Forever Sky Ranch

Somewhere He Opens a Window

2011-01-17T12:12:00.000-08:00

"Once you make a decision, the Universe conspires to make it happen."
~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Change. It's the one thing we can count on: nothing stays the same. Some people embrace change. They are always looking for something new, something better, something more exciting, or just something different. Others don't even like the word Change. Change means leaving behind the things that are familiar and comforting and stepping into the unknown.

The catch with those particular extremes is that the people seeking change may never hang around long enough to settle down and become comfortable with anything. Those who fear change may miss truly grand opportunities or fail to make new friends because they can't bear to see what they love change.

I like to think you'd find me somewhere in the middle. I DO love change. I love coming up with new possibilities and new goals. But I also hate leaving behind the dreams of yesterday.

Last week I had to say good-bye to one of those dreams.

Forever Sky Ranch will no longer function as a boarding facility.

Wow. I finally wrote it out loud.

FSR will still remain an active farm. We have a year full of clinics and schooling shows to look forward to, thanks to Pam Herzberg. That hasn't changed. And the ranch will still remain available for those wanting to trailer in and train in the arena.

But I won't be boarding horses.

Mirka Pitts has decided to lease pasture space from FSR so she can continue training horses at the ranch. She will be renting the barn apartment when Janine leaves.

Janine.

If you have been reading this blog, you know that several times I have mentioned that when I had to say goodbye to my incredible barn manager that I was going to lock myself in my room and cry for a week.

Janine Smothers became the ranch manager in 2009, when Forever Sky first opened. She had been working as a vet tech at the Northwest FL Animal Clinic and with her school schedule getting more and more difficult, she needed to find a job that would allow her time to study (she was working on her Pre-Vet degree in Biology). I needed a responsible barn manager who knew how to work with horses. It was one of those "perfect timing" deals. (Or answer to prayer, however you choose to see it.)

I believe that Janine and I were meant to form a partnership and help each other.

But we both knew that our relationship could not last. Janine, as a dedicated student and motivated woman, was destined to go her own way once she had completed her degree, which she did this past December.

Janine graduated with honors. Since that time, she has been struggling with decisions about her future, with the changes she now faces. She also had to make a hard decision: that heading straight to vet school wasn't the right option for her. She doesn't have the money to pay up-front for that type of higher education, nor does she want to drown herself with over $100,000 worth of debt.

It's too bad, really. She would be an amazing vet. If I had the money, I would give it to her in a flash.

But Veterinarian work is not Janine's only interest. She LOVES research. Lab research. ANIMAL RESEARCH.

Okay, before the hair on your neck start to prickle, Janine is quick to point out the many facets of animal research that have nothing to do with harming animals, such as animal behavior research, research in the care and preservation of wildlife, and agricultural animal research.

"I love to work with real live animals outdoors," says Janine, "I also like the laboratory work. Doing both would be awesome!"

She has the education. She has the determination. She has the passion. Now she just needs to find a job! (A bit easier said than done.)

Whatever company hires Janine is going to be just as amazed with her as all of us have been. I have never in my life met anyone so dedicated to doing a job the right way, so organized, so responsible, so trustworthy, so intelligent. Whoever gets her will be more than lucky. They'll be blessed.

I know I have been.

And I hope, even after all the changes, and regardless of what the future brings, that Forever Sky will continue to be blessed as well.

The Truth Hurts

2011-01-01T11:20:00.000-08:00

When I was at the ranch on Friday, Janine was making fortune cookies to take to her church's New Year's Eve party. Instead of fortunes, Janine filled her cookies with resolutions. She gave me one. It was fantastic. (The cookie was good too.)

Inside my cookie was the resolution, "I will procrastinate."

Others included

"I will cancel my gym membership due to lack of motivation"
"I will gain five pounds by next year"
"I will be late to special events"
"I will get angry and yell at other drivers"
"I will not organize my files"
"I will stress about things I can't change"
"I will forget birthdays of friends and family"
"I will overeat on holidays."

"I made them as a joke," said Janine, "because no one ever keeps resolutions."

I believe that making the standard New Year's resolutions only sets us up to fail. Somewhere inside, we know we won't complete the tasks we set for ourselves. And knowing we won't succeed, we don't think hard enough about what resolutions we should make.

If you are honest with yourself, you already know what your true goals should be this year.

Many times when we argue with a friend or parent or significant other, we are given a clue about what we need to work on, especially if they say something that makes us really angry.

A simple comment about losing your keys or not listening or being controlling...those comments can only make us angry if there is truth to them.

If someone accused me of being greedy or impatient, it wouldn't bother me. I know in my heart I am neither greedy nor am I impatient. Those might be issues other people struggle with, but they aren't mine.

But when someone tells me that I am disorganized or I procrastinate or I don't spend enough time with my kids, or **drum roll** that I don't follow through with everything I say.... Man, those things hit home. And they hurt. Bad.

I am horribly guilty of not following through with things that I say. It's never intentional. I wake up feeling great and I tell my husband that we should watch a movie that evening once the kids are asleep. But then after a long day at the ranch, by the time the kids are down, the only thing I want to do is sleep. That movie I mentioned earlier? Let's do it another time, okay honey?

Or I tell the boys I'll be home at lunchtime to make cookies. Then the mule breaks or unloading feed takes longer than expected or I get caught up simply playing with my own horses, and lunchtime comes and goes. I arrive at the house in the evening to an innocent son who says, "You were just kidding, right mom? You were just kidding that you were going to be home at lunch."

That's enough to make me want to put my head in the oven. But then when Allen calls me out on it, I get mad. And defensive. And all because what he's saying is true.

I think we all have something we know to be true about ourselves, something we don't want to admit, even to ourselves.

Those are the things we should resolve to overcome this year.

Personally, even though I don't like "New Year's Resolutions," I have made a resolution to always do what I say I'm going to do.

I think the reason I dislike making New Year's resolutions is that when we don't reach our goals--we smoke that cigarette or eat that donut or show up late for an appointment or forget a birthday--we tend to give up. We quit. Our resolutions are broken. It's over.

But it shouldn't be over.

Instead, we should be like Weebles. As soon as we find our goals knocked down, we should bounce back. We should live every day like New Year's Day (minus the hangover).

Every day is a new start. Every day is a new chance. Every day is a new opportunity to succeed.

Better yet, every second of every minute of every hour of every day is a new chance to start over.

Failure should never wipe out a resolution. It should simply make it stronger.

So as the first day of the New Year comes to a close, I challenge you to break one of your resolutions. Break it, and realize that by breaking it, you haven't really broken it at all. Break it, and come away with more resolve than you had before.

Make this a year of resolutions that can never be broken.

Happy New Year, everyone! It is my sincere wish that you are able to live fully during every moment of this next, wonderful year.

Welcome, 2011.

Who is to Say?

2010-11-25T10:02:00.000-08:00

Historically, Thanksgiving was a time for people to give thanks for a bountiful harvest. Today, we buy our turkeys and produce at the grocery store and start cooking all those casseroles and pies a day early in preparation for all that family drama.

But somewhere in the midst of cooking and laughing and eating and arguing, there's a moment when we stop and actually wonder what we are thankful for.

This particular Thanksgiving, I happen to have several friends who are going through rough times. It's hard, when your heart is breaking or you're filing for bankruptcy or you're burying a loved one, to hold up a glass of wine and toast to all the things you are thankful for. Sometimes it even seems as though there were nothing in our lives worth the effort to give thanks.

I saw Natalie at the ranch this morning. She was coming to spend time with her horse, Pippin. She was the only one out there except for me. I thought, "That's so wonderful. She wants to spend Thanksgiving morning with her horse." I have no doubt that Pippin is thankful to have Natalie is his life.

Seeing Natalie made me recall a conversation I had with her mother, Teri, just the day before, when we were talking about change.

"There's a Tibetan tale," I told Teri, "that I love."

There's this boy, Yeshi. He wakes up one morning to find that the family's horse is missing. He and his father search all day to no avail. When night falls, Yeshi exclaims in tears, "What bad luck!!"

The father says, "Who can say what is good fortune or bad? Give thanks for everything."

Several days go by and Yeshi finds that his horse has returned and has brought with him another horse.

"This is good fortune!" Says Yeshi.

Of course his father says the same thing. "Who can say if this is good fortune or bad?"

The next week, Yeshi gets bucked off the new horse and breaks his leg.

"Our new horse was bad luck after all," moans Yeshi.

Yeshi's father says, "I'm sorry to see you hurt, but who can say what is good or bad? We have to wait and see."

The next day the King's men come to take all able men with them into battle. Of course Yeshi can't go because of his broken leg.

Even then, the father still says "Who can say if this is good fortune or bad? Give thanks for everything."

And so I propose to you that even in our darkest hour, we cannot know what the future holds for us. Our best bet is to reserve judgement. Be thankful for everything, even if it seems that something horrible has happened.

You never know where your choices will lead you. You never know when something that looks bad will turn out to be something good.

And you never know when a simple "Thank You" is all you need to make someone smile.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! May your cup runneth over.

Lost and Found

2010-11-11T12:41:00.001-08:00

I went on a trail ride yesterday with Wendy and Cher. It was my first time back on a horse since Naysa rodeo-bucked me off and I broke my wrist. Oh, my word, it felt WONDERFUL. I didn't realize how much I had missed riding.

Wendy let me ride her horse Topacio. (I'm doing groundwork with Adonis and would like to build a stronger relationship with him before I ride him again.)

When Wendy offered me Topacio, my only concern was whether he was an easy ride or not. I still can't do a lot of pulling because of my wrist. I would not be able to ride any of Leslie's horses right now, like Barney whose idea of a half-halt is what I think of as a full-blown, yanking back, HOLY CRAP HALT. If you try to ride Barney with the reins at the buckle, he thinks you're giving him full license to gallop away like he's just been released from the starting gate at Belmont.

"Oh, Topacio's wonderful," said Wendy. "He'll be really easy with you."

After we were all tacked up and ready to head out, Wendy said, "He sometimes tries to ride out from under you a bit. I wouldn't touch him with your leg for at least the first thirty minutes."

I almost laughed out loud. What I said was, "We'll be fine."

"And make sure to talk to him if we come across a bike rider on the trail. He won't take off with you, but sometimes he'll do a 360."

"He spins?" I asked.

"Yeah, he spins."

"Okay, then."

I admit I hesitated for a moment. And I usually don't hesitate when horses are involved.

I looked at my wrist, which was still in a brace. Then I asked myself, "Am I really up for this?"

I began to wonder if I should have taken Adonis. I knew what to expect from Adonis. For the first time it occurred to me that I was about to hop on a horse I didn't know, a horse I had never ridden.

But I trusted Wendy.

"We'll be fine," I said again and just hoped that it was true.

Of course, Topacio was WONDERFUL. No spinning, no spooking, no slapping me up against trees (well, except at the end, but that was my fault for not ducking!)

Thank you SO MUCH, Wendy!

Topacio was okay with everyone out on the trail except for the guy with the sharp hedge clippers. I could feel him tense up under me, but I didn't blame him. The guy was creepy. If Topacio had taken off at that moment, I would have added leg to suggest we get out of there faster.

Anyone looking a bit too happy while holding up an open pair of long clipper blades makes my creepy list. In fact, I wouldn't have been surprised if the abandoned ax we found had belonged to creepy clipper guy. Might have been his last murder weapon.

"You watch too many forensic TV shows," said Wendy.

It's true. I love that stuff.

But really, how exactly do you LOSE an AX?

"I have a lost story that will top any lost story," said Cher.

Cher and her husband were cleaning fish at Cher's mom's house. Cher was flinging sticky guts off her hands when her wedding ring slipped off her finger and flew into the air. No one saw it fall. They looked everywhere, but no one could find the ring.

Three years go by.

Cher is hanging laundry on her mom's clothesline, and she sees something on top of one of the clothespins sparkle. Lo and behold, it's her wedding ring hanging there from the top of a clothespin.

I know. Wow, right?

I created Forever Sky Ranch because I loved working with horses, especially my rescue horses. And I wanted the best of everything for my 4-legged babies. I used to wake up each morning with excitement bubbling over.

Somehow over the years, with fences to build and waterers to fix, with pastures to plant and fertilizer to spread, with this and that and the other and this and that again, I lost sight of my purpose, my reason for doing all of it. I sacrificed time with my horses to make the ranch work. I sacrificed too much time.

Now, having had 6 weeks of forced vacation, it's as if someone has turned on the defrost in my brain.

I finally realize that while my lovely ranch and my FSR family are as close to my heart as they can get, time with my horses has to be a priority. Each day that goes by that I don't get to spend time with my babies, something inside me wilts.

So from now on, when you head out to the ranch, yes, you'll still see me on the tractor or holding a drill or picking up manure, but just as often, you will also see me in the pasture with my orange carrot stick or you'll see me grooming or riding or simply hanging out with one of my horses while they graze. You might even see me in the round pen standing over a pile of hay. (For that to make sense, you have to read Naked Liberty by Carolyn Resnick or just ask Mirka about the waterhole rituals. Awesome stuff.)

Point is, I finally remember why there's a Forever Sky Ranch. It's not because of horse shows or blue ribbons or competitions or anything of the sort. It's because there was once a girl who was a dreamer, a girl who thought hanging out in the pasture and watching the interaction of the herd was a good way to spend the day, a girl who wanted nothing more than to ride bareback and bridleless across an open field without a care in the world, a girl who thought connection with a horse meant more than leg aids and rein contact. A girl who wanted to share her joy of horses with the world.

Yes. I finally remember. And thanks to a broken wrist, an inspiring trainer, an awesome trail ride with friends, and a story about a lost ring, that girl...well...she's BACK.

We Have Nothing to Fear, But Fear Itself.

2010-10-11T18:11:00.000-07:00

I am a recluse by nature. It's true.

