She Has a Story

So this pretty girl has a story. She is going on 29 years old, (if she isn't there already.) We bought her for my son when he was still in high school. She is a great horse, but he found another one he wanted at the time that was more suited for him. So I said, "Go ahead and get her, but that means Juliee is mine." He did pay for the other horse himself, but he was still in high school and he and all the horses were in fact still living here, so I felt justified in taking claim to Juliee. 

Juliee was once a 4H/barrel racing horse with her previous owner. She loved to run when she was younger and has always loved rides. She is probably the best horse we have ever had. She loves to ride, she spooks at virtually nothing, balks at nothing and comes when she sees me. She saddles easily and does everything I ask. She has always been an easy keeper. And I think she loves me.

The truth is, she has been a great horse for me as I age, as I don't quite ride like I did when I was young. "We are just two old grey mares," I always say, "so we don't ride aggressively."

I just felt like talking about her, today. This is probably our last season together. She is missing teeth and colics more easily, as is common with horses as they age. She has gone from the "easy keeper" to the most expensive animal or hobby that we have ever owned. But she has been worth every penny. Not sure hubby would agree.

Anyway, she colicked badly this spring, just after she made it through that harsh winter. The vet came and got her through the colic with all the stuff they do. But both the vet and I felt there was something more going on, when the next day she was still not back to normal. Not at all like the other colics we had experienced. So, back to our home the vet came. We did the minimal testing in light of her age and considering if the expense would be worth only a few more years of life. The blood work we *did* do, all came back normal. Vet was stumped and said Juliee would have to go to clinic for more tests to know for sure what was wrong. The vet thought maybe she had a stroke, or a neck injury that could cause stroke like symptoms.(Too complicated for me.) I couldn't justify the expense.

She wasn't really in any pain it seemed, so we opted to watch her a couple days to see if anything changed. In those days, I made a couple calls to the vet and they went above and beyond the call of duty in the amount of time they spent with me and my probably really stupid questions. One call was probably a 45 minute phone call on a Sunday, no less.

I don't remember the exact time frame, but one vet told me, I think it might be time to put her down. I agreed. We just couldn't justify the expense at her age and I didn't want her to suffer. Somewhere in there, the farrier had come to trim her feet and agreed she may have had a stroke.

On the final call I made to the vet to ask them to come put her down, the vet told me I could give her a round of steroids pretty cheaply as a last ditch effort. I said yes, and went out to the clinic to get them.

Long story, not so short. The week of steroids worked! We thought we may have to continue them through the summer, but at least she would have one last season with us after being such a trooper through the long winter. As it turned out she didn't need any further treatment.

But I was convinced I would never ride her again...she was still doing stroke like things periodically, i.e. some stumbling and some confusion. I was happy just to have her. The vet had told me no more hay, as she was missing teeth and not chewing well which was probably what caused the colic. So now she is strictly on only grain and Alfalfa/Timothy pellets. Now that spring and summer are here, she can also graze the shorter grass in the pasture.

This plan was to be just for the summer. "I will put her down in the fall," I told the vet. I didn't want her going through another tough winter... especially without having something to graze and keep her busy through the long snowy days.

So anyway, we watched her carefully through April and May, with this plan in mind. But she was steadily improving and had no need of more steroids. The farrier came again and was amazed at her agility for an arthritic horse of her age. "Do you think I should ride her?" I asked him, feeling he had more knowledge than me.

"You know her best," he replied. "Just watch her and be sensitive to her."

So I am not gonna lie. I have stewed and wondered; stressed and worried about riding her. I just don't want to hurt her. Or do anything that causes her any harm. But as I've watched her the last couple weeks or so, she honestly looks better and is acting better than she has in probably two years. It is absolutely amazing.

Today I bit the bullet, and decided to take her for a short ride. Yes I was nervous. But when I swung up in that saddle (not at all gracefully, I'm sure ) and I saw she was ready to go with ears forward, I knew I had made the right decision. She wanted to go out the gate instead of staying in pasture. But I didn't want to do that just yet, until I could see how she fared the ride.

Truthfully, I feel like she is a miracle horse... And the words keep coming back to me that I once read somewhere. "God gave you a horse to ride, now ride."

