The Fast and the Furriest Food Drive

    I was hanging out in the bathroom at work when I noticed an article in the Backcountry Horsemen Association's (BCHA) newsletter about the Redwood Unit's annual Cowboy Canned Food Convoy coming up.  The BCHA is a non-profit organization dedicated to educate, advocate and maintain the use and enjoyment of horses in America's backcountry and wilderness...which we have a lot of in Northern California.  For the Canned Food Convoy, the group collects canned food donations which they pack into saddle bags on their horse or mules.  The group then rides through town to deliver their donations for the Food For People, Holiday Spirit Food & Fund Drive. 
     Visions of Autumn getting spooked by cars or skate boarders or even worse...the hippies with their Medusa dreadlocks snaking out of their heads trying to send her out cosmic vibrations...have kept me from joining the event.  But this year, I knew we were ready for anything...including patchouli. 
     I called my wing-girls, Cindy and Diane, and when Saturday rolled around we loaded our horses into the trailers in the rain and we unloaded them downtown under dry skies. I was unsure if the BCHA, which are a group of riders that are not the type to worry if the shirt they are wearing clashes with their saddle pads, was ready for the Margaret and Autumn bling extravaganza.  It took me a half hour to get Autumn, Syria and Tinker decorated in ribbons, flowers, garlands of leaves and bows for the ride. 

Cindy on Syria & Me on Autumn stopping traffic in the streets of Old Town



Diane & her little guy Tinker

     After the horses were decked out, we stuffed our saddle bags and baskets with food.  At high noon our group of a dozen riders on horses, mules and with some folks leading miniature horses and mules, set out through the Victorian streets of Old Town Eureka.  

The Backcountry Horsemen out of the woods and into the city!

Autumn and I were second to last to leave the dirt parking lot by the harbor. When we got to the curb Autumn stopped.  She eyed the transition from dirt to pavement and couldn't quite figure out what to do.  I had to call in the help of my husband, Casey, to assure her that it was safe.  Now, Autumn is not afraid to pull a horse from Snowy River move like sliding off the side of a mountain but this city curb thing was all new to her.  Casey guided her with the reins at which, point she rocked back on her hind legs and jumped off the curb.  It was pretty cute.  Syria took Autumn's lead and leaped off the curb too.  Cindy worried that maybe this was going to be a bit too much for Syria to handle.  We didn't have much time to worry because one of the little miniature horses decided we were going to slow.  He revved up his little engine and snatched up his lead rope to sling shot away from his owners to catch the lead horses.  Autumn and Syria watched the mini Mario Andretti in complete fascination as he ran laps around the bigger horses.  It took about ten minutes for fifteen of us to catch the little lug nut. 


We need your license and registration.

    As we continued down the street people came out of the shops to see the horses clip clopping down the street.  It was fun riding down the streets that held memories of the days before cars. 

Old Town Eureka Parade c.1925
( Lynette's Nor Cal History Blog)

We arrived at the warehouse and unloaded the donations.

Autumn supervising the handing off of the food.

Cindy adding her donations in front of Autumn-zilla

 

    Autumn, had a chance to work the camera which got her a spot in the Sunday Newspaper. 


Autumn Kardashian posing for the newspaper photographer

Autumn striking pose

   The ride was great.  The people were great.  The horses were great.  Best of all, it was all for a great cause.  I can't wait until next year.  In the meantime, Autumn and I are going to work on walking off curbs.


The Redwood Unit of the Backcountry Horsemen's Association at the
2013 Cowboy Canned Food Convoy
standing beside the Humboldt Bay Harbor 

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Copyright (c) 2013 Jacksonhillhorseygirl.com November 20, 2013

 