An introvert.

I often play the part of "extrovert," but when it comes right down to it, I'm simply not that outgoing. I am, in fact, deep down, merely scared.

It took me a long time to recognize that basic emotion that churned in my gut as FEAR because it was always so cleverly masked with ideas about rejection and approval, disappointment and success. But when you pull away all the layers, what you are left with is FEAR.

When I realized my entire life was based around my own personal FEARS, I was suddenly able to better understand my horses.

That's what a horse's life is about, after all: FEAR

Horses are prey animals, and as such, their lives are naturally based in fear. The red bucket that wasn't sitting by the side of the barn yesterday poses a grave threat to the intelligent equine. Anything out of the ordinary or anything out of place = threat.

I worked with Adonis today--my first time since breaking my wrist. I was unsure whether or not I could adequately hold the lead line in my left hand, if the pressure would be too much for my broken wrist, even in the cast. But fortunately, leading Adonis was effortless.

He sniffed my cast all over (it was new, after all) to make sure I didn't happen to have a hand grenade taped to my arm. Once he was satisfied that the bright lime green cast wasn't going to hurt him, he fell into his normal behavior pattern.

I took him to the round pen and let him loose. My only goal was to share the space with him and not have him infringe on my personal space unless I invited him to do so.

So he stared at me. (He's an extroverted horse. He lives for attention.)

But he surprised me by respecting my space. If I looked at him and with my body language suggested he come forward to meet me, he would walk up to me. But if I didn't look at him, and stood relaxed, he didn't approach me. He stayed close, but not in my space.

So just as the realization of my own fears helped me understand my horses, the reaction of my equine companion gave me an equally important realization.

Our connections with other human beings is up to us. It's in how we LOOK at other people. If we are aloof in our body language or reserved with our visual contact, the people around us are going to stand back. It's only when we open ourselves to other people that we have the opportunity to form friendships. We must first "suggest" with our body language that we are approachable, that we aren't a threat.

I will probably always be "scared." It's my nature. I have a tender heart, and I don't like having it hurt. But maybe, for us introverts, fear isn't all we have to look forward to.

Maybe we can learn from our equine friends that sometimes all it takes is a desire for connection and a bit of confidence in those around us. We realize that the red bucket is just that: a red bucket. And we begin to trust. And through trust, we experience freedom.

The Ground Hurts-- or--Reasons I Don't Belong in the Rodeo, But My Horse Does

2010-10-02T14:55:00.000-07:00

This past Thursday, I had a marvelous day with my ponies. I trailered Adonis over to Double P Farm in the morning and had a fantastic trailer-loading lesson with Mirka. Our two-hour lesson turned into three as Mirka worked to teach me how to load Adonis the natural way. (I have to say, the three hours felt like 30 minutes. The woman has a gift.)

When we accomplished the task, with Adonis actually more relaxed than when we started, I was flying high on pony love.

I got back to the ranch and practiced a few more times getting Adonis in and out, as Mirka suggested. Then I cleaned up my lovely Arabian boy and put him back in his stall with fresh hay.

That's when I looked at my watch.

4:02.

I had to pick up the boys from school before 5:00. They were in aftercare. I had promised we would stop by Krispy Kreme on the way home, so I really needed to leave. (And I really should have left.)

But I wasn't ready to give it up.

I went to Naysa's stall and kissed her nose. She and I had experienced a fantastic session together the day before. I had taken her out to an empty pasture, removed her halter, and began to work with her at liberty. She responded so wonderfully to my leading her that I was surprised.

So as I stood there loving on her, I thought, "Let's go for a ride."

"I think I'm just going to hop on bareback," I told Leslie.

I hadn't planned to ride for an extended period. I only wanted to hop on, take a stroll around the barn, and just "be" with her. I hadn't ridden her in quite some time because she had developed a breathing problem during the heat of the summer, but now that she seemed to have recovered, I wanted to start working with her again.

"You saddled her after all!" said Leslie as I walked Naysa over to retrieve my helmet.

"She was good girl, too!" I replied.

Naysa didn't even shift her weight when I put on her saddle, and she didn't even blink when I tightened the girth. She practically put the bridle on by herself.

When I walked her to the mounting block, she stood perfectly still and square. I put weight in the stirrup to make sure she was okay. She had cocked her back leg, so I wasn't all that worried.

WRONG!

"You still there, Leslie?" I called. Leslie stepped out of the barn with Christine at her side. "Just wanted to make sure you were close by," I said. "so you can call 911 if she bucks me off."

I was TEASING. (Note to self: Don't ever say that again.)

Once I sat down in the saddle, Naysa went into full-blown rodeo mode. She got her head down and, according to Leslie, all four feet came off the ground. At some point she tossed me down and I hit the ground hard. (I should have hopped on bareback. I might have stayed on!)

I knew when I hit that it was bad. I couldn't breathe. I struggled to get up, but I couldn't. Leslie was at my side in an instant. So was Naysa.

"The way she was standing there," Leslie said later when we were in the ER, "it looked like she was saying NEXT!" Her words were tinged with laughter. "Naysa was fine after she got you off her back."

"She must hurt somewhere," I replied. "I must have hurt her."

After I hit the ground, I tried to stand up, but I couldn't put weight on my left wrist. My wrist didn't concern me, though. My lower abdomen was hurting and felt increasingly warm. When I attempted to stand, everything would start to go black and I would sink back to the ground. I began to worry that the impact had caused internal bleeding.

I asked Leslie to drive me to the ER, and I called my mom to pick up the kids. Allen was still teaching class.

Leslie took wonderful care of me. She even fed me a Krispy Kreme donut on our way to the hospital. Now THAT'S a good friend!

When I entered Triage, my blood pressure was 80/50. I told the nurse about my abdominal pain, but she didn't seem concerned with my case--or with anything for that matter. A robot would have paid more attention to me. She sent me to "Fast Track." When the fast track nurse evaluated me, he rolled me straight down to the main ER after rolling his eyes in disgust that I had been mis-placed.

Apparently any fall from a horse is considered a trauma alert.

So they did all the X-rays and CT-scans. The nurse scared both me and Leslie by suggesting that I had probably fractured my pelvis.

"We see that all the time, "She said. "It's the most common horse fall injury."

Thankfully, only my left wrist was broken. They set it in a temporary cast, to be replaced by a "real" cast next week after the swelling is under control.

The rest of me just hurts. Bad.

"Don't you remember what I told you?" said Alexis. "Don't fall off next time!"

Alexis has requested I get a tie-dyed cast. (I didn't realize there was such a thing.) Regardless what color I choose for the cast, I'll definitely have people sign it! I mean, there have to be some perks since I'm going to be one-handed for a while!

It's funny, I have had several people tell me "I'm sorry she hurt you."

I find that a ridiculous notion. Horses don't set out to hurt us. We hurt ourselves. We are responsible. We get hurt because we don't listen to our equine companions, because we don't build the bond on the ground before we get in the saddle, and simply because we don't pay attention to our environment and what we are doing.

It was my fault that Naysa bucked me off, not hers. She needed more from me, more preparation and more consideration, in order to accept me on her back once again. I didn't give her what she needed. And it's certainly possible that she has back pain. I owe it to her, to us, to get her back checked out.

What's NICE to know is that horses have an amazing capacity to forgive. If any horse has taught us that, it's Naysa. When I feed her treats tomorrow and scratch her ears, I'll tell her I'm sorry, and she'll understand, because while she might not comprehend the words, she will no doubt sense the emotion.

Beyond Watermelon

2010-09-22T18:22:00.000-07:00

Allen dropped me off this morning so I could pick up my car from the shop. It had been there since September 10th, 12 days ago, when I had a blow-out on my way home from the ranch and found out that the tires to my hybrid weren't so easily replaced. I could have picked up the car much sooner (9 days sooner), but I didn't want to spare the time since I was preparing for the FSR Schooling Show and needed every last minute to work. I drove my truck instead.

As we were driving to get my car, I realized, with horror, that I had forgotten something of vital importance.

I gasped.

"What's wrong?" Allen asked.

"I left a watermelon in the car."

At the time, when the tow-truck driver dropped off the car, I had assumed I would pick it up the next day. When the Chevy people told me it would take the weekend to fix, I didn't think about the watermelon. And by the time I decided not to worry about getting the car until the show was over, I had forgotten about the watermelon altogether.

I don't think it's necessary to describe to any of you what 90-degree heat (higher inside a closed vehicle) does to ripe fruit.

What is important to tell you is that I have an unusual phobia. I can handle blood and guts with ease. I can deal with dog puke or kid puke or any manner of poop. None of that bothers me at all. But I can't bring myself to go near a rotten fruit or vegetable. Just the sight of a sunken tomato is enough to make my stomach turn. And the smell...oh God, the smell.

So I pulled out of the Chevy dealership like a crazy person. I had to find a dumpster and fast, and I was struggling to stay within 5 miles of the speed limit, but it's hard to race away from the stench--and not speed--when the stench is in the seat behind you.

I ended up driving to the University where I knew I could find an open dumpster and no one would ask questions. Or try to stop me. (I could just see a helpless Walmart employee trying to keep me from using their dumpster. I'm sure the scenario would involve me getting a mug-shot taken and a headline of "Lunatic Assaults Employee with a Rotten Watermelon. Story at 6."

Just recalling how I gathered up the squishy mess with old ranch towels makes me want to run to the bathroom holding my stomach. But I was able to scoop the nastiness up and throw it out, even though the towels made their way into the dumpster along with the rotting red nastiness.

Getting rid of the melon, though, did not get rid of the smell. I was reminded of the Seinfield episode "The Smelly Car." Jerry says, "You don't understand what I'm up against. This is a force more powerful than anything you can imagine. Even Superman would be helpless against this kind of stench."

So I drove home and literally emptied a gallon of odor and stain removal on the carpet where the putrid juice had poured out. Then I went to it with the steam cleaner. I admit the smell was better, but not totally gone. I sprayed the area again with Oxy Carpet Stain Remover and left it soaking with the windows open.

"It's just a watermelon," said Allen.

"It's beyond watermelon," I replied. In fact, I still feel dirty. *shiver*

I can't tell you how happy I am that I have to drive the truck tomorrow. I am trailering Adonis over to Mirka's for a lesson. With any luck, the smell won't still be clinging to me like an entity. But maybe I should warn her, or at least bring her a clothespin for her nose, just in case.

And I think I'll shower a few more times before I go to bed.

Possibly Praising Parelli or Perhaps his Protégée

2010-09-12T18:22:00.000-07:00

I have to be honest that my first experience with "Parelli" wasn't great. I started reading his book Natural Horse-Man-Ship not long after I adopted Sky, and I stopped reading after 8 pages.

First, he introduces a program that "comes in 41 words and begins with the letter P." When I started reading "Pat Parelli proudly presents his programs and the proclamation that prior and proper...." I have to say my first thought was, "You've got to be kidding me."

In the next paragraph, Parelli goes on to write:

"I've identified 103 ingredients in Natural Horse-Man-Ship, and these concepts are the basis of this text. I list them in a particular order: 1,2,4,6,8,and 10. Added together, they equal 31. There are two sets of these numbers (1,2,4,6,8,10). 31+31=62. Add the 41 P's. 31+31+41=103."

If I had been Parelli's editor, I would have said, "You really want to put all those P's in there? And the numbers? Really? Cause if I were your reader, those things would make me put the book down."

And they did. I put the book down and I didn't pick it back up. If I heard someone refer to the Parelli method, I immediately thought, "I know what that is...all those P's and numbers."

I didn't give Parelli a second thought after that, not until I met Mirka.

Mirka was trained in the Parelli method when she was a teenager. I have to say, though, that I don't consider her a "Parelli" trainer. She is a "Mirka" trainer. She uses Parelli methods, but she also uses her brain, her heart, and her entire soul when she works with horses. The Parelli method is a foundation for her knowledge base, because it makes sense to her. But she continues to expand her horizons exponentially.

I have always been a big fan of Natural Horsemanship. The book that I picked up after I put Parelli down was written by a man named Mark Rashid. Once I started reading Rashid's books, I couldn't stop. I'd be up at 2am, finishing one of his books and crying my eyes out.

"Isn't that a horse training book?" My husband once asked me, a bit concerned at my display.

"Yee-ssss," I managed to say between sobs.

I actually wrote a letter to Mark after reading all of his books. It was something like 3 pages long. I let my husband read it before I mailed it because, well, he's my best editor.

"You're in love with this guy," Allen said flatly.

"Yeah. I know."

And I was in love with him--in love with all of his principles regarding horses. I still am. I have my fingers crossed that he will include Forever Sky Ranch in his 2011 workshop tour. We're on the list.

(Mirka is the only person I have ever mentioned "Mark Rashid" to who knew what I was talking about. I really like that.)

The list of things I like about Mirka continues to grow. I like that she is straight-forward. She is quick to give praise when praise is warranted, but she doesn't sugar-coat her criticism. I respect that. I like her compassion toward horses, how she strives to earn leadership over her horses out of respect instead of dominance. I suppose when it comes down to it, I feel like I "get" where Mirka is coming from. As a yoga instructor, I understand the power of our body's energy, how you can direct that energy, and how that energy can affect everyone around you. Mirka uses her body's energy to direct her horses' movements. I totally dig that. Better yet, I understand it.

It has never been a secret that one of my big desires is to create an obstacle course at FSR and to someday host Obstacle Playdays or Horse Agility tournaments. Imagine my super excitement to learn that Mirka often hosts such activities. This past Sunday I ventured out to one of Mirka's Horse Agility Tournaments. I went as an observer. (Adonis and I will go together next time.) The ease with which Mirka works with her equine companions is astonishing, and I can say the same for everyone who participated this past Sunday.

