry area in the back where she can stand. After a night with mom, she opted for coming back to her own space. Last night, I listened to the wind and rain fiercely pounding and I feared for the worst this morning. Miraculously, she’s still got this dry spot where I can feed her and she can keep her feet from getting wet, but now I have to figure out how to get her out and into Silk’s stall again. The front corral is a lake and it is continuing to pour down. It continues to challenge my coping skills.

Each time I’ve come back into the house to take a break over the last few days, I’ve been presented with unexpected examples of a disturbing topic. First, my daughter came home from high school eager to talk to me about the problem of dating violence. She isn’t involved, thank heavens, in this horrible situation, but apparently some young women in her school are. They have had the courage to come forward to talk about it, and my daughter applauded their bravery. Then, I received an email from a friend with a news story about an 11-year old girl in Texas who was gang raped by 18 young men, including high school star athletes. Yesterday, another friend sent me a link to a presentation at one of the TEDx conferences by Chameli Ardagh called “The Fierce Face of the Feminine”. It’s a very compelling argument about how women must use their power to protect the children of the world. She points out that each day all over the world, there are more and more children whose lives are in danger and who are afraid to go to sleep at night.

As you know, I try to stay away from discussing politics and events of upheaval in the world. You also probably have noticed, through the years of owning Silk and Siete, I have come to appreciate the temperament and characteristics of my mares and other female creatures and learned a lot about the power of the feminine. And coincidentally, Wednesday was International Women's Day. So, I feel a strong need this week, as Mother Nature continues to rage around me, to urge women to take hold of their power and teach their daughters how to use it to make the world a safer place for our children. It might appear that as mere individuals, we are not able to stop the horrors of acts of violence and war. Yet every day, in how we relate to what goes on right here around us, there are opportunities for every woman to find her own power and take a stand against what we know in our hearts is not good for us or our children. From one drop of consciousness and action, there can be an enormous ripple.

Here’s the link to Chameli Ardagh’s talk: “The Fierce Face of the Feminine”

The White Blanket

The white blanket on our pasture is getting lower to the ground, but there’s still a lot of ice and snow before you hit grass. At the worst, it was actually almost reaching the top rail of the fence but slowly it’s melting, inch by inch.

I was gone for about five hours yesterday, visiting my mom and going to the grocery store. My husband was supposed to throw a couple of flakes of hay to the horses, but he got busy and forgot. So, when I came home, Silk was standing at the gate of the corral watching anxiously for my arrival. I didn’t see Siete until I walked up to Silk with some hay. There was my little horse, standing at the far corner of the pasture, four hooves on top of the snow like an ornament on a birthday cake. I called her to come get some hay. She was still as a statue.

I realized, oh my god, she's stuck, so I headed inside to put on my boots. My husband beat me to it, feeling guilty that he forgot to feed the girls. He grabbed a halter and lead rope and ventured out to rescue Siete. Each step, he sunk into the snow almost to his knees. When he reached Siete, she started shaking her head wildly. He petted her and whispered something in her ear. Did I mention that Siete is his girlfriend? She let him put on the halter and lead rope without any fuss.

I stood at the gate, worried that she would drag him but she wasn’t going to budge. Finally, he calmly and gently coaxed her to follow him. She took two steps on top of the ice and then, whoosh! Siete’s feet dropped into a soft spot in the snow, and she sank about a foot. After that, she was afraid to lift her leg again. I don’t know how he convinced her to try, but step by step, my husband patiently dragged the horse at a snail's pace across the white blanket. At the edge, where the snow ended and the small “runway” was cleared except for ice and mud, Siete started leaning on him like she couldn’t bear to take another step.

I was afraid she was going to explode as soon as she hit terra firma, but she waited until he unclipped the lead rope and stepped out of the way. Then, she took off running into the barn. Safe in her stall, Siete bucked and bucked and bucked and bucked. Then, she whinnied very loud at us. It was quite clear what she had to say about the whole experience.

