Further Adventures With Water

                                               by Laura Crum

            This one is for those who wanted to hear about how my pool worked out over time. Those who are not interested in my little pond/natural swimming pool project had better click on the “X.” For those who haven’t read the back story, the first post is here and the second post is here.

            So it’s been almost two months since we completed the pool. And it’s been quite the saga. We had an initial couple of weeks of lovely play in the water. We even bought floating pool toys. They do not look very zen, but they are much fun to float on. As below.

            I saw a few mosquito wigglers, so bought a dozen mosquito fish and released them in the pool. Dragonflies showed up almost immediately. We began planting water plants. It was all pretty idyllic.

Eventually we managed to get the last of the water plants planted and at exactly that point the pool had its first algae bloom. Within 48 hours it went from clear and bright to murky, pea soup green. I do not exaggerate.

            Of course, we’d been warned that this would probably happen. It’s very common for new pools/ponds to experience this sort of thing before they get “in balance.” I was prepared, I thought. But it turns out that I wasn’t. Because seeing my brand new pool become a murky green swamp was very upsetting.

            The worst thing about this is there’s no simple, clear cut solution. Especially if one is not going to go the sterile, chlorinated route. Part of the reason is that there are several theories about  “algae bloom.” So I am now going to go into a rather boring discussion about algae, which will be complicated by the fact that I am no expert on the subject. But here goes.

            The kind of algae bloom that turns the water murky green is caused by single cell plankton type algae. It’s very common in a new pool, and is not the result of too much nitrate/nitrite/ammonia in the water, which is a problem that tends to happen later in the life of a pool, particularly if there are fish. These one cell plankton things proliferate early on, and the thinking seems to be that it takes awhile for the zooplankton (I think of these two as plant plankton and animal plankton) to establish themselves. Once the zooplankton become established they eat the plant plankton and the water clears. But sometimes the zooplankton die off and the water gets murky again. Nobody seems to really know why. There are many theories, and they often contradict each other.

            There are also lots of ways of dealing with an algae bloom. There are algaecides that will kill the algae and not hurt fish or water plants. But if you are trying to get a pool to be in balance, you don’t want to put poisons in it. Because the poisons would kill the water striders and the beneficial bacteria (and the zooplankton). You have to (gasp) wait patiently. It takes time. And this waiting is hard to do when the water is pea soup green.

            I tried the things that are said to be benign. Barley straw, adding beneficial bacteria, aerating the water, adding water from my established fish pond. I’m not sure if any of them helped. So I’m trying to be patient.

            Anyway, we now had murky green water, and we knew that it would take awhile to get in balance and (hopefully) be relatively clear again. Though probably never the pristine straight-from-the-tap clarity of its earliest moments.

            There was still much to enjoy about the pool—green though it was. The reflection of the full moon, for instance.

            The water lilies began to bloom. This is Splendida.

                      

            This is Commanche.

            Several people asked about the landscaping that I planned to do around the pool, and I was hesitant to answer because, in fact, I don’t intend to do any landscaping. The pool is meant to look a bit stark, like a reservoir, or a pool in a quarry. It sits in the middle of my graveled courtyard, and I intended the edges to be bare stone. The softening plants are just the water plants—reeds, rushes, cat tails, iris and water lilies, which are planted in the plant area of the pond. I like the way it looks--sort of the middle ground between formal and natural approaches.

The water gets clearer and then murkier from time to time right now. I never really know why. But I continue to get in the pool on hot days. The green water doesn’t scare me. I honestly prefer it as is to chlorinated pool water. Overall, the clarity steadily improves. At times I can even see the floor again. Still, it has a green cast at all times. But then so do most lakes that I have known.

            There is always something new. Last week we heard (and eventually saw) a frog who has taken up residence. I have no idea how he got there.

            On a less pleasant note, I discovered that one of the water lilies I planted had leeches in its pot. But I’ve been told mosquito fish will eat leeches. So here’s hoping they do, and will.

            The mosquito fish themselves are proliferating at an alarming rate. I am going to have to import something that eats mosquito fish.

            It’s all a big experiment, as I said to begin with. I would strongly encourage anyone who wishes to attempt such a project to be sure that you want a project. The pool is rather like training a horse. There’s something new to deal with every day…sometimes delightful, sometimes less so. It’s a living thing—it’s always changing.

            I love sitting by the pool on warm afternoons. I bought a little sun umbrella and I sit under it and listen to the water trickling from the fountain and find that I feel completely at peace. Sometimes I read a book. Sometimes I just sit. When I get warm enough I go in the water, which cools me right off. And then I get on the floating lounge chair and float around for awhile. It’s amazingly relaxing. That is, it’s relaxing until my husband sneaks up behind me and does a cannon ball. He’s caught both our boy and me many times when we aren’t looking. We’re getting used to it now, but initially there was always a moment of shock when we were bombed.

            And then it’s funny afterward.

            My husband makes BIG splash when he cannonballs.

            I am really enjoying the pool, but I think that a person who imagines that it is like a regular swimming pool, minus the chlorine and with a few plants added in, would be sorely disappointed in the reality. It’s more like having a farm pond. Every morning I go out and skim leaves and dead bugs off the surface and peer into the pool curiously. There’s always something to see, whether it is a new water lily (or a new bug), water that is clearer (or murkier) than the day before, or clouds whose reflections are far more intense than their actual forms in the sky. I find it very engaging in much the same way that I find the horses engaging.

            And speaking of horses, we continue to ride a couple of times a week and are also enjoying the summer with our horses. Here Sunny and Henry are ready to go…isn’t Sunny’s mane a thing of beauty?

            I love riding in the woods in the summertime. Happy Midsummer's Eve, everyone--a day late.

Happy...

                                                            by Laura Crum

            Spring has really sprung in my garden, and everything is blooming…which makes me very happy.

                                     

            I am currently completely absorbed in my most recent (and most ambitious) garden project. Digging a BIG hole in a perfectly good driveway.

            In the end it’s meant to be a pool, lined with natural stone, where the water is filtered and cleaned by water lilies and reeds rather than chlorine. Because we have a small place, it will be a small pool, more of a water hole, really. But big enough to get in. And just in scale with our very small houses (750 sq feet and 550 sq feet, respectively).

            So, I am not riding much right now. But I hope to get back to it when the pool is finished and see a few more views like this one (from our ride last week).

            As for the rest of you, I hope you are seeing many lovely views through the ears, and I wish you a very happy Easter and a happy spring. Cheers--Laura

Still Riding

                                                by Laura Crum

            I post a lot about other things here on this blog, but I AM still riding. I don’t post about my riding very much, because it’s just not that exciting. Short trail rides and just exercising the horses here at home is all I am mostly doing. Some days my son and I get Henry and Sunny out and ride them at the walk and trot in the riding ring for twenty minutes or so—until they are warmed up—and then let them gallop up the hill from the front gate to the house a few times (less than a quarter of a mile). And that’s it.

            Not very interesting blogging material. We are just trying to keep our older horses from getting stiff—and also keep them a bit legged up. The goal being that when we do want to do a more ambitious trail ride (which for us is a two-three hour trail ride) the horses will be comfortable doing it.