The whole experience was so magical that Nikki, another one of the observers (and Rodeo Queen at Tate, I might add), asked, "Does Mirka give lessons to anyone? Or does she only work within her group?"

"No," was my remark. "It's a tight knit circle. She doesn't give lessons to just anyone." The dry humor was apparent in my voice. I've never seen a more open circle, actually. And while Mirka's schedule is tight, she's available to anyone who wants to learn a better way of working with horses.

(I mean, she agreed to give ME lessons, after all!)

I have communicated on Facebook with several of Mirka's "circle" over the last several weeks, but until Sunday I hadn't met anyone. As one of the horses was chasing a cow as part of the exercise, my friend Cheryl said to me, "That's what Forever Sky needs, a cow." Hearing the name "Forever Sky" Kelly turned around and asked in the most pleasant, friendly voice, "Are you Jolee?" Like I said, it's an open, inviting circle.

(I hope you're feeling much much better, Kelly! Can't wait to get to know you better!)

I have to say that finding Mirka has rejuvenated my passion for working with horses. And fairly soon I will start putting up my own agility course at FSR.

For now, though, I am working to complete our awesome cross county course. Alexis and I will be hard at it tomorrow as we finish up working on our interesting and exciting cross-country obstacles.

I was honored to have Mirka and her student Natalie sign up to ride the course. I will be excited to have them at Forever Sky.

And I am excited to be taking lessons with Mirka. I have to say that I never, in my wildest imagination, thought you would find a Parelli Carrot Stick by my saddle. But these days, you can. And I'm even using a rope halter with Adonis! (For those of you aware of my halter fetish, you understand how significant that is.)

But hey...life is about change. Embrace the unknown. And follow your dreams.

I am.

Barn Manager + Power Tools = New Gate

2010-09-09T18:20:00.000-07:00

I finished installing our new electric gate today. I was very proud of myself. I had been putting off working on the cursed thing for over two months because, frankly, it intimidated me. I had to hook up a marine battery to a solar panel and then connect them to the gate opener, which I had to install properly on the metal gate. I knew that if I just sat down with the whole mess that I could figure it out. But the instructions, at first glace, looked a bit like Chinese translated to Russian, translated to some African tongue, and then finally translated to English. Some things just didn't make sense.

But I did it. The gate works. Except for the keypad. Apparently the one I purchased doesn't function on the same MHz as the gate opener. "Of course," I thought.

So I still have to get a keypad, but that should be easy enough.

The reason we needed a new gate?

Janine.

Let me take you back a few months. It's early on a Sunday morning. And it's storming. The rain is whipping down in sheets and the wind is gusting. Janine (our barn manager) is trying to GET OUT to make it to church. Alexis (our trainer) is trying to GET IN so she can load up her horse and head to a horse show.

Back up one more day....

"Janine, would you make sure to lock the gate before you go to bed?" I asked. "I saw a strange truck drive up yesterday. Makes me uncomfortable."

"I will," said Janine.

Famous last words.

So it's storming. And Janine can't get the padlock unlocked. (She had the correct key, so who knows what the problem was. Did it rust?) By the time they were working with the bolt cutters trying to get the chain off, Janine and Alexis were soaking wet. You could have wrung them out and they'd still be dripping. The chain was too strong, however. Nothing they attempted worked.

"I need to get in!" screamed Alexis over the pounding of the rain and the cracking thunder.
"I need to get out!" yelled Janine.

They called me about this time, and I jumped in my car to head that way. But I wasn't going to make it in time, not for Janine to make it to church or for Alexis to make it to the horse show.

"Just do what you need to do," I told Janine.

And she did.

She walked back through the pouring rain to the barn and retrieved the battery-powered saw.
I didn't see Janine actually hacking away at the wooden post that held the gate together, but I could envision it as plain as day.

There she was, that determined look in her eyes, wielding a saw. No way was a stupid gate going to keep her from getting to church. No way in hell.

And it didn't.

Alexis never made it to the horse show, however. They cancelled it due to bad weather.

I have to say, I almost miss seeing that poor, ragged, wooden stump hanging from the old metal gate. But I have put so much time into putting up the new gate that from now on I think I might just hide the power tools.

Habitat for Horses-- (The story about Janine wielding the electric hacksaw will have to wait)

2010-08-25T02:12:00.000-07:00

This was going to be a blog about our new gate, the one we had to install because Janine cut the other one down with a hacksaw during a rain storm. (Yes, it's a story you'll want to hear.)

But this week I received an email from Habitat for Horses. In that email was a story about Prince.

HFH received a call from the police about a horse that was down and almost dead. They responded to the call immediately (as they always do) and what they found was far worse than anything they could have imagined. "There was very little life left in this guy," writes Jerry, the president of HFH, "Laying in the hot sun for days on end, he was so wasted away that he looked like a shadow."

Habitat managed to get this poor soul home to their ranch and into the arms of their Anderson Sling, where "Prince" began to revive with fresh water, hay, and love.

I'd like to tell you that this story is unusual, that this type of cruelty doesn't happen every day. But it does. And for many years, Habitat for Horses has been there to help those helpless ponies and give hope to situations that seem hopeless.

But there was one phrase in the HFH newsletter that actually made me cringe.

Jerry writes, "Every month is a struggle to meet our expenses and, without a doubt, this summer has been the hardest. Horses are dying of starvation, horses are abandoned in grassless pastures, and they are crying out for our help. The economy is hurting a lot of people and our donations are way down. For the first time in ages, I'm scared. Will we be able to survive?"

I admit I have a special attachment to Habitat for Horses. They are the ones who made it possible for me to have the horsey love of my life, Naysa. Naysa was a lost cause. But HFH drove 4 hours to Louisiana to rescue her--to take her mutilated, tortured body back to where they could try to save her. And they did save her, though it took three surgeries to get all the bone fragments out of her sinus cavity and months and months of daily treatment to keep the infection from killing her.

I know money is tight everywhere. My family is struggling. The ranch is struggling. We are all fighting to keep our heads above water in this economic climate. And we've all had to cut back our spending. When we get pleas for donations, we look at our check books and think that we would love to help, but just can't afford to. Maybe later, we think.

But Habitat for Horses might not have a "later."

They need our help NOW.

And I have an idea.

I'm going to take the money I would normally spend this week on two or three bottles of wine, and I'm going to send it to Habitat. I'll drink water, instead. It's an itty bitty sacrifice.

What itty bitty sacrifice can you make this week so that Habitat can continue helping horses?

Keep in mind that ANY AMOUNT OF MONEY HELPS. Please send what you can. Soon.

Habitat for Horses is a nonprofit 501.c.3. Donations to Habitat for Horses are tax-deductible to the extent permitted by law. You may donate by mail to Habitat for Horses, P.O. Box 213, Hitchcock, TX 77563 or you can visit their website, www.habitatforhorses.org, and follow the donation prompts.

THANK YOU, everyone. It's rare that I send out a request like this. (Actually, I don't think I ever have.) And I appreciate your time. Watch for the next FSR blog, where you'll get to hear about Janine attacking our gate with an electric saw. (Love you Janine!!)

You Find Out Who Your Friends Are

2010-08-18T18:02:00.000-07:00

That song "Find Out Who Your Friends Are" by Tracy Lawrence has been running through my head at an almost continual rate since last Saturday, when I thought the dream of Forever Sky might just die.

Everybody wants to slap your back
Wants to shake your hand
When you’re up on top of that mountain

Let one of those rocks get wet
And you slide back down
Look up and see who’s around then

This ain't where the road comes to an end
This ain't where the band wagon stops
This is just one of those times when
A lotta folks jump off.

You find out who your friends are
Somebody’s gonna drop everything
Run out and crank up their car
Hit the gas, get there fast
Never stop to think “what’s in it for me?”
Or “It’s way too far.”
They just show on up
With their big ol’ heart
You find out who your friends are.

The funny thing is that I didn't realize I HAD so many friends. True friends. People who would go out of their way to help me out, to help the ranch out.

Saturday night I feared we weren't going to be able to make the ranch work. The next afternoon at 4:00, my ENTIRE BARN had conveened to figure out what we could do to save what we had.

"It's what family does," said Diane. "When things get rough, family pulls together."

And because of that family, it looks as though Forever Sky will be stronger than ever. I just have to do my best to stop "thinking with my heart" as Alexis puts it. But the truth is, I'm not a business woman. I'm a horse lover. A people lover. A lover of life. A writer. It's not in my nature to make the figures work! But I guess I have to. (Good thing Leslie's a book keeper!)

Now I have this feeling in my core that I can't explain. It's some combination of awe, joy, embarassment, thankfulness, love, astonishment, wonder, and excitement.

I'll never be able to thank all of the people who have offered their care and concern, who have given their all to help out, who have prayed unceasingly....all the people who have shown me what it means to be a friend. I will spend my life doing my best to repay such kindness.

I have always lived my life on faith. I trust that if I work my hardest. If I give more than I get. If I listen more than I talk. If I follow the path set before me. If I trust in God, then everything will work out. It might not work out the way I want, but it will work out the way it's supposed to.

Now, more than ever before, I realize that Forever Sky Ranch has become much more than a barn and pastures and fencing. I also realize that it no longer belongs just to me. It belongs to my family--to all those people who have made it, and continue to make it, what it is. It also belongs to those people we have yet to meet, those of you who will one day join our family. We'll welcome you with open arms. And on that day, I'll be able to say, without reservation, that as part of the Forever Sky Family, you will never lack for love and support.

Thank you so much, my friends. I love you. All of you.

"Excuse me, have you seen my ass?"

2010-08-11T17:03:00.000-07:00

Some of you know that I moved Dexter and The Donkey (aka Raya) to my house a few weeks ago. Sarah and Cynthia wanted to bring their horses to the ranch, so I called Janine and asked if we had room for them (Janine IS the barn guru after all.) Because we haven't finished fencing the new pastures, Janine's answer was a resounding NO. No room in the Inn.

So I made room. I hooked up the trailer, loaded up the ponies, and took them to my back yard.

Interestingly enough, we own the one lot in our subdivision that can have horses--or whatever else we might want. We joked for years about getting chickens and goats, to the chagrin of our neighbors, of course. We never really thought the backyard would hold anything but two rambunctious dogs. Guess anything is possible.

I didn't know exactly what would happen when I unloaded Raya and Dexter and unleashed them on my backyard. I unhooked their halters, and....

they grazed.

After a little while, they found the roomy back porch and decided it made a good run-in shelter. They used the chair cushions as play toys. They became fond of looking in the windows. They made a game of stalking the cats. They conned our neighbors into giving them carrots over the fence. Raya even discovered that she could start braying early in the morning loud enough to get me hustling to get her food.

They were happy.

But then space opened up for them at the ranch once again, so today I backed my trailer into my driveway and prepared to load up the babies and take them back "where they belong."

I have a feeling, however, that Dexter has known for some time exactly where he belongs: the living room. And since he hadn't had a chance to guilt-trip us into letting him inside, Dexter was certain that his stay at the homestead was not over. He refused to get on the trailer. Now, this is a pony that has walked with me into the breakroom at the ranch while I got a drink from the fridge. The same pony that we took to the NWFAC Christmas party and walked him past a mechanical bull to a tiny room and had his picture made with Santa. The pony that has always stepped right up into the trailer.

After about fifteen minutes, he finally loaded. Brat.

I was worried, though, about Raya. At the ranch, Janine and Josh had to get behind her with a butt rope and push while I pulled. But today, I had only my husband, Allen, with me.

My main concern was that Raya might bolt, something she does with glee whenever she gets the whim. And once she has decided to bolt, that's it. You can hang on and go for a bumpy ride, but there's nothing you can do to stop her.

At the ranch, it's no big deal. If she bolts, she bolts. There's no where for her to go. But in my front yard, if she took off, there would be a donkey loose in the neighborhood.

"I'd have to go door to door," I told my mom, "asking people if they had seen a donkey."

My mom stifled a laugh. "Or 'Excuse me, have you seen my ass?'"

"Mom!" I exclaimed.

"Hey, it's from your mom. It's in the Bible."

(I'm still cracking up about that.)

As it turned out, Raya was fairly easy to load. Once she had her front feet on the ramp, I called my son Matthew over to help. He grabbed one end of a lead rope and Allen held the other. They had barely touched her and she walked right into the trailer.

Now the backyard seems just a bit too empty, though I'm sure the grass is taking a sigh of relief--what's left of it, that is. I know Raya and Dex are better off at the ranch--or at least my backyard is better off now that they are AT the ranch. But I'll sure miss Raya braying in the morning and seeing Dexter sacked out on the lawn, sound asleep.

Eat, Pray, Love

2010-08-02T13:52:00.000-07:00

I have to admit that I am a huge Twilight fan. I read the entire 4-book series in 5 days. Last year I found myself up at 2am reading New Moon, determined to finish the book before going to sleep. Then like an addict I started Eclipse at 3am without even a bathroom break.

I went to see the movie rendition of Eclipse today. While the movie itself was "okay," what really stayed with me was the trailer for the movie "Eat, Pray, Love." Julia Roberts plays the main character.

"I used to have this appetite for my life," she says. "And it's just gone."

As I get closer to 40, with all the stresses of life, I often wonder how I can hold on to the little girl inside me, the one who can't wait to plunge into life, the one who isn't afraid to trust, the one who loves freely and openly, whose insides are bursting with excitement for everything that life has to offer.

I admit I was starting to doubt it was possible to hold on to such passion for life. Maybe it slowly died, I thought, with every hurt, with every disappointment, with every betrayal.

Then I met Cher.

Cher walked into my barn this past April with a dream. She wanted to get her first horse. Once she had voiced her dream, Cher set out with passionate determination to find an equine companion. After a few disappointments (and one lost deposit from an incredibly unfair woman in Georgia), Cher found Lily.