I offered her a carrot to calm her rattled nerves, and I served dinner early to the girls. This morning, when I opened the stall door, Siete poked her head out and tossed her nose in the direction of the white blanket. I reminded her that there was nothing but trouble out there for her. She’s a smart little horse, so she stood at the edge of the snow for a long time today without lifting a hoof in that direction.

Soon, little darling, soon. Spring is right around the corner.

What Do the Trees Say?

The wind is howling through the trees again today. This winter, I have been very aware of the forest that hugs the back of our land. I often think that it rests an arm around us to keep us safe. The last six weeks have been all about the forces of nature here. We’ve had snow beyond our wildest dreams, followed by ice and power outages. At one point, the branches of the trees were coated with ice. When I walked out to the barn late one night to give the horses more hay, the forest was cracking and rattling and making so much noise. The trees were talking. The next morning, the wind was softer, and the conversation was more like a whisper.

The horses have had a really hard time, not being able to run at all or even walk very far into the pasture. The snow was almost as high as the fences. As everything melted, the ground that was cleared turned to ice. Silk slipped and almost fell a couple of times, so she’s sticking close to the barn. I am so thankful that both of the girls have remained in good spirits and are taking this all in stride. Every time I get cranky or frustrated, I go out and spend a few moments with them to restore my equilibrium.

It was so warm the last few days that I was finally able to take off the horses’ blankets. I was shocked. For the first time, Silk looked old to me. She seems frail, and we will have to work to get her back in shape when the snow is gone. I can’t believe that she will be 23 in April. Yesterday, as I brushed her, I was thinking back on all the cycles of all the seasons that we have been together. So much has happened in 13 years.

I am feeling that the lessons I have learned in my life keep circling back to make me go deeper and see more each time I face them. Watching the birds and the animals get through this difficult winter reminds me that no matter how great the challenges are, it’s our spirit and our will to live that helps us find the strength to move forward.

Looking around at all the political turmoil in our country and around the world, I am witnessing cycles of change that are much larger and have a greater impact than what’s happening in my small universe. Some are uplifting and some are frightening, but all are beyond my control. Yet, if we can only stay true to our own compass, treating everyone around us with kindness and doing what we can, we will collectively improve this tired old earth. I am constantly aware of all the bright, good people that come in and out of my life each day, making a difference even when things get really tough.

Listening to the wind this morning, resilience is the song that the trees are singing to me.

Thanks for the Award!

Thank you to Calm, Forward, Straight and to Juliette at Honeysuckle Faire for giving me the Stylish Blogger Award. In my frayed Gortex parka and polartec pants with the holes on the seams, I’m not exactly a Fashion Queen these days. I’m going to use the below zero temperatures and the snow that is falling yet again as an excuse for my tattered but waterproof outfit.

I know that this award has been making its way around the blogosphere, so I’m not going to attempt to send it on to anyone. I really enjoy CFS and Juliette’s blogs so much, and if you don’t already visit them, I encourage you to take a look. I was able to get to know both of them a little better from their responses to this award, and I think it’s a great distraction from what’s going on outside my back door right now. So with no further ado, here are 7 things you might not already know about me:

1. I really enjoyed being stylish when I lived in New York and Los Angeles. I was skinny, wore expensive black clothes and my hair was short, then long, then short, then whatever was considered hip at that moment. When I moved to San Diego and became a cowgirl, my godmother came to visit. She said, “Victoria, you were the most sophisticated woman I knew. What happened to you?” No regrets, not one.

2. I love to cook and bake. I enjoy reading a recipe and then taking artistic license with it. My friends and family aren’t complaining. It is especially fun to prepare food for large groups of hungry people. Recently, I’ve been trying some of the Pioneer Woman’s recipes and really liking them, even the ones with Mountain Dew as an ingredient. I’m adventuresome, although I usually try to stick with healthy, whole foods when I’m in the kitchen.

3. I’ve recently discovered the videos on the TED Conference website. “Ideas worth spreading”. Very thought provoking speakers, interesting music and some mental stimulation on these cold nights in front of the fire. It sure beats what’s on TV.

