The Magic of Christmas

It was a fantastically windy afternoon, rain starting, a storm was moving in, and I was standing at the upper dry lot calling out for Bodie and Pinkie who had set off on an unsanctioned tour of the neighboring ranch.

I was wearing ear muffs and my hood pulled overhead, and yelled louder just to hear myself. My calls went unheard, carried away in the opposite direction by the wind.

I stopped calling and fretting for a moment. All was silent, and muffled, just the wind whistling through the needles of the pine trees and the berries of the junipers.

I turned and there she was. A big momma deer was standing at the fence inside the dry lot. She looked at me as if to ask if she would be okay jumping over the fence and continuing on her journey. I smiled and said nothing.

Like magic she lifted herself up and over the fence. There was no running start, no grunt as she launched herself over, no exhalation or loud thump as she hit the ground and no sound of a push as she skipped off.

She just rose, tucked her legs under her earth colored plump body, glided over the top of the 4' fence and landed, without a sound.

Was I momentarily deaf?

It was poetic in every sense. It was a cartoon rendition, a claymation skit, a hand drawn illustration, a dream we've all had, wrapped in one.

My jaw dropped at the vision, the silence, the tranquility, the grace, the magic powder she used to fly like that.

Maybe that is what the magic of Christmas is.

It's beauty, peace, love, kindness, humility and joy. We don't have to search hard for it. If we stand still, be quiet, breathe deeply, open our eyes, open our hearts, the magic will come to us and unfold.

Joy to the World

I'm a pretty regular looker of craigslist these days keeping an eye out for smoking deals on ranch necessities. One could interpret that as looking for another horse.

Lately I've been looking at the "Wanted" section. I never knew this section existed. But you know what they say, one person's no longer needed is another's treasure.

There I found an extremely well written posting by this woman asking for any returnables: bottles and cans. She explained that her husband had lost his job, at no fault of his own, and this was the first time that they may not be able to make their mortgage payment. They have children and are struggling to make ends meet.

I told Larry about this posting and reminded him about his healthy growing collection of bags of returnables, a collection he improves upon daily. He organizes the bags by product, counts them out 50 per bag and even writes "50" on the outside. We decided this family could really benefit from his organizational talent.

Katie called me back and we made arrangements to drive the bags to her house that evening. The back of the pick up truck was full, full, of bulging bags, not really like Santa's sleigh but you could stretch your imagination.

The tall Ponderosa pine in front of Katie's house was thoughtfully strung with lights, probably the same as years before, like nothing was different. Their picture window was decorated in children's art work, reminding us to hope and dream.

Out came Katie, expecting another child, carrying a little bag of her own.

We stacked 12 bags of returnables in front of her garage. She thanked us endlessly and gave me the little bag. "Merry Christmas!" she said.

Katie baked us cookies, gave us a bottle of her home-made strawberry jam bottled just last month, and included a hand-made card that read JOY.

This is the perfect Christmas gift.

Happy Holidays

I say it. I say "Happy Holidays!"

Back when I was in my early 20s, there was a year that unique hand-made ornaments were the gifts I sought out for my friends for Christmas. I looked for weeks for the perfect ornament for each friend.

I had recently met a new friend, Suzanne. I admired her very much, as i still do, and was looking forward to giving her one of my carefully mined gifts. I went to her cozy apartment in Brookline one night and found her simple decorative lights charming and tasteful. No signs of wreaths or stockings or Santa wrapping paper though.

Suzanne opened her gift with grace and appreciation. She marveled at the delicate intricacy of the ornament, admired it for its artistic value. Politely she noted that she doesn't have a Christmas tree. Huh.

She had never had a Christmas tree; why would she? She was raised in the Jewish faith. Suzanne found a safe place on a shelf to mount the ornament that had no flat foundation, after all, it was meant to hang on a Christmas tree.

Needless to say, the Merry Christmas card which accompanied the ornament was a little out of place too.

From this year on, I became aware of the fact that not everyone celebrated Christmas. Obvious as it may seem now, 20 some odd years ago I didn't have too many friends outside of gentiles. I made a point to find cards that read something other than Merry Christmas.

Then Glenn married Rene and although they have agreed to have a tree in the house, it is not for the "Christmas" reason but for the beauty and elegance of a family decorated tree.

Stacey married Scott. And the list has grown.

Everyone has a right to celebrate something this time of year, be it a recognized holiday or holy day or just to celebrate the fact that consumerism is at its peak right about now and you can get some pretty great shopping done regardless of faith or practice.

My take is this: unless you are at work in a public office where church and state are in fact to be separate, say what it is you want to say during this season.

When you send your greeting out to someone, say it with the practice of Dana in mind. Dana is unconditional generosity or giving; it's a Buddhist practice of seeking nothing in return. This is believed to lead to greater spiritual wealth.

So instead of waiting for someone to trip up and not respond the way you are expecting them to, do not expect. Just send your greeting out with all the love, compassion, sincerity and the biggest smile you can muster. And that should feel pretty good.

The Universe Rules

It was a trying day on the ranch today. One of the horses had what we think was a seizure and another has been acting "off." These kinds of things can really drain your energy and get your heart racing.

But, sitting on the other side of the rainbow was an overflowing pot of happy gold!

Last night I was perusing the craigslist for sale listings in farm and garden (of course, what else?) and saw the heading "Missing Red Aussi/Heeler."

As you might imagine, I pulled up the listing and saw the most adorable face on the photo staring back at me. He looked just like Pinkie, my new Australian Shepherd/Heeler mix.

The family had just moved to a new home only a couple of miles from us. The dog was out playing with the kids and for some reason ran off. The kids followed him for a mile and lost him. The number on the dog's tag was their old number, not yet transferred to the new house, so they listed their cell phone numbers on the craigslist posting.

Frankly I don't know what's happening to me, but these animals are just tugging all lengths of my heart strings.

I started asking the universe, "Please bring this dog to me or send him to someone who read the same listing." I asked several times last night and again today "please" "please" "please."

I was just telling Brian, our eternal contractor, about this dog and said, "I just hope to look out and see him coming up the driveway."

Moments later, I came in the house and before I could take my coat off, Larry was telling me about this sweet dog "that looks just like Pinkie!" that our friends April and Richard have. "What dog?!" "They found a dog in their hay barn and he looks just like Pinkie."

I brought up the photo on craigslist and showed Larry, "Is this him?" "Yes, that's the dog they have."

My heart was racing, my coat still on, hat still on, and I called April and left her a message, "I know who the owner is!"

Because April was out at an appointment and Larry said there was no one at the telephone number that April called (as I explained) I just could not wait, I had to call the cell number in the posting.