The day she brought Lily home to the ranch was something to see. I have never seen someone so happy to get a horse. I mean, I wasn't even that happy the day I got Sky, and I was pretty darn happy that day! (Sorry Sky! You know I love you!)

Not only did Cher seem happy to have her Lily-pad, she seemed happy about everything, sort of like a 14-yr-old girl who still thinks life is a bundle of roses with endless possibilities.

Did I mention that Cher is 62?

If I didn't, it's because age isn't something you think about when you meet Cher. She's a beautiful woman. You think that. She has a figure to die for. You think that. She is sweet. You definitely think that. Genuine. Yes. Energetic. Yep. But age? Nope. Not something that crosses your mind.

Really, Cher actually makes me feel old.

"You don't start getting old," says Cher, "until you decide that you are all grown up!"

I'm definitely not all grown up (just ask my mom!) so I suppose there is hope for me yet.

The day Lily arrived, Cher taped this letter to Lily's stall:

DEAR FRIENDS AT FOREVER SKY RANCH,

I WANTED TO INTRODUCE MYSELF. MY NAME IS CHER; I'M A CHRISTIAN AND A NEW MEMBER OF YOUR FAMILY HERE AT FSR! I JUST PURCHASED MY VERY FIRST HORSE!!! I'VE WANTED ONE SINCE AGE 3 (ASKED FOR ONE EVERY BIRTHDAY AND CHRISTMAS OF MY LIFE) AND I'M GETTING READY TO TURN 63, SO IT'S BEEN A LONG 60 YEARS COMING! IT'S A DREAM COME TRUE FOR ME!! CAN YOU TELL HOW EXCITED I AM? . . . AND IT'S NOT EVEN CHRISTMAS!! I KNOW I HAVE SOOOO MUCH TO LEARN AND I WILL DO MY BEST TO OBSERVE PROPER BARN ETIQUETTE AND FOLLOW THE BARN RULES. IF I MESS UP, PLEASE LET ME KNOW RIGHT AWAY AND I WILL TRY TO NOT REPEAT THE MISTAKE. (IF I DO, JUST WRITE ON A POST-IT AND STICK IT ON MY FOREHEAD!!) I WILL TRY NOT TO BE A PAIN IN THE BUTT WITH THE MANY QUESTIONS I'M GOING TO HAVE. I HOPE YOU CAN BE PATIENT WITH ME WHILE I ABSORB EVERYTHING THERE IS TO KNOW ABOUT CARING FOR A HORSE AND IMPROVING MY EQUESTRIAN SKILLS.
I CAN'T WAIT TO MEET YOU ALL AND THANKS FOR LETTING ME BECOME A MEMBER OF THE FOREVER SKY FAMILY! I JUST LOVE THIS PLACE!

CHER HEFFERNAN, LILY'S MOM

I smiled when I read that note. It was full of such life and energy, such warmth. I knew then that Cher coming to Forever Sky was a blessing of some sort, like a gift from an angel. (Actually, if I found out that Cher WAS an Angel, I wouldn't be surprised one bit. I'd probably say something like, "And?")

A few weeks ago I was having a moment of inner turmoil. Something inside me looked to Cher for what I hoped would be a small piece of advice. Her return email was long, thoughtful, and caring. It actually brought me to tears. She ended her wonderful letter by writing

"Pray. Be yourself. Be happy."

Thank you, Cher. For being part of the family at Forever Sky. For your laughter. Your joy. Your friendship. And your smile. But most of all, THANK YOU for showing me that regardless of what life throws at you, it IS possible to hold on to your appetite for life, your passion, your excitement, and your love.

I'm Really Not a Biker Chick

2010-07-26T20:14:00.000-07:00

I love tattoos. I always have. I wanted to have a tattoo long before tattooing became a fad and every California teenager had have her navel surrounded with an image of the sun. There really should be warnings posted about tummy tattoos--something like "If you get this now, don't get pregnant. Ever. Just saying."

My Uncle David was "inked up." He was retired from the Navy and sported a blue splotchy anchor on one forearm and a blue splotchy busty woman on the other.

I LOVED those tattoos. I was six years old, and I loved them. I used to trace the anchor with my fingers. I think I was too embarrassed to touch the lady.

Of course when I told my mom I was going to have tattoos when I grew up, her response was "That's nice, honey." She probably thought that my desire to put permanent marks on my body would pass along with my desire to have fuzzy dice hanging from the rear-view mirror of my future car.

But it didn't. (Sorry, Mom!)

So when you walk into the barn and see a woman with a tattoo of a panther on her upper arm, that's me. Hi. I'm really not a biker chick. I just love tattoos.

Carla, my very first boarder and my very good friend, sent me a text yesterday. It was just a picture. Of a tattoo. A wolf and a dragonfly on a woman's shoulder blade. HER shoulder blade.

"Did you just get a tattoo???!!!?" I exclaimed with texting punctuation.
"Yep," was all she wrote.

My first thought was "We're going to have a barn full of chicks with tattoos." My second thought was, "I have such a cool barn."

Tattoos are addictive. Once you get the first one, there's something inside you that wants to get another.

I have four.

I think number five will be a horse. Not sure where that one's going just yet. I'll let you know when I decide. :-) Just don't tell my mom.

Whiskey for my Men, Beer for my horses.

2010-07-19T10:48:00.000-07:00

A few years ago I hated the Toby Keith song about Whiskey and Horses. I couldn't listen to it. When it came on, I would turn the station.

"Awful," I thought. "Just Awful."

I hated it.

It's important to say, I suppose, that I always thought the lyrics were "Whiskey for my men, BE-FORE my horses."

I was appalled. Those horses broke their backs to get those ungrateful poor excuses for men to wherever it is they were getting (yes, I realize it's just a song, but still) and those pathetic self-centered cowboys were going to give their men whiskey first? Not on my watch. Heck no.

Later I realized the song was "Whiskey for my men, BEER for my horses."

I felt much better after that.

I have to say, Naysa LOVES beer.

She smells it and her neck stretches out so long you would think she was a giraffe.

A friend of mine who drinks Corona--and only Corona--gave Naysa her first sip of beer last year. After that, she became a total addict.

Today, when I walked in the breakroom, I checked all the coolers that were still sitting out after our amazing party this past Saturday. (I have been forbidden from blogging about the party. Yes, it was a REALLY fun evening.) The IGLOO cooler which held the beer was still full of ice--even after two days.

I picked up an ice-cold Coors and thought two things: 1) I would love to drink this (I'm not drinking beer these days) and 2) I bet Naysa would love this.

I covered the beer cap with my FSR shirt and twisted. A bit of cool fog drifted about the opening of the beer.

When I walked out to give Naysa a sip of beer, I heard Katrina call out, "You're not getting my horse drunk, are you??"

Katrina had brought her horse Amira in for a lesson with Alexis. (Amira is a gorgeous Arabain mare. Way too good for beer. I'd guess high-class champagne for her.) Amira was nickering at the sight of me providing "treats" to other horses.

"No," I called down the barn aisle. "Just giving Naysa her fix!"

Nay took a few laps of beer from my hand, but then turned her nose up. (Guess it wasn't Corona.) I ended up with most of the beer on my shirt and the rest splashed on the ground. I could hear my Corona friend say, "That's downright alcohol abuse, that is."

The moral of the story??

There IS no moral to this story! I'm just glad our horses get beer if they want it, and there's not much cowboy whiskey drinking going on.

**Amira would like to inform her public--now that she has become a blog star--that she will not be taking any phone calls but will be signing hoof-o-graphs for a special select few.

Every Journey Has a Beginning

2010-07-10T18:49:00.000-07:00

My two sons and I were watching movie trailers today--The Last Airbender, Avatar, Toy Story 3, Twilight Eclipse--when somehow we came upon the preview for Star Wars, Episode I. The boys were captivated. I had to read out loud the words on the screen:

Every Generation has a Legend.

Every Journey has a First Step.

Every Saga has a Beginning.

I suddenly saw Alexis as Obi-Wan Kenobi training Jedi Star fighters, and I laughed out loud. The boys made me start the trailer over because I interrupted. Brats. :-)

It's true, though. Every journey does have a first step. And every saga does have a beginning. Forever Sky took that first step on July 18th of last year, when we officially opened for horsey business. We had a big party that day. It was Sky's birthday. One year ago the ranch was quiet. I had my horses. I had Janine. And I had a very big dream. The worst that could happen was that no one would share my dream. But little by little, things began to happen. And the dream began to become reality.

Now, a year later, I look back at all the activities FSR has hosted: Adult Horse Camp, Dressage Workshops, a fantastic Schooling Show, and an incredible summer kids' camp. The young ladies at kids camp had so much fun that they begged Alexis to start a Saddle Club. (Please, Obi-Wan. We are ready to train.) So this year, as we approach our anniversary, I'm no longer the only one holding on to the dream of what Forever Sky can be. Now we have a team of dreamers--the FSR team.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you the FSR Saddle Club.

**Insert Applause**

Next Saturday, the 17th of July, at 4:00pm, FSR will celebrate its first anniversary. We'll have food and cake, wine and beer. We'll have brand new FSR shirts for sale. And we'll have plenty of nice, cold A/C in the breakroom. In addition, the Forever Sky Saddle Club will have its first official meeting. (If you're interested, come an hour early. The group is meeting at 3:00)

We are so excited about our upcoming party! Please join us and help us celebrate the fact that every so often dreams can, and do, come true.

Two Roosters in a Stall

2010-07-06T14:29:00.000-07:00

34 days.

That's how long it's been since I posted the last blog. I've toyed around with a few stories, but I couldn't bring myself to wrap them up and post them, not until today.

Every time I would start writing about the FSR kids camp or Katrina getting separated from her horse, or my trip to get Ruby from Texas, or how I actually printed brochures with "Let your Imagination SORE," I would see that picture of Jake chilling out on the couch, his mouth slightly open in that wonderful doggy grin.

To post a new blog meant taking Jake off the front page. I suppose in my subconscious, somewhere, I felt that putting up a new blog meant that my life with Jake was really in the past. And I wasn't ready to let go.

This morning when I arrived at the ranch, everything was quiet. It was drizzling a bit, and the dark sky and cool wind promised we could expect more than a drizzle at any moment. Since I was just coming to drop off brochures, I planned to be in and out fast before the sky opened up and I had to carry on with wet clothes. But as I turned to leave, Naysa nickered at me.

I was forced to head to the peppermint drawer.

While I was feeding Naysa's peppermint addiction, I suddenly heard a resounding

"COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!!!"

I literally froze.

"COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!!!"

I headed toward the noise.

"COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!!!"

I stopped at an empty stall and slowly moved to peer over the door. There they were. Two roosters in a cage. They looked at me and cocked their heads to the side--no pun intended. Their big red combs flopped with the quick movement of their feathered heads.

I started to laugh. It was one of those laughs that comes from deep inside, the kind you know you can't stop. I just kept laughing. And then I laughed more.

Turns out the roosters were waiting for Janine's mother to come pick them up. FSR was just a short stop on their way to a new home. (In their cramped cage, I'm sure they felt like any of us do at the Atlanta airport.)

Life never ceases to amaze me. Somehow, on a rainy, miserable day, those two funny roosters made me realize it was okay to move on.

Rest in Peace, Jake. We still miss you. We always will.

King of the Mountain

2010-06-02T19:59:00.000-07:00

This past Tuesday I had to have Jake, my wonderful dog and companion, put down. He had toe cancer. Apparently black male standard poodles are prone to toe cancer. Sounds almost silly. It's not. Jake was 10 years old.

We had two of his toes removed a couple of years ago, and we made the decision that if other toes became cancer-ridden, that we weren't going to keep cutting off body parts. It was a hard decision.

When Jake was a puppy, he would climb up on this large rock (nearly 5 feet high) in our front yard. Often he would be holding a frisbee in his mouth that he had successfully retrieved. We called him "King of the Mountain."

And he really was King of the Mountain.

It's odd coming home without seeing his big fluffy "fro," and that dangling pink tongue. Jake was big and black, and strangers were always terrified of him. So funny considering he was essentially a 75lb lap dog. Jake was truly the best dog ever.

I miss him.

Last year this time I had to put down my horse Arete because of tumors behind her eyes that were causing her pain. She was 26. You can find her portrait in the Forever Sky break room. She looked exactly like Sky. I miss her too.

When I got home yesterday, I sat down at my desk and the first thing I saw was a picture of Leslie and her horse, Rico. Looking at the picture brought fresh tears to my eyes. Like Arete, Rico was 26 years old when he crossed over the rainbow bridge. He went quietly. One day they simply found him lying down in the field. Peaceful. At rest.

Are we gluttons for punishment? We take these creatures into our homes and hearts. They become family. And yet we are destined to lose them.

Sky will be 26 next month. And while she acts like a bratty 3-year-old, I know she's not. I sometimes wonder when I'll have to say goodbye.

But it's not something I dwell on.

Losing Jake was hard, but it reaffirms for me my belief that you never know when your last moment alive will be. Nothing is certain. And so we must live every day in a way that fulfills us and makes us proud. We must live with Integrity. Joy. Fortitude. Reckless abandon. Tenderness. Compassion. And most of all, Love.

Take time today--and everyday--to really hug your family and your friends. Pet your dogs and cats. Wrap your arms around your horse. Take a moment to cherish the living beings in your life, whether they walk on two legs or four. Tell them you love them.

Take time to do the things that are really important.

Love more. Laugh more. Live more.

Famous Last Words

2010-05-29T07:31:00.000-07:00

Thursday I had a great lesson on Sky. When we were finished, I was feeling so good, I wanted to keep riding. So I tacked up Bingo, the pony who is dead calm for children but will spook at his own shadow if an adult is on his back. While I was trotting Bingo around the arena, Leslie was having a lesson on Barney, her 20-yr-old thoroughbred.