Drive Down Memory Lane

     Recently, my mom and sister left the east coast to come out for a visit with me in the wild west.  I took the week off from work and decided that there was no way we were spending our entire vacation in the land of redwoods, rednecks, weed and hippies.  We rented a place down in Sonoma County the land of wine and yuppies. 
     On our trip down we stopped in heart marijuana growing country, Mendocino, to get some gas.  The station was packed  and we had to wait for a pump.  When it was our turn, some lady blew right past us and stole our pump.  That's when the back seat erupted with good ol' New York road rage.  My sister, Katy's, hands were reinforcing her four letter word assault.  The lady in the dented piece of crap pickup truck scowled at us with her what are you going to do about it look.  Now, I don't have a problem standing my ground but I like to pick my battles.  I sized up my opponent, who was smaller then me, and decided to shut my sister up.  This lady probably had more loaded guns under her seat then the four teeth in her head.  There was no doubt that she could pull me out of my car and kick my ass into next Tuesday while stuffing her lower lip full of chew (chewing tobacco). 
     When we pulled out of the gas station, alive, I thought about our old family road trips.  We would head up to the mountains in Upstate New York which equated to about eight hours of my sister and I fighting and beating the crap out of each other in the back seat.  Dad would threaten to pull over or turn the car around or the one that really got us to stop fighting... he would attempt to smack us while driving.  His arm would sort of  spastically bang in between the front seats, with no chance of hitting us.  We couldn't stand how hysterical it was and would stop fighting. 
    When we grew bored of fighting we would sing songs that we made up or heard somewhere.  I never really thought about it until we were on this recent road trip that maybe our songs were not your typical kid sing-a-longs.  We weren't singing karaoke to Raffi's songs about bubbling bubbles or about 99 bottles of beer on the wall or some cliché fart songs.  We created songs that were real.  Real like hemorrhoids, yeast infections and the Summer's Eve Douche commercial theme song. 
    Twenty five years later we still knew every word.  Just like old times we serenaded our Mom on the open road.  "I'm dreaming of summer, cool breezes fresh air.  When I think of summer, Summer's Eve takes me there.  That clean, fresh, feeling keeps the good times on my mind.  Summer's Eve, brings back freshness every time."   It was like we were five and ten years old again, wearing sweat pant outfits with kittens on them except now, I was in the driver's seat.  
     Why would a couple of kids dig the Summer's Eve commercial theme song so much?  Two things: 1) We couldn't resist the farty commercial of the extremely happy lady swinging around on her tree swing to the tune  2) A story our Aunt had told us about a road trip with her beagle who had a not so fresh moment.  My aunt had to make an emergency stop to buy some feminine deodorant spray to restore the summer breezes and fresh air to her dog's derrière. 

     The other song was a masterpiece we created all on our own.  We called the little ditty "Hemorrhoid Flare Up" and it goes a little something like this...  "Hemorrhoid Flare Up.  Sitting on a doughnut.  Lady behind us sitting on a doughnut.  Yeast infection, getting lots of itches, getting lots of kisses kissing up to you too!"   Yeah, we made that up, all by ourselves. 
    Over and over and over again we would sing those songs in the back seat.  I asked Mom what she thought about our cherished childhood songs and if she thought that maybe they were a little unique.  She bluntly answered "Yeah they were weird but you would stop fighting and kicking the seats".  And that folks, is a childhood trip without a DVD player in the back seat.


Looking for some wedding singers that know only two songs? 
Call us, The Summer's Eve Sisters. 

 

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Copyright (c) 2013 Jacksonhillhorseygirl.com November 13, 2013

In To The Woods

     My horsey kid is a bully.  She is 2,000 pounds of horsey snipping, chicken chasing, dog nipping, cow terrorizing estrogen on four legs.  A blue jay perched itself on the rail of her stall a few mornings ago and started to squawk.  Autumn swung her head around, pinned her ears back and with glaring eyes told him to shove it. Thank goodness Autumn doesn't know how to use Facebook because I know she would be outstanding at cyber bullying.  

Autumn and her main squeeze Morrisimo...she apparently is not happy with him at this moment.

This chicken thought she might be able to catch a little bit of Autumn's grain as she ate...
She just barely survived becoming a nugget.

Autumn the Task Master

Move along little doggies...or else

     No one wants their kid to be a bully.  You don't want them to be mean to anyone and you don't want to see them that upset.  Autumn doesn't do it because it makes her happy.  Sometimes, I can see fear in her eyes and I think she just acts that way to protect herself.   Other times, I can see that Autumn is just fiercely protective over me.  She does not like seeing me spend time with other horses.  She will give another horse the six feet under stare the whole time I am tending to them.  She is also very sensitive to my attitude.  If I'm exhausted and a bit burnt out on my work she picks up that vibe and that's when she really lets everything around her know that she is not pleased.  I have been sort of at a loss as to how to make her nice and happy to everyone.   

    I took her for a ride after work last week.  It was just Autumn, myself, and the ranch dogs, Lilly and Shep.  It was a gray night, with not much light left in the sky.  I walked Autumn up the hill as the leaves blew around us with her ears up and happy.  I got on her when we passed through the pasture gate.  She walked calmly past the spot where I had seen a young mountain lion cub a few days before.  As we walked into the darkness of the woods I was really surprised at the echo coming off the highway at the base of the mountain.  It sounded like a big truck was driving through the woods.  Well, when I saw head lights I realized there was a huge dump truck driving out of the woods.  Bill, the ranch owner, was hauling some stumps to sure up the road's off slope.  This was a new one for Autumn.  I would bet that a majority of horses would have to be committed after encountering a situation like this... in the dark, being the only horse around, with a threatening sent of mountain lion drifting in the air as a monstrous truck roared toward them with blinding head lights... But Autumn was fine.  She walked up to the truck and wanted to say hi to Bill.  After a little chat we said our good byes and we walked deeper into the woods to the sound of giant stumps tumbling out of the back of the dump truck and crashing off the slope. 