Rayna was ecstatic. As it turns out Mity was only a half mile or so from his house. Rayna went to collect him an hour ago and although April had already decided she could keep this dog (along with her other 3 dogs and 5 cats and 25+ alpacas) Mity and Rayna were joyfully reunited.

Mity didn't come to me directly but he went where he knew he'd be found: April's (Informal) Animal Rescue.

You see, the universe does listen and she delivers. She rules!

Something Beautiful to Share with You

Go in and in.
Be the space
between two cells,
the vast, resounding
silence in which
spirit dwells.
Be sugar dissolving
on the tongue of life.
Dive in and in,
as deep as you can dive.
Be infinite, ecstatic truth.
Be love conceived and born in union.
Be exactly what you seek,
the Beloved singing Yes,
tasting Yes, embracing Yes,
until there is only essence;
the All of Everything
expressing through you
as you. Go in and in
and turn away from
nothing that you find.

By Danna Faulds

Happy Sweet 16, Pooker!

It's hard to believe...Pooker is 16 today. She is a healthy, happy, assertive and very pretty cockatiel.

It was 1994 and I was in Seattle over the winter holidays visiting my friend, Justine. My parakeet of 8 years, Misha, had died that spring. That was quite sad. It was the first time (unfortunately not the last) that I had to make the decision to euthanize an animal. Besides being sad, it was traumatic.

So Justine in her just get it done manner took me to this parrot market "just to look" at birds. I really was in no mood to acquire another bird. Until I met the girl. She was just a month old and the parrot porter was taking her out of a box and putting her in a cage. Younger than this, they do not have the dexterity and strength to hold themselves up on a perch.

He put her on my hand and she immediately scurried up my arm and onto my shoulder and as many birds will, she nestled deep into the nape of my neck. It was darling. There I stayed with her for some time.

The next day, we went back: "just to look." We opened the cage and she did the same thing. Trouble. I really wanted to take this bird home but I was living in the dorm at Mt. Holyoke at the time, sharing a suite with Jill. Oh, and there was a no pets rule (Misha excluded.)

I called Jill from Justine's land line--my cell phone only worked in my car-- "what do you think?" Jill was easy going and a mom of 4 and was quite open to a new addition to our sunny 2 bedroom suite overlooking the apple orchard. Then there was the flight back to Boston to consider. Mind you, it was 1994, pre-TSA.

We took her, well first let me say this, the parrot porter said he was almost certain Pooker was a he. Anyway, we bought the necessary accessories for my new cockatiel and took her back to Justine's house. I had fantasized about another bird and had a few names already picked out. We tried calling her Colvin. Nah. Miles. Nope. And she cried and cried. What had I done?! A baby bird who eats formula from a syringe! To comfort her I made cooing sounds and out came Pooker.

Oh, the story of getting her back to Boston. I had to ask the flight attendant for hot water so I could make her formula during our layover. Then I had to defend my new bird when another flight attendant into Boston insisted that I put her cage under the seat in front of me in freezing winter weather. I most certainly did not. No air marshals or vigilante passengers to worry about.

Pooker became a love to all, or most, who lived at Dickinson Hall. Anne-Sophie would come get her and bring her to her room while she studied. For the most part, we all denied any knowledge of a bird living amongst us.

She stayed with friends and family while I went on a 6 week cross country trip with Alina. The next year Pooker moved with me back to Boston. She stayed with my folks while I lived in Argentina and still when I returned to the US and traveled for work for 2 more years. Then my folks brought her out to me in Long Beach. Now here in Bend she is back to her Pacific Northwest roots.

Yes, Pooker is a she. Sometimes it still catches those who knew her back then off guard; they want to say "he." But when I uncovered her one morning and found an egg and then found another 8 over the course of 2 weeks, we were pretty sure she was a girl.

She has given us many stories and laughs. She is an affectionate creature who loves to be kissed and cuddled. A cockatiel can fit in the palm of your hand, and there she will sit perfectly comfortable and unafraid.

To all of you who have cared for her or played with her or just know her through stories, she joyously celebrated her 16th year full of all of our love and kindness.

Happy Birthday girl!

Girl Power!

Okay, so you may not be into horse racing--I'm not so big on it myself-- but today will be an amazing race to watch: Breeders' Cup Classic.

Zenyatta will be racing. What's the big deal?

She is 19-0, and many fans, myself included, are praying for 20-0. It would just be the most incredible win.

Zenyatta is a 6 year old mare who stands 17.2 hands tall. One hand equals 4", measured from the front hoof to the withers. She's tall. She loves people, which you can see in her pre-race dancing and her post-race posing for enthusiastic fans.

She won the Breeders' Cup Classic last year, the first time a mare has won, beating out all the geldings and stallions. Girl power!

What is so goosebump inducing, is to watch her race. She heads around the track usually in the last spot or somewhere back there and then when it really matters, she kicks up the gears and shoots out past every other horse to win.

Her jockey, Mike Smith, said he has yet to see all of her gears and says he's not sure he wants to! In response to critics who say she doesn't win by huge landslides, Smith says Zenyatta runs as fast as she needs to to win.

So, as I wait for the starting time at Churchill Downs, I feel nervous. I feel nervous for her, for her jockey, for her owners and trainer, for all of her fans who make signs and wave them as she parades by, and nervous for the other horses.

This will be an exciting race, no matter the outcome. I can't get enough of Zenyatta!

Here is a link to last year's race and some post-race footage. It's very worth watching if only for the minutes of the race. Zenyatta is with the yellow #4 blanket: www.youtube.com/watch?v=gt-88DTxeYs

If this link does not work, go to http://www.youtube.com/ and just search for Zenyatta Breeders' Cup 2009.

Once you watch her, you'll want to watch the other videos of her pre-race dancing, the webcam on the helmet of the trainer riding her, and her other races. You too won't be able to get enough!

Go Zenyatta!

It's Not Easy Waking a Sleeping Chicken

A typical ranch day, if there is such a thing, concludes with counting all six chickens and locking up their pen.

Just before dusk they all make their way back to their hen house and climb in, make a heck of a ruckus organizing themselves, and then they settle in for the night. I count them up just to be sure all have returned, and then close their gate so no night-time predator can create its own ruckus with my hens.

It has been getting darker earlier and I was behind in my evening duties. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. 5? 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Hmmmmmm. It's Alice. Where is she? It was hard to see and to top it off, Alice is black and white.

I set out calling her, looking in all the places they visit throughout the day, under tree roots, under cars and trailers, in the creek, by the horse snack dishes (see photo.) Was it that monster hawk who got her?

Lately, my hens have been laying their eggs up in my hay bales. They have 4 perfectly comfortable and sheltered nesting boxes, but apparently they've tired of them. For days I was wondering if they had stopped laying eggs as there weren't any in the hen house when I would go collect them. It didn't make sense. My hens weren't quite a year into their laying.