I wanna ride Bingo!" said Leslie. (Everyone loves Bingo.) Leslie was frustrated with Barney because he was doing beautiful flying lead changes which would have gotten perfect marks for Level 3 dressage, but she was trying to get him to work on the Level 1 test.

"Wanna switch?" I asked.

"Absolutely!"

So when Leslie finished her lesson, I gave her Bingo, and she gave me Barney.

Barney is AWESOME. He stands at 16.3 hands and has the most amazing stride.

"You have to be firm with him," warned Leslie, "or he'll take off with you. He can be a butt."

"I'm not worried about him taking off with me," I said. (Famous Last Words.)

I could tell Barney was excited when I first got on him. Whether it was from just coming out of a lesson or from all the jumps in the arena, I didn't know. (Barney had once been a gold metal jumper. He had also had training under Michael Matz--the guy who trained the famous Barbaro.)

I took Barney into the dressage arena so he wasn't tempted to clear one of the jumps, and we began to canter.

His canter was almost too amazing. It felt like we were flying. I was totally comfortable in the saddle. The only problem was that once we were in that flying canter, I forgot to actually RIDE. I was leaning forward, and so Barney kept going faster. As we approached the edge of the plastic dressage fence, I suddenly realized I had no control what-so-ever. I looked at that little plastic fence and thought, "He's jumping out of this arena."

I prepared myself for exiting the dressage arena, but all of Barney's training must have kicked in at the last minute. He suddenly made a sharp turn to the right. If he had been a car, his tires would have squeeled. I, on the other hand, kept going in the same direction, at which point I "was separated" from Barney. Unfortunately, I landed on my back on that plastic dressage fence. Ouch.

"I should never have written that blog about the Physics of falling off a horse," I said to Janine when we got back to the barn.

"That's the bare basics of physics," said Janine. "If you want to get into real physics, you'd have to calculate the velocity of the horse, your velocity, and the angle at which you were separated."

Definition of acceleration: a = (Vf – Vi)/Δt
*motion equation: Vf2 = Vi2 + 2aΔx
*linear motion equation: Δy = Vyit + ½ ayt2

Hmmm. Okay. Maybe not. I think I'd rather fall of a horse than do anything resembling Janine's homework. Besides, the calculator on my iPhone doesn't have sine and cosine.

"Were you tense at all?" asked Leslie later that evening, when we were chilling out in the break room. "You looked really relaxed."

I laughed. "You mean relaxed as I was flying through the air?"

"Well, yeah. You seemed pretty calm."

I probably had been. I'm not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing, but I don't worry about falling off.

"And I can't believe you got back on," Leslie continued.

"Well, it wasn't his fault," I said. "I was leaning forward. He was doing exactly what he thought I wanted him to do. He's a good horse. I can't wait to ride him again."

The next day, my body hurt from head to toe.

When I told Alexis how stiff and sore I was, she had only one thing to say.

"Stay on next time."

Thank you, Alexis. It's good advice. I think I'll take it, along with some Ibuprofen.

DO NOT DISTURB

2010-05-25T11:53:00.001-07:00

Janine is the most assiduous, hard-working woman I have ever known, and her focus is unflappable. Okay, well, maybe that last part isn't exactly true...not if her Forever Sky family has anything to do with it.

Janine is taking an online physics course through UWF as part of her pre-vet degree. Her class is required to use a certain computer program that simply will not run on Janine's laptop, so she is stuck using the computer in the FSR break room. Our break room is the social center of the ranch, and people are in and out all day, which means that every five minutes someone is saying,

"Oh, Janine! Hey, I didn't see you there. What's up with you?"

Random people interrupting Janine's study time on the computer would not be an issue if

1) Janine liked Physics

OR

2) Janine didn't enjoy chatting.

(She really needs a sign to put on her back that says DO NOT DISTURB.)

I have to admit I am guilty of hogging Janine's time. She's such a delight to be around. She's straightforward and funny, sweet as she can be, honest, caring.... I could go on. She's just lovely. It's hard not to talk to her, especially when she's right there.

And unfortunately for Janine's school work, Janine would rather

It was especially hard for her to concentrate this past Sunday because we had the Forever Sky Schooling Show going on. Not only was she bombarded with boarders and guests talking to her, she also had to deal with the temptation of going outside and watching everyone ride.

You can guess what Janine chose to do. I would have made the same choice.

The show was FANTASTIC!

All the riders looked great. Really great. And there was plenty of laughter, especially when we discovered that Nugget had doused Bingo in glitter and put blue bows in his mane. (Poor Bingo, he's so abused.) For me, it was wonderful seeing all those new horses in the barn. But I have to say that Sky didn't think it was so great. She got kicked out of her stall for the day so another horse could use it. In her book, that's outright betrayal. She used some pretty foul horsey language when I checked on her in the pasture. I tell you what, that's a mare who knows how to pout. But hey, she's Arabian.

And I LOVE Arabians.

It's rare that I find someone as enamored with Arabians as I am, so it was such a delight to see Keri Sims and her mother, Leslie Leland, out with their beautiful Arabian ponies. Tstardust, pictured here on the left, got quite fond of using my body as a scratching post for her sweaty face. Yes, I already miss that horse.

Horses. Rides. Ribbons. Laughter. Glitter. Bows. Yummy muffins. (Did I mention there was food???) Our own Indiana Jones even showed up to help out, as did our resident model!

It was a great show.

And I'm not worried about Janine. As far as physics goes, what horsewoman (or man) doesn't understand the principles of Physics? We totally get Newton's law of motion: An object at rest tends to stay at rest, and an object in motion tends to stay in motion, with the same direction and speed.

It's simple. If you're galloping down a trail or cantering up to a jump and your horse suddenly comes to a screeching halt, your body continues moving...with the same direction and speed...right past the horse. And THEN the law of gravity comes into play. You hit the ground.

We horse people have Physics down to a science.

Where studying is concerned, Janine is a master. I for one caught her writing formulas on the barn whiteboard. (REALLY glad I was an English major. Wow.) But as dedicated as she is, I suppose we should stop giving her excuses to leave the computer and join the play. Don't worry Janine. We love you! I'll make sure you get that DO NOT DISTURB sign.

Don't Hate Her 'Cause She's Beautiful.

2010-05-11T05:30:00.000-07:00

Don't let the title fool you. I'm not talking about my arrogant Arabian, Sky--(and yes, I know that using Arrogant and Arabian in the same sentence is a redundancy.) I'm talking about Anna.

Take a minute to travel back to your high school days. You remember that girl...the girl who was drop dead gorgeous, who made perfect grades, who was kind, happy, approachable (so approachable that you were afraid to approach her), and above all, genuine...not to mention skinny. The girl who was so perfect you wanted to hate her, but you couldn't.

(Okay, maybe you hated her just a litte bit.)

Well, we have her at Forever Sky. Her name is Anna. Anna Kimura.

Anna has a horse named Sonny. Sonny is big and beautiful, sleek and shiny. He's almost as spectacular as Anna.

(Okay, now I'm probably embarrassing Anna and making her mom really proud--She has the perfect mom, too, btw.)

Today is Anna's birthday. She is now 17. (I know,(insert sarcasm) Over the Hill!) I often forget how young she is when I'm around her--possibly because she's just shy of 6 feet tall. Did I mention that Anna is a model? I know. Her perfection verges on absurdity.

She has a contract with Elite Chicago, a classy modeling agency. In fact, Anna just returned from Chicagoland, where she joined other girls from all over the U.S. for a debutante--a coming out party--for new models. "When the lights dimmed," says Anna, "we walked the runway amidst a shower of camera flashes and applause. For the first time, I felt like a real model."

While in Chigaco, the other models kept asking her how she had such good posture even though she was one of the tallest models. "Try riding a horse three times a week," she would say. "Slouching isn't an option, unless you plan on falling off."

And Anna isn't one to fall off, not in any aspect of her life.

Anna just finished her Junior year at PHS. She's in the IB program, which is the most demanding, intense college prep program in the area. Yes, she succeeds academically too.

"Congratulations," I told her, "on getting excellence awards in Math and English."

Anna's eyes clouded just a bit before lighting up again. "How did you know about that?"

"You're mom put it on Facebook."

She rolled her eyes. "I told my mom if she was going to get a Facebook page, the requirement would be that she couldn't talk about me."

I laughed. Later, when Anna added me as a "friend" on Facebook, I told her "Don't go giving your mom a hard time now that you can see all her posts talking about how fantastic you are. Face it. You're fantastic and your mom is proud of you!"

"Jolee," she replied, "I HAVE to give her a hard time! It's my job as a daughter!"

Yes, she has a good sense of humor too...

You can find Anna at Forever Sky Ranch, riding (or swimming!) with her horse. When you see her walk by, you may at first be taken aback by her aura of beauty and perfection, but take a step closer, and you'll see she is a down-to-earth, caring, horse-loving girl who's easy to talk to and a pleasure to have around.

We love you, Anna! Have a great day, and a VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Another One Bites the Dust

2010-04-29T17:47:00.000-07:00

Word to the wise: When you have a horse who is prone to buck, who has been severely abused, who often FREAKS OUT for no good reason, DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT lean all the way back in the saddle and SLAP her on the butt to kill a fly.

Just don't do it.

Yes, Naysa bucked me off today. It's the second time I have been "separated" from her during a ride. She has attempted to buck me off on other occasions, without success, but today she caught me off guard and off balance, (i.e. reclining on her backside with the reins at the buckle actually smacking her on the butt.)

There is no question. I am an idiot.

The first buck sent me flying forward, the second buck sent me over her head in a somersault. I landed flat on my back.

Naysa remained where she was, looking at me like, "WHAT?"

Once I regained my composure (and my breath), I put my foot in the stirrup to get back in the saddle, but the girth wasn't tight enough so the saddle slipped a bit, sending Naysa into another bucking frenzy. I tightened the girth, walked her forward a bit, then put my foot in the stirrup again. This time she let me mount without problem, and we rode off like nothing had happened.

In the meantime, Carla's horse Sandy was attempting to get Carla off her back by rearing and bucking, and Leslie's horse Barney was shaking his horse head, looking back at his mom as if to say, "What's their problem?"

Naysa's first response to new stimuli is to buck. The first time I pressed my heals into her sides (gently, mind you) to ask her to go forward, she bucked. The first time I rode her bareback, she bucked, The first time she had a bit in her mouth when I was on her back, she bucked. The first time she had a rider lean back and smack her on the butt, she bucked. And the first time she felt the saddle slip to the side, she bucked.

It's simply her response to new things. That's who she is. Something different happens, and suddenly she's no longer herself. She is no longer my Naysa. She is that malnourished, tortured, beaten, bloody horse with a gaping hole in her face whose spirit refuses to let her die.

Once she has experienced something, it no longer triggers her bucking response. I can press her side to make her go. I can ride her bareback and with a bit. And I'm sure from now on I can swat flies off her backside. She's just scared of new things. Aren't we all?

Actually, I don't mind when she bucks. I just hate hitting the ground.

Score!

2010-04-19T17:28:00.000-07:00

The Blue Angel horse show this past weekend was simply fantastic. All of the Forever Sky riders did exceptionally well, and we are so proud of them. In the midst of all that pride, as well as the laughing, tacking, joking, riding, and running around with Forever Sky T-shirts like a big green cult, there was always one focus.

"What was your score?" you would hear again and again, as each rider came back, carrying a ribbon and her dressage test in hand.

Scores.

We've dealt with them all our lives. Numbers that can have a lasting impact on us. Numbers that might not mean a thing, and numbers that mean everything.

My two sons--twins, age six--are constantly in a race. They each want to get their clothes on first, brush their teeth first, enter or exit first.... They are sometimes so violent about it that I start to wonder if that's why the last couple of weeks of my pregnancy were so difficult. Were they fighting to see who would be born first too?

I find myself literally pulling my hair to keep from screaming at them, but today as I watched them argue about who should have their cereal poured first, I laughed. I know that their desire to "win" is a natural part of their makeup, as frustrating as it is for me. But what they don't realize yet is that winning is complicated. Sometimes we actually lose when we win, and sometimes we win when we lose.

I've always believed that we learn more by losing than by winning. When you tote a blue ribbon around--or an A on a paper or test--you feel like you're on top of the world. You're the best. You're great. You WON. And when you get that A or blue ribbon, you are less likely to pay attention to any criticism that comes with it, criticism that would make whatever you are doing better.

I think that's why I really like the way dressage tests are scored. Leslie got her first 60 this weekend, and she was bouncing around like a rabbit on amphetamines. Okay, maybe she wasn't THAT hyped up, but she was pretty darn happy.

(Side comment: Congratulations, Leslie!! You and Barney were awesome!)

Back in "the day" (why do people say that, btw?), if I had made a 60 on a test, I would have been horrified. Even 90s were out of the question at my house. If I got a 97, my mom would ask, "What happened to the other 3 points?" Some people have thought those words were a bit harsh, but they weren't. My mom taught me to believe I could always do better. Of course she was happy with my 97, that was a given, but she kept me working to achieve my very best, and I thank her for it every day. Forever Sky probably wouldn't exist had she never asked about those missing points.

What is interesting about the scores on dressage tests is that NOBODY expects to get a 100 on their test. Even the idea of an 80 or 90 is laughable. "In dressage," says Alexis, "if you are consistently scoring in the upper 60s and lower 70s, it's time for you to move on to the next level."

I like that.

No person can ever be perfect. No horse can ever be perfect. Certainly no horse and rider combination can be perfect. And so dressage teaches us to look for the commentary on the test, to look for how we can do better instead of whether or not we got the highest score, or the blue ribbon.

Yes, it's true, some of my Forever Sky family walked away with blue ribbons this weekend, but you know what they were focused on--the commentary on the test, not the ribbon. They were interested in how they could improve their riding.