            There isn’t much to say about it. Our horses are well behaved and my son and I enjoy cruising around in the spring sunshine. It’s very relaxing. The horses enjoy it, too, as far as I can tell. They certainly meet us at the gate to be caught. We turn them loose to graze afterward…and I KNOW they really enjoy that part. We all seem to get a kick out of the short gallops up the hill. It’s a pleasant part of the day for all of us.

            But I am not teaching these wise old horses any new tricks, or preparing for any exciting event. I am not improving as a rider…rather the reverse. I cannot now do many things on a horse that I could easily do in my younger days. I don’t mind. I enjoy my horse time now as much as I ever did.

            It’s a lot about sharing time with my son. It’s a lot about wanting my horse time to be relaxing and stress free. It’s a lot about not wanting to work hard at the horses (just call me lazy). I want the horses to enjoy our riding time, too. They’re older horses who have given us a lot and they’ve earned an easy life. And I just don’t have goals any more with my horses—other than to share a pleasant life together with them. 

            There’s nothing wrong with any of this. It doesn’t make for an interesting blog post, though. Or for a very exciting horse life.

            On the other hand, if you are a horseperson who is longing for a pleasant, relaxing, drama-free life with horses, I am here to tell you that this is entirely possible. Choose a reliable, older horse, do things that are well within his/her capabilities, avoid events that are about sorting out who is “better” than who and/or who can complete the goal and who can’t. You must also have a bit of luck. But within these parameters it is entirely possible to have an enjoyable, stress-free life full of horseback riding fun. We can serve as an example.

            Henry and Sunny sharing a bit of camaraderie on a sunny spring day, while my son and I chat.

            Riding down the hill for a gallop back up.

            Galloping up the hill…I usually wear a helmet for this, but took it off at my husband’s request for a photo with my hair blowing in the wind. (This photo was taken last summer—see shiny horse—but the activity looks about the same right now, only on a fuzzy horse.)

            Good little fuzzy horse ready to go riding.

           

My son and Henry riding our local trails to the Lookout, about a mile or two from our front gate.

We do the occasional beach ride.

And we go riding in the woods.

Henry’s favorite part of the whole deal.

Sunny likes this part, too.

            It has rained for a week straight now, so I’m glad we kept up with the riding while we could. Today everything is sodden and muddy, and I am definitely a fair weather rider. But at least we are not whining about drought any more (at the moment, anyway). I hope the rest of you are having some early spring riding fun, as well.

            

On Being a Horsewoman

By Linda Benson

Can you still call yourself a horsewoman if you don’t own a horse? Or if you don’t ride anymore? On social media sites, there is usually room for just a short description and usually I’ve used something like Horsewoman, author, animal lover, book worm, chocolate addict, etc.

I’ve been giving this a lot of thought lately, whether I can still call myself a Horsewoman, since my herd has dropped down to merely two donkeys. Previously, my equine career consisted of owning horses for 45 years, owning a successful saddle shop, competing in sports from barrel racing to cow penning, jumping to endurance riding, and logging literally hundreds of miles horseback up mountains, across streams, and through some of the most gorgeous country imaginable. Just remembering those moments makes my heart glad.

But what about now? I’m in my early sixties, and although I always imagined myself a galloping granny well into my seventies, in the last couple of years I’ve had some health problems which caused me to pretty much quit riding.  I sold my nice paint horse because he wasn’t the kind who could take time off – he needed riding. I adopted another old horse and rode him a bit, but we ended up having to put him down last year.  I had an empty barn for a few short months, and now my little donkey herd (Mr. Chocolate and Mr. Big) satisfies my need to feed, brush, and bond with a four-legged critter with hooves.

But we have acres of green pasture available, tons of woods and riding trails behind us, and the urge to get another horse is still ridiculously strong. The age-old dilemma of whether to listen to the head or the heart (just like in Natalie Keller Reinert’s new novella by that name) plays on and on inside me every. single. day.

My head says:

We live in an area where it rains for nine months out of the year, sometimes more.

The expense and trouble of keeping a horse for maybe 2-3 months good trail riding weather is enormous.

I have no good riding buddies to ride out in the woods with anymore, and it’s foolish to take a horse out alone (at my age.)

It’s rare to find the type of horse that can sit for months at a time, and still be a good solid citizen when you do decide to ride him.

Although I do have friends older than me that still ride, another older friend just ended up in the hospital when her green mare acted up, and let’s face it, we don’t bounce like we used to.

My heart says:

The longing for a horse never ever goes away, and in fact, I’m sure I’ll go to the grave with that longing intact.

I started crying (yes, real big-time tears) when I walked through the horse barn at our county fair last week.

I’m crying as I write this because I just miss riding so darn much.

Horses have been a passion and defining force in my life of from the earliest age I can remember. I miss riding more than I can say in words, but I am happy I can still write about horses, and in fact I have a new book out on submission, about a time in the future when people have largely forgotten about the horse-human bond, except for one girl, who remembers. You’ll be among the first to know when I have good news on that one (which I hope is soon.)

I stay active in the horse world - keeping up with horseracing, the horse slaughter debate, the barefoot/shoes argument, the mustang removal/BLM controversy, and of course the world of equine fiction.

So my question to you is what actually defines being a horsewoman? Should I call myself a horsewoman, an ex-horsewoman (but that sounds so final LOL) or an armchair horsewoman? *grin*

And also, for those of you who are getting older, at what point do you foresee giving up riding? Know anyone like me, who has had to quit and misses it like crazy? How did they cope?

Sweating Buckets

Last week, while riding Qrac, my most most-likely-soon-to-be new Lusitano (pinch me, someone!), down in Avignon in the South of France, I really struggled trying to keep him straight. In fact, I struggled trying to do everything with him, really. Not in a disastrous, scary, out of control way; I wouldn’t be buying him if that had been the case. I just struggled because I tend to find it hard to ride a horse I don’t know. In addition, I was also riding a breed I don’t know, and I’d never imagined it would feel so different.

My main problem, apart from keeping Qrac straight, was keeping him in a steady regular pace. That Monday evening, I worked my core muscles more in the half hour or so I rode him than in three months of regular yoga classes. At least, that’s what it felt like. Two days after riding him, apart from sore abs, I even had sore ARMPITS, with my pectoral muscles on fire from hauling down my shoulder blades! I’d forgotten how much hard work can be involved in a half-halt, and goodness knows how many half-halts I did in those thirty minutes. All I know is that I did lots, and that I was drenched in sweat. Everywhere. Yes, I even had a sweaty bum. Lovely, huh?! Do you get a sweaty bum when you’re riding? Some people do, some people don’t. I wish I could toss my hair, shrug my shoulders and brag about belonging to the non-sweaty-botty riding group, but what can you do? Botox, maybe?! Gosh, imagine having a Botoxed bum!

Anyway, while I was out there sweating on Qrac, my trainer, Marie-Valentine, mostly kept a low profile. We’d figured it was important to establish how hard it would be for me to handle the horse on my own, knowing full well that almost any horse would be a challenge after having been lucky enough to own an angelic schoolmaster like Kwintus for the past few years. And I’m pretty confident it will be fine, especially as I’ve decided not to take him to where Kwint lives straight away, but instead stable him at another yard closer to where my trainer lives, and where there is a nice big indoor. The indoor at “my stables” should be up before the summer, and I’ll move Qrac back there as soon as it’s ready, maybe even before if I feel super confident. But I don’t want to do anything foolish, and my yard is simply too wide open: if a horse takes off with you in our outdoor arena it’s hasta la vista, baby, see you in Italy!