     On that night ride, Autumn and I settled into each other, trusting each other deep into the darkness.  Autumn may not be warm and fuzzy to other animals but she loves, protects and listens to me. She takes me to places and shows me things that I would  never see without her and gives me with a life full of memories.  I am so lucky to have her.  In the past week Autumn added the below vignettes to our story together.

Twilight  outside the forest

A sunrise that stopped everything.

Standing before heaven

Bareback on Autumn under the Moon & Venus with last light fading from the day.

As I cantered Autumn down the beach I looked up and saw rainbow that encircled the sun. 

 

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Copyright (c) 2013 Jacksonhillhorseygirl.com November 5, 2013

Letting Go

     A mini van sped into the veterinary hospital's parking lot.  A woman jumped out, opened up the back hatch to reveal a little goat all curled up in a blanket.  She said that the goat looked a little funny this morning but when she came home on her lunch break he was laying down and grinding his teeth.  I pet the little guy and I could immediately tell that this was one loved and well cared for goat.  His coat was groomed silky and clean.  His hooves were perfectly manicured and even his little collar was immaculate.  His owner explained that this was her daughter's beloved goat and she was willing to do whatever was needed for him. 
    I got a stall ready for him and made a little nest of straw for him to snuggle up in. When the doctor returned from a farm appointment he immediately examined the goat and began treatment.  Unfortunately, the goat wasn't making any progress.  The prognosis was not good.  The doctor called the clients to discuss the little goat's situation.  Shortly after, the whole family came to see their little friend who's eyes brightened when he saw them.  The barn filled with tears and the whole office could feel the heartache of the little girl as she cradled her goat.  It was decided that we would watch him over night to see if there was any progress in the morning.
      The next morning I unlocked the doors with hope that he would be scooting around.  I peaked over the stall and he was nestled in the straw.  His breathing was rapid. His eyes were exhausted and his sparkle had dimmed.  I gave him a little pet as my heart began to feel heavy.  The doctor rechecked him and he went into the office to call the family.  They did not want him to suffer and asked us to give him peace. 
     I knelt down and hugged the little goat into me.  I told him that his family loved him very much. The doctor gave him his rest and he wilted in my arms.  The phone began to ring and I got so mad at it.  I didn't want to let go of the little body still warm in my arms.  I didn't want to lay him on the hay and leave him to carry on with my office work but, I had to let him go. 

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Copyright (c) 2013 Jacksonhillhorseygirl.com October 16, 2013

Whips, Avocados and Coupons

    We lucked out when we first moved across the country and found a little run down cottage to live in close to the college.   There were five little cottages all clustered together in our little culdesac in a suburban neighborhood. Over the next two years we got to know our neighbors who all worked from home.  
    Occasionally, I would unfortunately walk outside and into our amazonian neighbor who would be strolling around the fence-less yard buck naked with her boobs sagging in the wind in her wool socks and Birkenstocks.  Of course, this is when she would love to come on over and strike up a conversation and talk about anything except what she did for a living.  On one occasion, while I was inside putting laundry away, she was wandering outside on a business call.  I listened in as she asked what seemed to be legit business type questions..."Where are you from?  How did you hear about me?..." and then they started to get a bit strange..."How old are you?  Have you ever done this before?  What are your fantasies?"  Then she wandered back to her house. What are your fantasies??? What? Wait?  
     Well, when some "normal" looking dad type guy pulled in front of my house it all came together.  He got out of the car and removed a duffel bag from the back seat.  Sticking out of the bag was a black leather whip with tassels hanging off.  Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh...Okay, What are your fantasies?  I get it.
    Our other neighbors across the way that always had their shades pulled and were always stoned were pretty nice.  One time, they left a note tacked on our front door saying that they had removed a chihuahua sized rat from behind the dryer in the laundry room that appeared to like avocados and our socks.  That was very neighborly of them to take care of that.  They even left our socks folded on the dryer. It wasn't too long after that, that they got kicked out for growing weed in the house.   
   One perk of living in our little country ghetto was that, once a month,  a Victoria Secret promo coupon would come in the mail addressed to an old tenant, Rafaela or Current Resident.  In the mailer would be a coupon for free underwear with no purchase necessary!  So, for two years, I was the Current Resident wearing another girl's free underwear.  

Sucks for you Rafaela!  If this current resident gets into an accident she is going to be wearing your free underwear!

   After two years of living in the bondage, drug growing, lingerie infested neighborhood with the rat with a sock fetish, we alas departed.  Now, we live without free underwear and sadomasochists on the ranch and we're dealing with it.  