I want to improve my riding, of course. But I am most interested in how I can improve Forever Sky Ranch. When I am at the ranch, I see all those missing points. And I plan to work for those points hard.

So if you're out at Forever Sky for a visit, you might suddenly hear someone shout "SCORE!" No need for concern. That will be me, hands in the air, happy to have accomplished one more thing to make the ranch a better place for my FSR family and their horses.

Walking on Sunshine--or Maybe Flying Through Clouds

2010-04-14T19:36:00.000-07:00

Have you ever met someone so happy and upbeat and energetic that just being around them makes you feel like the sun is shining, even if there are dark clouds in the sky?

I have. Her name is Aubrey.

Even though Aubrey doesn't have her own horse, there is no doubt that she is an important part of the Forever Sky Family. When she walks into the barn, it really is like someone turned on the lights--or flipped the radio station to some kind of awesome dance music.

Don't stop, make it rock, DJ blow my speakers up. Tonight, I'mma fight, till I see the sunlight...

(Yes, Aubrey, I know Annie doesn't like the Tik Tok song.)

We can actually thank Google for bringing Aubrey into our life at Forever Sky. She was looking for a good trainer in the area. So she googled (I still can't belive that's a verb now) and that's how she found Alexis. "After our first lesson," says Aubrey, "I knew I'd be coming back. I didn't even go ride with anyone else. I called up and canceled the other intro lessons I had scheduled."

Yes, it's true. Alexis really is THAT good.

Aubrey is from Enumclaw, Washington, a city built on a plateau formed by volcanic mudflow. "It sits right at the base of Mt. Rainier, an active volcano," says Aubrey, "which is pretty cool, well, y'know, till it explodes!" The name Enumclaw is derived from a local Native American word meaning "strong wind" or "thundering noise." Aubrey definately lives up to her city's name. She may not make a lot of noise (okay, well, sometimes) but she has such a powerful personality that she enters the barn like a strong wind. Or maybe like Twilight's Alice...she DOES come from Washington after all, with all that rain and greenery.

You can find Aubrey at the barn with Sky or Cymba or Bingo or Tucker...she was even going to groom Naysa the other day, but I took off on a trail ride about the time she pulled up to the barn. She loves being around the horses. She loves riding. "It's challenging, and it's frustrating, and it's relaxing, and it's a thrill all at the same time," says Aubrey. "It doesn't matter what day I've had, how I'm feeling, or how other people are feeling about me, riding makes me focus in the moment. And I like working with the horse, whether we're in the arena, out on the trail, or it's just a grooming session. I take care of and trust them, and they take care of and trust me. It also fulfills the adrenaline junkie in me, as if flight school doesn't take care of that!"

Yes, she said "flight school." Aubrey is in the Navy, training to be a pilot. Okay, you can close your mouth now. It's true. She's a gorgeous, funny, magnetic horsewoman who also flys planes.

Settle down guys. She's taken.

Aubrey is almost finished with her primary training, at which point she will go on to specialize in a certain type of aircraft. "Hopefully I'll be staying in Milton and learning to fly helicopters," says Aubrey. "Which is good, because it means I can stay at Forever Sky."

And we DO want her to stay.

She's family.

Splish, Splash

2010-04-10T20:48:00.000-07:00

If there ever were a time to come off a horse,today would have been the day for Alexis. She didn't, which was amazing in itself. But she did get in a little over her head...

so to speak.

After she finished giving lessons, Alexis worked her horse Annie in the arena. Annie can be a pill sometimes, and she likes to get all hot-headed and try to buck and fuss(not unlike me when someone suggests I wear a dress.) But Alexis hangs with her and gets her to turn that attitude into a beautiful, well-collected stride. (Alexis really is amazing with those horses.) They worked hard together, and they had a FANTASTIC ride. So after they were finished working, Alexis decided to hack around the ranch so they could both cool down.

While she and Annie meandered around the property, Alexis began to think about the summer horse camp that she has been planning.

***We interrupt this blog to insert a plug for the FSR horse camp***

June 7th-11th, ages 6-16, 8:00am to 4:00pm, $250 for the week

***Now back to regularly scheduled blogging***

Alexis used to attend horse camps as a kid, and one of the best things she remembers is going swimming on horseback.

"It is just such a cool feeling," says Alexis. "when the horse takes off and you know that you are both suspended in the water. There is no other feeling on a horse like that."

We have a small pond on the ranch, which Alexis explored a little bit with Tucker when they first moved to Forever Sky, but "it was cold," says Alexis, "and we only went in about belly deep."

Today Alexis decided she wanted to see exactly how deep the pond was. She walked Annie to the edge of the water, but Annie was having no part of going into that pond--that is, at least, not at first. She and Alexis danced along the edge for a while, until Annie finally leaned down in a cautious, guarded manner, and sniffed the water.

What happened next really should have been caught on camera (Where ARE those elusive cameramen when you need them?!) Annie, who had been more than hesitant about getting anywhere near the water, suddenly took a giant LEAP right into the pond.

What Annie didn't know--what ALEXIS didn't know--was that about 3 feet from the edge, the water gets deep. They went in ALL THE WAY. As Annie was clamoring to get a foot on something solid, she flung her head up and SMACKED Alexis right in the face.

I can feel her pain. I was there not long ago, bent over at the waist, holding my nose after Naysa had flung her head up and nailed me hard. The difference is that while I was stumbling about in the barn, seeing stars, wondering if my nose was broken, Alexis was still on horseback, suspended in the water, reaching her hand up to her face to make sure she still had all her teeth. She had no doubt her nose was broken.

Amazingly, the pair emerged from the water intact. Alexis was still in the saddle, minus the stirrups, yet holding onto the reins. They were both soaking wet and not a little stunned.

Alexis was still holding her nose when they began to walk back to the barn, but she maintained her sense of humor.

"I guess that's what I get for making the poor girl jump into water on the cross country course!

Thankfully, Alexis did not come away with a broken nose, though she did feel a bit sick.

"Are you sure you don't need to go to the ER," I asked her.

"I'm fine," said Alexis.

And you know what? She IS fine. She's a fine horsewoman, a fine lady, and a fine friend with one fine sense of humor. And even though she didn't have to show it today, I bet she's also one fine swimmer.

Here comes Peter Cottontail, hopping down the bunny trail...

2010-04-03T15:04:00.000-07:00

Alexis is an Eventer. For those of you who don't understand what that means, picture the difference between a boxer and an ultimate fighter. Your normal, well-trained dressage rider or show jumper is the boxer. The eventers, of course, are the ultimate fighters.

Eventers must not only master the art of dressage and show-jumping, but also the rigors of cross country. Cross country is what separates the men from the boys--or in this case, the women from the girls. The obstacles in cross country range from solid, natural objects like stone walls and fallen trees to things like ponds, streams, ditches, sudden drops, and men with machine guns. When the rain starts pouring down at a show, it's the eventers you'll see still tacking up, getting ready to ride. They aren't deterred by a little bit of rain, nor do they care about hurricane winds, pelting hail, sleet, snow or natural disasters.

You have to be careful about joining Eventers on what they consider a relaxing Sunday-afternoon horseback ride, especially if it has just been raining. You'll find yourself trying to convince your horse that sludging through thick, knee deep mud and making your own trails through dark forests are actually good things. (Very hard to do when you're on an Arabian.)

Eventers are tough, and falling off is simply part of the game for them. That's why if you're listening to the speaker at the cross-country section of an eventing weekend, you might hear something like

"Rider 29 has been separated from his horse at obstacle 12."

I always picture the horse continuing on with the course while the rider is running after him, trying to catch up.

Alexis never wanted to be that rider, so she learned early on never to let go of the reins. She would rather be dragged than have it announced that she has "been separated" from her horse.

The last time Alexis was "separated" was nearly two years ago during a simple schooling show. She was riding Tucker from the barn to the arena with a relaxed rein, just chilling out, when some guy crinkled up a potato chip bag and Tucker thought the world was coming to an end. Tucker bolted to the safety of the barn, leaving Alexis behind. The other horses could hear him call out "Every horse for himself!"

Yesterday, Alexis found herself "separated" once again. She has been working with Sandy, a 4-yr old Appaloosa rescue horse who she recently started under saddle. Sandy has been doing great at the walk and trot, so Alexis decided it was time to try out her canter under saddle.

"It was a beautiful canter," said Alexis. "But then I realized the saddle was too loose and was slipping . I tried to make an emergency dismount, but my foot got caught in the stirrup. It was about that time that Sandy got the idea to jump out of the dressage arena."

Anyone watching that day would have seen Alexis hopping along beside Sandy, doing her best to keep up with that horse's beautiful canter. Peter Cottontail would have been proud. Hippity, Hoppity, Easter's on its way!

Alexis did her best to hold on to those reins, but after a few laps of hopping along, Alexis decided that perhaps being "separated" was exactly what she wanted after all.

And so the count rolls back to zero. We should probably post a sign in the barn. "It has now been 1 day(s) since Alexis has been separated from her horse."

Or maybe not. I think we might get tired of counting.

Happy Easter Everyone!

Every Dog Has His Day

2010-03-28T16:43:00.000-07:00

Cymba and Barney both went to the Northwest Florida Classic this weekend. Cymba chose to compete with Alexis, and Barney chose to compete with Leslie. They took Schatzi along for entertainment.

Even though Cymba was very clear with Alexis that he wanted to be able to see out of his trailer window, Alexis refused to take out the screen. This left Cymba with no recourse but to break through the screen in order to stick his head out of the window.

"He was nickering at the passing cars," said Alexis. "Someone needs to tell him he's not a dog."

But of course Cymba KNOWS he's not a dog. He's half Thoroughbred, half Holsteiner. (That would be one big dog.) Besides, Cymba had a good reason to stick his head out of the trailer and call to nearby cars. He was celebrating!

Cymba brought home two blue ribbons (He gives Alexis SOME of the credit for those. Okay, MOST of the credit. But the ribbons are still his.)

And he was pleased to announce to everyone that his buddy Barney brought home three blue ribbons and a second place ribbon.

"Barney rocks," Cymba told the press. "He's the best I've seen in my 20 years. Besides me, of course."

Schatzi brought home a first and a fourth. Cymba was a little miffed at Schatzi that first day because Schatzi acted like a crazy man in the arena and reared up on Alexis, who was leading him. (Cymba is very protective of Alexis, and he didn't like to hear that Schatzi was giving her a hard time.)

"He's just a baby," Barney told Cymba. "Give him some slack."

"I'll give him slack when he works like the rest of us," Cymba replied. "He's just spoiled."

"You're the one who's spoiled," said Barney.

And the argument continued from there.

There are two things that are certain. Leslie and Alexis did a fantastic job at the show, and anyone on I-10 traveling when the Forever Sky trailer was on the road had the pleasure of seeing Cymba with his head hung out the window, and if they were lucky, they got to hear his beautiful nicker.

Congratulations, Alexis and Leslie! We are so happy you had a great weekend!

Backing up, Backing up....You got it. You got it.

2010-03-24T15:35:00.000-07:00

In an earlier post, I introduced you to the ranch Mule--not the four-legged creature, but the four-wheeled creature--the machine that makes the ranch go round. Janine drives the Mule more than anyone. She is the caretaker of the ranch. The Manager. She is more precious than diamonds--or any other comparison you can think of. She's more precious to me than cream-filled donuts--and that is saying A LOT.

There is no one in the world more responsible and trustworthy than Janine. She is amazing. When she goes off to vet school in a couple of years I am going to close myself in my room and cry for a week. But no need to talk about that now.

Janine is meticulous. She is focused. She is organized. And she is completely and utterly dangerous with that Mule. Last month she had an incident with a large, hollow post that was placed strategically to keep people like Janine from running into the electrical transformer. Luckily, that particular post had not yet been filled with concrete. It took just a moment. She looked over her shoulder when two horses started squealing, and the Mule (of its own accord, okay) rammed itself into the green cylinder.

That was last month.

Today, I walked into the barn and I saw that look on her face. The look that says she really wishes she used bad language, because bad language would truly capture the moment. But Janine doesn't use bad language at all--so instead, she has that look.

"I ran into the door when I was backing up the Mule," she said, gritting her teeth.

"Does it still close?" I asked, thinking she meant the doors to the barn itself.

"We need a new hinge."

It was then I realized she meant a stall door. A precious stall door. (Not more precious than Janine, though...)

I retrieved the drill so we could remove the mutilated lower hinge. "You've just about removed this yourself," I said. The hinge was barely hanging on. Amazingly, the door looked as good as new, just without its lower support.

"You're dangerous with that thing," I said.

I don't remember if Janine nodded, smiled, rolled her eyes, or actually responded. The image in my head is of her walking away with that poor, disfigured chunk of metal, determination in her eyes. It didn't matter what million things she had to do that day. Dang it, she was going to find another hinge and fix that door. She was on a mission.

I couldn't help smiling. Yes, I would take Janine over cream-filled donuts any day. And like I said, that's saying A LOT.

Richard Jernigan and the Ranch at Forever Sky

2010-03-23T22:14:00.000-07:00

I saw my first Indiana Jones' movie when I was 8 years old. Raiders of the Lost Ark. It was a fantastic experience. I had nightmares for at least two years--not about the snakes (always loved snakes) but about the guy getting cut up by the airplane propeller. Ewwww.

I make no secret that I am a huge Indiana Jones fan. I can't even tell you how many times I saw The Last Crusade in the theatre. It would be embarrassing. And I watched The Temple of Doom some ungodly number of times--I had it taped from TV on a VHS--something my children will know absolutely nothing about. (VHS to them will equal 8-track to me.)

So when I first saw Richard, I have to admit I was a bit stunned. He had the hat. I mean THE HAT. The hat that could never fall off, never get blown away, the hat that would never part with Indiana Jones through rain, wind, or weird voodoo people trying to extract his heart.