So I’m going to play it safe, get to know him, take lessons and set up a training program. I’m looking forward to the challenge, as riding a younger horse with nowhere near as much training as Mr. Kwint is going to be interesting. It’s also going to be humbling. Maybe it’s just me, but, as I mentioned earlier, I’ve always found it difficult to climb onto any horse other than my own (or one that I’m used to riding) and feel like I know what I’m doing, which is why I really admire people like my trainer who can hop onto virtually any horse and make the most of it within a couple of minutes.

One thing I’ve always liked about working with Marie-Valentine is that, on top of being blessed with the most enthusiastic, positive and sunny personality I’ve ever met in a horsey professional, she also comes up with great images to help convey what she’s trying to get across. For example, when my daughter was trying to understand the concept of the half-halt, Marie-Valentine came up with the “I” image (as in the letter “I”). Back then, we knew someone who was always very stiff and rigid in the saddle, whereas Olivia and I tend to be a little too soft and supple in our backs. Of course, being supple is a great asset for following the horse’s movement, but the half-halt requires that split-second “rigidity” which doesn’t come naturally to my daughter and me. We’re just not, well, rigid people! I mean, I even have a floppy walk!

Anyway, in order to help us understand that split-second rigidity, Marie-Valentine told us to picture that super-rigid person riding. We have an expression in French for describing someone who holds themselves super straight: we say “as straight as an I”. Since she needed a discreet way of telling my daughter to think of that rigid person in the saddle whenever she asked for a half-halt, the “I” image was born. And trust me, when I rode Qrac last week, Marie-Valentine’s “I” image came in very handy. In fact, I’m fantasizing about half-halting my way to a six-pack by summer!

Another image that had amazing results on Qrac last week was one I picked up from the inside back page of the latest edition of Dressage Today (their inner back page riding tips are brilliant) This one involved imagining a bucket of water in my pelvis and having to avoid tipping it over. Since I’m very supple in my back, I also tend to collapse my lower spine too much when I’m riding, tucking my tailbone too far underneath me, which then tilts my upper body backwards. One of the few things that Marie-Valentine said to me last week as I trotted past her was “sit up straighter (in French “redresse-toi”), upon which I immediately remembered the bucket of water. I corrected the curve of my lower back to avoid the water spilling out of my imaginary bucket, and Qrac reacted by loosening up straight away. Isn’t it amazing how sensitive they are?

Other useful images I try to keep in mind while riding include stopping my pony tail from bouncing from side to side. This image forces me to stabilize my shoulder blades, which further stabilizes my back. It also forces me to keep our chin up, since one of my other bad habits is looking down instead of straight between my horse’s ears.

Do you have any images you use to help with your riding? Would you care to share some useful tips?

The Writing Life

by Laura Crum

Alison mentioned doing more posts about writing, so I gave this a little thought. I’ve been a published author for sixteen years and am working on my twelfth mystery novel, so surely I should have some useful insights? You’d think so, anyway. In truth, I find that writing is a very personal thing and there are as many ways to do it as there are writers. It never helped me a lot to hear authors describe their own writing process, though I did get the occasional “aha” moment. What helped me the most, and what I advocated to my students when I taught a class on writing mysteries (which I did for many years) at the local community college, was to focus on finding my own voice and to be persistant.

Writers need to write, as riders need to ride. The hardest thing to accomplish, far harder than getting an agent or being published by a legitimate publisher (both hard enough), is to finish that first book length manuscript. To simply put in the hours of writing that such a project requires is a first step that most writers never manage. And yet, unlike being published or acquiring an agent, it is a goal that is entirely under the writer’s control. You, and you alone, can determine whether you persevere with your writing and finish that first novel. Its an achievable goal. But suprisingly difficult.

So there would be my first piece of advice. Pesist and finish your ms. The second piece has to do with finding your own “voice”. Because many writers, and certainly I was quite guilty of this to begin with, are conciously or unconciously imitating something they’ve read, that they admire. It may be that they are trying to write the “type” of book that fits a niche, or to emulate a popular author. In my case, my first book (Cutter) was a deliberate “western” take on Dick Francis, an author I loved. Many of my reviews mentioned the resemblance, some in a positive way, some rather less flattering. At the time, I was just thrilled to be likened to the master.

As time went on, however, I was concious more and more of needing to say the thing that I had to say. This sounds kind of silly written down, but we each have our own insights and way of seeing the world to bring to the table, and our books will be as unique and interesting as we are true to ourselves. This is my belief, anyway. So I encourage all authors to look into themselves, rather than at “what sells”, and try to write the book that YOU want to write and say what you have to say in your own voice. (And no, this is not necessarily a recipe for best sellerdom, though I think that most truly memorable writers do have very unique and authentic “voices”.)

Which brings me to something that Terri brought up: how much of your own life do you allow to creep into a novel?

I think this is totally up to you as a writer, and a part of finding your own voice. For myself, I use a lot of my “real life” as background, and I find it helps to keep my books real and alive and prevents the so-common problem of novels that descend into the trite, predictable, and basically boring world of typical genre fiction, peopled with unrealistic characters. I try to base all the details of my novels on things I have really seen and experienced, and I keep my eyes open all the time for scenery, background and characters (human and animal) that would enhance and enliven my books. When I ride the trails I am alert for moments that can be part of my next novel, and when I have real life experiences that are memorable/moving, I keep them in mind to incorporate into future stories. I enjoy putting my real horses into my books, and trying to describe them as accurately as possible. When I send my heroine on a horseback chase scene, I usually try to send her over terrain I have actually covered on horseback myself. No, I may not have gone at the dead run, but at least I've been over the ground and can describe it accurately and intimately. To my thinking there is nothing duller than fiction that is not truly “felt” by the author, and my way of bringing feeling to my work is to use many things that I have experienced myself in my novels.

That said, the plots of my mysteries are all completely fictional, though some real life experience may give me the idea for a plot. But unlike Gail McCarthy, the equine veterinarian who is the protagonist of my series, I do not find a dead body a year. (Now isn’t she just someone you’d like to have out to your barn on a vet call? Sort of like inviting the Angela Lansbury character in “Murder She Wrote” to dinner.)

Finally, a lot of people have spoken about getting caught up in endless re-writes and “fiddling” before they finish even one complete ms. This is a very common trap and easy to fall into—believe me, I know the temptation. But I can tell you that one thing that separates “authors” from “writers” who have not been published is the deep-seated knowledge that you need to push on through that first draft. Its never easy—at least its always difficult at some points—and you inevitably reach a spot where you think the whole thing is absolute rubbish. I’ve reached that spot on every single one of the eleven books I’ve completed, and am quite sure I will be hitting it soon on the book I’m currently working on. The trick is not to start re-writing. Just keep going. Finish the story. When its done you can fiddle with it all you want, and most of us do quite a bit of fiddling with our first drafts. The finished book sometimes differs hugely from the first version. But you have to finish the first draft.

So I guess, in the end, my first point and my last point are the same. Finish that ms. Then you can evaluate and edit or decide its worthless and start another one (something I have done). But finishing it is the first and main thing you can do to become an author.

