Physical Labor — Building Stamina

As a Farrier/Hoof Trimmer/HoofCare Specialist, it’s that time of year again — end of winter, early spring — when I’m required to upgrade my physical stamina to rev up my body’s endurance for the new work year.

Yes, I work throughout winter, but with shorter days — rain, wind, snow and mud — the work is limited, with more down-time. And in some ways, winter work is also easier!

Why? Moist hooves are softer and yield to my trimming tools (and therefore my muscles!) with less effort.

When hooves begin to dry out, as we move into the hot months of summer and fall, the effort required to achieve the same results intensifies. 

So I thought I’d record the process of strength-building as I go about it, again, this year.

DawnHoof

It’s a Mind Game!

We think of physical labor to be — physical.

Yet, in fact, it all begins in the mind!

How can that be?

Aren’t physical limitations physical?

Not according to Dr. David Hanscom, MD, author of book Back in Control.

Turns out our minds influence our bodies far more than we realize!

So the first area I must work on in building my stamina for the upcoming work season, is mental.

~~~~

Say “No” to Weakness — “Yes!” to Strength

I find myself with a mental choice: “Weakness? Or strength?”

Which do I affirm?

Which do I want, after all?

When I feel myself slink into any form of weakness, I must catch that thought and replace it with strength.

Right now!

I must immediately take some form of action in that strong direction.

For weakness seeks an inroad, and must be rejected.

From a simple thought, such as, “Oh — I’m tired, I don’t want to . . .”  to: “I can’t possibly do that!”

My response must be, “NO!”

How about Flying “Thought Balls?”

~~~~

Take Action!

The action needs to be immediate!

It may be as simple as replacing the thought with, “This is easy, I can do this!”

It may be some form of physical action — like getting down on the floor and doing a series of pushups and abdominal roll-outs. (See my post My Body is a Workhorse for my easy workout tips.)

Or it may be just getting up and doing the dishes . . . tidying the table . . . going out and feeding the horses . . . anything to shift myself from sedentary to active.

~~~~

This all reminds me of my flying days as a private pilot. (See my page: Family of Flying.)

Turns out, an aircraft requires constant adjustment to stay in straight and level flight. Calm, subtle adjustments.

So the “Airplane of Dawn” requires much the same.

When my (mental or physical) “altitude” drops or climbs off my intended course, I must adjust it. And sooner, rather than later.

Which means I must be paying attention to my “instrument panel” — altimeter, compass rose, turn-and-bank-indicator, fuel supply — all the gauges that allow me, as pilot, to set the course of my craft.

“Yes, I CAN!”

Flying, after all, requires a “can-do attitude”.

So does everything else in life!

If I tell myself — and if I believe it — “I’m too weak” or “too old” or “too tired” or, “I just don’t want to . . .”, my physical farrier career will certainly be over.

Like an aircraft off-course, it would be headed for a crash!

For my mind and my self-talk are like the “instrument panel” of my airplane.

Unless I keep my eye on the physical and mental trajectory that I set, I will fall off course.

Love is the Key!

Just as in flying airplanes, there is great satisfaction in being fit for my physical labor job.

I love my work with horses and hooves. (See my posts, Watching the Woman Work and Romancing the Hoof .) 

Horses have been my lifelong passion! I don’t think one can work long-term in the farrier industry without truly loving it.

I want to stay strong and keep up my work and schedule, serving the horses and humans in my clientele, as I always have.

As I’ve now entered my 33rd year of HoofCare and my 7th decade on this planet, it’s very important to tune up my “flying skills” — staying strong and fit, both mentally and physically, for the work ahead!

~~~~

It Works!

I’m feeling young again!

Forget the intervening decades.

I remember how good it feels to be active. Strong!

I reject, “I’m tired!”

Instead, I repeat my mantra — “This is easy. I can do this!”

I visualize myself just getting up and going — doing a mental rehearsal of the actions needed . . .

“I am strong! I am flexible!” I hear myself say.

Next, I’m up and doing!

Taking action without hesitation — mind over matter — strength over weakness.

In doing so, I feel myself actually gaining muscle.

I see myself standing straighter, with a lilt to my step . . . (posture — it’s one of the keys!)

I watch myself hop up and quickly accomplish what’s required of me, with less mental baggage.

Momentum and strength growing!

I find myself choosing food and supplements that help me gain power and endurance, vs. bogging me down. (See my post My Body is a Workhorse for more health strategies.)

“This is Easy! I can Do This!”

It’s true!

We do have an amazing ability to create our own reality. Good or bad. Weak or strong.

So let’s choose strength over weakness, and get out there and get the work done :))

Loving it!

DawnHoof

~~~~

Copyright 2024
Photographs: Dawn Jenkins

~~~~

Please come over to Dawn’s Life blog — Journal of Dawn — for Strategies and Insights into the Journey of Life from the vantage point of a Lady Farrier.

~~~~

 

Horse Ultimate — “Making Horse”

I ask myself, on a fall evening ride atop Aria in 2021:

What words can describe the sun, warm on my face; the vast expanse of blue sky overhead?

The smell of sage and pine — all the while seated feather-light atop my willing steed — gliding through our forest with reins draped like a garland about her sleek chestnut neck . . .

Later that evening, I write in my Journal:

Words can’t seem to describe the lightness, the merging, the magnificence of the moment — horse and human in unison — one . . .

What seems to be needed is a new vocabulary.

A new perspective. A new verbiage to express the soulful human-horse relationship.

Think of the artists of old — how they must have searched for new colors, mediums, textures and styles to express their heartfelt ecstatic visions onto canvass.

~~~~

~~~~

New Vocabulary

We all know what we mean when we use the phrase “Making Love” — from smooching and snuggling, to full-blown ecstasy, bodies and souls intertwined.

So how about the concept of “Making Horse” rather than just “going for a ride”?

That’s it!

Like the symphonic melodies of the masters — same song  — yet sung and performed in newly arranged emotion-provoking renditions . . . bringing chills and tears of awe, “Making Horse” opens the equestrian’s experience deeper, higher, stronger. Fuller.

“Making Horse” 

Light * Lilt * Freedom * Harmony * Partnership * Yield * Consonance
    Relationship * Unison * Meld * Perfection * Lighter-than-Air * Effortless
Blending-of-Bodies/Souls * Ultimate * Lyrical * Mystical * Grace

~~~~

~~~~

I had such a ride on Aria today. And I searched for the words to describe it.

In doing this, my love for language, dictionaries and brainstorming seeks a new resonance, a new cadence. A new focus.

Limitless * Ethereal * Airs-Above-the-Ground * Ephemeral * Poetic
     Consummate * Masterful * Integral * Oneness * Togetherness * Unity 
Accord * Rapport * Affinity * Kinship * Dignity * Elegance * Peace 

~~~~

~~~~

Meeting-of-Minds * Balance * Symmetry * Oneness * Awe
    Rhythm * Connectedness * Virtue * Congruous * Synergistic 
Merit * Elegant * Exquisite * Unique * Select * Superior

What really is “Making Horse?” vs. just “Riding” or “Interacting“ with our horses?

“Making Horse” carries me into a Higher Stratosphere. It gives me permission to go into that Mystical Space Outside of Time — to connect with my horse and forest and trails, sky and sun, shadows and grass — in a way ordinary vocabulary cannot convey.

It reminds me that I’m on a Spiritual Journey — not just horse and rider, saddle and reins — a Magical Gateway to Mystical Realms . . .

~~~~

~~~~

Solidarity * Soulfulness * Quintessence * Health * Soundness
    Strength * Wholeness *  Hale * Hearty * Robust * Stability * Steadiness
Superior * Grandiose * Splendor * Majestic * Stately * Rare

“Making Horse” allows me to travel to the space where my horse and I are embraced within the ecstasy of our forest — with the deepest connection to Earth, Sky and Souls!

So let’s all go “Make Horse” this upcoming riding season and transcend into Stratospheres Anew :)))

DawnHoof

~~~~

P.S. — I’ve used a similar approach in my Hoofwork — trimming and shoeing. (See earlier posts, My Body is a Workhorse, and Romancing the Hoof :)) )

~~~~

Copyright 2021, 2024
Photos: Dawn Jenkins

~~~~

Like what you’ve read here? Visit Dawn’s Life Blog:  Journal of Dawn

Overcoming Winter’s Blues

Maudlin Monday —

Oh, it’s raining — AGAIN! — hear the water whip against the cabin walls.