Then one day I followed the hens out of their pen in the morning and watched one head straight for the hay shed, hop up a few bales, climb onto a wood post (see another photo) and then go down between the wood sides and the hay bales and tuck herself into a hole created in the hay bales (see other photo.) When she finally came out, I looked in and found 5 eggs! The jackpot.

So now, I climb in between the wood sides and hay bales and slowly lower myself down as to not catch myself on the snags on the wood and reach in, blindly because the space is so tight I can't turn my head, and retrieve the eggs.

Well, back to this evening of missing Alice. It dawned on me, maybe she's in her nesting spot. I look in from the horse lot beside and there she is, sleeping. I can't leave her there overnight, she'd be exposed to the feral cats, raccoons, and whatever else would climb in to bother a chicken. I couldn't climb in to get her because I had seen Bodie climb in there and a startled chicken fly out and that wasn't pretty on account of the lack of room to maneuver.

So there I stood, on the other side of the posts calling to the sleeping chicken: "Alice!" "Kiss Kiss Kiss" "Wake up girl!" "yooooo hooooo!"

It's not easy to wake a sleeping chicken. In fact, they tell you that the easiest way to catch a chicken or rooster is at night...if you can reach them.

So I took a stick and pushed it through to the hay and got her to perk up a bit. Then I had to scare her to get her out. Ugh. She jumped out, over the bales, down to the ground and ran straight for the hen house--and they can run as fast as 9 mph.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. Clink went the gate lock.

Now, we have 6 ducks and a goose. They swim in the pond. Can you imagine what it's like trying to round them up to get them in at night? There is an owl that perches overhead; they seem oblivious. I have spent lots of time going from one end of the pond to the other trying to get them out. And look! They can swim clear to the middle! (see duck photo)

Despite how it may appear, my days are never the same.

Wild Animal Kingdom

I know I've said before that ranch life can be harsh, but the sweet birds at my feeder?!

We moved the bird feeder to the front of the house as the side patio is being worked on. It's pleasing to look out at the birds feeding while I myself am feeding at the dining table.

No sooner did I tell Larry the story that a Stellar Jay had come in and spooked off the smaller birds so I spooked off the Jay and the little ones quickly returned, than a falcon swooped in fast and furious, chased a small bird off and out over the pasture, caught it, and took it down to the ground and we must assume ate it based on the rough and tumble we saw going on!

Harsh!

We sat with our jaws dropped. It happened right in front of our eyes. We had to assume it was a falcon. What other bird the size of a large dove would eat a live bird?

A few minutes later, it came back, swooping through, and perched itself in the branches of one of the Junipers beside the house. I took the binoculars to be sure, and yes, it was a falcon. I went out and shooed it away, making threatening noises and clapping. It flew out over the pasture again and landed in a tree to the west. Eventually it moved on.

But really? Pretty little birds at the feeder being picked off by a falcon?

And I thought my biggest concern was the monster hawk scouting out the chickens and ducks.

Well, it is a wild animal kingdom, after all. But maybe we relocate the feeder.

Felon is Gone

Yesterday we opened the earth in our front pasture, at the base of a Juniper tree, and we put Felon to rest. Several horses came over to see what was going on. We took time to give thanks for having Felon in our life, recalled how she came to us and how much she changed since being with us. We recalled some of our favorite stories of our time with her and some of her daily patterns that were so entertaining. We found joy in that just last weekend she was out burying a bone with plans of retrieving it later. Such optimism!

Felon became ill a few weeks ago. Or rather, her illness started to show then. Her health declined rapidly and I tried anything to stop it from progressing. I discovered she sure did love cheesecake!

It became obvious on Wednesday that her time with me was coming to an end. I had been praying to the universe to either give her strength to recover or to allow her to pass on peacefully at home without the assistance of a vet. You have no idea how much I asked for this.

In the evening, she was beside me on the sofa and I unlocked my heart to let her go. She felt my message and later responded as she was waiting to do.

In the midst of handling her death, I went to the computer and sent an email to a few friends and family. Here it is.

It's 4:05am and Felon has gone to the peaceful world of dog heaven.

She came to my room at 1:30am and she just stood at the door. Her walk down the hall was all she could muster. I carried her to the patio door to go out but she didn't make any motion to go, she just lay down.

She was so gracious in letting me know she was ready.

The sweetest moment was when Bodie came over and lay down beside her, licked her face and rested his head on her head and stayed still. There they were, side by side, beside me, all of us with full understanding. That was a gift. It was so precious.

I brought her bed into the living room beside the sofa and I stroked her until we both fell asleep.

Something woke me up at 3:36am and I saw she had changed position and I could tell she was gone. She was still warm and soft, so it had only been a short time.

It is a peaceful hour. She spared me the responsibility of having to make the decision I knew would be necessary today. Bodie is respectful in leaving her be. He came to her when I moved her onto another blanket, he gave her a kiss, and he is by the door thinking about whatever it is sweet young loving dogs think about.

I thank the universe for taking her in this way. She crossed over as a very happy, loved, ready dog, friend, companion, protector and teacher. She did the job of my dog, my first dog, to the highest standard; she excelled.

We all miss her assertive and gentle presence on the ranch.

Thank you to all of you who have loved her.

With a calm sadness in my heart,

It's Beautiful

This is what I have been saying all day as I was glued to my laptop watching live feed of the rescue of the miners in Chile. "It's beautiful."

I couldn't come up with any other expression. As I stood in front of my screen with goosebumps and teary eyes watching yet another miner reach the top of the shoot in the capsula, I would say, "this is beautiful" or "it's beautiful" or "wow, this is so beautiful."

The impact of hundreds of people from all walks of life working ferociously on a common goal hit hard. The human spirit, when set about to focus on the greater good, is beautiful.

I suppose I could make a political statement or even more frightening, a politically correct statement. But neither of those are my intention.

My point is that we just witnessed a very beautiful event today. People from different religions, different political parties, people who wear different clothes, marry different people, speak different languages, eat different foods, pray to different gods, these same people got together and contributed their expertise, their ideas, their time and energy for the same goal.

And the result was, yes, you guessed it, beautiful.

We are more alike than we are different. A paraphrase of something Maya Angelou said.

It is a super clear sky tonight in Central Oregon. The stars are abundant. I will use them to wish many wishes that more can good be accomplished through our differences.

Chi-Chi-Chi-le-le-le. They offered a lesson to us these past 2 months. May we learn from what was endured.

Peace.

