Trip of a Life Time by Terri Rocovich

Some how I knew that this trip would change me. That I would come back different, with a new broader perspective of the world and my role in it. This is the case in more ways that I will ever be able to cover in one blog post. Therefore, this will be the first in a series about the incredible country that is Kenya.

First let me give you all a general overview. The trip started its planning stages well over a year ago but I have wanted to go to East Africa as long as I can remember. There were 4 of us from San Diego that ended up going although originally it was supposed to be 6 of us. Circumstances changed for some so it ended up being just 4 old friends and we joined up with others taking the Safari once in Nairobi. The trip was a riding Safari in Masai Mara, a region that is known not only for its beauty but also the diversity and bounty of animals (I hesitate to use the term Game because I loathe hunting and I associate the terms). Our group flew from San Diego to London, spent a night there to acclimate and then flew to Nairobi; a total of 22 hours of flying time and a 10 hour time difference. Talk about jet lag!

My friends and I started our adventure in Nairobi with a 2 night stay at a place called Giraffe Manor. The hotel per se is like an old English Manor that also happens to be home to 11 Rothchilds Giraffe as part of a conservation and education program. The Rothchilds Giraffe is extremely endangered with only about 600 individuals left in the world. The service and food was on par with a four star hotel with the added gift of being near and even being able to feed the giraffe. The staff at the Manor delight in their jobs and their relationship with the Giraffe and they are eager for you to have an equally amazing relationship.

We arrived at the Manor in the late afternoon after flying all night from London and taking several hours to go through customs, get a trip Visa and then the drive from the airport through Nairobi which is one the most dangerous parts of the trip. We were all exhausted but were quickly reenergized at site of our first Giraffe. I have spent my life around horses and other large animals and am rarely intimidated but I will admit that it is very intimidating the first time a massive giraffe walks up, towering over you and reachs down with their long necks to retrieve a treat from you hand. They are as graceful and beautiful as they are kind and gentle. Beautiful is a word that doesn't sufficiently describe them. Their eyes are I think the most gorgeous in all the animal world. They are large and dark with eye lashes that would make any super model jealous. They move with a calm, deliberate and elegant stride. These giraffe know that they have no threats so they are even more relaxed than most although I will say that even the Masai Giraffe that we saw later on the Mara possesed a similar tranquility to their demeanor.

The next morning I awoke before dawn not quite knowing what hemisphere I was in. The staff had brought coffee to my room when they saw my light on so I walked out onto the balcony connected to my room to watch my first sunrise in Africa. And to my delight there stood Daisy, one of the Giraffe looking up at me (since my room was on the second floor) as if to say "Welcome to Africa." All of the rooms at the Manor are supplied with tubs of hay pellets, so I watched my first sunrise in Africa sipping coffee and feeding Daisy from the edge of my balcony. Surreal to say the least. Our 2 days at Giraffe Manor were filled with hours watching and feeding the Giraffes and worthogs, watching the antics of the resident dog, shopping in Nairobi and a tour of the home of Karen Blixen, the author of Out of Africa (One of my favorite books). The group visited a baby elephant orphanage were we all "adopted a baby" to help support the effort. As you may already know, the African Elephant is endangered and sadly babies are orphaned quite frequently due to poachers, the drought and human conflict.

Later that day we were even treated to a visit with Ed, the 3 month old baby giraffe that was generally shy of people. Watching Ed (who was born standing 6 feet tall) and his Mother, Lynn, was not unlike the behaviour we see with mares and foals. They are doteing, loving Mothers who never let their young far from site.

On our third day we went back to the Nairobi airport to catch a small plane to meet the horses and the Safari guide on the Mara. Little did we all know that later on that day we would cheat death not once but twice and see more variety of wildlife than you can see at a zoo and this was all in a few hours. Unbelievable! Upon landing on a small dirt airstrip, we met Tristan our guide. He was charming and intelligent as well as direct. My kind of person. On the edge of the airstrip were Zebra, Antelope, Wildabeast, Masai Giraffe and Cape Buffalo. As we drove toward camp along the Mara river we saw hundreds of Hippos and 2 HUGE crocodile. Not long after, once we arrived at camp, Tristan announced that the group would "attempt a river crossing" later that afternoon. I did not like the word "attempt" and did he not see the crocodile the size of a small car basking on the river bank!

Well we did cross the river, which was almost up the horse's necks and crossed only feet away from Hippos partitially submerged in the water. Hippos are actually considered one of the most dangerous animals in Africa and cause more injury and death to people than any other species, including the big cats. Yes that is me below on the gray, almost getting swept downriver, where the hippos were. Almost a little bit more up close than I had planned on.