And my horses wait, patiently, for Spring. Standing in muddy pastures, knowing that this, too, shall pass . . .

And I’m listening to Nat Cole’s Stardust, and I’m feeling nostalgic . . .

And I grab one of my old handwritten journals — not that old — just last fall.

And I open the book, affirming that I’ll find something that will lift my spirits and talk to me, letting me know just what I need to hear . . . and rescue me from my Winter’s Blues . . .

~~~~

And I turn to the entry from Tuesday, 9/12/23 — 11:45am —

“Oh Journal, my BEST friend! You, I turn to for reflection. Like an ever present First Aid Kit, ready to heal my wounds.

When my day, my emotions skip, flutter, or sag — you are here to rescue me. To stabilize my rudder. To steady my fish-tailing trailer, ready to flip over on the Interstate [I saw that recently!].

To calm my soul and reassure me that all-is-well . . .

So I turn to you, now — my dear friend. For guidance on this now-free day [my work for today just got cancelled].

I’m thinking I’ll pull Aria out for an ACTUAL RIDE — into the woods, and see how far we could go . . .

I’ll not know until I give it a go, and see how the body and knee hold up — along with the mind and soul!”

[Knee issues had kept me from riding fast and far this past summer.]

Away From the Ordinary Everyday World

Chestnut mare
    Fleet free —
Marry my will,
    Carry me . . .

Dance through
    The forest —
Stride strong
    Beneath the trees.

Swift-moving
    Hoofbeats —
Outside of time,
    Carry me with ease

Into my childhood —
    Into her roots.
Primal, connected
    Swiftly — we scoot

With psychic communion
    And pulsing pace,
Merging our beings —
    Flying through space . . .

The cadence
    Continues
Amongst trails’
    Twists and dips,

With Rocket-ship
    Power and
Graceful swinging
    Legs and hips.

Pegasus and Human,
    Merged as one —
Flying the forest
    Like when we were young . . .

Time, age don’t
   Matter —
Love rules the
    Day!

Pegasus and Human,
    Light years away
From the Ordinary
    Everyday World.

~~~~

“How do I describe the miracle that is the swift ride on Aria last night?

Realize, this is my first swift-paced ride all season. Perhaps I needed time away from what my body, my horse and my soul have done — for most of my life!

Time away to be able to really see, feel what a miracle connecting with a good horse and escaping everyday doldrums truly is . . .

I’m sure my sore knees didn’t help — triggered by wearing my Sunday-go-to-Meeting fancy black Ariat boots — as both knees inflamed following wearing them on two separate days (lasting up to two months of restricted movement and — agony).

So my ride yesterday was a test, of sorts, to see if it’s still possible for me to hit the trial and enjoy it.

To stay with my horses’ fleet yet complicated movement. To HOLD UP — and KEEP UP the desire to ride on . . .

It’s nearly impossible to really impart the physically strenuous endeavor required in this type of FAST endurance-paced riding — like scaling Mt. Everest.

Who could understand?

How do I describe the ability to meld with and unite with Aria, the thousand-pound, mind-of-her-own beast?

Like an astronaut — how do they tell fellow Earthlings about weightlessness? About the thrust of take-off? The precision of re-entry to our own Earth’s atmosphere?

How does Aria’s mind, body, and will agree to submit to mine, my being so much lighter than her physical frame?

How does saddle and bridle and bit and reins (and the body and will and mind of Dawn!) convince Aria to partner in syncopated unity?

“This way, Aria. Not that . . .”

(Like at the Goldfield Meadow on the way home, she preferred the main trail, looking longingly toward it, yet followed my urging to go home via the Meadow route.)

And then, when the trail finally opened up — when we emerged from below, and could see the cantering spot peeling out before us — off we sprang, my hips and seat following her smooth movement, like my days of youth . . .

So I still have it. So does she — and we shall continue to build upon our options — to get out, when possible, and eat up the trails.

The slow-pace, right alongside the fast blitz!

So I reflect now on the sunlight in the woods last night, painting the living canvass which I’ve been blessed to ride for the past 30 years! On a third-generation homebred mare . . .

How many people can boast that???”

DawnHoof

So if you’re feeling blue — if winter’s got you down . . .

Remember — Spring will arrive, right on schedule.

The ground will dry out.

And your horses and trails await you!

Dawn

~~~~

Copyright 2024
Photo Credits: Dawn Jenkins

~~~~

Like what you’ve read here? Visit Dawn’s sister blog: Journal of Dawn

A Forest Awaits . . . Horse Girl’s Nirvana!

Happy New Year to all!

I wanted to post something today, New Year’s Eve, 2023, in honor of the 11th year Anniversary of this Soul Horse Ride Blog!

In looking over some earlier, unpublished drafts, I found this sweet missive, written from a magical ride on my homebred Shire-cross mare, Fae.

So here’s some inspiration to cheer on the rides and horse-interactions we can look forward to in 2024!   DawnHoof

~~~~

McGill Trail, Mt. Pinos; Los Padres National Forest, California. Fall, 2019:

Imagine a pristine fall day, clear skies in all directions. Golden hues. Warm sun. Not the slightest breeze.

Imagine a real-life Pegasus with rocking-horse canter. Not prone to spooking, but steady, ready. Ears forward, eager to tackle the trail.

Atop the mare, a snug Australian saddle, covered in fleece. Comfy. Ready to keep our Horse Girl Adventurer safe. Secure.

Now imagine a vast, endless forest, with a world-class single-track trail traversing the side of its great mountain shoulder.

Vistas abound: distant peaks, hidden valleys, secret animal trails. Late-day sun drapes shadows down the ridgeline, streaking patterns of dark and light.

Above, trees the size of skyscrapers. Below, delicate ground foliage expressing fall’s full color palette.

Oh, and might I mention, not another soul in sight. The mountain today, normally riddled with off-road mountain bicycles, is all ours!

Put the these rare-as-gold elements together, and you have a recipe for Horse Girl’s Nirvana!

~~~~

“Silent Film” Shadow Show

It doesn’t happen just anywhere — the conditions have to be right. (I’ve experienced this phenomenon a few times before, always end of day, with the light at low angle — and in the fall.)

But it always blows my mind!!!!

Today, in one steep section, it happens!

Our moving shadows drape down the slope, and pop onto the foliage, creating the illusion of an old-time silent movie.

Below me, my horse-shadow alights, briefly, onto a tree in the foreground.

Next moment, farther down the drop-off, we leap onto a bright Ceanothus.

Then flash back onto a dark faraway trunk.

Now we’ve popped up close again.

What a strange illusion!

Dark. Bright. Here. There.

Hopping. Skipping.

Foreground. Background.

As if projected onto a 3D screen — flickering outlines of horse and human . . .

In an ephemeral  symphony of shadow and light.

I watch as the shadows appear, disappear, reappear.

Fleeting as Life itself.

Our elongated images illuminate onto the landscape, as surely as would a leaping doe, rabbit, coyote, or bear.

~~~~

But who sees the shadow-movie of the bear?

Would it be as the sound of one hand clapping?

What trove of images does the cellulose of this forest hold?

~~~~

Because we are traversing their world.

The world of unseen creatures that live here on fleet feet.

None standing still — but ever moving, ever restless, like my horses when I ask for a halt.

For the animals seem to know, instinctively, that all Life is movement.

Like they know, even in stopping, there is no real standing still.

(When the movie stops, the audience leaves the theater.)

Like we know, watching the hands of time.

Watching the sun track across our sky.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Watching my own strong hands, my own horses’ hooves . . . as they age, and slowly fade.

We know, one day, the film will end. We will run out of celluloid.

Live today, Horse Girl Adventurer.

Get off your comfy couch — get out and ride!