So we did. She seemed to enjoy it. It really isn't about riding for me any more. It's about the feel of the reins, the creek of the saddle and the nostalgia and memories of better rides when I was younger. It's about being in the fresh air and nice weather as my horse and I watch and feel the same things. At my age, it's kinda about knowing we are still able and that she let me and was in it with me...or maybe just *for* me.

We won't ride as much this summer. It'll be on cool mornings, or soft evenings. And it won't be far and it won't be long and it most certainly won't be hard. But the payoff for a horse like this isn't in the rides anyway. It's in the love she gives.

Meanwhile, Back At Mama's

 I absolutely love this song. 

I read somewhere once, that Tim McGraw doesn't write many of his own songs (if any) but that he always chooses a song that means something to him and that he can relate to. I think that is certainly obvious in all of the songs that have made him the star that he is.

He is one of my very favorite artists for just that reason. Out of all the artists that are my favorite, I think his songs hit my heart the most.

Certainly this one does....outside of the cigarettes and beer. lol That was never a part of my childhood home...but I sure like to think of the days back at Mama's. 

I hope my kids do, too.

Enjoy!

The Barefoot Boy

Long time, (from my youth!) favorite poem.

The Barefoot Boy

BY JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER

Blessings on thee, little man,

Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan!

With thy turned-up pantaloons,

And thy merry whistled tunes;

With thy red lip, redder still

Kissed by strawberries on the hill;

With the sunshine on thy face,

Through thy torn brim’s jaunty grace;

From my heart I give thee joy,—

I was once a barefoot boy!

Prince thou art,—the grown-up man

Only is republican.

Let the million-dollared ride!

Barefoot, trudging at his side,

Thou hast more than he can buy

In the reach of ear and eye,—

Outward sunshine, inward joy:

Blessings on thee, barefoot boy!

Oh for boyhood’s painless play,

Sleep that wakes in laughing day,

Health that mocks the doctor’s rules,

Knowledge never learned of schools,

Of the wild bee’s morning chase,

Of the wild-flower’s time and place,

Flight of fowl and habitude

Of the tenants of the wood;

How the tortoise bears his shell,

How the woodchuck digs his cell,

And the ground-mole sinks his well;

How the robin feeds her young,

How the oriole’s nest is hung;

Where the whitest lilies blow,

Where the freshest berries grow,

Where the ground-nut trails its vine,

Where the wood-grape’s clusters shine;

Of the black wasp’s cunning way,

Mason of his walls of clay,

And the architectural plans

Of gray hornet artisans!

For, eschewing books and tasks,

Nature answers all he asks;

Hand in hand with her he walks,

Face to face with her he talks,

Part and parcel of her joy,—

Blessings on the barefoot boy!

Oh for boyhood’s time of June,

Crowding years in one brief moon,

When all things I heard or saw,

Me, their master, waited for.

I was rich in flowers and trees,

Humming-birds and honey-bees;

For my sport the squirrel played,

Plied the snouted mole his spade;

For my taste the blackberry cone

Purpled over hedge and stone;

Laughed the brook for my delight

Through the day and through the night,

Whispering at the garden wall,

Talked with me from fall to fall;

Mine the sand-rimmed pickerel pond,

Mine the walnut slopes beyond,

Mine, on bending orchard trees,

Apples of Hesperides!

Still as my horizon grew,

Larger grew my riches too;

All the world I saw or knew

Seemed a complex Chinese toy,

Fashioned for a barefoot boy!

Oh for festal dainties spread,

Like my bowl of milk and bread;

Pewter spoon and bowl of wood,

On the door-stone, gray and rude!

O’er me, like a regal tent,

Cloudy-ribbed, the sunset bent,

Purple-curtained, fringed with gold,

Looped in many a wind-swung fold;

While for music came the play

Of the pied frogs’ orchestra;

And, to light the noisy choir,

Lit the fly his lamp of fire.

I was monarch: pomp and joy

Waited on the barefoot boy!

Cheerily, then, my little man,

Live and laugh, as boyhood can!

Though the flinty slopes be hard,

Stubble-speared the new-mown sward,

Every morn shall lead thee through

Fresh baptisms of the dew;

Every evening from thy feet

Shall the cool wind kiss the heat:

All too soon these feet must hide

In the prison cells of pride,

Lose the freedom of the sod,

Like a colt’s for work be shod,

Made to tread the mills of toil,

Up and down in ceaseless moil:

Happy if their track be found

Never on forbidden ground;

Happy if they sink not in

Quick and treacherous sands of sin.