He had the HAT. And what was amazing was that he wore it well. I mean, you see Richard in that hat, and you suddenly feel like all men should wear hats. Not the silly baseball caps. Not the pretentious cowboy hats. Real hats.

Then I found out that he was a professor who taught History at PJC... I mean, does it get better than that?

Actually yes, yes it does. Because as part of the Forever Sky family, Richard rides horses.

I have to say that out of all of our Forever Sky family, Richard is the most debonair, most elegant in his speech, most poised in his gait--(I'm sure I'm embarrassing the heck out of him now. Sorry Richard!) But really, seeing Richard walk into the barn is like watching something not quite real. It's like watching a movie.

Richard is Forever Sky's Indiana Jones. I haven't seen the whip yet, but I bet it's somewhere in his car...or in the tack room!

Welcome to the family, Richard!

Tears

2010-03-21T15:50:00.000-07:00

My son Gabriel was at the barn with me today. He went down the aisle, naming all the horses, very pleased with himself because he knew all of their names. He's six.

When he got to Sky, he said, "Sky is my horse."

"Yes, honey, she is." I replied. "She's our horse."

Then he looked over to Naysa and said, "Naysa is my next horse."

I smiled. "Really? All this time I thought Naysa was my horse."

"She's our horse," Gabriel said.

Naysa had her head down so she could get close to Gabriel. I stood next to her with my head leaning over hers, kissing the top of her head.

There's one thing that all horse owners know or should know. If your horse's head is right below your own (say you're leaning over and loving on them) there is always the chance that your loving horse's head will fly up and nail you right in the face.

And that's exactly what happened. Gabriel made too quick of a movement. Naysa threw back her head, slamming me right on the nose. "Ouch," doesn't cover it when your face is throbbing and you're holding your nose, bent over at the waist, wondering if your nose is broken and if you're going to gush blood when you remove your hands.

Neither was the case, thankfully. But dang, that hurts! I don't see how boxers do it.

As I was hunched over in pain, with my son at my side asking me what was wrong, I heard Naysa nicker. I looked up to see her leaning her head out of her stall, looking at me with what I could only surmise as concern. Something about the look in her eyes made the pain dull a bit. She knew she had hurt me. And she was worried.

I don't know what she expected. I doubt she knew herself. But when I was able to stand upright, I went to her and wrapped my arms around her.

She sighed. And a tear dripped from her left eye.

Naysa cries. She always cried whenever we would make a breakthrough in building her trust. And even today, every so often when I'm grooming her, she will still cry. It's not something medically wrong with her eyes. It's not wind or dust. Naysa cries with emotion. And I've never seen anything like it. She is such a sensitive creature. There is no way I could love her more.

"Why is she crying?" asked Gabriel.

"She's happy, honey. She's happy we love her."

"She our horse," Gabriel repeated.

Now it was my turn to feel a tear threatening to emerge. "Yes, honey. She's our horse. She always will be."

Horses, Play, and Spring--three really good things.

2010-03-17T18:02:00.000-07:00

All the horses at Forever Sky have been extra playful during these last several days, ever since the sun finally decided to show its face and warm the air a bit. Maybe they are just as happy as we are to be rid of this cold, wet nastiness. They ARE Florida horses, after all. They're only supposed to wear their blankets two days out of the year, not two months!

Christine was out cleaning the pastures this weekend when Schatzi came nosing around the mule. First he took her water bottle in his mouth and dropped it on the ground. Then he grabbed her jacket, shook it, and playfully reared and took off across the pasture. He ran circles, shaking the jacket and tossing it in the air. When Christine finally retrieved her jacket, Schatzi ran and grabbed the loose fly mask that Christine had put in the mule. He tossed it in the air a few times before letting Christine have it back.

Meanwhile, the Donkey was braying. The babies were spunky. Even Lady, who is over 20 years old, was feeling spry. She suddenly started galloping around her pasture for what seemed to be no good reason. No one was chasing her. She wasn't chasing anyone. She was just running.

Some years ago, I read an article in National Geographic called "Animals at Play." Every so often I think about that piece when I see the horses running around and kicking up their hooves or when they are being downright mischievous, trying to bait you into some manner of play. The gist of the article was that all intelligent animals need playtime.

Today I was standing next to Schatzi's stall when Richard grabbed his halter off the wall and flung it toward me. It was as if he were saying, "Excuse me. I'm over here. That horse doesn't need attention. I DO. Play with me."

So this is me, throwing my halter at you. As we approach the first day of spring (March 20th), take some time to find your playful side. Run for no reason. Laugh out loud. Toss a ball in the air. Hop on your horse bareback. Do anything fun and frivolous.

Just Play.

The Real Mule

2010-03-13T13:20:00.000-08:00

One of the nice things about the location of Forever Sky is that the water table is fairly high. Even in the driest months, we can have beautiful pasture--(NOT a problem these days.) But where there are low spots on the property, the ground stays wet. Those low spots aren't an issue at all for the barn, which is built on a huge mound of dirt, and they aren't much of an issue for the pastures, because they were designed to drain. But especially during this perpetually wet weather, those low spots ARE an issue for the Mule.

The beloved Mule.

No, not the animal. Our Mule is a Kawasaki utility vehicle we use for just about everything on the ranch.

The poor thing looks drove hard and put up wet--or in this case, muddy. The body is beat up, the seats are torn, even the frame is bent. Before we replaced the tailgate, we used to have to carry a hammer with us to beat in the corners whenever it would refuse to latch. You'd suddenly hear a loud banging noise and turn to find Janine whacking the crap out of the Mule with the hammer. To someone who didn't know better, it looked as if Janine had finally gone mad, or that she was taking out her anger on a helpless piece of machinery. (She actually saves that for the mice...)

Despite its appearance, we love the mule. It has its own personality, much like the Velveteen Rabbit, all beat up and shabby from years of love and hugs, or in this case, wrecks and getting stuck in the mud.

We bought the Mule new before there was a barn, when there was just a fenced pasture and a lot of mucky mud where trees were being cleared. It became a form of initiation to get the mule stuck. And then get the 4-wheeler stuck trying to pull out the mule. (And on one occasion, getting the tractor stuck while trying to retrieve the 4-wheeler that was unsuccessful in retrieving the mule. We had to call in the Bulldozer on that one, and I'm really glad the guy who pulled me out lost those pictures.)

So when Carla told me today that she sank into the mud while driving the mule through an area where we had recently cleared more trees, I laughed.

"Well, you're not really part of the family until you've gotten that mule stuck."

And so, muddy and dented, with chipped paint and torn seats, the Forever Sky Mule is much more than an old beat-up piece of machinery. It stands for all the hard work that has gone into building the ranch and all the hard work that keeps the ranch going. The Mule is our mascot. And to us, he's not just a vehicle.

Like the old Skin Horse said to the Velveteen rabbit: "Generally by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real, you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

Full Circle

2010-03-07T17:49:00.000-08:00

I met Alix at the barn where I first boarded Sky. Her horse, Promise, occupied a stall across the aisle from us. It's funny, if you ask me what I remember about Alix, it's a day that she was taping the plastic pull-out drawers she kept next to her stall. She wanted to keep them free from dust when they blew out the barn. She always seemed so serious to me. Straightforward. Meticulous. Purposeful. Of course, I suppose as a Navy pilot (an instructor, no less), and a woman pilot at that, the chances of seeing her dancing through the barn singing a Mary Poppins' tune and twirling an umbrella would be somewhat slim.

But I don't know. I never got to know Alix very well.

Nevertheless, that memory of her stays with me. I think about it every time I see dust in my barn. Now, I realize that some dust is inevitable in a barn. "It's a BARN, Jolee," my friends tell me. But the dust doesn't make me happy. Of course when you blow out all the hay and shavings that have accumulated on the floor, you inevitably look around and find DUST. I am already planning to buy a barn vacuum so all the dust gets sucked up and not blown here and there. Yes, I am a bit obsessive about it. (I would like to blame Alix and her tape for my dust obsession...but it's true that my mom used to clean the baseboards with Q-tips.)

Last week, I got a call from Alix about boarding Promise at Forever Sky. The lovely place she had her horse, where she was happy and things were good, was shutting down. She had to find a new place.

"I saw you from the Sky," said Alix.
I could just see her in that T-34 Navy aircraft, observing the area like a graceful bird gliding through the air. (The positive thing about being 2000ft up is that you can't see dust.)

"What did it look like?" I asked.
"Big and green," she said with a slight smile. "With lots of horses."

And now one of those horses is Promise.

Promise. Hope. Expectation. Assurance. I have a feeling that Alix brings all of those things with her. And for me, it's almost as if part of some story has come full circle.

But maybe this time, in this story, I'll have the chance to get to know Alix better.

Welcome, Alix and Promise, to Forever Sky!

You gotta love the 80's

2010-03-01T19:03:00.000-08:00

I never let anyone drive my tractor. Maybe it's a personal issue that goes back to someone stealing my bike or something when I was a kid. I don't know. But that tractor is mine. I bought it and I drive it. Oops. Sorry guys. I operate it.

Until today. Dang.

I have become so busy with what is happening at the ranch, not to mention trying to keep a neat house and take care of twin boys, that I finally had to raise the white flag and ask for help fencing the last three pastures. A friend of mine runs a construction business, and he found someone to do the work for me.

Only one thing went through my mind when I saw this man.

ZZ Top.

I've never seen a beard that long outside of a "She's Got Legs" video or a news broadcast about the Taliban.

I mean, I stared. I really stared. (He was actually wearing Cheap Sunglasses, and I swear could suddenly hear "Oh Yeah! Oh Yeah! Oh Yeah!"

Now, I had a pretty rough time last week. The stress had begun to take its toll. I was so exhausted that I felt sad. But when I handed the tractor keys to ZZ Top man and watched him climb onto my beautiful piece of machinery, I was suddenly struck by the urge to laugh out loud. I bit my tongue instead, because I knew if I started laughing, I wasn't going to be able to stop, not until I looked completely insane.

I did, however, smile.

And from that moment, I knew this week would be better than the last.

"Ah, Have Mercy"

Murphy's Law

2010-02-28T17:04:00.000-08:00

5:28am Christine, who feeds the horses when Janine is off, attempts to contact me and Janine. Her infant daughter is running a high fever and she needs to take her to the ER.

6:00am Janine is abruptly awakened by a loud knocking on her door. It takes her a minute to realize someone is actually knocking on the door because she took NyQuil the night before and was sleeping hard. Janine is sick.

6:02am I am comforting my son Gabriel, who has a fever, and suddenly realize I haven't looked at my phone. I see Christine's text message from 5:28am, saying she can't feed. I text her back: "Hey--I understand," I write. I get dressed, not realizing Janine was just opening the door with half/shut eyes to see Christine standing there, face white, eyes worried.

6:20am I look back at my phone and see that Christine has sent me another text, informing me that Janine is taking care of everything. It's Janine's day off. She goes to church and has studying to do. I immediately text Janine: "I'll be there as soon as I give Matthew his breathing treatment." "Don't worry about it," she responds. "I'm feeding."

And that's how it started....

Janine began to clean up all the stalls and prepare the feed. It didn't take her as long as it normally does, and she smiled to herself, thinking that perhaps this feeding would go smoothly and she would be finished in plenty of time to eat breakfast, have a nice long shower to ease her aching head, and make it to church on time.

The horses had different ideas.

She headed out to let the good horses in. "Remember those?!?" She would exclaim to me later. The "good" horses include Sky, Naysa, Annie, Tucker, Barney, Cymba, Dani, and Richard. They are the ones who make it easy. They run to the barn, go in their stalls, and politely eat their breakfast.

Not today.

Janine passed Amanda on her way to let the ponies in. Amanda had come early to take care of her horse, Noble, whose legs had begun to stock up, even though he stays out in the pasture.

"I had a small apprehension," says Janine, "I thought maybe letting all the horses in was NOT a good idea. I'm really not sure where the thought came from--maybe knowing what brats they all can be. Their routine was messed up, you know. Noble NEVER walks by their pasture in the morning."

But Janine put aside her apprehension and opened the gate.

The horses THUNDERED to the barn. Janine followed on the 4-wheeler. That's when it all went to hell in a hand basket, forgive the cliche.

Naysa was the only horse, out of those eight, who went right into her stall. "Bless her," thought Janine. Everyone else was racing around, tails flying, heads up. Janine was able to coax Richard into the barn with only a mild interruption when he and Zappa, who was already in the barn, squealed at each other.

"This normally works like a charm," Janine said to Amanda, the exasperation in her voice as apparent as the frustration on her face. Amanda agreed, saying yes, she had seen it work before.

Since Tucker loves his food, he only ran around the barn twice before he went to his stall to eat.

Sky, Cymba, and Dani turned when they saw Janine coming, and rebelliously ran to the other side of the barn and into the first pasture, which was empty and open. Janine closed them in fast. "Ha! Caught!" she thought.

Janine then focused her attention on Annie, because if she could get Annie, Barney would follow. Annie ran from her. Janine had closed one side of the barn, and Annie ran in the other side. Janine tried to close the door behind her, but the dirt and hay from when she blew out the barn earlier had blocked the door channel. She asked Amanda to stand in the opening while she opened Annie's stall door. Amanda was trying to get Barney to go to his stall. Annie was spooked by Barney, and bolted out the opening of the door. Amanda had to jump aside to avoid being trampled. Both horses ran all the way to the back pasture and proceeded to graze.

Janine ground her teeth. "Arrrgh," she murmured under her breath. Then, as she walked toward the back pasture, she shouted, "I LOVE HORSES!!"

"That was to remind me," Janine told me later, "that horses are most of my life and I do love them more than anything. To remind myself that I really was not so hungry as to want barbecued horse. I hadn't eaten breakfast yet."