Take in Nature’s silent film beauty, and watch with awe.

~~~~

So I paint a snapshot of my ride today, so that I may always remember. So that I may always have Fae, and the magic of our forest, ever with me.

For Life is fleet. One day, Fae will no longer be here. And I want to know that I didn’t let her go to waste, but enjoyed her movement. Her intelligence. Her willingness. Her majesty.

My Pegasus mare — Fae has the smoothest canter of any horse I’ve ever ridden, in my fiftysomething horse years!!!!!!! (That’s saying something!)

What a riding partner! Her canter’s surging motion both gentle and smooth, big and strong. Just what a canter should be.

Light as a feather for being so large (nearly 16 hands high, size 5 shoes!). Willing to stop or slow at my slightest shift in thought and body.

Willing to go, and keep going, rounding each dip or turn in the trail with surefooted perfection. Sheer delight!

Oh Fae. My Fae. My Faerie. My love!

May I forever savor your movement. May I forever savor your Silent Movie.

Horse Girl’s Nirvana ~ indeed :))

~~~~

Update, Winter, 2023:

Oh yes, I remember this ride! And so many other rides with the Silent Film Shadow Show, leaping, popping light-shows to my great surprise and delight.

Fae was just 18 at this ride. Now she’s 22, and sound and strong as ever. (See my Post, Treasure of my Heart for more on Fae.)

Happy Horsing to all, and may we treasure the horses and saddles, freedom and goodness they represent!  

You might enjoy reading my first Post, Aladdin’s Wings, from 12/31/2012

DawnHoof

~~~~

Copyright 2019, 2023

Photos: Dawn Jenkins

~~~~

Please also visit my Life Blog, Journal of Dawn ,

for Strategies and Insights into the

Journey of Life

~~~~

Join Dawn for a Soul Horse Ride!  Experience the thrill of becoming one with your Horse . . . Join Dawn and her homegrown herd for a  Soul Horse Ride in the Frazier Park Outback!

Call to book your Life-Changing Adventure today:  (661) 703-6283

~~~~

“I’m Always Riding Rebel . . .”

This was my mantra.

My own special way to cope.

(Nowadays we’d call it my Mental Health strategy!)

Rebel, my first beloved horse, acquired at the ripe emotional age of 13, saw me through seven volatile teenage and young-adult years.

~~~~

“I’m always riding Rebel,” I’d say inside my mind. Over and over again . . .

“I’m not here at school, No! Not at Emerson Junior High School, eating lunch by myself again . . . Not at University High School, walking between classes . . .”

“Yes! I’m riding Rebel . . . out into the trails, right now! I see his flowing mane. I feel the reins in my hand. I feel the swing of his gait. I hear the squeak of my saddle. I smell the musky chaparral . . .”   DawnHoof

This was my teenage time-travel-strategy extraordinaire.

And it always worked!

The more I saw myself, felt myself, imagined myself as if actually riding Rebel, rather than where I’d rather not be — the time would come when I would be back riding Rebel again . . . feeling, seeing, swinging, hearing hoofbeats and all the sights and smells that accompany a horseback ride . . .

“It’s true! I’m always riding Rebel,” I’d repeat to myself, once back in the saddle, in amazement that my ruse worked!

~~~~

So following my recent self-advice and hopping onto Fae to ride again tonight (see my Post, Treasure of my Heart), adventuring this time into the woods and up an old trail haunt — walking, trotting, flowing canter — I heard myself saying my old mantra again, “I’m always riding Rebel!”

But this time, riding my big draft-cross mare, Fae!

So what if I were to apply my old strategy, tried and true, from the tool box of my far-distant past, and put it to work, once again?

“I’m always riding Fae!”

“Not driving this car on the freeways outside of L.A. Not doing the dishes, the laundry . . .”

“Yes! I’m riding Fae, out into the trails . . . I feel the sway of her back, the warmth and snug fit of my saddle. I smell the sagebrush. I hear the wind in the pines . . .”

“I’m riding Fae again, right now!” 

Let’s try this strategy once more, Dawn, and see how it does!

It worked in my childhood to deliver me from places or tasks I’d rather not be.

Let’s see how it goes, now!

~~~~
Copyright 2023, Dawn Jenkins
Photos: Dawn Jenkins 
~~~~  

Join Dawn for a Soul Horse Ride! (Oh yes, in Australian Saddles.)  Experience the thrill of becoming one with your horse. Join Dawn and her homegrown herd for a Soul Horse Ride in the Frazier Park Outback!

Call to book your Life-Changing Adventure today:  (661) 703-6283

~~~~

 

Please also visit my Life Blog, Journal of Dawn,
for Strategies and Insights into the
Journey of Life

~~~~

Where Starboy Runs

I found this entry in my journal, dated March 2009, when the economy was failing, falling — much like the Virus and economic uncertainties we experience today.

“Not sure if we can pay our bills, feed our horses, keep our house . . .” I had  written at the uneasy hour of 2:16 am, followed by the poetic lines.

Yet we managed to survive that downturn, even thrive, after it had passed. A reminder that, God willing, we shall emerge from our current woes, as well.

Stay in peace!   DawnHoof

Where Starboy Runs

The world shifts and changes,
frightening change —
yet Starboy, stays his course.

The economy flaps, stalls,
nearly collapses —
yet Starboy trots effortlessly.

He lilts along the pine-scented
trail, eagerly moving forward,
floating, steadfast.

Down the open ravine, back up
the other side. Past the waterhole
where bob cats lap.

Grassy spring sprouts fight their
way out of hardened earth,
carpeting the meadow in green.

We turn homeward now,
Starboy’s pace invigorating —
his surging trot, soft as the wind.

Ah that I might live life like
Starboy, gently moving on,
like a dancer, into the second act . . .

Beyond the stock market.
Beyond the mortgage payment.
Where Starboy carries me —

Off the stage, beyond the curtains,
into the forested wonderland
where Starboy runs.

Update —

Starboy runs in greener pastures now. Born in my arms in 1990, living thriving and serving his entire 29 years as member of my herd.

Sadly, Starboy passed away November, 2019 — to my stroking, singing, praises, and prayers. The same voice and hands that ushered him into this world, cradled him out . . .

Run, Starboy, run! We’ll ride, again, when I cross over to your side of the rainbow.   DawnHoof

Copyright 2020

Photos:  Dawn Jenkins

~~~~

Please also visit my Life Blog, Journal of Dawn ,
for Strategies and Insights into the
Journey of Life

~~~~

Join Dawn for a Soul Horse Ride!  Experience the thrill of becoming one with your Horse . . . Join Dawn and her homegrown herd for a Soul Horse Ride in the
Frazier Park Outback!

Call to book your Life-Changing Adventure today:  (661) 703-6283

~~~~

Aria — No Foal, No Foul :((

After breeding, feeding, caring, fencing, waiting — turns out, Aria is not in foal, after all.

My neighbor, who has assisted an Equine Reproductive Veterinarian for many years and has lots of experience with mares and foaling, tells me, in several cases, they would ultrasound a mare. View the foal. And in subsequent visit(s):  no foal. Gone! Without a sign. What the heck???

So I went online, and found this:

Pregnancy Loss in Mares

“The failure of fertilized eggs to result in a live foal about 11 months [after breeding] is one of the more frustrating aspects of horse breeding [1, 2].

Most of the losses occur in the first 35 days of pregnancy and the embryo is resorbed . . . In fact, around 20% of mares that conceive will lose the embryo before day 50.” (source)

So, somewhere in the process, Aria seems to have lost her foal.

(This happened one other time, years ago, with my mare Lacey. I took her to the Vet a couple weeks after her due date, wondering what was going on. “She’s not pregnant,” the Vet Tech said. “Well, if she’s not pregnant, than what is she?” I asked, looking at my pendulous-bellied mare. “FAT!”

But then, there was the goat I bred that appeared to not be pregnant. I went out of town, and a friend was looking after my animals. “The goat is having her baby!” she told my housemate. “No, haven’t you heard. The goat is not pregnant.” “Than what is coming out of her???” A healthy, single, black buck :))

Shutterstock Image

So now, Aria is on a weight reduction diet (she did get fat!). I’m searching for another stallion.

And we’ll try again.

One thing I’ve learned in my many decades with horses:  Try, try again!

That’s how I got my beautiful horse herd, after all.

Some things work out, others don’t. But if we don’t try, don’t give it another go, we won’t receive.

~~~~

Copied here is my previous Post on the Good and the Bad with Horses, originally posted in 2014. This pretty much sums it all up.