Let me say that the horses were amazing and unflappable.

The horse I rode, Sage, saved my butt more than

a few times. Most of the horses were no beauty queens but they were tough and smart and incredibly fit. Any of my wimpy California show horses, would be begging for mercy and booking the next plane home.

Little did any of us know that later that ride, we would have an encounter where the horse's bravery would be tested not to mention our own. My heart would be beating harder and faster than I thought possible and I would realize that there was no guarentee of safety on this trip. This was not to be a tame Safari ride by anyone's stretch of the imagination.

With that teaser, I will leave the details to my next blog. Hopefully I have not bored you all, I fear that it may be nearly impossible to convey what an amazing adventure this was.

Body Condition Scores

Body condition has been on my mind and in my 'topic' bank ever since the fall rains then sunny but cool days hit Virginia. We have lush grass in our pastures, and in every conversation with the riders I know, the word 'fat' is used to describe our horses. Often I am the one using the word 'fat' because my horses, especially the pony, are roly poly. (This is not a photo of my pony--just one I borrowed from google images.) They don't get enough exercise and are not penned in dry lots, so they graze constantly with no 'off switch' (think Labrador Retrievers and the fallacy of self-feeding.) If this was spring, I would be limiting their intake for fear of founder, but everyone assures me that since my horses have been grazing (guzzling)all spring and summer and since the fall grass does not have the burst of nutrients, they will not founder. They'll just get, well, fatter until winter sets in, and when the vet comes, he will shake his head and will not give them an optimal 'five' score.

Lush grass and body condition are also on my mind because I just came back from five days in Colorado. We flew from Atlanta to Denver, and for at least half the trip, the clear skies allowed me to see and be amazed at how dry and brown the parts of Oklahoma, Arkansas and southern Colordo were that we flew over. And I mean brown. Not a splotch of green unless it was an irrigated circle. Fort Collins and the foothills where my brother lives are also dry and unless the pastures are irrigated or along a river or stream, they are brown. I saw a lot of horses. Most were pastured in small fields that had been grazed to dirt. The horses looked good and would probably have been rated 'five,' but I also saw many that seemed thin and listless. Horses are grazing creatures, and if there is nothing to pick at (and they are penned up so they can not move to better grazing like wild horses) it is not optimal either. I also know that when there is no grass, hay is in short supply and people don't have extra money due to the economy, more horses will be neglected and/or dropped off at rescue farms.

Too lush, too dry--neither is optimal, but as always, we horse owners do the best we can with the land, weather and conditions. My challenge is also finding enough time to ride. I'm teaching four courses this semester and traveling to promote my books along with the regular chores reguired by animals and home. Lately we've had great weather, and I'm trying to ride at least three mornings a week--but that's not enough to get my horses from fat to fit.

Do you have challenges to achieving the body condition score that you would like for your horses? Or are you able to balance exercise/nutrients to have that optimal fit horse? I'd love to hear your comments!

(On another matter, Dunslidin please email me at alison@alisonhartbooksdotcom re: Risky Chance giveaway.)

Sit Tall and Think of Carl Hester

A funny thing happened to me a couple of weeks ago while I was having my lesson with Marie-Valentine. I hadn’t seen her for a week or two, and I was having a little moan about what my other trainer, Greg, dscribes as my "problematic left hand". I don’t know why but I can never seem to keep it as stable as my right hand, and it’s something that bothers me, because how can it be possible that after all these years something as basic things as that this still eludes me? I wasn’t having a full-blown melodramatic meltdown, more of a jokey self-disparaging poke, which, when I think about it, is probably linked to my Britishness. It’s typical of me, and I’ve been trying for years to remind myself to lose the self-disparaging comments and replace them with positive affirmations to boost my self-esteem. Let’s just say it’s a work in progress. Anyway, that afternoon, as I struggled with keeping my hands level while working on the canter, Marie-Valentine interrupted my “oh-sucky-old-me” soliloquy with a smile-infused “sit tall and think of Carl Hester”.

Immediately, I straightened my spine, raised my head, lifted my hands and put them together, sat deeper into my saddle, pushed my heels down and pulled a mock-posh face. Haha! Carl Hester? Me? Yeah right!

However, beneath me, for a few magical seconds, 490 kilos of horsepower floated up to meet my comic impersonation of one of the best dressage riders in the world. The contact softened, Qrac’s back came up as his hind-leg stepped under a little more and he went into a fabulous, flowing self-carriage.