Ah! that thou couldst know thy joy,

Ere it passes, barefoot boy!

Nothing to Dread

 

I absolutely dreaded the thought of it. Winter had been extremely difficult so far this year and now the local weather man was forecasting several more days of frigid temperatures. We had already had one week of single digit and below zero temps and now we were going to have to deal with it again. UGH! We had had lots of snow in December during which both my husband and I had been ill the entire month. It had made shoveling and other winter tasks that much more difficult. I was not ready for more cold.

During the first cold spell, I had worried incessantly about my 28 year old mare. She had a good thick winter coat, and good weight, but her age caused me to wonder if she would be able to withstand that degree of cold. I have never blanketed her, not really trusting that is the best thing. That old debate among equestrians will probably never be resolved. I am of the mind, that as she gets older, I will probably have to do that; but I didn’t have a blanket for her this year and I have wanted to hold off, if she was doing well without one.

But anyway, with the most recent forecast of the weather, I knew I needed to get out to the barn and make things as comfortable for her as possible. That was what I was dreading this morning. I looked at the forecast again, and knew the temps would be dropping as we moved further into the day. I had almost waited too long. So I swallowed my last bit of coffee and bundled up in my work coat and leather gloves to go get the job done. As I headed out the door, I could feel the wind strongly blowing and I knew I made the right decision to not wait a moment longer. It was not going to get any warmer as we moved further into the day, which would typically be the norm. 

It was a beautiful day with clear blue skies and the sun was glistening on the mountains. Juliee was frisky and happy to see me. She was following me around like a little puppy dog as she so often does. I would have to give her a bit of grain to keep her distracted so she wouldn’t be in my way. Hmmm, no wonder she pesters me. She has this old gray “mare” trained well.

I got busy at my job of cleaning out the old pine shavings in her stall. I love it every morning when I go out to feed and I see shavings stuck to her coat, because then I know she has been resting in her stall. I brush them off feeling pleased that she has been comfortable for the night. This is a relatively new thing for us...Oh, not the shavings. I do that every winter. But that she is actually using them is new. I suspect this is due to her age and she is more inclined to stay in on winter nights now than she was in the past.

As I worked, I found myself more and more happy to be exactly where I was, doing what I was doing. I absolutely love hanging out in our barn. I try to absorb the feel, the aromas, and I relive each and every memory that the barn experience brings back to me. It just feels so good to be doing good things for your critters. It still amazes me how much contentment it brings hearing the munch of hay, or watching a splash of the water as my horse tests it before she takes a drink. I love the joy it brings to be outside in our amazing surroundings as I shovel pine shavings and poop! YES! I love it.

I once said to a friend, “I hope I get to shovel manure forever.” “Why???” she had exclaimed, crinkling her face and looking at me like I was nuts. She didn’t get it. I thought it was simple to understand. For one, it meant I had a horse. Two, I would still be able to physically care for that horse. And absorb all the joy that care brings. It would mean I am still alive and so was my horse!

Juliee and I had finally reached a great set-up. I feed her in one barn and have dry warm shavings in the other. I have little to no manure in the barn where she now sleeps. But I do like to put in dry shavings, periodically and that is what I need to do today. Not sure which one of us figured out this is the best solution. But this barn is where she goes when she wants to be out of the rain, snow or cold...and to sleep.

As I worked, I tried to pay attention where any wind might blow through and I found means to block it. This horse was going to be as warm as I could keep her when 0 degrees hit us tonight. With everything ready, it was time for the new dry shavings. They were still in my car. And I was thankful I had thought to start it to defrost windows, so I could easily drive the shavings over. As I opened the gate, I saw a hinge was loose from the weight of the snow, I guess. Spring job for hubby, I noted to myself. But I love this old gate… It just feels so…farm like and nostalgic.

As I spread the shavings, satisfaction filled my soul. Sorry. I don’t mean to sound dramatic at such a mundane task. But it isn’t mundane to me. It is the aspect of taking good care of something you love. Doing the right thing. Working hard in inclement weather. I wasn’t even cold in this old barn. Maybe she wouldn’t be either.

It didn’t take me long; maybe 90 minutes or so. And I found myself wondering why in the heck do I ever think I dread this! What in the world would I be doing if I lived in town and didn’t have acreage. That is the thing to dread. This is something that keeps me alive.