One-Third ~ Two-Thirds (the Good and the Bad)

Much of the time with our horses (as with much of life) everything goes wonderfully — just as it should. Our horses are sound, healthy, happy.

We ride into the sunset with flowing manes and golden rays.

But what about the times when things go awry — the hoof, the leg, the eye we count on to function normally, suddenly limps, swells, inflames?

I’ve come up with a philosophy that has helped me though the tough times of life, and horse stewardship, and I’d like to share it with you.

~~~

Most of the Time, Things go Right :))

Most of the time, thankfully, things go wonderfully right. We ride our healthy, sound horses and live the dream we envisioned when we first set our sights on owning one.

“My horse is coming along beautifully!”

“I had the BEST ride over the weekend!”

“My mare is in foal — I cannot wait to see what this foal will look like!”

Yet in all this wonder, we tend to forget — we are experiencing the Perfect Two-Thirds of Horsemanship, when everything goes according to plan. :))

~~~

But ~ Sometimes, Things go Wrong :((

However, as we dance with horses through the long-haul of life, we will, from time to time, experience the Flawed One-Third, when things go wrong. (Yes, hopefully this will be an even smaller proportion . . . )

Some mysterious injury occurs.

You come out to ride, but your mare’s leg is blown up.

You go on an amazing, fast-moving ride, but your gelding takes a bad step, and is now off, limping . . .

A bout of colic.

Or worse . . .

You have to call out the Vet or haul to the Hospital.

Worry.

Time lost.

Money spent.

More worry.

No riding . . .

~~~

Your mind works overtime in an endless loop.

“Why did I let this happen?”

“How STUPID was I to not ______________!!!”

“How can I be sure this will NEVER happen to my horse again?!!”

You start feeling sorry for yourself.

All your horse friends are out enjoying the good weather, their sound mounts . . . and you are unable to ride yours.

You start wondering if this is the way it’s going to be from here on — are ALL hopes dashed of EVER riding and enjoying your horse again?

~~~

As a horse owner, breeder, trainer, farrier over the past fortysomething years (I’ve raised four generations thus far :)) I can tell you, I’ve been through all this.

The two aspects, good and bad, seem to go somewhat hand-in-hand.

And I can tell you, sometimes it doesn’t seem at all to work out. Sometimes a horse must be euthanized. Sometimes a horse must be determined to be unsafe or unusable.

But MOST of the time — Two-Thirds of the time, everything works out beautifully. :))

So you know what I’ve learned to do?

(I’m repeating it here, as much for me to remember, as for you to hear!)

I’ve learned to get over the worry, get through the bummer as best as possible — as if it were a test — bless the One Third, and move on.

Because without the One-Third, I would never have the Two-Thirds — the beauty, wonder and perfection my horses bring my family and me.

(Like the photos, above and below, from last fall of my daughter, Ella, enjoying our horses. :))

~~~

But this summer presents a different picture.

Lately, it seems the One-Third has been busy at work.

A mare with a blown leg, a large hospital bill. Another horse with an inflamed eye.

Oh, I can feel sorry for myself.

But I’d rather feel grateful that the leg has quieted — the mare will heal!

The eye has toned down.

I’ve found it better to focus on the Perfect Two-Thirds, and do what I need to do to get through the Flawed One-Third, than to worry and drive myself nuts!

~~~

So when horsing (or life) seems to go South on you, when bad things happen to good people, good horses — take a deep breath.

Ask:  What do I need to do now?

And DEAL with it, the best you know how.

Take your lump and get over it.

And focus on the goodness.

And be grateful for all the perfect rides.

And consider the time you spend nursing a sick horse as bonding time with your beloved.

And know that, in time, as long as you stick with your positive horsing program — the Two-Thirds shall prevail.

And yes, you will be riding again.

And laughing!

And loving your horse, in all her soundness!

~~~

And if you discover that you do have the wrong mount, if all that’s associated with a certain individual seems to ALWAYS go South . . . determine when to cut your losses — search for the horse that will better serve your needs.

And move on into the glory of horsemanship you envisioned from the start.

~~~

~~~

Copyright 2014, 2019

Photo credits: Rainbow, Dr. C. Ravenscroft; Aria laughing, Z. Schultz; Zebra, Shutterstock; Dawn on Aria, riding client shot. All others, Dawn Jenkins (DawnHoof)

Join Dawn for a Soul Horse Ride!  Experience the thrill of becoming one with your Horse . . . Join Dawn and her homegrown herd for a  Soul Horse Ride in the Frazier Park Outback!

Call to book your Life-Changing Adventure today:  (661) 703-6283

~~~~

Please also visit my Life Blog, Journal of Dawn,

for Strategies and Insights into the

Journey of Life

~~~~

Aria’s next Foal — Pockets of Emotion

News Flash:

Aria is pregnant with my next 4th generation foal!!! :)) :)) And she’s due to foal in about two weeks! WOW!!!!!!!!

(For more on Aria, see:  Aria, my Pegasus and Aria! Coming Together. . . )

I hauled her off to visit “Mr. Right” last fall. This stallion a smaller, quiet, Quarter Horse from the Coast. An ocean, surfer-type sorrel with a sun-bleached mane, who’s galloped the beaches near Santa Barbara for more than two decades.

This will be my 12th foal, and Aria’s number two :)) So very exciting!

I’m hoping for a colt. A next-generation Starboy (he’s now turning 29).

Brave Move

It takes lots of bravery to breed. To take the chance to create a next generation.

Some breedings work out great. Others don’t.

But think about it — unless someone was brave enough to breed, your horse wouldn’t exist.

My horse(s) wouldn’t, either.

So I took the chance, and threw the genetic dice, once again.

Aria, Ella, and filly Hokuleia, top of the world . . .

Flashback — Childhood Memories

Favorite foods.

Favorite pets.

Toys.

TV shows.

Are we having fun yet?

Cartoons.

Disneyland.

Camp outs.

Days at the beach.

Dreams of what my future Life would contain (horses!!!)

These memories awaken precious Emotional Pockets that remain fresh and accessible, years, even decades later.

Sky Rocket

When I was in elementary school, my classmate, Susan Ball, had a medium-sized, red-colored pony named Sky Rocket.

I remember climbing on double, behind Susan, bareback onto Sky Rocket, one fresh Malibu Spring day. Maybe fourth grade.

Smells of mustard flowers, black sage, salt and sea, fill my sense-memories.

Zippy little Sky Rocket knew exactly how to get us off :))

After a few steps, he dipped, scooted, and turned out from under us. We emerged, dusty, giggling, but otherwise unharmed.

Ready to ride again.

This snippet is one of my treasured Pockets of Emotion from my decades-distant Malibu childhood.

Especially, because it included a HORSE!!!!! The object of my Life-long desires.

Little Dawn with Breyer Horses — Grandfather photo

So I landed, emotionally, on Sky Rocket as a potential name.

After all, this being the 50 year anniversary of our USA Moon Landing — and Starboy’s next generation — it only seems fitting.

Since she’s due to foal soon, I’m busy putting up extra fencing.

Dusting off my dog-eared copy of Blessed Are the Broodmares.

Praying.

Loving.

Lots of good hay.

Lots of good vibes.

Filly Aria, 2007

Hoping, praying for the best!

DawnHoof

Aria, Running (age 3)

~~~~

 