Janine led all the other horses in to their stalls. It took her almost 2 hours longer to feed than usual. She never made it to church.

"Well, of course," I told her. "You didn't feel good. You weren't even supposed to feed. You got woken up abruptly. You had somewhere you needed to be. Did you really think they would be good for you?"

"LOL," Janine responded. "You put it so very well."

Time Warp

2010-02-27T16:26:00.000-08:00

Horses are magical. They seem to have a power that is beyond any earthly thing. Their presence is healing. How many times have we had a bad day only to have all the negativity vanish the moment we are touching our beloved ponies?

It has been a hard week for me. My mother had heart surgery. My son Matthew had an asthma attack. My son Gabriel is sick. And I have an infection as well. With everything going on, I haven't been able to be at the ranch. I've been keeping up with things through phone calls, and text messaging, and email, but it's not the same thing. These last four days have been excruciating! Alexis asked me at one point, "Do you want me to send you a picture of Sky? My ponies always make me feel better." And you know, looking at their pictures DID make me feel better. But I won't be complete until I have my arms wrapped around Sky's neck or my head resting on Naysa.

It seems that everyone at Forever Sky has been going through some manner of personal difficulty this week. I am grateful that we have our horses for comfort, and I am grateful that we have each other. I am also grateful we have a place we can retreat to when the world gets to be too much.

A horse communicator once came to Forever Sky and told me that the place was built on ancient Indian holy ground, that it was a place blessed with peace, with comfort, with tranquility. I don't know how much I believe that, but I do know that when I enter the ranch property I am suddenly filled with peace. (There also seems to be a time warp on the property, according to my husband. 30 minutes is actually 2 hours. 2hours is actually 5, etc.)

I'm looking forward to that time warp, to getting involved with my horses, my babies, and letting time get away from me. I'm looking forward to letting all the problems in the world vanish as I hop on bareback and ride around the property. I'm looking forward to seeing my Forever Sky family and maybe laughing out loud for the first time in a while. I'm looking forward to Forever Sky.

The Protective Mother...The Spoiled Child

2010-02-22T16:10:00.000-08:00

When I walked into the barn today, there was one horse sticking her head out, looking at me.

Naysa.

She gave a low nicker, and I knew she was asking politely for a treat, preferably a peppermint. I obliged. When I started opening the peppermint, all the other horse heads began to pop out. First Tucker, then Cymba. Flea, Annie and Jayla. Sky, then Lady and little by little the rest of the barn.

I usually give in to all the beckoning horsey stares, and I end up getting finger cramps opening all the peppermints necessary to satisfy a barnful of horses, but today I was focused on Naysa. She had some crusty stuff in the corner of her eyes, so I wet a washcloth with warm water and washed her face. She lowers her head when I do that and leans into me. She likes having her face washed.

After spending some time grooming her and loving her, I decided to halter her and set out for the round pen.

The majority of the groundwork we have done together has involved overcoming her trust issues. Touching here, touching there, lifting legs, saddling and bridling, even mounting and riding around a bit, but it has not included any serious training or round-pen work.

I have TRIED to work with Naysa in the round pen, but when I am with her, I am the dotting mother. She trusts me, wants to be near me, walks with me, waits for praise. I have tried to send her around the pen or lunge her, but she doesn't understand and keeps trying to come back to me. The confused look in her eyes is too much for me to take. And I don't have the strength to do what I need to do and send her away from me and herd her around the pen. I don't have the heart.

Alexis walked up to the round pen while Naysa and I were practicing walking over poles and backing up and moving away from pressure.

"You're going to have to be the one to lunge her," I said. "I can't do it."

"I know," was all she said.

I realize that Naysa needs to start training in order to take the final leap that will make her a normal horse just like any other. But to do that, she must move out from under my protective wing and learn to be a horse again, not just mama's baby.

It's going to be hard for me to let go, but I know that in the end, Naysa will be a stronger and happier horse. And it's only through training that we'll be able to complete the fairy tale--that we'll be able to go to a show together and let her show the world that she wasn't just the horse that refused to die, but the horse that conquered her fears in order to shine.

Dreams, Reality, and saying Thank You

2010-02-18T15:31:00.000-08:00

My friend Beth came into town yesterday. She hasn't been here in a year. When we pulled up to the ranch, she was amazed at how different everything was.

"When I was here last time, you were just putting in the stall flooring," she said with a touch of amazement. "And they were laying the tile in the breakroom. The arena wasn't there. There were only two pastures fenced. Wow."

Sometimes we get so caught up in what we haven't done, in all the things we want to do, in all the things we don't have time to do, that we forget the progress we have made in our lives.

I usually look at the ranch and see everything I haven't finished yet, everything I want and need to do. Today I was able to look around and feel proud of what has been accomplished in just a short year.

A year ago I didn't have a barn full of horses looking out of their stalls in anticipation when they hear the crinkle of a peppermint wrapper. I didn't have the company of my family of boarders to sit around with in the breakroom, talking and laughing. I didn't have a fantastic trainer. I didn't have my amazing barn manager. Actually, I didn't even have a barn!

When I take a moment to step back, take a breath, and really look at what has happened over the course of a year, since Beth stopped by for a visit the last time, I realize that Forever Sky Ranch has slowly turned from dream to reality. I have found friends and created a family. I have given my horses the home I always wanted them to have.

So I will just say THANK YOU to everyone who has helped Forever Sky become what it is, and to those of you who continue to help the ranch grow into the full dream of what it can be. You know who you are. I love every one of you. And thank you, Beth, for showing me that I do have something to be proud of, even if it's not to my level of perfection just yet. I can't wait for you to see what the ranch looks like next year!

Those Crazy Arabians

2010-02-15T07:57:00.000-08:00

The Baker Show is over. We all had a fantastic time, except for Sky, who was ticked off the entire time we were there. When we were braiding her mane, the look in her eyes was one of pure distain. You could almost hear her say, "I am not a show pony! I am retired. I graze and look good. Please take me home."

Actually, Sky did very well on Saturday, especially considering she and I had only a handful of lessons the month prior to donning show gear and entering the ring. We were happy with the result. A nice place to start.

Sunday was a different matter altogether. Sky must have had time to plan during the night--or plot. She felt fairly put together up until we rode down to the arena, at which point Sky suddenly forgot she had been there the day before. He eyes became wild, her head high in the air. When the judge blew the whistle, Sky lurched forward and her body went rigid.
"Don't go in there!" she was saying. "We're all going to die!"
She tried to dart left, then right.
"Can't you see the teeth on that letter E?!"
She hopped to the side, snorting and blowing, avoiding the menacing judges who were obviously armed with tassers.
The corners must have been filled with popping firecrackers, though no one could hear them but Sky.
Several times when the letter C threatened to attack from behind, cantering out of the arena became a possibility.

"That's the best I've seen you ride," said Alexis later. "You sat back and pushed forward. You were determined to finish that test. Welcome to 'Thank GOD the test is OVER'"

"How old is she again?" a man asked as I left the arena with Sky snorting and doing that prancing trot in place, which means she really wants to get gone and get gone fast. "She's 26, "I said.

"Arabians," someone else said.

After that horrific episode in the show ring, I was SO happy she was an Arabian. Compete with a Quarter horse and have a test go that bad, people immediatley look to the rider. When an Arabian acts like a psycho crazy horse, people just shake their heads knowingly, and say, "That's an Arabian for you." I actually got "Patient Rider" on my test.

Oh, yes. I was glad the test was over. No doubt.

Now all the pretty show ponies are enjoying being home. They have the day off. So do we! But tomorrow the work starts over again. We have the Blue Angel Dressage Show to look forward to and a lot of work yet to do.

Just don't tell Sky.

B-I-N-G-O and Bingo was his name-O

2010-02-11T15:50:00.000-08:00

Bingo is a kid's horse. He stands perfectly still and lets the little ones wrap his legs and brush him and struggle to get the saddle on his back. He lets them lead him to the arena. He rides them around, perfectly calm. They can kick him by accident and he seems to understand they don't really mean it. He never spooks. Never takes off. Never takes a step out of place.

With kids.

With adults, Bingo is a totally different creature. He spooks at will. He hops this way and that way. If the wind blows too hard, he breaks into a canter. He finds the letter E in the dressage arena terrifying. And let's not even talk about how he feels about plastic flowers.

Aubrey is currently leasing Bingo. She was excited to ride this morning, even in the cold, and headed out to the barn, "dressed like the little kid from A Christmas Story."

Her ride went something like this:

Bingo: Hey, we're warming up! Time to spice it up with some cantering?
Aubrey: No.
Bingo: Was that your leg or the wind? Just to be safe... Canter!
Aubrey: No.
Bingo: I think I heard Alexis in the barn thinking about cantering...
Aubrey: No.
Aubrey: Let's jump this crossrail!
Bingo: No.

To be fair to Bingo, he truly is a great horse. He just makes you, if you're an adult, work for it. And if you're a kid, he melts like Valentine's candy.

Practice makes....perfect? Not so much.

2010-02-10T15:13:00.000-08:00

We have two days until the Baker show. Alexis is running around, getting everything ready and making sure we won't be missing or lacking for anything. It's possible you might find our kitchen sink in the trailer. Just kidding, Alexis! Really, Alexis has been GREAT. She is ridiculously organized. She has her detailed list, and she's checking it twice. Before I left, she was off to the store to pick up silver yarn for those beautiful horsey braids.

Alexis will make sure we are all prepared, and at least I can rest easy knowing I can look like an idiot while not missing a thing. It is my first Dressage show. I am scheduled to ride the A and B Intro level tests as an Adult Amateur. Do you know who else will be riding the intro tests at the show? Kids. Juniors. It's me--the old lady--and something like 7 youngsters who can't even drive yet, let alone buy beer. Oh, all my friends are getting a wild kick out of it. At least I can provide some entertainment! But hey, you have to start somewhere.

Alexis, on the other hand, will be dashing in her show gear and NOT looking like an idiot. She'll be elegant and composed, yet strong and sure, riding so beautifully it will make everyone cry. Thank GOODNESS she rides after I do!

Pick and Tuck team members will be riding both Saturday and Sunday. Come on out to the Baker Arena in Baker, FL to watch us ride! We're also having a cookout on Saturday night, so come join us! We'll be the group smiling and laughing and having a great time.

Organized Chaos

2010-02-09T17:21:00.000-08:00

It's always fun feeding the horses on a rainy day. There's something about the drop in barometric pressure that makes all the horses act like 15-year-old high school kids. I opened the pastures to let up the first bunch--Sky, Naysa, Cymba, Lady, Annie, and Tucker. They are the "good" ones, the horses that run up to the barn without a fuss and make their way to their own stalls, no halters required. (Sky will even open her own stall door if it's closed.)

Today was not that day.

I followed Tucker, Annie, and Lady up to the barn, but the rest had not figured out that I had opened the gate. When I got to the barn, Aubrey was waiting. She had recently leased Bingo and had come to ride him. I looked down to the pasture to see Sky, Cymba, and Naysa looking for a way out. "Gate!" I called. "Go to the gate!"
As if they could understand English perfectly, the three horses turned and ran to the gate. They galloped all the way to the barn. When they got there, Sky went right into her stall. (Good girl!) Then Cymba came in and went directly into Naysa's stall.
"Cymba!" I said, and hurried over to Naysa's stall to get him out. He let me lead him with my arm under his neck and my hand on the side of his face.
Once I got him in his stall, Lady came in and promptly went into Naysa's stall. (Must have been the popular stall of the day.) Naysa followed her in and Lady bolted out. You could hear her exclaim "Oh!" But instead of going into her own stall, Lady ran back outside.
At that point I went into an open stall and looked out the window to see Annie grazing by the fountain.
"Annie!" I reprimanded. "Barn!" She looked up as if she was as innocent as a newborn filly. Then she trotted off, right to her stall. (Sometimes you think they understand English.) Tucker came in shortly thereafter. And finally Lady made her way back around to the barn.
I laughed and shook my head. "Chaos," I said to Aubrey.
"It's nice though," she said. "It's organized chaos."

Close Call

2010-02-08T18:26:00.000-08:00

Today is the perfect day to start this blog. When I arrived at the ranch early this morning, I went to check on Schatzi. His mom, Leslie, had asked me the night before if I would look at his back leg and see if it was still swollen. It was. Hardly noticable from the front, the swelling was located just around his fetlock. There was a good deal of heat coming from the swelling.

I knocked on Janine's door.
"Just a minute!" she called.
I could tell I had caught her in the middle of something. When she opened the door, I realized she had just gotten out of the shower.
"Would you mind looking at Schatzi's leg? Leslie is worried he has an abcess. It doesn't look better to me. I think I need to load him in the trailer and take him to see Dr. Weekley."
"I'll be right there," she said. Then she paused. "Can I comb my hair first?"
"No," I replied. There's always a second with Janine when she wonders if you really mean "no."
Then Janine laughed and went inside to comb her lovely strawberry blond hair.

I had Schatzi in the cross ties when Janine walked over.
"It's the back left leg," I said. "There's heat, and I don't think the swelling has gone down at all."
Janine leaned down and picked up the back hoof. (Janine is in her last year at the University of West Florida. She has been working hard and making fantastic grades. She plans to head to vet school.)
"I see what you mean," said Janine.
Just then, Schatzi began to lift his tail. My eyes widened just as the manure started to fall.
I don't remember if I said anything. But I pulled Janine away just as the manure fell past her head.

We laughed and laughed. A near miss. Janine was able to go about her day without taking another shower and throwing her clothes in the wash, and I was able to saddle up Sky, knowing it was going to be a good day.

Dr. Weekley came out to see Schatzi and took care of his hoof, which was causing the problem. Now we have a week of soaking to look forward to. I'm sure Schatzi will make it interesting!