Words Worth Noting

Every now and again you read something that just hits you as extremely profound and even useful. This is what I read recently, and read again and again:

"Words saturated with sincerity, conviction, faith, and intuition are like highly explosive vibration bombs, which, when set off, shatter the rocks of difficulties and create the change desired."

~~~~ Paramahansa Yogananda, Scientific Healing Affirmations

Happiness Is...

Being alone in a quiet house, no television, no radio, no chatter, listening to my two dogs simultaneously snoring in their peaceful deepest sleep.

There's This Thing About Music

We now have dish for our cable provider--is it still called cable when it's a dish?

I discovered their music channels. One in particular is called The Bridge. This channel plays music from the 70s, music to "mellow you out."

Not only does it mellow me out, it keeps me listening because I keep saying, "okay, after this song, I'm going to..." I fall asleep on the sofa at midnight with this music playing. This is some good music!

For example: Steely Dan, Fleetwood Mac, James Taylor, Jackson Browne, Led Zepplin, Van Morrison, Cat Stevens, Linda Ronstadt, Bob Dylan, Bread, Chicago, Neil Young, Billy Joel, then many great tunes from whom I think were one hit wonders.

The thing about music is how it brings memories flooding in: remembering where I was, whom I was with, my approximate age, sometimes the clothes I was wearing when I first heard the song. It is such an enjoyable trip!

I'm not one to relive the past. When there is some killer music playing, I'm not reliving, I'm living in the moment adorned with bubbles of nostalgia over my head.

Check it out if you have dish.

Moonlit Sky

Just a moment in ranch life...

Driving down a quiet winding country road keeping an eye out for the deer who travel at dusk, catching a glimpse of a spotted fawn grazing on her preferred tidbits with momma just beyond curled up on the pillow of grass under a tree, the road lined by tall pines and junipers seeming like prison bars along the sides wanting to keep me present with nature and protecting me from an escape to worries beyond, the path guided by the soft yet stark brightness of the full moon, two happy ranch dogs in the back one with his nose propped on the edge of the open window taking in all the scents of outdoor life.

Lucas Rides a Wild Mustang

"The wind of heaven is that which blows between a horse's ears."

~~Arabian Proverb

After several weeks of preparations and minor remodeling, our guest house is ready for visitors. Our inaugural stay was had by my sister Laurie and her family. It was very exciting to share the fruits of our hard work with them. We were honored they came to spend some of their summer vacation with us.

Lucas had been quite excited to get here and meet all the animals. And for anyone who knows Lucas, you may not be surprised to hear that the animals found him very interesting.

Besides discovering a new best friend in Bodie and being chased by Peep Peep the rogue rooster, Lucas was enamored with the horses. At first, he didn't quite comprehend their magnitude and power. He approached them and pet them as he would a dog or cat.

I was nervous and kept a watchful eye at all times. Oh my! How will Hy Note respond to being "pet?" I should have known. The horses didn't respond to his actions but to his intentions and they welcomed his attention.

Perhaps the highlight of Lucas' stay was the ride he took on Cowboy Tim's wild Mustang, Burns. Yes, Burns is broke and well-trained. But the fact remains that given the chance, she would bolt and never look back.

Cowboy Tim gave Lucas a lesson in mounting a horse and then the subsequent important lesson in staying on and then the basics of riding. Lucas, once he became focused, took those words in and put them into immediate practice. My favorite part was when he reached forward, instinctively, and pet Burns on the neck for a good girl moment.

He rode Burns. We all stood by and watched, and as any respectable backseat driver would do, coached him in his riding. He didn't need our coaching.

Lucas thought he had had enough. With our encouragement--again, he stayed on and he rode more and had a grand time! You can't imagine the pride that was floating all around that round pen.

When he dismounted, perfectly, after a little adjustment and listening closely to Cowboy Tim's instructions, he got back on and off just to be sure he could.

Yes, our Little Creek Ranch still needs quite a bit more TLC. What we aren't short on are pleasant dreams come true.

Under the Orange Glow of Mars

We had a busy day around the ranch today working to get the guest house ready for Laurie and her family coming up in 2 weeks. A hot day, so inside projects were the name of the game.

At about 8pm we sat out on the porch with Tim and Tanya for a BBQ dinner. It is so pleasant on that porch; everyone who sits there says so. Despite the pull to just sit and chat, we all had our evening chores to get to before losing light.

Cowboy Tim, Tanya and Larry headed over to the neighboring ranch and I stayed to feed the horses. What was that?!

I heard this high-pitched yelping and some intense horse sounds which I'm not sure I can describe. I figured it was Sage, the Boarder Collie, doing her herding of one of the horses on that end.

I cut my chores short as the sky was quickly darkening and Bodie and I high-tailed it over to see what was going on.

One of Cowboy Tim's many talents is breaking, or starting, horses. Check him out at http://www.startmycolt.com/.

Tonight he was working with a wild Mustang mare from the Warm Springs Reservation. Equine Outreach, a local horse rescue facility, acquired several Mustangs and their trainers have no idea what to do with them. Cowboy Tim volunteered to take two of the Mustangs and start them.

This was the first time this horse had a lasso around her and has been in close proximity to people. We stood and watched as Cowboy Tim took a frightened, wild horse and brought her to the point of giving in to a pull on the lasso and to making eye contact. These are very big steps.

The night was mild, the dark sky full of summer constellations and Mars was glowing bright. Larry, Bodie and I stood on the outside of a wooden corral and watched the master at work. Sage ran circles around the corral doing her job to be sure the horse stayed where she last left it.

Cowboy Tim took the win and let the Mustang mare find safety with the other mare. Tomorrow he'll pick up where he left off with the next goal of getting a halter on the mare and working her with a lead rope.

This is an exhibition I don't want to miss!

Peace Comes

There had been something bugging me about the day Tripper left me: June 25. Why that day? Why didn't he come to our new ranch? Was it a Friday that was bothering me? Was it the date? A persistent nagging I could not shake.

On Tuesday, I was talking with Bonnie and telling her the story of losing Tripper. She asked me when that happened and I gave her the date. Again, that tug. What was I missing?

I took some time to sit on the sofa with Pooker and let my mind go. Let the feelings come and go and I did my best to not grab onto any one of them but to let them wash over me and let me feel. My eyes were closed and my breathing was slow and calm.

I saw my friend Fred Burrill. Fred Burrill's birthday was June 25. He would have been in his early 100s this year.

Several of you know who Fred is, many of you do not.

Mr. Burrows as we called him as kids, lived up the street from us. He was a tall man with a tick in his walk. He walked everywhere, he did not drive. Fred would pass our house with his fishing rod in hand and his fishing vest packed with the necessities of his outing. Off he went to catch the bus to head to his post. We would yell over from the porch, "Hi Mr. Burrows!" And his smile would gleam in our direction and his large hand would wave back at us.

We went up to his house to get candy. And he had a never ending supply. He was a happy man. He seemed to have no worries, no enemies, no reason to not be smiling.