Please visit my Life Blog, Journal of Dawn,

for Strategies and Insights into the

Journey of Life

~~~~

Copyright 2019

Photo Credits: Jetsons, Hanna Barbera; photo of Dawn, Aria and Fae, C. Briscoe; all others, Dawn Jenkins (DawnHoof)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Horse High :))

It’s a wonderfully recurring theme throughout my Horse Life . . .

“The more I ride, the more I want to ride! The more I ride, the more I must ride !”    DawnHoof 

The more I ride, the more I experience that effervescent, single-minded, can’t-wait-to-do- it-again, fluttery feeling:  Horse High!!! 

Enjoy this post I wrote last fall. My wonderful ride on Fae in our woods tonight brought back my Horse High, and I decided to post this now, in honor of all the Great Rides we Horse Humans live for . . .    DawnHoof

It’s the Horse High that keeps me a Horse Girl.

Not just my owning, caring for, and feeding my horses every day . . .

Not just that I can ride.

But that I do ride!

Again. And again.

And again.

Not a Given . . .

Yet sometimes the High alludes me.

Occasionally, rides go bad, or leave me flat.

Sometimes it’s tough to get out and ride at all!

Be it weather — too hot, too cold. Conditions — too slick, too much snow. Time — too little daylight, too much work. Or my own energy levels — too tired, or just not quite “up”.

But most of my Horse Adventures fuel the High I feel today, from all the great rides and carriage drives I’ve experienced recently :)) :)) :))

Keeping Stats :)) 

You may not know, but I log every ride! Like in my old days of piloting airplanes, every hour spent in flight, every destination, every landing, recorded in flight logs.

I record my rides in a series of yearly At-A-Glance type organizer books, (going back more than twenty years!), along with my day-to-day work, travel and activities.

Rides are circled and flagged, so they stand out and can be tallied. Time, horse(s) and destination, all recorded.

Spirit of my Jeep :))

I treasure these records, as they paint the overall picture as to how my Horse Life is playing out, over the larger scope of time.

Going back through the years and adding up my number of rides and hours spent in the saddle — I’ve noticed, as I’m getting older, the numbers tend to shrink.

You might be tempted to think, “One day, when things slow down — I’ll live the Life of my Dreams.”

Oh, so naive.

You might find, as you age, you won’t quite have the energy levels you have now.

(Like our vehicles, our own body mileage starts piling up, and we require more maintenance to perform at previous levels of expectation :))

“A good reminder to you younger folks — On with it! Get out and get on with your Dreams! Find a way to manifest the Life you’ve always wanted . . . right now.”    DawnHoof

Magical Truck Odometer :))

The Urge to Call it Quits . . .

In fact, from time to time throughout my more difficult years, when the High has partially alluded me, I’ve actually considered finding a new home for my herd.

This happened a couple years ago. My rides had gotten less frequent, and some of the thrill had gone.

“If I’m not riding as much, and not enjoying it like before,”  I asked, quite seriously . . . “Would my horses be better off with someone else???”

Sample Mind Map

Mind Mapping my Solution

So I did what I always do when faced with a Life Dilemma:  I got out felt markers and poster board, and started a fresh Mind Map to explore the topic.

I Rode.

I came home.

I Mapped.

I rode again.

Over the course of a week, I had my answer:

• No, I don’t need to re-home my herd :))
• I am an excellent horse owner — but my Life has shifted at this stage, and my horsing must now adjust
• So, rather than find faults, change my expectations and enjoy the phase I’m in now
• Create joy in all that I do with my horses, whether I ride, or not :))

In shifting my approach, I’m happy to report, my Horse High, which powered the dreams of my childhood, has returned! 🙂 :))

Little Dawn with Horses

Altering my Expectations

I reset my goals and expectations to include accepting a bit less time in the saddle, yet allowing myself to enjoy this “golden autumn” phase of Life and Horse . . .

(Like the colors and light that grace the fall equinox season.)

From my Mapping, I discovered that my Horse High shows up most when I shake up the usual mix :))

• Hauling and riding somewhere fresh
• Inviting a friend to join me
• Making some daring change to my everyday routine

Road Trip!

So recently, I took action — and loaded Aria and Laddie in the trailer, and headed toward Lockwood Valley.

Earlier this summer I joined an endurance-riding neighbor for a big evening/moonlight ride (4.5 hours!) up Seymour Canyon, an old haunt I hadn’t ridden in years.

Now I set out for an encore ride of just the lower, easy part of Seymour, riding Laddie and ponying Aria.

Golden Seymour Canyon

Up, up we rode.

Up the dirt track.

Past the dried creekbed.

Silhouetted trees.

Exposed roots.

Magical Sunbeams :))

A single doe,

Large eyes and ears,

Paused. Looked —

Leapt off into

The underbrush —

Laddie’s neck high,

Eyes following.

Upward. Onward.

Past ramshackled remains

Of previously inhabited

Trailers and outbuildings.

Abandoned gravel pit.

Grass-lined, dried-out ponds.

Thirty-mile vistas.

Up, up, ever up —

Winding past private

Fenced-off areas,

Along the forest line.

Outside the fence,

Outside of time . . .

To Golden Seymour Flats,

Ablaze in once-a-year

Perfect fall glory.

My saddle warm,

Welcoming.

My horses eager.

Forward. In sync.

My body fit, fine.

Walking, swinging.

Trotting, loping,

Galloping into freedom —

One-and-a-half hours

Of constant, fluid motion.

Heading back,

End-of-day light.

Satisfied. Complete.

High on Horse!

High on Nature.

High on Life :))

Recovery

The day after a big ride, my lower back, neck and shoulders wake up stiff.

But they work out of it . . .

More powerful than that, my Soul wakes up refreshed, yearning for more.

Dreaming. Recounting. Re-living —

Bursting out in an effervescent, obsessive, Horse High!

:)) :)) Old Fashioned Horse High :)) :))

So today, all I could think was:

• Where to go next?
• What day could we go?
• Which horses should I take?
• How far shall we ride???

High, Again :))

So I rode again, tonight —

Another hour-and-a-half,

In the moonlight.

Gliding. Floating.

One with my mount.

Dreaming again now —

Where to go next?

Which horses to take?

What’s up for the rest of the week??? :))

~~~~

Please visit my Life Blog, Journal of Dawn ,

for Strategies and Insights into the

Journey of Life

~~~~

Copyright 2019

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

First Ride of the New Season :))

“Riding is the privilege we earn from the care we give [to our horses].”  DawnHoof

Ah, the First Ride of the New Season —

Such a long time in the making.

Born from the perils of WINTER.

Wind. Rain. Hail. Snow.

Mud. Ice. Frost. Muck.

Keeping me out of the saddle —

Keeping the horses fallow in their deep, muddy fields.

~~~~

The Trials of Winter

Here, in our 6,000′ mountainous elevation,

I haven’t ridden since Fall’s golden foliage faded, and

Winter’s frigid arrival. Instead, my tasks —

Month after month:  Hay bales purchased. Hauled. Unloaded.

Day after day:  Breakfasts and dinners measured. Fed.

Night after night:  Icy roads. Frozen hands. Gusting windstorms.

Six long months:  Facing the elements. Focusing inward.

Awaiting the return of Spring.

~~~~

Hints of Change

Yet, slowly, the seasons begin to shift. The days, at least some, warming.

Cottonwood catkins burst, and fall, carpeting the Earth in burgundy festoons.

Verdant leaves soon to unfold, like tiny umbrellas, vanishing the gray

Trunks and branches, naked, exposed for so long.

All this, signaling one grand thing:  SPRING!!!

And the ability to join my horses in the saddle, and

Head back out onto the trails, again!

~~~~

Lifetime Achievement

To the uninitiated, it seems that all horse-people do, is RIDE.

Yet to us horse-minded humans, we know that all we do, is CARE.

Like for a small child:  Food. Water. HoofCare. VetCare.

We end up spending more time hoping to ride, than actually riding.

Riding is the privilege we earn from the care we give.

It all looks so easy — the human, on a whim,”hopping” onto a horse,

Without a second thought. Oh how foolish that would be!

We merely make it seem Easy. Spontaneous. Unplanned.

Rather, Weeks. Months. Years go into it.

(Years raising. Years waiting. Years training.)

Lifetimes compose our Rides —

Alongside endless interruptions:  School. Work. Child-rearing. Weather.

Lifetimes spent developing, deepening, the finer nuance —

The “Secret language” we share with our Horse.

~~~~

The BIG Day! 

Oh, the JOY of finally “hopping on”, once the

Groundwork is complete:  Hooves trimmed. Shoes in place.

Winter’s wet earth dried out — solid, not mush.

Hair coats shedding. Manes untangled.

Exuberant-excess-energy worked down. Out. Safely,

First, without a rider, running in their field —

Bucks and twists and bursts of gallops at Liberty.

Free! With no one yet on their backs.

(This done daily for a couple of weeks, just to be sure ALL the bucks are out.)

And so, Today:  Sun finally shining :))

Temperatures rising: 40s, 50s, 60s!

Horses:  Worked. Shod. Prepped.

 Just Today for the first time since late fall!

Tuned up. Relaxed. Finally — Ready to RIDE!