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Copyright (c) 2013 Jacksonhillhorseygirl.com September 25, 2013

A Morning To Quote Itself



     The sun rose.   Autumn left her hoof prints behind as we rode into a morning that wrote itself from words that had passed.  

“Could a greater miracle take place than for us to look through each other’s eyes for an instant?”
― Henry David Thoreau  
 

“When god created the horse, he said to the magnificent creature: I have made thee as no other. All the treasures of the earth lie between thy eyes. Thy shalt carry my friends upon thy back. Thy saddle shall be the seat of prayers to me. And thou shalt fly without wings, and conquer without sword; oh horse.”
― Anonymous, The Quran    

An early-morning walk is a blessing for the whole day.”
― Henry David Thoreau

 

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Copyright (c) 2013 Jacksonhillhorseygirl.com September 18, 2013

I Will Never Forget

     Twelve years have rolled across the seas of my time.  The wild seas of 9/11 have calmed, leaving pieces of my memories scattered like seashells on the beach.  Today, September 11, 2013, I can barely think a thought without stepping on a seashell.  I pick one up and remember the weeks after 9/11.  There was the time I got stopped in traffic on the side of the highway as firefighting ladder trucks parked themselves on opposite sides of the highway with their ladders extended to their furthest reaches, holding an enormous American flag across the roadway for the funeral procession to pass beneath.  

     Spray painted bed sheets hung off over passes thanking rescue workers and declaring that "We will never forget".   In every home's window was tapped a paper American Flag that the New York newspapers had included in their circulation since there was not a single flag in stock anywhere to buy. 
     It was cold when I headed back into the city for the first time.  The skyline driving in showed the sadness of its loss.  As I walked downtown I passed churches whose outside walls had become memorials.  Withered flowers hung next to tattered, faded and runny notes with photos from loved ones looking for their lost.

     Ground Zero was fenced off with chain link with blinds weaved through it so you couldn't see.  I climbed up a street light to get a better look at what wasn't there.  Part of what was left of one of the towers sat in tortured rubble.  Ribs of metal girders twisted out of itself.  Hanging off the end of one of the girders was a computer monitor hanging by its cord.  It was swaying gently, back and forth in the wind. New York fell silent around me as I watched it tick back and forth, a pendulum in time.  A seashell in my memories.  I will never forget.  

Be sure to read last week's blog about my Dad, a New York Fire Fighter's story at Buildings On His Boots.

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Copyright (c) 2014 Jacksonhillhorseygirl.com September 11, 2013

Buildings On His Boots

    It took my Dad twenty years to reach five days before September 11, 2001.  This was the date he retired from the Fire Department of New York (FDNY). I can remember going to my Dad's graduation from the fire academy when I was bumping around his knees as a four year old. 

Me, Dad & Mom on Graduation Day

Grandma Diemer, Dad & Grandpa Diemer on Graduation Day

 

     When your dad is a firefighter you become part of the firefighting family.  At Christmas we would head into the city for the annual firehouse party where too many hot dogs were eaten as we all waited for Santa to slide down the pole with our gifts.  In the summer we would go to the big beach picnic where we would eat more hot dogs. 

     Dad had a lot of stories from the job but my favorite was how he pulled a Pee Wee Herman and rescued a bunch of animals out of a burning pet store.  The ASPCA awarded him plaque for his compassion.  Next to the plaque sat a photo of him carrying a person away from a fire on a stretcher in the snow.  Sometimes, Dad's stories were not spoken but told in the burns and injuries he came home with.  There were the times when he came home and he was just silent.  A few days would pass and I'd watch Dad leave the house dressed in his uniform blues to say good by to a fallen friend.

    Occasionally, Dad would bring home his turnout gear (his firefighting coat, pants, helmet, boots, gloves) and I would put on a little fashion show.  I would last about two minutes before the shear weight of the outfit overheated and crushed me into escaping before it suffocated me.  That is what he had to wear, with his oxygen tank, into burning buildings as he climbed flights of stairs to sometimes carry out another's life in his arms. That was my Dad's job.
     In the spring of the year Dad was to retire, there was a terrible fire that occurred on June 17, 2001.  It is known as the Father's Day Fire.  Three of New York's Bravest died that day: my Dad's close friend, Harry Ford, Brain Fahey and John Downing.  Up until then, that was one of the worst days in FDNY history.  The loss of those three men in one single fire was unbelievable...at that time.
     Then on one sunny, brilliant fall day, as I was leaving the house to feed the horses I heard the TV.  A plane hit the World Trade Center.  Ten minutes later my dad was running into the house to grab is turnout gear that had only been retired for five days.  His buddy, that he had retired with him, pulled in the driveway.  Hell had opened up in New York and I had to hug him goodbye.
    Towers fell, phone lines jammed, planes crashed. Newspaper extras hit the stands at noon showing pictures of people jumping out of the buildings.  Lines of donors wrapped around the blood banks.  Tractor trailers waited on the sides of roads as they got filled with medical supplies, food and water donations.   American flags sold out in hours.
    As night fell and the candle light vigils along the highways glowed, we waited for dad.  It was late when he came home.  He did not say much and we loved him too much to ask.  The one thing he said was he couldn't believe all the beeping.  He just shook his head as if he were tying shake the sound out of his thoughts.  The beeping sound, he was talking about, was from the Personal Alert Safety System (PASS) devices that the firefighters wore. When a firefighter becomes incapacitated and has stopped moving the PASS device sends out a shrill beeping sound. The alarm helps the other firefighters to locate them and get them to safety.  I watched my Dad, who looked as though ten years had collapsed on him in twelve hours, take off his boots that were covered in the buildings that changed the world that day. 