Many years later I was visiting my parents and who came walking up the street but Mr. Burrows. He was carrying his grocery bags, this time a little more hunched over. I asked him if I could help him home. We chatted on the way to his house and it was the first time I had ever been inside his house. It was small, a shotgun apartment.

From there, our friendship blossomed. And I learned his name was not Mr. Burrows but Mr. Burrill, or Fred.

I would visit him and we'd play cribbage or listen to Hawaiian music on his old style cassette player or we would head to the super market in my Volkswagen Fox--ample space for me, a bit cramped for my 6'4" friend.

During our visits, he told me stories of his early life, he shared precious pearls of wisdom and he always reminded me, "take it slow."

For one of his birthdays, my dear friend Suzanne came over with her cello and played him a private concert and sang to him. If you could have seen the smile on his face. It was simple and beautiful. I gave him a new music player with buttons that were easier for his curling fingers to press to play his music and with speakers a bit stronger so he could hear better with his aging ears.

One of our last outings was to the Kennedy Library. He didn't come inside, it was getting too difficult to get in and out of the car. But we sat there with the windows open feeling the ocean mist and listening to the waves hit the rocks below and the seagulls singing their nautical tunes. That was a special moment. We both were in the same car yet someplace else in our minds and hearts and enjoying every minute.

Fred moved into a nursing home and I saw him a couple of times. We still managed to get in a game of cribbage.

I moved to Argentina and my mother read me a letter sent to me by a family who knew him. Fred had passed away.

There is great wealth in having someone so wise in your life. His influence was significant. His steadiness and confidence was reassuring and inspiring. He was a good friend.

So, with this memory I have come to understand the meaning of Tripper's death. He came into my life at an important time of transition. He offered me stability and consistency. He was a rock of unconditional love. He was much like my dear old friend, Fred: the one who has been there and done that and who didn't get too riled about anything. He reminded me what was important in life. Fred and Tripper did that.

I am blessed to have had these friendships. And I believe they are intertwined. June 25 was no random day. June 25 made perfect sense and I am so relieved to have put this together.

When I get back to Long Beach and to my photos, I will post a photo of Fred on his concert birthday. You'll see everything in his smile.

Kindness of Others

It is with the kindness of family, friends, neighbors, doctors and animals that I have been healing my heart.

Thank you to all of you who called, stopped by, sent messages and cards and sent your loving energy. From deep down inside I am grateful for your love and caring.

One of the gals at Bend Equine made this woven heart from Tripper's tail hair. It's really beautiful and incredibly special.

Healing a Heartache

Larry and I are in our new home and we are happy, comfortable and so pleased with the remodel results and having air conditioning at 85 degrees.

At the same time we both are feeling a profound sadness. An emptiness that aches and aches on.

On Friday, the day we were moving, in a matter of 3 hours I was faced with the most shocking and unexpected and extremely difficult decision of kissing Tripper one last time as he went off to horse heaven.

So much of what we created here at Om Ranch was created with Tripper in mind. From the fencing to the dry lot to rock collection and pathways. For some reason he wasn't meant to come here. I cannot grasp the why.

Many beautiful things have been said about Tripper and they all hold truth. He was strong and stoic and most other horses with the level of pain he had would be on the ground rolling. He stayed strong for me and did not want me to see his pain. He is in horse heaven under a shade tree with our neighbor horse Twist. His body was giving out a year and half ago and it was his spirit that came alive again to carry him this far. He regained his dignity, something very important to horses, and he died with dignity.

I cannot put words to the pain I feel in my heart.

Tripper opened a part of my heart that I didn't realize existed. He invited me to love in a different way. Without his daily encouragement I feel lost. Can I continue what he has shown me on my own?

Friday morning I went out to greet my boys as usual and I did not see Tripper's ears perking up over the hay and I did not hear his familiar good morning nicker. Alibi and Pippin were there, but not Tripper. I went looking for him up in lava land, a place he never went because the rocky surface was too much on his senior bones.

The gate is at one end of the dry lot so I started calling him and walking in. Some ways in I could see him walking toward my voice. As soon as he saw me, he went down. I ran to him and found him scratched and scraped from head to hoof from rolling around on the ground trying to ease his abdominal pain. He had been in pain for a while.

Gently I got the halter around his confused head and worked with him to get him up. Carla, a gal boarding her horses there, came up to help me and the two of us kept him walking. Pippin and Alibi were behind us, encouraging him to keep going. We got him up to the barn and put him in the round pen to keep him going.

He wanted to lie down and roll again and we had to work hard to not allow that. I called the vet and it seemed to take hours before they arrived. A call for colic is an emergency response.

When they arrived they did a preliminary exam and Tripper's heart rate was dangerously high. They gave him medication to ease the pain. They gave him a sedative so they could put a tube up his nose and down his throat. They had to give him a second dose and still he seemed not to be too sedated. He was a gentleman while they did what they had to to assess his condition.

We walked him back down through the dry lot and through the gate of Jeff and Barb's place to use their trailer. Every horse along the way was calling out to him. He didn't have the energy to walk but he did and he kept going. A good 1/2 mile.

After some other tests, it was determined that part of his small intestine had died, most likely due to a lipoma that cut it off. Apparently, this is somewhat common in senior horses. Surgery didn't suggest high positive odds and even if the surgery did go well, his expected time would maybe be a year.

I had to decide fairly quickly because if we wanted to do surgery, we had to do it right away. There was no knowing how much of his small intestine was affected until the surgery and then only so much of it could be removed.

Tripper stayed standing the entire time. He moved as he was asked. He was polite and kept his manners. I couldn't stop holding him and kissing him and comforting him. I asked him to comfort me.

I held Tripper until his last breaths. When he was gone, I stayed with him for a while just caressing him and playing with his very soft mane. I kissed him again and felt that little bump in his forehead that I felt everyday and I smelled his fresh sweet coat, a combination I enjoyed every day for a year and a half. With my eyes closed I could tell you it was him.

Later when I got back home I went up to lava land to see where he was and what he had experienced. I didn't realize it until then that he was behind my house. He came looking for me.

He never made it to our new home. Here we remember him and talk about him often and we cry. It was a shock. And it is a deep loss that we will feel for a very long time.

I miss my friend. I miss my horse. I miss that part of my heart being touched every morning.

Readying for the Next Chapter

It was a fantastically busy day today. A very warm temperature, a lot of manual labor, multiple tasks going on at a time. By 11:40pm tonight I finally had time to take the shower I was desperately needing about 7 hours ago.