OK, now I’ll get off my writing soapbox (though if anyone wants encouragement or advice, feel free to ask—I’m happy to respond) and say that I have been riding far more than I’ve been writing and have had some lovely autumn trail rides. Sunday we took a two hour loop through the hills on a crisp but not chilly October afternoon where the very air just sparkled and the sun was warm. We saw some brilliant yellow leaves and Monterey Bay was a vivid, deep blue. The horses behaved perfectly, we did not see another human on the trails, and even crossing the busy road seemed relaxing and not scary. Days like this, horses are such a joy that I forget all the difficult times.

And for those who are interested, I have visited Smoky several times at his new home and he seems content and is getting tons of attention, far more than I could have given him. He’s still lame, but slowly improving and there is lots of hope he’ll have a future as a walk, trot, lope riding horse, which is all his new owners want. I am crossing my fingers that he can yet have a good life.

Happy riding and writing--Laura


PS—My 10 year old son wishes to review Linda’s book, “The Horse Jar”, which Linda very kindly sent to him after he expressed an interest. He says: “I liked this book a lot. It has a happy ending and I think any kid my age who likes horses would enjoy it.” Thanks again, Linda, for sending the book.

Riding as a Tonic

by Laura Crum

My last post dealt with the downside of riding—today I want to dwell on the upside. Because riding is one of the things that can turn a bad day into a good day; it can lift my mood more surely than a margarita (well, sometimes).

Here’s my story. I hadn’t had a chance to ride for a week. My husband had knee surgery ten days ago and since then I have been his devoted nurse as well as taking care of all the household chores (and he always did his fair share) and being my child’s chauffer for his many activities. Needless to say, I haven’t had a lot of extra time. And when I did find an hour to spare, the idea of saddling up and riding seemed overwhelming. I simply didn’t have the energy. Those few spare moments I preferred to sit on the porch and have a cup of tea, or just lie down and close my eyes. By the end of the week, between my husband’s pain and lack of sleep and just my general busyness, I was feeling pretty stressed. In fact, lets face it, also pretty depressed.

But yesterday I made the effort to go ride with my friends at the team roping practice. In some ways, this is like a lesson—it happens at a specific time and place. You’re either at the arena at 10:00AM on Tues and Thurs to participate or you miss it. Just like having a commitment to a lesson, having said I’d go and help is a motivator to get there. And having hauled the horses ten miles down the road, I’m not going to back out and say “I just don’t feel like it”, which is so easy to do at home. So I saddled Sunny and Henry, neither of whom had been ridden in a week, and my son and I helped the ropers gather the cattle.

Helping at the roping arena has a nice purposeful quality to it. The horses like it, as horses tend to like any purposeful activity that they can comprehend. We gather the cattle and push them down the crowding alley and into the chutes. We work the chutes from horseback (they are designed for this), which involves quite a bit of opening and closing gates from on one’s horse. We haze, which is running alongside the cattle to make them run straight for the ropers. And when, for one reason or another, a steer is not wanted by the ropers, my son gets to chase that steer down the arena (which he loves).

In between, we lope a few circles and chat with our friends, who are all horseback, too—expept the ones who are recovering from injuries—seems like there’s always at least one of these. There’s usually at least one or two folks training a young horse, or somebody has a new horse that they’re trying. There’s always lots of fun horsey stuff to talk about. We are a mixed group—four tough old cowboys in their seventies (one in his eighties), myself and two of my girlfriends (50ish women), two men in their 50’s, one guy in his 20’s, two kids about ten (one of which is my son). The guy in his 20’s moonlights as a horse trader and trainer and one of my friends and myself no longer rope—we just hang out and ride and help do the chores. Neither of the kids ropes (yet). We all have fun just being together. We know each other’s horses and we’ve all known each other for many years. It’s a great pleasure for me to see my son enjoying this “comradeship of the horse”, as we lope around together in the sunshine on our shiny mounts and chase cattle and swap stories.

So yesterday was just an ordinary day at the roping arena. We rode for a couple of hours. Both our horses were well behaved—Sunny felt good, which makes him fun to ride, he lopes right out. And suddenly, somewhere in the middle of this, looking down at the bright gold curve of Sunny’s neck with his cream white mane springing off the crest, I realized I wasn’t depressed any more. In fact, I felt just fine.

Nothing special had happened. I had just been riding for an hour on my good little horse (and boy do I love my solid little middle aged gelding who acts just fine after lots of time off) and sudenly all was right with my world.

So, I’m here to ask you guys—does this happen for lots of you, too? An ordinary ride turns a bad day into a good day? Nothing much has to happen—its just being on the back of a well behaved horse. It sure works for me. And for my kid. I’d welcome hearing your stories.

And Shanster, I know you had a great trail ride—if you read this, can you tell everybody? I was so tickled to hear how well it turned out. I’m like you—I love my little yellow mule(!) Not that your horse is a mule—that’s just my nickname for Sunny.

Hiking Versus Riding

By Laura Crum

I think I’ve posted before about my resolve to hike the trails near my home as often as I ride them. The primary reason for this is that I am getting stout, and need the exercise far more than my horse does. But there are other reasons.

My husband is not a horseman and prefers to hike, and though he will hike with us when my son and I ride, we are not, in that instance, much of a group, as the horses outdistance the hiker, especially on the uphill climbs. Of course, when we hike, my husband, son, and dog all outdistance me, particularly on the uphill climbs. But, in general, we are together as a family unit far more when we hike than when we ride.

Another reason I hike is that I feel it is good for my young son to get the exercise, and another (and very different) experience of being in the woods. Yet another reason is that the trails are muddy after a rain and can be slippery, also it isn’t nice (in my opinion) to tear them up with our horse’s hooves when they are wet—makes them unpleasant for both hikers and horses for a long time.

A final reason that I hike as often as I ride is that some days I just don’t feel like dealing with the horses—to be quite honest. My trail horses are very reliable, as I’ve posted before, but I have to cross a very busy road (upon which the cars dash by at 50 miles an hour) to get to the trails as well as skirt my neighbor’s properties, and though this is generally not a problem, there are days (when my neighbor is running a weedwhacker, or the nearby church is having a party, or the wind is just blowing really hard, or something doesn’t feel right) when it seems too stressful/risky to me to put my kid on his horse and push our way through the unpredictable outside world to get on the trails. Some days are just like that. So we hike. Other days it seems easy and doable to go with our horses, so we ride.

I think I have mostly adhered to my goal of hiking as much as I ride. I hike more in the winter and ride more in the summer, but it balances out. And its interesting, hiking the same trails that I ride. It gives me two very uniquely different perspectives on the same ground. This last weekend I had the (to me) fascinating experience of doing the exact same route twice in a row. On Saturday we hiked it and on Sunday we rode it. Both days were glorious—bright, sunny weather, the trails dry and lovely—no dust, no mud. (This is one of the reasons I live on the California coast—we get many, many such winter days.) Because I had been thinking about this subject, I tried to pay careful attention to the differences in the way I saw the trails and the landscape. I had a lot of fun with this and thought I’d share my thoughts and ask if any of you have insights to contribute on this subject.

So, first off, the easy one. Hiking is much harder than riding. Many times during our hike, I had the impulse to wish I’d brought my horse, particularly as I was gasping for air on some steep climb. I can’t recall ever once wishing on my ride that I had gone on foot. That tells you something.

