light

few things shine as brightly in my heart as these two.

Chance and Hope

Meet Chance. His name, pun intended, was indicative of his status when I first laid eyes on him.

I didn't think he would make it through the night. So, on a wing (hoof?) and more than one prayer, we took him home (on the floor board at my feet, inside the truck) and took a chance on him.

So far, so good.

We brought him home the 16th of December, and the first three days he was here was extremely cold, and although he was in the most interior stall in the barn, with a foot plus of pine shavings, I lay awake most of the night, anxious to get to the barn, to see if Chance had indeed "made it" through the night.

Having bottle calves is a trying and rewarding rollercoaster ride. See this post. Interestingly enough, this calf whom I thought was at death's door upon first look, has been the most healthy, trouble-free calf we've raised yet. He gives to me another notch in the Hope Factor of Hope Farms. For, when you think you have nothing left, or nothing to look forward to, you always have Hope.

Chance, apparently, had Hope.

And I have the same. Even if I have to reinforce it one calf at a time. I have the urge to explore an atrocity here, about dairy farms, about the injustice that we Americans, and humans in general, have done to animals. I have done injustices to animals, and may continue to make mistakes, but I'm becoming more and more aware and conscious of the intricate relationship we should cherish - vegans, vegetarians, and omnivores alike - with our fellow earth-bound friends. As I learn and grow a wee bit older and possibly wiser, I appreciate the long eyelashes of cows and the hungry grunts of pigs and the cautious clucks of the chickens just a little more than I used to.

But, I won't explore that here and now. I'll wait until all of those jumbled and half-written thoughts coagulate and make some small amount of sense before I put the fingers to the keys again.

Until then, Hope as much as you can. And then Hope some more.

Hope Farms ~ where hope grows wild~

a few of my favorite things

January 1st, 2010 was a gloriously sunny, but cold day. Nonetheless, we found a little spot of sunshine, a brush and some quality time with April.

Sammy Jo, Becky's daughter, is a very bright and cheerful six year old little girl. She and Eddie play well together and took turns riding April nicely too.

April was appreciative of her clean, shiny coat and adored the children as much as a cranky old pony can adore children.

April patronized Sammy Jo and Eddie as they tried to steer her around the round pen, and graciously carried them around and around, with frequent looks to me as if to say, "how long do I have to be good"? She stood patiently while they switched positions and then gratefully endured another half-hour of grooming after the riding was done.

I anticipate that they will be actually riding her on their own and steering her with good results by the end of summer. They are both the perfect size for her, so that I will not worry that she's having to work too hard, or carry too much weight.

What a blessing to be able to teach children to love and ride horses, while spending time with said horses. These are a few of my favorite things.

It is January 21st, 2010, far too long since the kids rode April. It's amazing to me how quickly time gallops by.

It has been several years since I've ridden April, and while I believe she's strong enough to carry me, I won't ride her again. It's been bittersweet realizing that she is no longer the pony of my youth. No longer will we fly down the trails (look ma, no hands) with her mane and tail flying in the wind....we will now saunter. But! she will carry Eddie, my son and that is a really, really cool memory I'm looking forward to making.

When I was 9 years old, my Mom traded Bubbles - one of her young fillies she was starting - for April, who was in foal. "Little bit o' November was born the 22nd of (yes, you guessed it,...) November. I don't remember what happened to the filly, but I can tell you that April has been in the family for 27 years. She was 7 years old when we got her.

Tonight, as I look outside, it is dark, and raining. The mud sloshes onto the hems of my jeans as I walk up the saturated driveway to feed the horses. I hear them nickering in the dark. They know what time it is, why I am in the barn, and now that they've heard me, they are suddenly starving.

In the dark I measure out the hay, pour water to soak the pellets, get the specials (supplements) and check the water.

Tomorrow morning I'll pick up poop right after they get fed, and do some grooming. They like to roll and the mud sticks to them - while I groom them I look over both horses for anything out of the ordinary (a cut, scrape, bellyache, limp, whatever...) and then sigh a big sigh.

Later in the morning, I'll sneak up on April laying flat out in the corral. She will be sleeping soundly, and sometimes moving her hooves as though dreaming. I'll feel a big lump in my throat and my heart will swell, and I have to catch my breath.

These are a few of my favorite things.

sitting still at eighty nine miles per hour

it was one of those years. you know, where the things you don't think will happen, do happen. can't get specific here, because if i focus on the negative, it gets too much press. wouldn't want to compete with fox news.

*you have been warned; this is a post of utmost nonsense and full of land mines due to soulful dumping*

now, that year has rear-ended this year and not that it's starting as a bad year, it's just.......solemn. reflective. still.

yet moving so very quickly.

i've preliiminarily decided to stop monkeying around on facebook so much and get back to the basics of this blog which was originally created to generally chronicle life in a farmhouse, on a farm, married to a farmer in disguise, while restoring said farmhouse.

so now you know. it was just a new years resolution in disguise.

i've decided to actually post on my own blog. more. often. than. not.

ahem.

*see warning*