~~~~

Ride On!

At the tie-up area, I bring out saddle and bridle.

Aria gives a sniff. Calmly accepts the routine.

Dips her neck with open mouth for her bit.

At the mounting block, I land, softly in the fur-lined saddle seat.

Aria turns and strides. Silky. Forward. Engaged.

Out the gate, Starboy in tow on a rope, behind us.

Up the road. On Terra Firma now — not mud or ice.

Light, free. Swinging along with the motion of the horse —

I’m a kid again! Warm sun on my face. Cool breeze in my hair.

Horse and human, finding our rhythm. Effortless. Bliss!

Little Dawn with Breyer Horses — Grandfather photo

Little Dawn jumping :))

Favorite “horsey” sport!

“Lifetimes compose our rides . . . spent developing, deepening, the finer nuance — the ‘Secret language’ we share with our Horse.”   DawnHoof

Childhood Realized

In lilting voice, I sing Aria’s praises.

I’m living my childhood dream!

Horses and trailrides. Laughter and love.

I see, again, our shadows streaking over treebark;

Flashing across patches of newly sprouted grass —

The very same artwork I rode as a kid.

The moving, fleeting shadows that weave the Story of my Life.

As we climb now, Aria surging, soaring into the trailway,

I notice the sound of her breathing. Saddle leather moaning.

Hoofbeats on hardpan — the same music that’s always enthralled me.

Over and over, I praise her. And stroke her.

In all this, my Heart sings. I ride, again, the Soundtrack of my Life :)) and

Relish in the beauty, and the GLORY of riding this

Wonderful. Responsive. Intelligent.

GREAT MAGNIFICENT HORSE :)) :)) :))

~~~~

Join Dawn for a Soul Horse Ride!  Experience the thrill of becoming one with your Horse . . . Join Dawn and her homegrown herd for a  Soul Horse Ride in the Frazier Park Outback!

Call to book your Life-Changing Adventure today:  (661) 703-6283

~~~~

Please also visit my Life Blog, Journal of Dawn,

for Strategies and Insights into the

Journey of Life

~~~~

Copyright 2019

Photos: Dawn Jenkins

Additional photo credits: Grandfather’s family archives

 

The Life of My Dreams . . . I Believe in Magic :))

Ah, the frailties of our human Lives . . .

How do we know if our Life will work out?

How do we cope with the hand Life seems to deal us?

What do we do about uncertainties???

“Do you believe in Magic? (Like the Lovin’ Spoonful song from my 60s childhood.)

I have to say, I do!”  DawnHoof

Reflections . . .

Twenty eight years ago, something wonderful happened — Starboy, my Horse-of-a-Lifetime, was born, in my arms, outside my dome house, up a canyon, in Malibu.

(Yerba Buena Canyon, at then Dwight Yoakum’s Boney Pony ranch.)

Yet that same night, twenty eight years ago, something awful happened — my (then) marriage fell apart.

So much uncertainty. So many questions.

How were my two young daughters and I to make it? How would I feed and care for all the horses? How would our lives work out???

Flash forward . . .

To tonight — Starboy’s twenty eighth birthday . . .

When I rode my same Horse-of-a-Lifetime into the forest, into the moonlight (aligned with Mars, no less!) under the vast canopy of September 19, 2018 stars.

Starboy Moonlight Ride

Long shadows

Dipping. Drooping.

Dark across the forest floor.

Starboy’s hooves, resound

Upon the path, like heartbeats —

Steady. Musical.

Twenty eight years

His melody strums the earth,

Graces the moonlight,

Carries my weight, still.

Twenty eight years

Starboy’s movement, rocking, 

Swaying. Dancing moonbeams

Sparkling off his flowing mane.

Filling my heart with peace.

Wonder. Love for Life.

Like that first night

When he was born —

With so much promise,

:)) Fulfilled :))

Yet alongside the joy,

I remember the sorrow.

The uncertainty. The loss.

And I realize — WOW!!!!

All is well!  Everything

Turned out beautifully!

My children:  Grown, happy.

My horse dreams:  Fulfilled.

My (now) marriage:  Deep, fulfilling :)) :))

Our home:  Beautiful.

My Life:  The Life of my Dreams.

I achieved the accomplishment

We all wish for — hope for.

And I marvel — at the Magic!

And I thank God . . .

And I thank goodness.

And I smile :))

And my gratitude runs deep.

And strong . . .

Like Starboy!

Señor Starboy — camp clown  :)) :))

What about you?

Is this Magic limited to just a few? Heck no! I believe it’s truly available to us all.

(See my post, Will it All Work Out???)

Where are you in your Life right now? Joy? Sorrow? Uncertainties?

Pray. Do your best. Follow your dreams. Look up.

Make your best decisions whenever you come to a crossroads.

Dust yourself off when you fall. Get back up and go at it again.

And you’ll get there. It might take a while.

But be encouraged — you’ll manifest the Life of your dreams :))

Do you believe in Magic?

Do you believe in magic in a young girl’s heart
How the music can free her whenever it starts?
And it’s magic if the music is groovy
It makes you feel happy like an old-time movie
I’ll tell you about the magic, and it’ll free your soul
But it’s like trying to tell a stranger ’bout-a rock and roll

If you believe in magic, don’t bother to choose
If it’s jug band music or rhythm and blues
Just go and listen, and it’ll start with a smile
That won’t wipe off your face no matter how hard you try
Your feet start tapping, and you can’t seem to find
How you got there so just blow your mind

If you believe in magic, come along with me
We’ll dance until morning till there’s just you and me
And maybe, if the music is right
I’ll meet you tomorrow, sort of late at night
And we’ll go dancing, baby, then you’ll see
How the magic’s in the music and the music’s in me

(The Lovin Spoonful, 1965 — lyrics)

~~~~

~~~~

Please visit my Life Blog, Journal of Dawn ,

for Strategies and Insights into the

Journey of Life

~~~~

Copyright 2018, 2024
Photographs: Dawn Jenkins and family archives

Touchstone — Full-Gallop!!!

Aria Running

“I became a young girl again, flying full-speed through the woods — One with my horse –”                                         DawnHoof

When was the last time you ran — flat out — Full–Gallop!!! ?

Heart and hoofbeats teleporting you straight back to

Long-ago youth. Back to Days when horses and cowboys

Filled the dreams of everyday girls and boys . . .

I was all teenage again tonight, this ride on my AMAZING Aria,

Fleet and fit and flying across the forested earth . . .

Flushing birds of prey from their evening roosts, soaring above us,

Startled by our roiling, energetic blast.

This full-out ride a Touchstone to the best and fittest times of my Life :))

Back to my childhood first-horse, Rebel, Galloping the endless

California chaparral. Alone. Lithe. Energized. Elated!

Back to Fanta (Aria’s Grand-dam). Bold. Big. Inexhaustible.

What other mechanism can do this for me?

Safe in my saddle. Hooves pounding. Exuberant! Free!

Fluid on the back of my own swift-moving childhood fantasy —

The culmination of my Life-long dreams :))

Delivering the rush and speed of downhill skiing.

The thrill of bobsleds at Disneyland’s Matterhorn Mountain.

The rocket-propelled thrust of jet-fired engines . . .

Combined with the heart and love of the line of horses I bred —

Filly Aria, 2007

Aria — the horse I raised, trained and nurtured. On hooves

That I learned to nail with high performance, precision horseshoes —

Preventing overreach — enhancing her natural movement :)) :))

My same saddle I flew with Fanta, Mentor — holding me again. Safe. Secure.

Flying now, across the forest — Touchstone to my younger Days.

Timeless. Free. Galloping my way across the Story Line of my Life :))

Energized. Alive! No matter what my age :)) :)) Tonight, running —

Flat out — Again! On my Amazing Arabian-cross mare.

~~~~

Copyright 2018

~~~~

Join Dawn for a Soul Horse Ride!  Experience the thrill of becoming one with your Horse . . . Join Dawn and her homegrown herd for a  Soul Horse Ride in the Frazier Park Outback!

Call to book your Life-Changing Adventure today:  (661) 703-6283

~~~~

Please also visit my Life Blog, Journal of Dawn,

for Strategies and Insights into the

Journey of Life

~~~~

 

 

The Vast, Great Sea of Horses

Horses . . .