Stunned by Qrac’s reaction, after a few strides I Carl Hestered my horse back into walk using little more than my stomach muscles and turned to look at my trainer who was grinning from ear to ear. “Et bien voila!” she giggled. “Carl Hester!”

Amazing!

The funny thing is, I’d never seen Carl Hester in action until this year’s European Championships in Rotterdam in August. I’d heard of him of course, but only vaguely. We don’t get much dressage on television here, and the only dressage magazine I get is US publication “Dressage Today”, which he might have been featured in at some point, but I’ve no precise memory of reading about him. Not that I’m much of a reference in who’s who in dressage; a couple of years ago Marie-Valentine and one of her clients went to Holland to look at some horses and came back practically hyper-ventilating because they’d touched Totilas. “Who’s Totilas?” I asked, innocently. Yep. Oops. Granted, it was slightly prior to Totilas mania, but still… I felt a bit silly.

Anyway, on the day of my lesson with Marie-Valentine during which I had my “Carl
Hester moment”, before I picked Qrac up to start work, I’d been walking around the arena on a loose rein, chatting with her about this and that, and happened to mention Carl Hester‘s phenomenal performances in Rotterdam on his ten-year-old stallion, Uthopia, telling her how blown away I’d been by this exceptional couple. Personally, from what I saw, I prefer Uthopia to Totilas, I think he looks more smooth and floaty, and that the movement in his hind legs matches the movement in his front legs, which isn’t the case with Totilas’, but that’s just me. I’d never discussed Carl Hester with Marie-Valentine, but I must have spoken about him with sparkly eyes because it obviously stayed with her, and she was smart enough to get me to visualize his impeccable seat and try to channel it, if only half-jokingly, and if only for a moment.

Ever since my “Carl Hester moment” on Qrac (pff!), I’ve become a true fan of Carl. I’ve watched umpteen videos on the Internet, and thanks to Stacey Kimmel’s wonderful blog, “Behind the Bit”, found out that he’s released a DVD, “At Home with Carl Hester”, which I ordered and am in the midst of watching (incidentally, while I mentioned earlier that I’d pulled a mock-posh face the first time I tried to emulate him, I’m delighted to report that Carl comes across as a lovely, down-to-earth person and not posh at all!). Now, whenever Marie-Valentine comes to give me a lesson she invariably shouts out “Carl Hester” at one point or another in order to get me to sit up straighter and carry my hands; it’s become something of a Pavlovian reflex. I’d love to do a clinic with Carl Hester! Dear Mr. Hester, if ever you read this, why not consider a nice little trip to the shores of Lake Geneva sometime next year?

While Carl flips through his agenda to see when he can fit me in, let me ask you. Do you have a role model? Someone you admire and aspire to emulate, no matter what discipline you ride in? Tell me about them, I’d love to hear.

Trail Ride Drama

by Laura Crum

Trail rides have the inevitable potential for drama. The “outside” world is full of unexpected surprises. I always hope to be spared any excitement; I make the best choices I can to guide us on pleasant strolls through the hills and woods. And-the truth is we’ve had some very peaceful, uneventful trail rides lately. That’s what I shoot for—adventureless trail rides. I love riding through the autumn woods—unworried and relaxed, enjoying the sights and sounds and the smile on my child’s face. But I have to admit, recounting these rides doesn’t make for a very exciting post, as opposed to telling of adventures, disasters and tragedies.

(My son on Henry—sorry for the blurry photo—I have a hard time taking clear pictures from the back of my own horse.)

This last weekend we went on a lovely ride through the hills, and had lunch at the top of the ridge. Every step of the way our horses were perfect gentlemen, despite having had at least a week off. Their calm, relaxed frame of mind kept them from cracking much of a sweat, though the day was warm and they are getting their winter coats. Just a little damp behind the ears after our two hour ride up the ridge. Another wonderful expedition on our good horses, for which I am so grateful. Memorable only for how very nice it all was. No drama. Lousy blog post.

(Here we are on a peaceful autumn trail ride—this photo was taken by my husband, who was hiking along with our dogs.)

Am I the only one who scans those lists of recently posted blogs that some folks kindly provide and look for a title that suggests something dramatic? I’ll bet not. As much as we may wish others well, it appears (by the number of comments on dramatic/tragic posts) that we are all riveted by disaster.