Off rinsed the sweat, dust, dirt, sun block, dog licks, horse licks, mud, strawberry juice from a wild get-away berry, hay. I'm sure there was something else layered on.

We welcomed our first 4 horse guests to our new ranch: Om Ranch. To great success I must add.

A lot of hard work went into creating the dry lot. Everything from fence building to rock and dirt moving to picking up the remains from previous burn piles that never quite burned.

At about 6:45pm our first 2 guests arrived: Faramir and Hye Note. Jeff and Stephanie walked them around the lot to show them the lay of the land and then let them off halter. We all watched to see if they would scare from the new surroundings and fencing. To the contrary, they seemed to just love their new home! They played and ran and made new paths and within minutes Hye Note rolled around in the dirt claiming his space.

Whew!

The other 2, Belle and Zack, arrived shortly after. Hye Note and Faramir showed them the way. Everyone seemed at ease and comfortable.

Our new endeavor: horse boarding. Off to a very good start.

We moved most of the kitchen today. We have been moving our clothes over, shoes, books, things that are easy to toss into boxes and put into the trunk or front seat--the back seat has been recently occupied by 2 very willing to ride dogs.

Tonight is our last night sleeping here at Dayton Rd. We have been here since March 2009. Many stories have come from our time here. Many lessons learned. Many hours spent with very special neighbors and now friends. We are truly grateful for this experience.

And we both agree, we are ready for the next chapter. As Larry likes to say, "It's time for Mary Poppins to fly." It's time.

Tomorrow we move our bed and a few other choice items. Alibi and Tripper come with us tomorrow as do Bodie, Felon and Pooker. The chickens will come over the weekend as we empty everything else out.

Our new home is wonderful! Larry has done an amazing job with the remodel. It really wasn't a remodel, it was a full on gutting. If you could only see what the house was like when we bought it and what it is like today--spectacular.

The island in our kitchen looks out over the living room and on through a big picture window that carries us to the lawn, across the driveway and to the front pasture. The pasture rolls down toward the road and then across to our new neighbors' pastures, up toward their homes and barns and continues on all the way out to the south and east to Aubrey Butte out to the Ochocos.

When people come up to the house and look out, they are surprised at just how far you can see. Expansive comes to mind.

A couple of the pieces I ordered for our yoga room came today. Wall art. Very happy with the purchases.

We have been very fortunate to have found a hard working team to help us get to this point. Jesus, Gloria and Tim have really kicked in when it mattered most. Of course, there have been countless contractors around, oddly enough most have mono-syllabic names.

So, tonight as I prepare for my last night sleep here, I can hear Slammer outside calling for his friend Faramir. Tomorrow I know Pippin will be calling for Alibi and Tripper.

Just as we all experience a move, so do the horses.

The Double Stuff

Larry and I got chatting about cookies, Newman's Ginger Cream cookies to be precise, and just how many one person can eat in a sitting. Our friend Barb is a true cookie monster, she can impress the masses with her cookie consumption.

Larry said he remembered eating a whole box of Oreos and then not being able to eat them for a long time after. I do recall a similar experience, just not with cookies.

We both recalled the introduction of the Double Stuff Oreo. Neither of us were fans; they were just overkill. A definite messing with a perfectly good cookie.

Then it dawned on us, the Double Stuff cookie got the super-size frenzy rolling.

Jumbo slurpees, king-kong packs of McDonald's french fries, the double-double burger, Venti lattes, chocolate covered everything.

Belly ache.

Welcome Bodie! The Story.

It all happened so quickly. I went to dance class on Wednesday and then stopped by Jerri's house to "meet" this little dog who needed a new home. Next thing I knew, I was loading this timid frightened creature into the backseat of my car.

His tag has the name Zipp. He didn't respond to that name and really, a darling miniature Australian Shepherd deserves a more, well, darling name.

So, Bodie it is. (This may or may not have something to do with my enjoyment of the western Cheyenne.)

After being weaned, Bodie went from a breeder to a new home and then a few days ago was brought to Jerri's because they found him "out of control." We got an email from Jeff and Barb, our neighbors who have Nick, a dog like Bodie, saying that Jerri just needed to find a home for this dog. It said something to the effect of "if you want him you better get him fast."

I thought, well by all means we should explore this. Explore the idea. The possibility. Explore what it would mean to have a second dog. When I suggested to Jerri that I take a few pictures to show Larry, she suggested I just bring him the dog.

I was not expecting to come home with a dog. I called Larry, "Honey, I think we have a new dog." While Larry got a kennel ready for him, Bodie and I drove to the feed store to get him a cute dog dish with dog paws print and the food to go inside.

At the feed store I discovered that Bodie has difficulties with men (I so get this dog.) It was sad to see, really. He cowered and growled when Joel, Judd and Bill tried to pet him and give him cookies. When Libby came out; however, he went straight to her and let her love on him while he licked cookie crumbs from her fingers.

When we got home, I introduced Bodie and Larry. He growled at Larry and again cowered behind my legs. He even barked at him. Fortunately, Larry speaks animal. He sat on the floor, made his shoulders soft, his voice tender, he put his head and eyes down and broke up a dog cookie and let Bodie come to him and eat from his hand. By the end of the evening Bodie was letting Larry pet him and he turned his back to him while eating--a sign of trust.

Things sure have changed in a matter of days. Bodie very happily jumps up onto the man cave futon to cuddle with Larry and gives him his belly to rub for as long as Larry has time.

Now we are working on 11 year old Felon and her acceptance of 8 month old Bodie. She is warming to the idea.

The other day we introduced Bodie to the chickens. Or let's say Bodie introduced himself and all his magnificent herding dog talents. I've never seen my hens and rooster run, fly, flutter, spin, jump and flip more than in those 10 seconds. We had another 4 seconds of this and with the help of a remote control collar and a stern "No!" Bodie gets that the hens are not his charges.

Whew. Chicken soup dodged again.

Bodie is a love. He runs himself to exhaustion and then just crashes to recharge. He's great in the car and he's smarter than a whip. It's been new fun to teach him the do's and don't's of ranch life. Extremely tiring too. Most things take me twice as long as I'm either tracking him, calling him, rescuing him from Felon, petting him, schooling him, or just standing still watching him.

We have some work left to do. He is an 8 month old after all. He is a handful. A very soft fluffy innocent endearing handful.

Here's to asking the universe to help us equip our new ranch! Om. Peace. Amen.

Talking with the Animals

Why this secret of the joy of animals was not apparent to me until just recently, I'll never know. I'm just glad I finally figured it out!

In the course of a day, twice a day at least, I check in on and feed: 6 chickens, 2 dogs, 11 horses, 1 cockatiel and countless wild birds Eventually Larry and I eat.

It's obvious that animals bond to the person with food. And then there is the bonding that goes beyond the feed dish. There is acknowledgement, communication, friendship, companionship, love, sharing, giving and receiving. Mighty enjoyable.