We only see the outside.

Like standing by the shore of a vast, great sea.

When we stroll the ocean’s edge, we know what we are likely to find there . . .

Nature. Air.

Color. Texture.

Ripples. Wavelets.

Seabirds. Sand.

Sparkling sunbeams, moonbeams, gracing the surface with magical glints of dancing, ever-changing light . . .

~~~~

We know, when we are near the sea, what we are likely to feel . . .

Vast. Open.

Fresh. Alive.

Ageless. Outside of our day-to-day limitations of space and time.

(We revert back to childhood.)

Tempted to take off our shoes, get our feet wet.

Sand beneath our toes. Shocking cold of the water.

Maybe even splashed by an unexpected wave — and now our leggings, wet for the rest of the day :))

~~~~

DawnHoof:

I grew up in Malibu, on the beach, with Nature and sand and surf, outside our back door. From a small child, I experienced the ocean, in all her moods.

A Vast, Great Childhood Wonderland!

~~~~

Blustery Spring and Fall

Calm Summer perfection

~~~~

Childhood Memories —

My brother and I, puttering endlessly through the sand dunes, scooting on our knees — and the squiggly tracks our legs and hands left in the sand.

Forts with make-believe kitchens, “baking bread” out of a brown, loaf-shaped cork we found, after it had washed ashore. (That item was a particular rare treasure :))

Listening to Roy Orbison’s Pretty Woman on my transistor radio one perfect beachy day, at the very time a shapely, bathing-suited brunette — I was just a dorky kid — swept past my sand-dune-fort, swerving and curving with each stride . . .

Orbison singing, “Pretty woman, walking down the . . . beach, Pretty woman” and remembering this scene for years to come, whenever I hear that song. 

~~~~

Winter, with her storms

Spellbound, in terror, and awe

~~~~

Late-night fierce, far-away storm. Lightning strikes, firing off on the horizon way out to sea. Blazing explosions of Nature’s wrath — complete with roaring, booming thunder. All us kids piled on Mom and Dad’s bed, shivering in fear, watching the spectacle.

Windy, fall mornings at the bus stop, watching the surf while waiting to go to school. Wishing that summer was not over, and yearning to be back at the beach . . .

Moody. Changing.

Foggy. Sun.

Windy. Cold.

Burning sand.

There is a Life and Culture, that comes with the sea.

DawnHoof:

Dad had a boat — 14′ motorboat, green fiberglass. Evinrude outboard engine. It smelled like gas and fish and oil . . .

~~~~

He’d put-in at the pier at Paradise Cove, where a crane plucked up the boat, dangling from a sling, and hoisted it slowly, down into the inky water below.

Dad and some family/friends would motor out, around Point Dume, and up coast to the waters outside our Trancas Beach home, and drop off a rubber, air-filled Voit surf mat, just inside the wave line.

The crashing surf would tumble the mat in, and one of the bigger kids/adults would paddle out on it, past the breakers, and climb into the boat . . . (I think adult beverages might have been involved :))

~~~~

One day Dad and the boat almost ate it — frozen in my memory, I can see it, even now.

A BIG wave cresting behind. Building. Forming. Ready to break. His little boat in too close for this unexpected rogue.

All of us on shore yelling. Pointing. Jumping. Shouting.

~~~~

“DAD!!! BEHIND YOU!!! WATCH OUT!!!!!”

~~~~

Dad standing, like a jockey, one hand on the wheel. Smiling, waving — forever the showman — thinking it all great fun.

(Crap! Dad!! LOOK — turn the boat!!!! This CAN’T happen to you!!!!!)

Dad waving. Us yelling. The wave building, cresting, like a mountain, ready to smash and destroy . . .

~~~~

Then Dad, in that final possible moment, glancing sea-ward — still standing, clam — turns the boat and slices through the top, airborne, rocketing out, crashing down — safe, onto the sea behind.

When he got home, hours later, all he could do was laugh.

~~~~

(Read more about DawnHoof’s Studio Musician Dad here, and listen to his wonderful music :))

~~~~

So, also, is the Vast, Great Sea of Horses

Life and culture.

Mood and magic.

Calm and storm.

Story and lore.

Terror and awe.

We only see the outside, the “shore” of the horse . . .

Manes and tails.

Hard hooves. Soft noses.

Yet what lies within?

What memories do my horse’s seas carry?

DawnHoof:

So just as I grew up with Nature and the beach, my daughters grew up with Nature, and our horses — right there, outside our cabin door. (On occasion, in the foyer of our home!) And later, stabled at nearby ranches.

~~~~

Their memories include:  Milking goats. Sleeping in full-sized Sioux Indian tipi.  Dressing up (like a baby doll) our numerous newborn (horse) foals. Carriage rides. Wildflowers. And standing up atop the horses, just for fun :))

Laying, snuggling and singing with the goats, the horses. Chasing chickens and ducks. Eating vegetables straight from the garden. And the sweet smell of damp, wet earth.

My daughters’ family lore includes:  Working and earning money at our vaulting and carriage (camp) gigs as my helpers, wranglers, muckers.

Saving their earned money in special, hidden envelopes — “checking out” whatever money they would spend with a simple, yet effective, handwritten accounting system.

School-free days — escaping into the woods, on horseback, by themselves. Galloping. Racing. Laughing. Crying. Climbing trees. Playing flutes . . . and Daydreams . . .

~~~~

Long rides on dark starry nights. Fast gallops and sharp branches tearing clothes, poking flesh. Famous stories of all the near misses . . .

Like the icy wipeout at Wounded Knee Rock, leaving only one small injury, one shiny scar (fortunately on me). And like Dad’s near miss with the wave, but for God’s grace, that near-miss could have been fatal.

~~~~

And when we gather together, when we reflect back — Dad would approve — we share lots of lively laughter :))

(See Dawn’s posts, Virtual Rides, for more family horse stories.)

~~~~

As with the Ocean, So with our Horses

And just as we experience the sea by surfing, swimming, floating, diving, boating — just as she can be mapped, measured, traced and traversed, no one will ever really know all her secrets.

Endless treasures abound within her watery depths.

Each one of us who encounters her, experiences our own, personal ocean-legacy.

And so it is with our horses.

Because in the presence of a horse, like the sea, far more lies beneath her surface.

She can be brushed and led, trained and coaxed, saddled and ridden. Her DNA can be mapped, measured and traced. But we will never really know all a horse’s secrets.

What is her story? What is her lineage? How did she get here?

How many children has this horse carried?

How many lives has this horse touched? Changed? Encouraged?

Who are her favorite stablemates, and which ones, now lost, might she pine for?

What motivates her? What does she enjoy?

What are her fears? Hopes? Limitations?

Who are her human loved ones?

What animals cruise by her corral at night, frightening her? Feeding her nightmares?

(We have bear where our horses live!)

~~~~

In our horse’s presence, we know what we are likely to feel . . .

Vast. Open.

Fresh. Alive.

Ageless. Outside of our day-to-day limitations of space and time.

(We revert back to childhood.)

Tempted to put on our boots, go closer to where she is, and stand near her.

Wrap our arms around her neck. Whispering. Scratching. She, stretching and moving her upper lip in pleasure . . . sharing a bonding, intuitive moment.

Maybe even moved to mount up and ride. And now our leggings, sweaty for the rest of the day :))

~~~~

Ode to Our Horse —

So as we experience all that comes with horses,

Boots and saddles

Dust and manure

Life and beauty and majesty . . .

We celebrate the exuberant treasures,

The rich, deep wonders

Hidden within

The Vast, Great Sea of Horses :))

~~~~

~~~~

~~~~

Copyright 2018

Photos: DawnHoof (Dawn Jenkins)

~~~~

Please also visit my Life Blog, Journal of Dawn,

for Strategies and Insights into the

Journey of Life

~~~~

Little Dawn with plastic horses at Grandfather’s house

Join Dawn for a Soul Horse Ride!  Experience the thrill of becoming one with your Horse . . . Join Dawn and her homegrown herd for a  Soul Horse Ride in the Frazier Park Outback!