My Dad's Company fire truck on 9/11

 

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A view of the old New York skyline from the Staten Island Ferry

 

 

Copyright (c) 2013 Jacksonhillhorseygirl.com September 6th 2013

 

Keeping My Cool

     I knew by 8:00 in the morning that it was going to be a doozy of a day. There was horse in intensive care that needed intravenous  fluids throughout the day.  A sheep was in for a castration surgery and the rest of the day was jammed packed with other appointments.  The day swirled by in a flurry of ringing phones, scooping up poop, answering questions, scooping up poop, switching IV fluid bags, scooping up poop, cleaning up after each appointment, scooping up poop, lab work, scooping up poop, billing, scooping up poop,  placing orders while eating cookies our manager treated us to to keep our morale and sugar levels up and scooping up poop. 
     I love days like these...minus the fact that animals are sick...The day flew by and I was actually wishing that there were a few more hours in it to get everything finished. As the day steamed by I began to loose my steam. Despite the doctor's and staff's continuous care and efforts, the horse's prognosis was grim.  
     I disconnected the horse from its last IV for the night and tucked him into his stall.  As I was shutting the stall door the phone rang out again.  I picked up the barn phone and it was one of our clients that we are all pretty friendly with.  She had to talk to me.  She said she was thinking about me all day and had to tell me about a dream that she had with me in it.  In the dream, I was running across a field and some psycho barb wire monster caught me and proceeded to strangle me to death.  She described, in Stephen King detail, how I was ready to buy the farm and spend eternity six feet under until she came to my rescue and saved me.  I was in the twilight zone when the doctor walked in and said get off the phone and hold the sheep while he cleaned it up.  I told her I had to go and thanks for saving me in her f**"d up disturbing dream. 


Another reason to hate barbed wire...It can come alive and try to  kill you in your client's subconscious.

    I got the sheep out of the stall and into the exam area.  For a little guy he had a lot of spunk.  I had to hold his front end to prevent him from running straight out from under us and the doctor sort of had to straddle over him in order to keep him in place as he cleaned up the surgery area in his back end.  Restraining sheep is my favorite task at work...actually I do not call it restraining, I prefer to call it sheep hugging.  But when I hugged this woolly little teddy bear head sheep I didn't have my normal happy fuzzy feeling.  I was still was creeped out by my attempted dream murder phone call.  I tried to shake it off but when I looked up all I saw was my boss's rear end inches from my face.  My nerves were starting to go.  I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep my cool.  I just tucked my head into the little sheep and waited for it to be over. I thought about focusing my mind and that yoga bumper sticker word, that I roll my eyes at every time I see it, popped into my head, Namaste.   So in my head I repeated "Namaste...Namaste...Namaste"... Now I was starting to get irritable thinking about all the people that have that bumper stickers at the organic market that run me over with their stumpy little basket carts.  What was I thinking?  Namaste? Really Margaret?  I  decided to focus on cuddling the little sheep in my arms and to reassure him that his crappy day was almost over.   Then, finally it was...for the both of us.    His rear end was clean and the doctor's rear end was out of my face.  We both survived another day. 

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Copyright (c) 2013 Jacksonhillhorseygirl.com August 21, 2013

Above The Clouds

     The stars were out as the edges of the ridge opposite us leaned against the green light the morning was growing into.  It had been weeks of waking up with the fog stealing time away from the sunrises.  I was awake.  I left the house and ran through the barn feeding, cleaning and turning out until I had left myself a half hour to ride out on Autumn.  
      Lilly and Shep, the ranch dogs, led the way down the trail as Autumn chased them from behind.  The sun rose over the mountains and it's rays thatched themselves through the trees as we rode past.

 



   Our shadows joined us after weeks of being held captive in the fog.

     The clip clop of her hooves left minutes of our ride floating away in the dust.  I halted Autumn at the over look.  I let myself feel the sunrise, golden and fair, warm my skin.  Autumn caught the copper light in her eyes. The rhythm of her breathing floated gently through me, light as a butterfly on a breeze.  The dogs laid down beside us already dozing.  Town was buried in the fog below, unaware that a girl with her horse and two sleepy dogs sat above their clouds, warm and wonderful.     