I’ve thought about this a lot. Its a common device used by novelists. Just describe some graphic, horrible scene and you can be absolutely sure to hook your audience. It’s the premise behind all horror books/films. It’s what’s responsible for the popularity of “thrillers”. It’s the same thing that virtually forces us to crane for a glance of a traffic accident. Some sort of primal need that rivets us to tragedy, even as we may feel/grieve for the participants. Somewhere inside we are acknowledging our own mortality and the relief that at least this isn’t me…this time.

I responded to a comment on my last blog post that referenced the book, “The Horse Whisperer”, by saying I hated that book. Which I did—for a variety of reasons. But one of them was the use of gripping horror in the first scene to hook the audience. I’m not saying it didn’t work. Folks, that trick ALWAYS works. But it leaves a really bad taste in my mouth.

I don’t want to be riveted to the edge of my seat by either book or movie due to the horror factor. I totally acknowledge what a basic human emotion it is, and yet I never feel good about myself when I allow myself to be led by it, in either writing or life. And I am just as human as the next person. You put up a blog post titled “Tragedy”—well, I’m gonna read that first. What can I say?

But…I wince when I catch myself peering at traffic accidents, and I would never consider following a fire truck, or stopping at the scene of a disaster out of nosy curiosity. There is something in our human curiosity about horror that actively repulses me, even as I am drawn in just like the next guy. So every time I am gripped by some horrifying scene in book or movie (or blog), I find myself feeling slightly sick afterward. My main emotion is: I wish I hadn’t read/seen that.

As an author, I actively avoid this device in my books, even though I am well aware how powerful it is. Unlike many bestselling novels, you will not find graphic descriptions of violent tragedies in my stories. Yes, I know they are mysteries, so someone has to die (I once tried to write one without a corpse and was sharply rebuked by the editor—“There’s no body; there should be a body by chapter three at the latest.”), but I don’t focus on careful descriptions of blood and gore. Same for graphic descriptions of sex—that other guaranteed seller. I simply refuse to write that stuff. And no, its not to my monetary advantage.

But what about real life? I know that I am gripped with both horror and sympathy when I read about others and their trail ride dramas. I have a strong “need to know”, which I tend to justify under the label of learning what I can from the incident so I don’t make the same mistake, whatever that mistake was. (A lot of the time no real mistake was made—bad luck just happens.)

Ok, then, what have I learned from other’s trail ride dramas? And perhaps from my own lack of drama, while riding outside. Here’s my list—perhaps it will/may help someone else in pursuit of relaxing trail rides.

1) Ride a steady, seasoned, trail horse in the double digits. This is huge. I’ve talked about it before, many times, so won’t belabor this point, and those of you who are younger, better riders and/or want to do ambitious/competitive rides, well, you know this advice isn’t for you. Those of you who, like me, want quiet, peaceful rides sans “excitement” would do well to heed this point.

2) Hike your proposed ride before you ride it. This may not always be possible, but if it is, it helps immensely. With no risk to yourself and your horse (other than you get tired) you can determine just what sort of trail and trail obstacles you’re likely to meet and make a good decision about the proposed ride.

3) Ride with one or two equally seasoned horses bearing riders you know well and trust. If they are inexperienced horsemen, they must be the sort who will listen to you and do what you say. If they are experienced, their standards for acceptable risk must be similar to yours. If you take a rider on a green horse, put that horse behind a steady horse. If you have a beginning rider, put that rider in the middle with an experienced rider ahead and behind him/her. Solo rides are lovely, but they aren’t the safest or the most relaxing way to go. I like to ride solo, but I am aware that I am much more alert, as is my horse. I don’t like to ride in a big group (more than four). I find it creates a more difficult dynamic, and almost inevitably the horses are not as relaxed.

4) OK—helmets are good. I still don’t wear one (you can scold me if you want), but my son does. I know it’s a good idea—I couldn’t find one—I did try—that fit me and was comfortable. (I actually tried on every “large” helmet at the biggest tack store in our area—not one fit my larger-than-large head The tack store owner, who really wanted to sell me a helmet, told me that none of them fit correctly and I shouldn’t buy any of them. And they were all totally uncomfortable. I really do believe that I should get and wear a helmet, but it is proving even more difficult than I had supposed. Not only do hats of any sort give me a headache, but helmets do not appear to exist in a size that fits me. I plan to keep trying to find one, though, because I owe it to my husband and son.) I will still stand on my belief that riding a solid horse and making good choices is more important for safety—but I think I ought to get a helmet.

5) Riding good trails (not slippery, not too much exposure, not too steep, not too many obstacles) goes a long way to staying safe.