This particular route (about two miles) takes me an hour and fifteen minutes on horseback and two hours on foot. There is a lot of elevation change. We mostly walk the horses, though will occasionally trot or lope. When I am done hiking it, my leg muscles are worn out (OK—I’m not in very good shape). I can ride it without any effort to speak of at all.

But there are things about hiking that I like, besides the obvious benefit to my health. I see so many more details when I hike. I examine tiny mushrooms, new flowers, banana slugs and salamanders…I could go on and on. I rarely notice these things on horseback. Even at the walk, on a horse, the landscape just seems to flow gliding by, sort of like an Impressionist painting. Beautiful, filled with light and shadow, shape and color, but not much detail. When I hike I see the details. I stop and peer at things, special views I hadn’t noticed before, a particular tree lit up with light…etc. When I ride I tend to keep moving.

Besides seeing, there is hearing. I don’t hear much when I ride. The noise of the horse’s footfalls and the squeak of the saddle drowns out other noises. I need to shout a bit to be heard by my companions. If I want to listen for something, I often have to pull my horse up. Being cut off from the tiny sounds of the woods is a bit of a disconnect.

Riding is a great deal about connecting with the horse. I am always aware of what my horse is feeling—the landscape is more of a background. On foot the landscape (and my own reactions) assume the primary focus.

On horseback I feel empowered in a way I don’t on foot. I am perfectly happy to ride the trails alone, or take my son out for a ride. On foot I prefer to go with my husband…I just feel much more vulnerable on foot…to predators with two legs or four. (And yes, there are lots of mountain lions in these hills, and I have met some very odd seeming people on these little used trails.)

And on horseback I feel empowered in another way…it’s hard to explain but I think all horse people know what I mean. Somehow being a horseman is magically elevating (literally elevating, too). I won’t say that one feels “better” than pedestrians, but there is some element of this. I know this feeling from both sides as I often meet riders when I hike and hikers when I ride. I am always concious of the subtle distinction. As my husband says, he feels he should shout, “make way for the horse people.” He’s joking, but I know what he means. Somewhere, deep in our DNA, is the clear conciousness that horses make us superior, give us power.

And then there is just the simple thrill of being carried by the horse. The pleasure of rocking along on his back, the elemental fun of riding. This is always present.

Finally, the interaction with the horse is both the chief delight of riding and (sometimes) a pain in the butt. My trail horse, Sunny, is reliable and mostly cooperative and for the greater part of the ride I simply enjoy his steady, willing power that takes me through the hills effortlessly. But near the end of the ride, when Sunny sometimes gets cranky and prepares to give me his signature crowhop (see my last month’s post titled “A Quirk”), I am annoyed at his (albeit minor) show of attitude. On Sunday’s ride I talked him out of his little acting out issue, but I was aware that I was slightly ticked that I had to bother with this. So, again, interacting with the horse is both the chief pleasure and also the main nuisance of riding versus hiking.

All this considered, I find I am back to my original premise. Which is that I need to both hike and ride. Both for my health, and this odd assortment of reasons. I’d love to hear anybody else’s thoughts on this subject. Cheers--Laura

A Nice Ride

By Laura Crum


Don’t you just love it when once in awhile you have one of those idyllic rides that make you realize why you fell in love with riding to begin with? Yesterday was one of those days for me.

I have been riding very sporadically, between being busy and the weather…etc. Two days a week is about my average. And I actually haven’t been feeling very motivated to do that. But yesterday was sunny and in the 70’s and my friends were going to gather the cattle and do some practice team roping. For the first time in awhile, we loaded Sunny and Henry and went along.

And it was glorious. My son pushed cattle on Henry and I helped run the chutes. We both loped big circles in the huge, beautifully groomed arena. The sun shone brightly. This particular arena has the cattle field on one side and a forest of mixed oaks and redwoods on the other. Not a road or a car to be seen. I loped along on my steady little yellow horse thinking that hey, I’m having fun. My son had a grin from ear to ear. What a pleasure.

It dawned on me that sometimes, between the work and the worry factors, horses can seem almost a burden (well, they’re never quite that, but I’m guessing you know what I mean). So its really nice that we get rewarded fairly frequently with these delightful moments. For me, these days, they mostly occur as I do the mundane tasks of feeding and such, or when I’m riding along the trail. I haven’t been very excited by riding in the arena for awhile. So it tickled me that for once I was thrilled to be loping big circles on a horse who felt good (hadn’t been ridden in a week).

Sunny’s energy was high, he enjoyed the loping as much as I did. His long mane (it hangs several inches below his neck) flared in the breeze of his motion and I was amused to see how much of a kick I got out of watching the shiny gold light sparks on his palomino neck and seeing his shaggy cream colored mane swing and lift in the rhythm of his stride. It felt in some ways like being a teenager again and admiring my horse because he was so “pretty”. At times I think I’ve spent too many years in the horse biz to be seduced by the cute factor, and/or the thrill of just flying along on the back of a horse, but it turns out I’m wrong. Those things can still get me.

On top of which I get the thrill of seeing my son discover these delights. In class yesterday, when he was asked what he would be grateful for on Thanksgiving, he said, “Our horses—especially Henry.” And when we got to the roping arena, big and wide open for loping in the winter sunshine, he said, “I just want to live at this arena. Then I could lope forever.” And I knew just what he meant.

So, anybody else out there have any inspiring horsey moments to share? The ones that get us through the difficult times and make all we do with horses worthwhile. Sometimes its just the little things…like loping circles in the arena on a sunny November day.

Cheers--Laura

Riding Smoky

by Laura Crum


Not so long ago I would have told you that I didn’t plan to ride any more young horses. And I meant it. I never thought I’d climb on anything less than eight years old and a reliable, broke horse ever again. I’ve trained somewhere upwards of a hundred colts in my life, but since then I’ve taken quite a few years off to be a mom, I’ve grown middle-aged and stout, and I just don’t feel up to riding/training young horses any more. Sounds fair enough, right?

But then my friend/boarder took a three year old colt in exchange for a debt and asked me if I’d train him (I trained a few other horses for this friend that he liked.) I said no. I said I was done with training horses. We turned the colt out in my sixty acre pasture and let him learn to be a horse. We sent him to a trainer we both trusted. And now Smoky is five years old, a green broke horse, and back in my barn. And guess what? I’m riding him…and enjoying it.

I’m not exactly sure how it happened, but somehow I became convinced that I’d feel OK on Smoky. And from the very first time I rode him, I felt fine. Yes, he’s green, and requires support, guidance and correction that the mature horses don’t need. But he’s kind and willing, a bit lazy, and shows no real resistance. I feel very safe on his back. He lopes nice circles in the arena and goes down the trail without spooking at anything. So far so good.

And then, yesterday, the wind was blowing like crazy. My son was determined to ride. I saddled Smoky, and the colt was looky. Why wouldn’t he be? The trees were crashing around; I heard one go down up on the ridge.

“We aren’t going out on the trail today,” I told my son. “are you sure you want to ride? Its awfully windy.”

“I can go faster than the wind,” my kid replied.

Great.

I saddled Henry, my son’s horse, who appeared completely calm and unworried by the wind. At the same time I regarded the obviously anxious Smoky, who wasn’t very happy about the blowing trees. And I felt a knot of anxiety in my stomach.