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Copyright (c) 2013 Jacksonhillhorseygirl.com August 14, 3013

Saying Goodbye

     Autumn and I lost a very close little horse friend, Carmen, last weekend.  She was a dainty little bay Arabian that cantered on air on the tips of her twinkle hooves across the mountain pastures.  Autumn weighed over three times as much as her little friend but that didn't stop Carmen from keeping her in line. 
    When Autumn first met Carmen, she was at the bottom of the pecking order being the youngest horse in the pasture.  Carmen was one of the popular girls and didn't have time to put up with baby Autumn and would chase her off if she came near.  As the years passed Carmen had to have an eye removed due to an injury.  After she had healed from her surgery she was turned back out in pasture.  When she went out to her herd of friends they all swished her away.  There was only one horse that let her come close and that was Autumn.  Autumn, not used to Carmen coming up to her to be nice got scared and blasted Carmen right in the shoulder and got out of her way.  I almost died thinking Autumn broke her shoulder or something.  Autumn stood wide eyed looking at Carmen like why aren't you kicking my ass back like normal? Carmen stood there like Want to hang out? and then that was it.  They became best friends forever...with no broken bones.  Carmen and Autumn could always be found together grazing happily in the pasture.  If they were turned out separately they would whinny to each other.  I grew to know Carmen's call for her and her owner knew Autumn's as well.  
    Not only did Autumn and Carmen become closer but so did my relationship with her owner, Elizabeth.  We would take the girls for rides at first light.  We would ride through the freezing winter rains.  We rode at the beach.  We would zigzag through the forest up to the top of the mountain to see the ocean and the river below.  We rode through seas of waving daises in the summer.  Autumn and Carmen let us talk politics, aliments, news, travel dreams and blah, blah, blah.  It was always great fun. 
     Carmen would follow Autumn and I as we rode the trails if Elizabeth was not around.  She would sometimes lag behind to eat some grass and canter to catch up when she lost sight of us.  I would bring her to my house with Autumn to help mow my lawn. 

My favorite lawn mowers! Autumn is on the left and Carmen is on the right.

     One time I took her to the arena when I was working Autumn at liberty and set her loose.  I practiced having Autumn go over obstacles and when she did something correct I would give her a treat.  As I was focused on Autumn I happened to notice Carmen going over some of the obstacles and when she decided that she had done them correctly she came up to me and waited for her treat.  That was Carmen. 
     Carmen and Autumn were always there for each other when they were sick or hurt.  When Autumn injured her stifle and couldn't go out in the pasture and had to stay on flat ground, Carmen was there to keep her company.  Whenever Carmen got some weirdo aliment when her owner went out of town Autumn was there for her. 

Carmen (right) there for her best friend, Autumn, as she was recovering from her stifle injury.

    Sadly, a few weeks ago Carmen got sick.  She had to go to the veterinary hospital for treatment for a few days and returned back to the stable.  I hurried and brought Autumn in from the pasture to see her best friend.  I lead Autumn up to her stall.  Carmen poked her little head through the door.  They gently brought their muzzles close to each other not quite touching and they sort of just... I don't really know how to explain it.  They embraced each other in their breathing.  I could feel it.   Carmen gave Autumn her peacefulness and Autumn understood.  When they finished Autumn quietly went to her stall. I didn't understand at the time why it seemed so serious a greeting for her friend finally being at home.  I sat in Autumn's stall on an overturned bucket to read my book and I just started to cry.  I just had a funny feeling that overwhelmed me.   Autumn, stopped eating and nuzzled my cheek.  She wiggled her little lip until I wiped my eyes and pet her face.  Autumn.  Her soul leaves me speechless at times. 
     A few days later, Carmen had to go back to the hospital, with Elizabeth by her side for another week. Then she came home one last time to say goodbye to her friends.  When she came back to the ranch, the fog cleared for a blue skied, mountain embraced, daisy dotted day.   Autumn and her shared the pen together and the rest of her horse buddies were in the pens around her.  Carmen chased Autumn away from the hay spread around and looked very pleased with herself.  She was happy to be with her friends, horses and people.  As the day began to set the veterinarian came to give Carmen her peace.  Autumn was their as Carmen left her for her new pasture in the sky. 
     I cried because of my loss of my little friend that I loved like Autumn.  I cried for my friend Elizabeth who lost her best friend that she loved and cared for so deeply.  I cried for Autumn who lost her great friend that she loved and trusted so much. 

Goodbye Carmen.  We love and miss you so much! 

This is a song by the Drive By Truckers Little Pony And The Great Big Horse that reminded me of Autumn and Carmen.