6) Riding at a relaxed pace goes a long way towards staying safe. We mostly walk, trot a little, occasionally lope when we’re all in the mood. We do not gallop madly along. Yes, its fun, and when I was younger I loped and galloped a lot more often. And the last time I was bucked off on the trail I was galloping up a long grade (many years ago). You really do see the countryside much more when you walk. I know, it sounds boring, and maybe to some it is. For me its peaceful and enjoyable.

7) I bring a cell phone. When my husband hikes with us, he brings a pistol. I do not carry a pistol on my horse because I don’t think I could fire it off my horse safely. I also think that a mounted rider can dominate most situations—with either people or animals—if they are thinking. Our only potentially threatening animals here are cougars, and I don’t believe I have ever heard of one jumping a mounted horseman. Most people who don’t know horses are easily intimidated—swing the horse’s butt at them, yelling, “Watch out, he kicks!” I HAVE had someone pull a gun on me when I was out riding—this was many years ago, and I had unknowingly ridden into an area where this someone was growing pot (I figured this out later). I was able to retreat reasonably gracefully—no harm done, and I realized then that it would have done me zero good to have been “carrying” myself. Galloping away is going to be your best defense.

8) I try to keep my rides well within the capacity of both horses and riders. Tired horses and people leads to trouble. For me, this means shorter rides (three/four hours is a long ride for us) and for me, that’s OK. My knees get sore if the ride is too long. In the same sense, riding a sore horse leads to stumbling and potential trouble. All horses on the ride should be sound enough and fit enough that they are comfortable—not miserable. A horse that has a noticeable head bob while trotting in a straight line is not sound enough for a trail ride—there can be exceptions to this, but it’s a good rule of thumb.

9) Pay attention. Even while you enjoy your relaxed stroll through the woods, you MUST pay attention. If your horse tosses his head at a bug, your alert recognition that it is a wasp, and that, whoa, there are several more right here, could save your life. This happened to me many years ago, riding a green three-year-old I didn’t know at all solo through the mountains (I was younger and tougher back then). I had disturbed a ground wasp nest and the wasps were attacking. Fortunately I noticed the very first pass by the buzzing critter and realized what was happening. The young horse was stung once and leaped forward, I regained control and kicked him up to a brisk trot. We were able to get out of range before he was stung again and we did fine. Contrast this to a friend of mine who failed to note what was happening until his steady Eddy horse had been stung several times and proceeded to buck him off, whereupon the poor guy was stung repeatedly after he hit the ground. Not fun. So pay attention. If your horse looks at something, you look to see what it is. If his foot slips, you look down and check the footing. Just pay attention. Don’t assume anything.

10) Listen to your intuition. This sounds silly, maybe, but for me it works. If I feel too apprehensive about something, I don’t do it. I do not allow a bolder companion to talk me into something that feels “wrong” to me on a trail ride. At the beginning of every ride, I “feel” into myself, asking if this will be fine. Usually, I “get,” yep, this will be just fine. If I don’t, I think hard about what choice I want to make. This doesn’t mean I don’t sometimes push past my nerves, it just means that I try to pay attention to whatever inner wisdom I have.

OK—there’s some ideas. Any other good trail ride tips? I’m all for avoiding drama.

And the Winner Is . . . .

Hoofbeats please as I pick a name out of my riding helmet. . . .

The winner of Risky Chance is ERIN!

Yes! And you thought you would NEVER win anything in your life!

Please email me at alisonatalisonhartbooksdotcom so I can send you Risky Chance.

Thank you everyone for entering and sharing your favorite book. Books are the best prize!

Reality vs Escape

I so enjoyed Laura Crum's blog post the other day, Research... Or Not?, because that topic has been on my mind a lot lately: how necessary is realism?

I love realism in my entertainment. I hear the argument that books are an escape, but I'm not so sure that I read books to escape. I think I read books looking for greater understanding of my own world, searching for like-minded folks to see how they're handling the same struggles I am facing, hoping to find a kindred spirit amongst the masses.

I'm always looking for the nuggets of truth.

Books that don't faithfully describe the places that I know and love are especially upsetting to me. I enjoy Carl Hiassen books because they're set in Florida, and I grew up there. But I love Tim Dorsey books, because not only are they set in Florida, but the settings, from St. Petersburg hotels to turnpike service plazas, are really there. I can read Florida Roadkill or Stingray Shuffle or any of his novels and actually picture about 75% of the locales that Florida history-buff/serial killer (he's a really cool guy, I swear!) Serge A. Storms visits. And I love that.