4. My other distraction as I sit cozy in my armchair with the logs blazing is to plan my garden. I look at those deep white blankets covering my flower beds and imagine all that compost that we spread before it froze giving nourishment to the soil and plants that are buried under it. Spring will be even more delightful than usual this year. I love the White Flower Farms website for dreaming about what I’m going to plant.

5. I live in a house filled with music. My husband and stepson are drummers. My daughter plays the guitar and sings. Recently, I’ve noticed that all my favorite musicians are growing older and grayer. The reality of it has been creeping up over the last few years. All those great guys, like Van Morrison, Lyle Lovett, Mark Knopfler, are still recording but soon there will come a day when they’ll decide that they’re done. I just watched a movie called “It Might Get Loud” which has the elegant, white-haired Jimmy Page in it. Like good wine, they just get better as they age and mellow, so I’m going to take time to appreciate them now while they’re still around. Luckily, I have my daughter and stepson to keep me clued into who’s young and talented,

6. I’m paying too much attention to my cat. He’s the only animal left in the house this winter, and there’s a good reason that his name is Velcro. Either he’s draped around my neck like an orange fur scarf or spread across my legs like a fuzzy lap-warmer. I am the center of his world, which is flattering but also comes with too much loud meowing.

7. I’m expending a lot of energy being hopeful these days. There’s too much gloom and fear and arguing going on in the world. Hope needs to be stirred up and cultivated on a daily basis in order to drown out all the negativity that bombards us now that we have all this information available to us constantly at our fingertips. If you have something good to say, now is the time to speak up!

I’m going to throw another log on the fire and continue to hibernate. Silk and Siete are standing in the corral, with snow all over their noses. I tried to get a picture of them, but the battery on the camera needs to be charged. It’s been snowing one inch per hour, and this isn’t even the “big” storm. We’ll be getting ready for that one to hit us tomorrow night. I think I’ll start looking for some new recipes to try.

World of White

I grew up on the outskirts of Chicago, so I know about snow. I still have a snapshot of my dad, who was 6’1”, standing on our patio in a snow tunnel that is a foot taller than his head. My parents hated snow and eventually moved to Florida, where they sat by the pool each winter and teased their friends and relatives who were still stuck in the Midwest. I didn’t get it. I loved the snow, especially building snowmen and igloos. sledding and skating on an ice rink that we made in our backyard. One of the things that I missed when I lived in California was “real winter”.

So, here I am now, dragging hay through snow tunnels above my waist, dealing with the biggest snowfall that our town has had in 20 years. I’m still vividly remembering how it felt on Wednesday morning as I crawled out to the barn to reach the horses in the heart of the storm. I was smart enough to bring their hay and breakfast into the house the night before so I wouldn’t have to get to the garage and tack room before I beat my way towards the barn. I was wearing knee high rubber boots, waterproof pants and a Gortex parka, but I was sinking into drifts that were almost to my shoulders. My method was to shovel two or three feet to make a path, turn back and move the bucket full of hay, wipe the fog and snow off my glasses and then shovel a little more. It was very slow going. There was a moment where I couldn’t see the barn or the house. I felt like Nanook of the North.

To make matters worse, I was still worrying about something that I saw the night before. As I was putting the horses to bed, I noticed that in the snow in the corral, one of them had peed and it was a kind of carrot orange color. It freaked me out, so I went back into the house and leaped on the Internet to see if anyone had anything to say about the this weird colored urine. I was thinking urinary tract infection. There were a few articles about it, mentioning dehydration as a possible explanation and claiming there was no cause for alarm. Both horses were eating and pooping and drinking normally. Just to be sure, I had checked on them around 10 pm as the storm was just starting the night before. They were both fine.