I could cope with Smoky being looky and/or jumpy—I knew that. But I wasn’t sure I could do this and still keep my focus on my kid and his horse. And when I ride with my kid, my focus is on him, and keeping him safe and happy. And even Henry is capable of spooking if a tree tips over right next to him. So I felt anxious—worried that I couldn’t deal with all these factors.

In my younger days I’d have stuffed the worry down and climbed on the colt. But I’m older now and a mom. I took a step back mentally. What is important here? What is important is keeping my kid safe. It will do this colt no harm to stand saddled and tied for a few hours and not get ridden. It will, in fact, do him good. And I climbed on steady Sunny and rode with my kid.

My son had a ball, loping endless circles on a wild windy day. His grin was a mile wide. I kept my eye on Henry, who remained completely relaxed the whole ride. It all went well.

And when I unsaddled the gang, I was glad I’d paid attention to my instincts. Not just because everybody was happy and healthy, but because I’d been relaxed and enjoyed my ride. I had done no harm by not riding the colt when I felt anxious. I’ll ride him again, many times, I hope. I had simply done a smart thing.

So I want to put this little wisdom I’ve gained out to all the others out there who, like me, once rode better than they do now. I’m finding its Ok to limit myself to what I feel comfortable with. I don’t need to beat myself up over being afraid. I can enjoy riding Smoky when it feels right, and I can do him no harm by giving him some time tied up and saddled when it doesn’t feel right (and by the way, this is an old horse trainer’s trick for getting horses broke—lots of time standing around saddled.)

I read a very good blog post on Janet Huntington’s Mugwump Chronicles blog on this same subject the other day, and it really inspired me to keep trusting my instincts. As a fiftyish “re-rider”, my main goal is to keep myself and my son safe, and my second goal is to have both of us relaxed and happy horseback, rather than anxious. Pushing myself to do what I don’t feel comfortable with does not further these ends.

And it still turns out that I can ride young horses (gentle ones, anyway) and enjoy them—as long as I listen to my instincts.

Anyone else have any insights to share on this subject?

Finding Balance

By Laura Crum

No, I’m not talking about the sort of balance we need to stay aboard these horses and not end up on the ground at their feet. I’m talking about a different sort of balance…the sort we need in our lives. Terri wrote in a recent post that she needed help finding a balance between writing and riding. I don’t know that I’m in a position to offer much help, but now that it’s the rainy season here in coastal California, and I’m not riding as much as I was, I’ve started to think more about finding balance in my life.

This “balance” is, I think, going to be different for every person. For myself, I am balancing my son’s needs and wishes, our needs as a family, my horses, my writing and my garden. All of these things take up a lot of time. And I totally sympathise with Terri’s point that it seems like there are just not enough hours in the day. For sure, one thing or another is going to be somewhat neglected.

So, I’m going to start out with a funny statement. In my case, balance involves not prioritizing riding too much. And due to my past, that’s hard for me to do. It’s a long story, which I’ll tell in a future post, but I have a huge tendency to feel guilty if I don’t ride my horses five or more days a week. And right now I am actively choosing to prioritize my family’s needs and my kid’s needs. He will only be young once. I want to be there for him and also to enjoy this experience of raising a child to the fullest. So, in a way, you could say that both my riding and my writing have suffered since I had a child.

The funny thing is, I don’t even want to go back to the way I was pre-child. I prioritized riding and writing to a huge degree—to the degree that I felt trapped by my obsessive need to pursue these two things. I have to tell you, the truth is I prioritized riding and training my horses to such an inordinate degree in my twenties and thirties that, well, I’m not gonna say this ruined my first marriage, but I will say it contributed.

So, Ok, I have come to believe that over-prioritizing riding doesn’t work for me. Not just in the sense that it doesn’t work for my family, but also that it doesn’t work for me as a person. Sometimes I actively don’t want to ride. I want to work in my garden or go on a hike, or do some sort of expedition with my family. I want to be able to feel good about this. And because of my tendency to feel guilty when I don’t ride (because of my background with horses), I sometimes have a hard time feeling content when I don’t ride a lot.

This reached a crisis in my life about ten years ago. I had been riding, training and competing obsessively for twenty years. I felt guilty if I didn’t go to a competition every weekend, or didn’t practice several times a week. At the same time I had a property that I loved and I really wanted to spend long, lazy days working in the garden. The two desires were a huge conflict for me. And in a fit of pique I gave up competing.

Well, it wasn’t exactly a fit of pique. I had grown sick to death of the nasty things people do to themselves, their horses and others in order to win. I had ceased to see winning as desirable. I was sick of feeling like I “needed” to go compete every weekend. So I quit.

(I am not intending to criticize all those who like competition, mind you. Not everyone is nasty in the interests of winning. Nonetheless, I saw a great many horses crippled—and subsequently thrown away like broken sporting equipment-- and a great many people were less than kind to others and miserable themselves—all because they so needed to “win”.)

Anyway, I quit competing. I kept my horses. I still rode. I had a young horse I was training. But I didn’t let competition, and the need to train for competition, dominate my life any more. I worked in the garden a lot. I was happier.

Then I got pregnant. I gave up riding. I still had my horses, but my old team roping friends rode them for me (these were good rope horses and my friends were glad to borrow them). I had my baby. And it wasn’t until my little guy was six months old that I got back on a horse again (with my baby in front of me in the saddle). Over a year without being on the back of a horse.

And it felt just fine, actually. I was in no hurry to get back into riding again. I got on a horse once every month or two…until my kid turned three and began actively lobbying to ride. So then I began to ride a couple of days a week…but every ride was with my son. We walked, trotted and loped in sedate circles, that was it. This went on for a couple of years. And I was still perfectly content.

I learned something. I still loved my horses. I fed them morning and evening. I enjoyed them. I did not give one of them up. But I did not need to be obsessive about riding and training. Things went along just fine when I wasn’t obsessing.

I should add into this story that I keep my horses either turned out in large pastures or in big corrals (100 feet by 100 feet on average) where they can run and play if they are not ridden. They are never confined in small pens or stalls unless they need this due to injury…etc. And in the years when I rode very seldom, as I said, my friends did ride the using horses regularly.

So, fast forward to the present. After several years in which my son rode in front of me, I had a year of hand walking, longeing and ponying Toby the pony (with my kid aboard) and a year of riding alongside my kid and Toby in the arena. All pretty sedate. And then when Toby died two years ago, I bought Henry for my son, and Sunny for me (our two “bombproof” trail horses), and my kid and I began to go out on the trails.

For the first time in ten years, I had a horse that was solely my horse again—nobody rode him but me. And guess what? I began to obsess on getting him ridden. I also had a new event. I fell back in love with trail riding, the passion of my teenage years, which took a backseat to various sorts of cowhorse-type competitions in my twenties and thirties. Suddenly I wasn’t happy if I wasn’t out on the trails at least four days a week.

And you know what? This did not work to my advantage. Obsessing on riding and being unhappy when I couldn’t get it done made me, well, less happy. It took the major setback of Henry’s colic to get me to revaluate my priorities and start trying to find that balance again.

So now, once again, I’m back to riding when it works out and relaxing about it when it doesn’t. In my life, realistically, this means riding about twice a week, more often in the dry season, less often in the rainy season. The horses seem perfectly happy with this. Once again, I’m happy, too. I’m finding out that balance for me, means not prioritizing riding too much.