On the other hand, I couldn't get through critically acclaimed Swamplandia! in part because geographically it was all wrong, mixing up Florida's Gulf and Atlantic coasts in a way I just couldn't wrap my head around. (I also thought that I'd like the idea of the girl dating the ghost in the swamp, but it turned out it was just too strange for me to handle.)

And they might seem like the opposites of realism at first glance, but I count richly written epic fantasies like The Lord of the Rings and A Song of Ice and Fire among my favorite reads because the author went to so much trouble to create a believable, consistent world. I might not have ever been to Middle-Earth or the Seven Kingdoms, but I bet I could find my way around if I ended up there.

When I wrote The Head and Not The Heart, I was so devoted to getting the facts and details right that I actually stopped writing it for a while (back in 2010) and moved to New York to gallop racehorses. I'd done all the Ocala bits already, managing broodmares and starting babies and training two-year-olds, but I hadn't actually been backside at an operating racetrack. So, we all moved to New York and went to work at Aqueduct for six months. And then, once I was satisfied that I knew what I was talking about, I rewrote the New York sections of the book.

That's the kind of research I think any author can get behind!

The novel I'm working on now is set in Three Day Eventing, another sport I know first-hand. But I'm starting to pull back on the details a little bit. I don't want the book to be about eventing, after all, I want it to be about people who happen to be eventing. I want it to be about their passion and their drive, but not every fence on the Rolex course. And so I'm a little more willing to fudge facts and figures in order to create a compelling read that will draw in more than just the people who have always lived and breathed eventing. And therein lies the challenge of writing with less worry about research and realism. It's great to know your subject, there's no doubt about that. But can I get the story to stand above the setting?

Just looking at my bookshelves, I guess I can say that my favorite books are those that are very true to life, with a happy ending, and if there's any sort of crime, it has to be funny. I suppose that's because I love my surroundings, I expect a happy ending, and I try to avoid drama at all times! How about you? Do you escape by reading about completely different settings, or do you seek out your own life in books?

Keeping Gailey in my Barn

It's been seven years since I've kept my horse at home. At the beginning of September, I brought her home. My barn still isn't exactly horse ready, but I'm working on it. While in some ways, it's a chore to care for a horse at home, in others it's a pleasure. Truly, I am enjoying my time with Gailey. I'm still feeling a little guilty that we don't have another horse on the property to keep her company, but I'm going to cross that bridge later. Right now, 1 horse, 2 dogs, and a spoiled cat are all I can handle.

My Little Barn

So I'm being indoctrinated into the trials and pleasures of keeping my horse at home. My first eye-opener happened when I purchased hay and grain for the first time in 7 years. Eight bales of hay and one bag of grain cost me around $200. That was a shocker. Considering how much hay this mare goes through in a month, it might prove cheaper to board her.

Then comes the chore of unloading the hay and stacking it in my barn. Sigh... I'm not as young as I once was--neither is my husband. Now I'm back in the mode of finding a non-rainy day to haul hay every few weeks and making sure I don't run out of grain.

When I last kept Gailey at home, she kept her stall clean, always going outside to her paddock to use the horsey facilities. After 7 years in a stall, she now thinks her stall in the bathroom so I'm constantly cleaning the stall, and she's constantly messing it up. I keep hoping her old habits will come back. She used to lay down in her stall at night, perhaps when she starts doing that again, she'll want it cleaner.

I did saddle her up one day and found her to be serviceably sound, so I'll be trail riding her in the near future.



My son is working for us once a week and cleaning out the pasture. If you recall earlier pictures of it, it'd gone back to the wild. It's amazing what he did with a chain saw and a little Kubota tractor. Now, it's pretty much cleared, but we'll have to replant the grass, as it's just dirt.

Pasture--Before



Pasture--After

Despite our best efforts to make the pasture horse friendly once again, she sliced open her leg within a few days of her homecoming. My vet paid his first of what I'm sure will be many visits to our little farm. So twice a day, armed with a syringe filled with 20 horse-sized pills and Karo syrup, I've been trudging out to the barn to wrestle with my 1500-pound mare. I'm happy to report the leg has healed, and she's doing well.



We love to go away on weekend vacations, but having a horse at home, does put a damper on our frequent travelling. We'll be staying home more often, maybe saving more money by doing so.

While having a horse at home presents all kinds of challenges, I wouldn't miss it for the world. I love the deep, guttural sound she makes when she sees me walking out to the barn. I like being able to check on her whenever the mood strikes me.