Now, as I approached the barn, Silk stuck her head out but I didn’t see Siete. My little horse always pokes her head over the stall door the minute that I come out of the house each morning. I’d been shoveling and inching my way to the barn for over an hour, and there was no sign of her. It made me panic. Frantically pushing in the blinding snow, my mind went to the worst. If she was down or had colicked, how would I get help? My fear enabled me to reach the corral gate with a surge of energy like a mother animal trying to protect her young. As I shoved against the gate to squeeze through it, the little stinker ambled across her stall to the door, giving me a look that said, “What took you so long?” Tossing the hay into the barn, I felt the rush of victory while the path that I had just carved was disappearing in the insane onslaught of white from the sky.

I barely made it back to the house. Once it stopped snowing, my husband, my daughter and I spent at least eight hours digging. We had to pull 30 inches of snow off the roof of the barn because we were worried it would collapse. Silk ran into the corral when I got the doors open,and the snow was covering her up over her back. She stood still, not knowing what to do. “Don’t expect me to come and rescue you!” I told her. Eventually, she got up the nerve to push her way out and hid herself back in the barn. After two days, we still haven’t been able to dig open the gates to the pasture, and the snow out there has drifted about four feet deep. I’m trying to figure out how to exercise the horses as they grow more antsy and pent-up.

All the local stores are sold out of snowblowers. Our tractor, which has a plow is still broken. My husband has contacted his buddy, an old retired mechanic known around here as “Tractor Man”, who collects and repairs lawn equipment. He has an old Craftsman with treads that he refers to as “the beast”. He’s almost got it running, so I hope that soon we’ll be able to blast a small runway from the corral into the pasture. I have to admit that I’m beginning to understand how my parents felt after they lived through 36 winters with snow like this.

All of you in parts of the country where the temperatures are above 60 degrees can go ahead and gloat now.

Good Horse

I’ve been looking back over 2010 and reviewing how the year went with my horses. Certainly, life dealt me a full hand, and we didn’t progress as far as I had hoped. Yet, as we face this winter’s challenges, I feel a definitely stronger bond and a shift in my horses’ attitudes. So, despite the long list of “I wish I had’s” from last year, I am also proud of what we were able to accomplish.

Both horses are completely comfortable to be in their stalls with me, and I know that all the time we spent sharing territory in the pasture contributes to the relaxed atmosphere in the barn. They like to be together in the same stall, and when I join them, it used to be a bit claustrophobic. This winter, I think that they welcome me to come in with them. Everybody respects each other’s space but at the same time, being close together is calming and has the same warm connection that I got when they joined me next to my chair as I read in the pasture last summer.

Siete wants to do things with me. We are starting to practice Carolyn Resnick’s Uberstreichen Exercises, which she developed to help create flexion and responsiveness from the horse. They are the perfect activity for these days when it’s not possible to ride. Carolyn has been a huge influence on my life with my horses, as you know, and her wisdom and teaching continually strikes the right chord for us and seems to come at just the moment when we need it.

One important lesson that she has taught me is to appreciate and allow for the pause. I understand that if I ask and Siete doesn’t respond, I must take a little break. It gives her time to think about what I wanted. Usually, I just walk away and then come back. If I ask again and she doesn’t give me the response that I am looking for, I may have to leave and come back a few times. It’s almost like I can see the wheels turning in Siete’s head as she tries to understand what I’m asking her to do. There’s no pressure, no recriminations. I just give her the gift of time to think about my request. She reminds me of my daughter learning an algebra problem. Sometimes, it takes a few tries and some more explanation before it sinks in. Siete wants to please, and I’m always very enthusiastic when she responds to my request. She is like a kid, getting all jazzed up and happy when she gets it right.

I have also started to only use one word to let the horses know that I’m pleased with them. I noticed that when I tell them that they are “good”, they both seem to respond positively to it. Their ears come forward and they visibly brighten if I say “Good horse!” So, that’s our code to indicate that I’m happy, and I only use it for that purpose. Silk, especially, appears to soften and relax whenever I announce that she’s “good”. I don’t know why, but it works.

Thinking back over the time I’ve spent learning from Carolyn this year, I am reminded of a wonderful phrase that I heard Clarissa Pinkola Estes say: “Listen to me now. Believe me later.”