So, Pippin is in the barn with laminitis. For those of you who do not know, this is a painful condition in horses' feet and if treated at the get-go and treated aggressively, the horse can recover. If not treated properly, the condition worsens and can lame a horse to the point of needing to euthanize. A word we do not care for in these parts.

I heard he had a tough day yesterday while I was gone. He was being shod and he flipped himself over backward in cross-ties (ties that connect to a post in the barn and to the sides of his halter.) It could have been the pain of having nails pounded into his feet. Normally, this is painless, but with the inflammation and pain of laminitis, we can only imagine it is not comfortable.

A double-edged sword. The shoes are critical to helping his feet heal.

So, when I got back, I stopped in to the barn to check on him. His face is all scratched up from the flip, his hind is scratched, his side too. He came to the stall door to greet me and show me his wounds.

I said, "Pippin, are you feeling better? Tell me what hurts."

Pippin backed up to the back of the stall, looked at me with focused eyes and in an alternating fashion, he lifted first his left leg, then his right, then his left again and again his right. He walked back up to me and we just cuddled.

He knows I'm there to care for him and help him. I added 3 more bags of pine shavings to give even more cushion to his stall floor.

Today, I was in the dry lot with my boys, Tripper and Alibi, scooping up their poop. They were walking around as they do, following me, nudging me hello, walking off.

Tripper came up to me, smelled the poop bucket I was filling and walked to the side of it. I looked at him and said, "Are you going to poop right there?" He pooped, right there. After he finished, I thanked him for making it so easy for me to pick up and he walked back from where he came.

Oh, the stories are adding up. The greatest thing is to believe and recognize how animals communicate with us. They are not just receiving whatever we send their way. And if you pay attention and listen with your eyes, heart, energy field, ears, hands, smell, even tasting the dust off their face when you kiss them, you will hear them.

It's not always easy to clear everything else out of their incoming communication path, but when you can, the message is loud and clear.

Wisdom Worth Pondering

"Your good habits help you in ordinary and familiar situations but not suffice to guide you when a new problem arises. Then discrimination is necessary.

Man is not an automaton, and therefore cannot always live wisely by simply following set rules and rigid moral precepts. In the great variety of daily problems and events, we find scope for the development of good judgment."

-----Paramahansa Yogananda, "Sayings of Paramahansa Yogananda"

Happy Birthday Tripper

So much time has passed since my last blog. A crashed hard drive, new computer, printer isn't compatible, itunes not backed up... I have been computer-phobic for a while.

Today is Tripper's birthday. So, all the bad computer poo poo must be pushed aside so I can post his photo and write a bit about him.

Tripper is my Quarter Horse and he is 21 years old today. A Taurus for sure. And a sweet sweet horse.

He was here at the ranch when we arrived a year and a half ago. He was in a dry lot with several other horses, one of them the alpha mare who was relentless in her attacks on him. She would chase him from food and water, bite him, kick at him, she would seek him out and separate him from the group.

His coat looked mangy and dull. He was missing hair all over from being bit. He was in pain when he walked from aging bones and the winter cold. His eyes were sad and his spirit broken. The ranch owners (not his owner) said it was likely he wouldn't survive that winter.

It couldn't be. I moved Tripper from the dry lot to a pasture in front of my house. Larry and I showered him with attention and love and positive energy. We brought in another horse, Slammer, who is everyone's friend to give him a little company and a feeling of safety in numbers.

As spring came around and the grass started greening, Tripper ate up the sweet growth giving him the protein and carbs he desperately needed. We watched him get stronger and stronger as the weeks went by.

I groomed him regularly and his coat began to fill in and shine. I worked him in the round pen to regain his strength and reestablish a sense of purpose and pride in his accomplishments.

His owners came to visit one day and walked straight past him calling out toward the dry lot "Tripper!" "Tripper!" Tripper walked up to the fence in response and watched as this couple continued walking, not recognizing their revitalized horse.

After a series of events, not necessary to explain, they decided to sign Tripper over to me as his new owner. I received his papers--which are very interesting to read. This was this past January.

The ranch owners saw him a couple of months back and said, "He is a completely different horse. He has gained at least 5 years on his life." Of course, I look forward to more than 5 years.

Tripper is now healthy, steady, confident, happy, proud, willing and a real love. We have a great time together be it in the round pen, grooming, or just walking around picking up poop in the separate dry lot he shares with Alibi (another story!)

So today, when he turned 21, I had to give thanks and celebrate. I love having him as my horse. I look forward to going out to see him several times a day. I get so excited when he learns something new, even at his age, and I admire his pride when he recognizes what he's done. And I thank him for trusting me to care for him. We both won big.

Tonight he got his evening bucket of barley and oats and glucosamine, with a special topping of many many chopped orange circles. His own birthday carrot cake.

Happy Birthday Tripper!

Habits

"It is not your passing inspirations or brilliant ideas so much as your everyday mental habits that control your life."
-----Paramahansa Yogananda

Tropical! They'll Love It!

Okay, so did Gillette team up with the American Dental Association? The American Medical Association? The maker of flavored Chapstick (that probably is Gillette)? The American Psychiatric Association!?

My pack of Venus razors not only makes my legs silky smooth and won't cut me in the shower, but to whet my appetite with their newly flavored handles? Flavored handles? They are the new Lifesavers of razors with Tropical flavored handles!

What? Who? When? And really, Why?!

Are we to eat them when we are done making them an absolutely disposable razor?

Are we to be so icked out by the taste that our teeth will stay in better condition?

Are we to be so fearful of missing a meal that we need a snack while showering?

What modern woman shaves, well just shaves, but that's another blog--I mean what woman does not put the handle of the razor in her mouth in between lathering limbs?

Flavored soft plastic. Regressing? What?

To keep my faith in the modern woman, I have to believe that no woman was part of this design team.

Really. Tropical flavored razor handles? Say it with me...Ew!

In Honor of Twist

You may be wondering, "Just what is so great about these horses anyway?"

My answer would be: they offer you their vulnerability, they make no judgment, they love you unconditionally, their trust in you is a delicate bond, they give you their best, they open a door in your heart that you may have never known to exist, they say so much to you without complicating it with words.

In return, all they ask of you is that you respect them, love them, honor them and give them good care.

One could say the scale is tipped.

Today, my dear friend Barb lost Twist. She told me that she has had Twist for 3 days longer than her only daughter, who is in her early 20s.

Their bond was deep, sweet, and honest. Barb was dedicated in blessing Twist with her tenderness and compassion. She gave Twist every ounce of her gentle and healing energy.

This evening, I could hear the cries of the other horses in Barb's picture-pretty pasture calling out for the matriarch of their herd.

In your thoughts or prayers, please think peace for Twist and soothing and comfort for the sad hearts of Barb and Jeff and their horses.