My friend Lisa B. sent me this poem when her great friend Dakota, whom she loved so much, passed away.

Don’t Cry for the horses
That life has set free
A Million White horses
Forever to be.
Don’t cry for the horses
Now in God’s hands
As they dance and they prance
To a heavenly band
They were ours as a gift
But never to keep
As they close their eyes
Forever to sleep
Their spirits unbound
On silver wings they fly.
A million white horses against the blue sky.
Look up in the heavens you’ll see them above.
The horses we lost
The horses we loved.
Manes and tails flowing
They gallop through time
They never were yours
They were never mine
Don’t cry for the horses
They will be back someday
When our time has come
They will show us the way.
Do you hear that soft nicker close your ear?
Don’t cry for the horses
Love the ones that are here
~author unknown

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Copyright (c) 2013 Jacksonhillhorseygirl.com July 24, 2013

B ST(i)LL

   "Pony Club presents Daniel Stewart's Sport Psychology Seminar.  A humorous and upbeat seminar teaching stress management, goal setting, positive thinking and visualization techniques to help riders maximize success, focus, enjoyment and confidence by learning how to minimize stress, nerves, distractions & show jitters.  Thursday at 6pm."
     Ever since someone had hung up the flyer at the veterinary office I had been talking myself into and out of  going.  Daniel Stewart is an international horse trainer that has coached riders to success in the World Equestrian Games and the Olympics.  He is an  internationally acclaimed author of "Ride Right" and considered one of the world's leading experts on equestrian sport psychology.      
     On one hand it was on Thursday night, right after work and I would be in a walking coma by that time.  He trains fancy show horse and riders and I am a trail rider that sometimes competes in the local horse shows where, on most occasions, my only competition is myself and the ground.  At one show, I was in the arena, all alone doing my solo routine when the announcer told me, and the rest of the competitors, over the loud speaker that all I had to do was not fall off.  Luckily I got the first place and beat the ground.
     On the other hand, this was a world class coach coming to our in-the-middle-of-nowhere town.  The flyer said "humorous and upbeat" which are pretty brave words to describe a two hour sport psychology seminar being held after work and before dinner at the end of the week. It also claimed that it would help me enjoy riding more by becoming a more confident and less distracted rider.  I could use all of that when riding a jittery Autumn in the woods. I decided to go.
    Daniel Stewart was great and had me cracking up throughout the seminar.  He gave us tips on how to deal with the stressful and unpredictable encounters we can experience as riders.  He gave us ideas on how to get ourselves pumped up to be in good moods, to stay positive and to stop thinking about that time your horse jumped to the side and as you were falling to meet the ground, in slow motion, you were trying to remember what your insurance deductible was and then wondered what the hell is a deductible anyway? And hoped that when you hit the ground that you wouldn't have to stay home from work because you couldn't afford to take any days off because you needed to buy a ton of hay that week and the shoer was coming that next week and....splat. 
   He told us to pick out a few songs to get yourself pumped up to be in a good, positive mood like "Don't Worry Be Happy" or "I like to Move it Move it".  I thought this would be easy as I scrolled through my IPod.  It was a little shocking when I realized I listened to a lot of depressing crap and Taylor Swift who basically just falls in or out of love in every song.  I turned on the radio in hopes of finding a catchy feel good song.  I tuned into the middle of a James Brown song... "You got to have the feeling. Get on up. Sure as born get on up.  Get on up. Get it together. Right on, right on." Yeah! I thought.  It was funky and sounded like a good getting on up and riding song.  As I was doing my funk bop in the car James Brown took me over the bridge and I realized my feel good riding song was Sexmachine...don't judge me.
   Daniel Stewart also said to find a "cue word".  This could be a couple letter word that you make into an acronym to help focus your mind off a stressor.  Some examples being: PAT Patience And Trust or BLAST Breathe Laugh And Smile Today.  Over the next few days I worked on my cue word and came up with B STILL...Breathe  Stop To Listen & Love.  I know, I forgot the "I" in Still but if you are a dedicated Jackson Hill Horsey Girl reader you already know that I don't have any spelling bee trophies sitting on my mantel.  I choose this misspelled acronym due the constant tornado sweeping through my thoughts all the time. 
     Daniel Stewart's seminar was over before I could yawn.  He armed me with ways to trade any bad thoughts for the best thoughts I could imagine.   He left us with one final thought,  "When you've done everything right and it still goes wrong remember to Laugh, Learn and Love."
    It was a  simple reminder of why we want to be around our horses. 
    Since the seminar, every time Autumn tenses up I Breathe, Stop thinking about deductibles, Listen to what Autumn is telling me and I Love that I'm riding my horse that is my best friend...all to the tune of Sexmachine. 