I don’t say this would necessarily be true for others. In fact, I’m hoping some of you will explain how you get balance in your own lives. Perhaps for some it means riding more often, and cutting back on other activities.

OK—I see I haven’t even touched on the issue of how I balance the writing into the equation. But this post is getting too long and I need to go feed my horses. So, a future post on how I fit writing into my life will be forthcoming.

Also, for those of you who write to me in the comments that you have posted something on your blog that I might be interested in, I do try to go to your blogs and read. But my computer is old and cranky (I mean seriously old and cranky—it is twelve years old, uses Windows 95, and has a dial up connection) and I frequently can’t view blogs. And it takes forever to get the comments to come up, so I don’t try to post comments on other blogs any more. I did make it to Kate’s blog and got to read about her horses. And Jackie of Horses and Turbos, I tried to get to your blog to read about your trail rides with Starlette, but I just couldn’t get it to come up on my screen.

Cheers--Laura

Why do I do This?

While this post could apply to writing, as in "why do I write when I don't make any money at it?" It's not about writing today. It's about riding.

I had my first lesson last Thursday in over four weeks. I didn't want to ride that night. In fact, I considered different ways to get out of it. My trainer has a policy that it you don't give her 48 hours notice of a cancellation, you still pay. Many times, this has forced me to go ahead and take my lesson even when I didn't feel like it.

So I trudged into the barn, resigned that there was no way out. My mare is in the first stall as you walk down the aisle. She had her butt to the door until she saw me. She turned around and poked her nose through the bars, happy to see me and probably wondering where the heck I'd been all these weeks.

Ever since I sold my first book and started writing "professionally," it's gotten harder and harder to drag myself to the barn. I have so little free time that I sometimes wonder why I continue to juggle all these balls. Lately, it seems like riding would be the first to go, especially riding dressage.

As you know from previous posts, Gailey has been in her winter shying mode, and it's been driving me insane. So that makes me dread riding all the more. Since no one had ridden her in a week, I wasn't expecting a fun time of it. So I saddled up, feeling a little better because I do love this horse. She seemed genuinely happy to see me, too. I walk to the arena, climb on, and started warming up. My mare is wound up and raring to go, which isn't always a bad thing. When she's like that, it's easier to get her to sit on her hindquarters and get her shoulders out of the ground. She has huge powerful shoulders, and she'd much prefer pulling herself along with those shoulders.

With low expectations, I walked around the arena, then trotted. My mare likes to overpower me with her big gaits so she can fall on her forehand and tow me around. So from the first stride of trot, I kept my legs on, did half halts, and kept her at a controlled pace. Usually at this point one of us starts pulling, she starts going faster, and so it goes. That didn't happen. I reminded myself not to pull, but to take then give until she started increasing her speed instead of her power, then it was take-give again.

Okay, I've ridden dressage for probably 30 years now. I understand the basics. I know how it's supposed to work. I also know that as an uncoordinated adult, the doing is much harder than the understanding. I've never been great at coordinating my seat, legs, and hands. I also have a tendency to stiffen and pull rather than relax and ask.

As our lesson starts, and my trainer asks for more power with no more speed, I actually do it without pulling. Then we canter. Lately, this has been the gait I can't seem to balance. Much to my surprise, I did it. I have this bad habit of half-halting at the bottom of the stride instead on the up-side. That night, I kept her up and balanced between my hand and legs.

And wonder of wonders, no pulling. So by now, I'm having a good time. Everything is coming together. I've totally forgotten that I'd dreaded doing this an hour before.

At a break I talk with my trainer about not having the ambition to ride and reasons that I, and many others, keep doing this. Besides all the obvious reasons which any horseperson knows--that uncontrollable love of horses--we discussed our friends who don't ride. What do they do in the winter? They sit on their butts in their warm houses and watch TV. Riders don't do that. They go to the barn no matter the weather. Dressage requires the horse and rider be in shape so you have to ride. If I didn't have this horse and I didn't ride dressage, I'd be one of those women sitting on their butts, especially now that I'm writing seriously.

My instructor's personal trainer at the gym mentioned to her that all the riders he see are actually pretty toned. I also know that when I get massages, the masseuse is always surprised how in shape I am when I tell her I don't "work out."

So I now have renewed ambition to ride again rather than give it up. I know it gets me out of the house in crappy weather. I know it keeps me in relatively good shape. I know it keeps me young, compared to all my friends of the same age. And most of all, I remember once again why I do this.

So I guess I'm going to keep slogging to the barn even when I don't want to ride. Once I put my foot in that stirrup, I forget why I didn't want to do this.

When it all comes together on the back of a horse there isn't a greater high on earth

My Current Goals

By Laura Crum




Lately some of my fellow authors on this site have been posting about their goals. Losing weight, getting fit, getting their horses ridden regularly, getting their next book written. All great goals. People write in the comments here about their goals; I read mugwump’s blog and hear about all the goals people have with their horses. I am impressed. I wonder, what are my goals?

Uhmm…I’d like to lose weight, sure. Am I willing to diet? No. I’m way too much of a hedonist to diet. I love good food and drink. (Margaritas, anyone?) I do try to exercise regularly by hiking the trails as often as I ride them, but this is a goal I don’t often achieve. Last week I rode five times and hiked once. Hmmm.. My horse is getting fit, anyway. No, I can’t exactly call getting fit a goal. At least not a goal that I’m doing much to achieve.

How about writing my next book? Yep, I am writing my next book. I really am. Sometimes. And then I hear my fellow authors talking about how many pages they wrote last week. Oh dear. Some weeks I get a chapter done. Lots of weeks I get nothing written at all. I’m not a very disciplined writer. As the deadline approaches, I crank it out. That’s my pattern. I hope it works this time.

But yes, it is a goal of mine to finish book #11 in my mystery series and turn it in at the specified deadline. I’m just not motivated to do it in a methodical fashion. I guess this counts as a goal.
As for the horses, when I say I rode five times last week, you might think I was pretty goal oriented there. The unfortunate truth is that I ride when I feel like it, and the weather was beautiful last week so I felt like riding. And what sort of riding are we talking about? Nothing too demanding. My current riding is limited to cruising my little plug of a trail horse through the hills or along the beach in the company of my eight year old son. When you consider that I used to show cutting horses and compete at team roping, it sounds pretty tame.



Yep, that’s me in the above photos. Winning the cutting at the county fair on Gunner, a horse I trained myself, and turning a steer for my good friend Sue Crocker on Flanigan, one of the best rope horses I ever had the privilege to ride. (Sue is on Pistol, another great horse.) Those of you who have read my mystery series may recognize these horses; they’ve all become characters in my books.

This next photo was taken last week. We had an 80 degree November day and took the horses down for a ride on the beach. Big fun for me and my son, but not exactly in the same league as what I used to do with my horses. My goals with my horses these days? Use what’s left of my (much diminished) riding skills to have fun with my kid. Cruise through the landscape on a steady horse and enjoy it. That’s it. Not too ambitious.

The truth is that I really am fine with my relatively unambitious lifestyle, but every now and then, listening to others, I wonder that I seem so unmotivated these days. Am I content and tranquil? A zen horsewoman/ enlightened mama/ relaxed author? Or am I just lazy? I really don’t know.