Back in the Saddle Again

This robin keeps appearing just across the lawn, perched on the fence between our house and the guest house. His belly is copper red. Just about every time I look over there, he's there. I'd like to think he is a sign of spring, but I'm not so sure he ever left.

It is almost one week ago that I returned to Bend. I wondered what it would be like to come back after being away just about 5 weeks. Would the animals still remember me? Would all my training have gone out the window? Would I still be so enamored by ranch living?

Thankfully, a resounding yes to just about 3 out of 3. Some minor retraining is in order.

The weather has been very agreeable. We haven't had full on sunshine each day, but at least some sun and it's been warm for January. The other day was 56 degrees with bright sun--that feels close to 70 in most other parts. The nights have not dropped down to the 20s or teens, or even much into the 30s. There are trade offs: cloud cover = warmer nights but no star gazing.

We have 3 new horses on the ranch: High Note, a very sweet gentle gray Arabian, Belle, a rather stout dark bay Quarterhorse, and Zak, the fiesty bay, son of Belle. The addition of these 3 has shifted the hierarchy in the dry lot. And in my absence, Lola has taken the lead role. What does this mean? Alibi does not come to the fence to greet me before eating. He has been pushed back in the pack, literally and in the food receiving line. Rest assured, he is just as kind and loving as he was before I left. Now, I have to feed everyone first and then go out to exchange affections with him.

The chickens are still going strong. We are grateful that we got the "cold hardy" breeds. I suppose it wouldn't do the feed stores any good to sell anything but that. It was luck on our part, we didn't know any better at the time. I must reiterate, it is an absolute joy to go collect eggs and have fresh farm eggs for cooking. We bought eggs at the super in Long Beach---hardly appealing.

The other day I checked out the garden and harvested a big sack of carrots! Yes, we still have carrots in the ground. They are in a raised bed, so they have a much better winter survival rate. I shared them with the chickens, the horses and my neighbors and still have a few in the refrigerator. I gave the garden a little water and left one or two more pickings in the ground.

Felon has become accustomed to sleeping in our mudroom at night. Well, she thinks she should be in there all day. I like going to bed knowing she is warm and cozy inside and it gives me a sense of security knowing she's in the house. On occasion, I let Jess come indoors during the day. He is a smelly boy, but it keeps him from tearing up the barn or the seat of the electric cart--ay ay ay.

And Pooker is happy as a lark to be back home. She did really well at our friends' house and she was well cared for. For the first couple of days, she would not leave my shoulder. It was all about reconnection and not letting me out of her sight. I would walk to the bedroom and she'd call out to me the minute she couldn't see me. Yesterday she decided to spend no less than 4 hours in the pantry. No kidding. I went in there, she wanted down, I put her on the shelf with cans and boxes and there she stayed. She just loves to walk on all the textures a pantry has to offer and she likes to "hide" on top of something tall. It puts her close to the next shelf up, making the open space smaller.

I put bird seed out and have seen one bird come in a couple of times. The others will be back. They are around, I hear them. I suppose it will take a few days for them to realize the food has returned.

In a sense I feel like an Italian grandmother: I feed all the hungry mouths and they happily eat up what is served and they love me for it. Don't they say food is the way to one's heart?

Working My Way Back to You...

We are back in Long Beach after our cruise through the Panama Canal. It was an enjoyable trip, warmed up by the Caribbean sun, rounded out belly by the menus of a 6-star cruise line with a Cordon Bleu restaurant aboard.

Truthfully, while I fully took advantage of our time away, at the bottom of my heart, I didn't want to be away from the ranch. I can't say I have ever experienced a vacation like that. I have always wanted to go some place else.

Well, that aside...one of our ports was Puntarenas in Costa Rica. We opted to go horseback riding. Big shocker there. Larry obliged me. They described this excursion as a ride for beginners as well as experienced riders, "no galloping."

We all felt comfortable in saying that this ride was not for beginners. Actually, the horses, Criollos, were so good and so accustomed to the terrain, and we had 4 Costa Rican cowboys and a paramedic along with us, that unless a beginner fell off the horse, they were going to get through the ride no problem. But, perhaps they may not feel very confident about that.

Only one other time had I been on a ride similar to this. By comparison, that other ride was just a warm up to this ride. We rode about an hour out, descending, ascending, descending to eventually reach a river in the canyon. There were times where the trail was hardly identifiable. We rode through crevices no more than a foot wide full of rocks and loose soil. We cut through all kinds of tropical brush, stopped to see a two-toed sloth in a tree, a Baltimore Oriole (didn't know they traveled so far), an orange colored squirrel the size of a large raccoon, a herd of cows crossing our trail, and kept an eye out for swinging monkeys.

The coolest part of this ride was actually riding. Fosforro, a gray gelding, was assigned to me. While we were waiting for everyone to saddle up, I gave him all sorts of loving. At first, he wasn't sure if he was into it, and then I felt his energy shift. It confirmed we would be good friends for this ride.

The horses I have ridden prior to Fosforro were horses I knew. Aside from two rides out at the reservoir, my riding has been around the ranches (I no longer include simple trail rides at vacation spots on my list of actual riding.) So, with Fosforro I was able to really test my knowledge, skills and comfort level. I established with him from the get-go that I was in charge and we would be riding as a team.

It was great! I maneuvered around the other 18 riders, changing our position on the trail. We went alongside the trail and on the trail. We went around the other side of trees. We stopped on a dime and started just as promptly. As we rode along the very tricky parts, working our way down and then climbing back up, I concentrated on using my body and balance to make his job easier and I sensed his appreciation. Even my Spanish skills were put into play.

There was one point where I wanted to go on one side of a brush and he insisted we go along the other side. I learned from Leighsa that in riding you trust each other to know what is safe and sometimes, you have to trust that the horse knows better than you. Fosforro's suggestion to go along the other side didn't feel like him challenging me; it felt like he was letting me know this was best for both of us. I yielded to him, again sensing his appreciation, and we were back on track.

Despite the "no galloping" posted on our tickets, I tested that skill too. Ha! How freeing it was. I would give him time to eat a few leaves here and there and at other times keep him away from what he preferred to be his own 6-star feeding frenzy.

Even on the return to the estancia, I kept control of Fosforro. We eased back, again changing our speed, our direction, our place in the pack. For all of you who have done trail rides, you know that once the horse knows he is heading back to the barn, good luck!

After dismounting, one of the caballeros took Fosforro and tied him off to the rail. "It's not over yet, my friend," I thought. I went over to give Fosforro praise, loves and thanks for a great ride. I looked up and I was the only person standing there with the horses. Everyone else had jumped down and walked off. That was just as well, I was happy in my little spot amongst the Criollos.

Very cool.