It amazes me how sometimes I'm not STLL and Autumn carries me right by scenes like this and  I totally miss it.  Not anymore.  This Sexmachine is taking time to Stop, Listen and Love every minute I have with Autumn.

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Copyright (c) 2013 Jacksonhillhorseygirl.com July 17, 2013

There Is No Spoon

   The fog wrapped around the morning as I led Autumn to the pasture before I had to rush off to and endless nine hours at work.  I took off her halter and hugged her and tried to send her a message, mentally, that she should wrap her head around me and give me a hug back.  In the past I have read books by all the horsey communication gurus out there (Margrit Coates Connecting with Horses, Linda Kohanov's The Tao of Equus, Carolyn Resnick's Naked Liberty, Liz Mitten Ryan's One With the Herd...)  To sum them all up they basically tell you to make a mental image of what you want to tell or ask your horse and if you get a thought in your mind, sort of out of the blue, that  that is your horse talking to you.  I would sit in Autumn's stall and practice the recommended exercises in the books with her and try to mentally "talk" to her.  The clearest message I ended up getting from Autumn was when she ripped one of the books out of my hand, sinking her teeth in it so hard that it indented the pages together.  I got the message loud and clear and shelved the books.
     So, there I was, hugging Autumn, picturing her wrapping her head around me in a perfect embrace. That's when she pulled her head up, breaking free of my smothering neediness.  She belly bumped me out of the way and farted as she passed by me.  


Autumn obviously, having better things to do then being brainwashed by her needy owner.

   I stood still as the minutes left me to be late to work.  I was thinking about what I had learned from Keanu Reeves in the movie The Matrix.  Actually,  don't think I learned anything but It reminded me of the scene when he watched some bald headed Buddha girl bend a spoon with her mind and he was like "Whoow".
    Then she was all "Don't bother to bend the spoon Keanu it's not going to happen."
    He's all "Huh?"
    Then the bald headed Buddha girl was like "Yeah you heard me.  There is no spoon."  
     Keanu was looking right at the spoon and you can totally see him thinking  I'm looking right at the spoon kiddo.  He rips the spoon at of her hands and then he gives her a look that says,  Check it out...I am like totally holding it in my hand now. Duh!
     Then she rolls her eyes and tells him to "Get bent."
     Keanu then holds up the spoon and intensely checks himself out in it's reflection and it sort of keels over. And he was like "Whoow."

This is the There is no Spoon clip from The Matrix.  It's just like I described it but you should watch it anyway.

     There is no spoon... I knew there was a message in there somewhere.  And then it hit me... I still don't know what the hell it means.  Bend yourself?  Do you need to know yoga for that?  I hate yoga.  As I was wrestling with this riddle I noticed Autumn walking towards me.

 

   I figured I was standing by a good patch of grass.  She didn't stop until she was standing with her head right above me.

 

Does someone need a hug?

   Then it happened.  The spoon bent.  I wrapped my arms around Autumn's neck and she let me hug her until my little heart was warm and content.  She patiently let me decide when to release my loving choke hold.  I was so glad I was late for work.


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Copyright (c) 2013 Jacksonhillhorseygirl.com July 10, 2013

 

Privileged

     "It's for you."  Molly handed me the phone.  It was one of our long time cattle clients calling to RSVP for the retirement party we were throwing for our manager, Marci, at the veterinary hospital that Sunday.  Now, why couldn't she just RSVP with Molly?   Obviously, it's because I get her good semen.  I have the magic touch when it comes to ejaculating her bulls into producing a semen sample that has exquisite daddy making qualities (you can read more about my ejaculating expertise in It's As Bad As It Sounds Job).  Naturally, she could not just  RSVP to anyone else at the office.
   She told me that her and her husband planned on attending the party on Sunday.  She then wanted to know if I would prefer if they drove to the party in their Model A pickup truck. They could park it in front of the office for people to admire.  I told her that I thought it was a lovely idea.  She said that if we had a goat around we could put it in the back of the pickup truck.  I asked her if she thought that would be a good idea considering that every time a goat inhales it poops and every time it exhales it poops.  It would make quite a mess back there.  She said that she wasn't worried about it making a mess.  In fact, she said, it would be okay if  even I wanted to climb back there to hang out.  I think I said something like... "Great, I'll think about it and see you on Sunday" sort of thing and hung up. 
     I know I can make bulls moo out my name and they probably have my phone number with "Call for a good time." carved on their corral fence boards...but... Does that make me a step below goats pooping in the back of antique pickup truck?  Why was I having trouble understanding the beauty of this privilege they had granted me?  All I know is that, I made sure that there wasn't a freaking goat in sight on the day of the party. 

This is me as a baby driving home from my Christening with my goat. 

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Copyright (c) 2013 www.Jacksonhillhorseygirl.com June 26, 2013