I can remember the effort and energy I used to put into my riding and writing; I was pushing and striving, trying hard all the time. I’m much happier now. At this point all my pursuits flow relatively easily and naturally….but I’m sure not getting as much done. Is this a good thing or a bad thing?

Since tomorrow is Thanksgiving, I think my current goal is just to be grateful for what I have. My family, my animals, including my reliable little trail horse, my home, my pasture, my career as a mystery author, which still engages me, even my relatively healthy, if slightly too ample body….all these are things I am thankful for every day. Maybe I don’t need to worry about what I don’t have, seeing as I have so much.

You tell me….
Happy Thanksgiving!











Laura Crum

Riding and Weight-Loss Challenge

I'm guilty, as charged.

I've been bad all summer. I normally ride 4-6 days a week. This summer I was lucky to ride 1-2 times a week. That's an all-time worst record for me. So what I now have is an out-of-shape body and an out-of-shape horse. I guess I have some valid excuses, writing half-time and working full-time. Still, I know I can fit riding in if I make it a priority.

Dressage takes a lot of muscle strength on the horse's part. They need to be strong in the hind end and able to carry more weight behind. Building that strength is time-consuming and requires a consistency which I didn't commit to over the summer. Add to that a horse who doesn't hold her fitness unless she's ridden 5-6 days a week.

As a consequence of my laziness, I've put on ten pounds and my horse and I are winded after about 20-30 minutes of work. That is another first for me and one I'm not proud of. I have always prided myself on being able to ride for an entire lesson and never pleading with my instructor for a break. I still haven't done that but, boy, have I wanted to beg for mercy.

In addition, I have never weighed this much in my life. I used to be able to eat anything and never put on weight. Well, welcome to middle-age. It's finally caught up with me.

Non-riders don't understand how much exercise riding can be. I don't think I even understood until I looked back on this summer and how much time I've spend sitting on my butt, writing; instead of sitting on my butt, riding.

So I am turning over a new leaf, and I'm counting on EI to hold me accountable. I'm going to attempt to post a riding and weight loss log every Sunday or every other Sunday. Maybe I'll even include some tips from my instructor and what I'm working on for the week. My goal is to ride a minimum of four days a week and lose a total of 20 pounds.

My goals for December 31, 2008 are:

• Lose 10 pounds
• Ride 4 days a week minimum (If I miss a week, I have to make it up the next week)

Anyone want to join me? You can post your results in the comments section of my blog post every Sunday. I'd love to have some company. If there's enough interest, maybe I'll even come up with some year-end prizes.

Learning to Ride / Learning to Write

By Laura Crum


I’m often asked by readers who would like to become published authors how I was able to achieve that goal. I’ve talked about the long trail that culminated in the sale of my equine mysteries to a major New York publisher (St Martin’s Press) on this site (“One Woman’s Path to Publication”—March 2008). Today I’d like to talk about something even more fundamental—the actual writing.

I’ve always been one to learn by doing, both with my writing and my riding. As a child I took lots of riding lessons (anything to get on a horse), but I never felt I learned as much from this as I did from the long unstructured hours of riding (sometimes on quite difficult horses) at my family’s ranch. As a woman in my twenties, I took many lessons from prominent reining and cutting horse trainers, but it wasn’t until I actually went to work for these guys and spent eight hours a day for many years riding horses for them that the stuff they were trying to teach me finally sunk in.

So, who did teach me to ride? (Or to write?) The short answer is that Lad and Tovy taught me to ride and Dick Francis taught me to write.



I was a horse crazy little girl like so many others. Yes, that’s me on the pony, all of two years old and thrilled to be on a horse. That pony’s name was Tarbaby, and though in the photo I may look like a lucky little girl with her own pet pony, the true story is rather different. My uncle, who owned the pony, fancied himself a horse trader, and having bought the critter cheap, was determined to sell it for a handsome profit. Thus the point of the photo was not to show off my small self on a pony, it was to show prospective buyers that Tarbaby was gentle enough for kids. The notation on the back of the photo says nothing about “Laura”; rather the words are “Pony for Sale.”

This gives you something of a frame of reference for the way in which I “grew up” with horses. My uncle always had them, and I was allowed to ride them out at the family ranch, but no one took much interest in me or my progress; certainly I was not allowed to have a horse of my own until (at fourteen), I had saved up enough money to buy one myself. I did ride my uncle’s horses, many of them “trading horses” like Tarbaby, all through my childhood, and, as you can imagine, I had some interesting experiences.

Still, amongst the runaways, broncos, and various other recalcitrant beasts that I struggled with were two horses that my uncle kept to team rope on and never traded off. These two registered Quarter Horse geldings were gentle, well-broke animals who knew their job, and between the two of them I learned to ride pretty well.

Lad and Tovy were their names: Lad was dark brown with a blaze, Tovy a solid sorrel. My cousin and I rode those horses bareback and double, we rode them sitting backwards, we rode them standing up at the trot and slid off over their tails for a dismount. We jumped them over three foot fences (despite the fact that they were team roping horses and this wasn’t their job description) and galloped them along the creek. Not to mention gathered the cattle and did all the ranch chores on them. Yes, Lad and Tovy taught me to ride.

If you’re wondering how, exactly, Dick Francis taught me to write, well, no, he didn’t personally tutor me. Like so many others, I loved his books and read and re-read them constantly. When, at thirty years of age, I decided to use my background training and competing on western cowhorses to create a mystery series, much as Dick Francis had used his background as a steeplechase jockey to create his own books, you can imagine who I modeled my writing on. Yes, every time I got “stuck” at some place in my first manuscript, I would pull out a Dick Francis novel to see how the master did it. (And yes, I’m sure that Cutter, my first novel, has in some ways a very, shall we say, derivative feel.)

In time, of course, I developed more of a sense of my own voice, though I always admired Dick Francis’ work. I was also honored to meet my “teacher” and have a longtime correspondence with him. In the course of these letters he praised several of my mysteries and actually asked to borrow some bits from one (this was Slickrock). My books have been likened to Dick Francis’ novels by many reviewers, something which always pleases me (see the quote on the cover of Chasing Cans, my most recent novel). However at this point in my career I no longer have the impulse or need to imitate another author; I merely tell the story that comes to me, in my own way. Some say that my later books are better written than my earlier ones, and I like to think that’s true. Nonetheless, I will always credit Dick Francis as my original inspiration and am grateful for his support over the years as well as the example that he set.

There are other ways to learn both riding and writing, of course—horseback lessons and writer’s classes, seminars of both sorts—all these things have their place. But I would like to assure those whose path, like mine, is more of a solitary one, that this can be productive, too. Lots of hours spent horseback and lots of time spent reading authors whose work you admire can pay off every bit as much as instruction and critique when it comes to riding and writing, at least in my opinion.

And since the most entertaining part of this blogging is hearing the responses, I’d like to put this question out there to all the horse people and authors (especially bloggers) who read this post. Anybody else have a take on this subject that you’d like to share? What made you a rider? Or a writer? I know mugwump has been big on continuing instruction, at least in her riding career, and I’m always willing to learn from her, talented trainer and writer that she is.

Oh, and for those who commented on my last post about my skinny horse, I’m happy to report that ET is gaining weight steadily and looks much better than he did even two weeks ago. No ribs showing at all. Thanks for all your input.
Cheers,
Laura