Call to book your Life-Changing Adventure today:  (661) 703-6283

~~~~

Horse & Human ~ Ultimate Unity

Quiet Quintessence

It’s a Quiet Experience, riding a horse.

A Secret Language only You and Your Horse understand.

An Individual Relationship: Family. Friend. Lover.

Looking on, what would be seen?

Not two — but One — in

Thought. Movement. Energy.

Separate Rider from Horse, and neither would be here, doing this!

Holy Harmony

 Rider: sets the Intention. The Direction. The Pace.

Horse: gives the Momentum — the Movement.

1,000 pounds of flesh springing out Lighter than Air.

God-given Unity of Inter-Species Connectedness few have truly Experienced.

Cosmic Cooperation

Outside of Time. Outside of Space.

Quantum Entanglement of Bodies. Souls. Thoughts. Intentions.

Leaps. Bounds.

The Ultimate Unity.

And available to us Humans — right here on Planet Earth.

Mystical Magic

Riding.

Melding.

Becoming one with.

Entangled with.

Transformed by.

~ Soul Saint ~

Heavenly Horse:

Living. Breathing.

Exotic. Mysterious.

Cosmic. Complex.

Instinctive. Wild-Born.

Good Horse ~ Willing Partner:

Not just tamed, but Educated.

Not just trained, but Enlightened.

Cooperative. Submissive.

Carrying, Protecting, both your Body and your Soul.

Universally Unique . . .

Two Bodies United as One. In:

Dance.

Art. Synergy.

 Respect.

 Love.

Co-Creation. Co-Operation.

Overcoming the Instinct to:

Run. Bolt. Spook.

Rear. Buck. Jig.

Sprint off in a Panic.

Frightened. Headstrong.

Blind . . .

Instead:

Trusting. Listening.

Dancing. Grooving.

With the little Girl, the little Boy,

Who still sees World in Wonder —

Who want to leave the day-to-day material doldrums.

Jump on Pegasus’s back,

And FLY!

Flee ~ to Fairyland

Run away to Worlds with Magical Dragons —

Where Lions talk, and

 Little People inhabit holes in Trees.

Where Lights Sparkle in dark places and lead the way —

Where Horses carry Humans

into Endless Horizons and

Mythical Forests . . .

Gateway to Other Worlds . . .

Not just “riding on a horse” —

No, not that at all . . .

Dream-Making at its finest. Purest.

Co-Creation. Co-Operation.

The Ultimate Unity — the Ultimate Expression of Love.

So, Ride on, Ladies and Gentlemen . . .

Ride on! LOVE on!

Fulfilling our Childhood Dreams :)) :))

~~~~

Please also visit my Life Blog, Journal of Dawn ,

for Strategies and Insights into the

Journey of Life

~~~~

Join Dawn for a Soul Horse Ride!  Experience the thrill of becoming one with your Horse . . . Join Dawn and her homegrown herd for a  Soul Horse Ride in the Frazier Park Outback!

Call to book your Life-Changing Adventure today:  (661) 703-6283

~~~~

Copyright 2017

Photos: DawnHoof (Dawn Jenkins)

 

Cosmic Canter . . .

Last night I saddled up Aria, and rode off, end of day. Powerful. Smooth. Gracious. Strong! I left this world, and entered the other (Cosmic) one :))

And I awoke with images of this . . .

Cosmic girl on Cosmic mare,

Cantering, fast, without a care.

Cosmic Planet, twilight sky.

Canter, fast, before you die.

Round the globe you’ll hear her call:

“Maidens join me, one and all!”

Saddle your geldings, stallions, mares,

Canter fast, but beware!

Cosmic planet, time is fleet —

Now is not the time to sleep . . .

Cosmic planet, endless sky,

Canter fast, the time is nigh!

. . . Time to get on with whatever we’ve been put here to do . . . Saddle up! Make the most of our Lives here on sweet Planet Earth. Canter on!

And I realized the birthplace of my amazing Life with my awesome horses began on that Magical Carousel horse, so many years ago!

(Flashbacks to my Disneyland Childhood — And the Carousel Fantasy horses I rode there. My Dad’s music, Dawn’s Disneyland story: You Can Do ANYTHING!, and It’s OK to Scream! ) 

~~~~

Please visit my Life Blog, Journal of Dawn ,

for Strategies and Insights into the

Journey of Life

~~~~

Copyright 2017

 

 

 

 

 

Watching The Woman . . . Work

I watch her. A lot.

She’s very impressive.

Strong. Super-human!

She works through heat. Rain. Snow.

She works with her body. Physically. In labors usually done by a man.

But she’s found a way to coax her female body to endure. Invent new ways. Overcome obstacles . . .

She does her best, always.

I learn from her.

She runs late. She works late. But she gives it her all . . .

~~~~

She talks to strangers, all the time.

At the market. Post Office. Bank.

Small talk. Smiles. Little quips. Corny jokes.

She makes “friends”, at least she tries . . . she hands out her little cards . . . yet they seldom call.

She smiles and waves at bored little kids in the back seat of cars. (She remembers being bored, in the back seat of a car . . . )

Even her little beanie-monkey, Louie, waves and makes a bus full of camp kids laugh. (I’m sure they still remember :))

~~~~

She has a weird brain. Wired backwards, it would seem.

Spatially challenged — her messy car and cluttered world, her own personal haven. Damn the rules — creativity abound!

(All tidy and picked up, she feels lost . . . empty.)

She keeps her chin up. She talks herself up to the task in front of her. No matter how hard. How tired.

Some people love her. Others think she’s a kook :))

She’s a stranger in a strange land, for sure.

But over the years, I’ve come to respect her. Love her.

Trust her. Depend on her.

She does her best. Even when she blows it. Even when she fails.

She gets back up. Dusts off her knee. Tries, tries again.

She’s learning to curtail her anger.

She’s learning to curb her tongue.

She’s learning to appreciate and enjoy all that Life dishes her . . .

~~~~

She works hard. Physical.

She’s really, really good at what she does.

She puts her body at risk every time she works: Smashed feet; aching hands; kicked in the head; broken wrist . . .

But she heals. She learns. She carries on.

She puts a rogue horse (or horse owner) in its place with a snap, a snort, a big, loud posture.

She gets them to lick, to submit . . . and handles thousand-pound creatures like puppy dogs.

Lifts their hooves, supports their bodies, calms their distracted minds . . .

(A passer-by wouldn’t know how difficult her job!)

She sculpts. Rasps. Trims.

Sweats, shivers — yet persists.

Creates living, breathing artwork.

Mechanical magic.

She hammers steel.

Sews horseshoes onto hooves — with nails.

Hefts anvils and tools and heavy boxes of equipment . . . yet carries her own tiny broom set to sweep and clean as she goes . . .

(There’s order in her seeming chaos :))

Horse whisperer. Farrier. Wrangler. Business woman. Creative kook . . .

She is my favorite. She is my love.

She watches over me. I watch over her.

She works hard! And I appreciate her!!!!

I watch her age. I watch her grow.

I watch her appreciate Life more, even more, now . . .

We have come to a truce.

I no longer bash her.

I now support her.

Without her, I would be nowhere.

Because, she is me . . . Dawn.

Woman of steel!!!

And so I ask, who do you watch?

What work does your woman, or man, do?

Have you two come to a truce? Or do you still argue?

I hope you two can fall in love :))

Life is too short to argue with your Worker . . .

Make peace, not war. And let it start with you, and me :))

~~~~

Find out more about Dawn’s HoofCare Services

Join Dawn for a Soul Horse Ride!  Experience the thrill of becoming one with your horse . . . Join Dawn and her homegrown herd for a  Soul Horse Ride in the Frazier Park Outback!

Call to book your Life-Changing Adventure today:  (661) 703-6283

~~~~

Like what you’ve read here? Visit Dawn’s sister blog: Journal of Dawn

~~~~

Additional photo credits: H. Jenkins, T. Turner, S. Curry

Copyright 2017

In Defense of Horseshoes

Ever since the beginning of the Barefoot Movement, horseshoes have taken a bad wrap.

Nails — awful.

Steel — restrictive.

Damn farriers!

Ruining all our horses with outdated, medieval malevolence!

Yet — please!

Let’s don’t throw out the hoof with the bath water . . .

I’m primarily a Barefoot girl, no problem.

And barefoot is great, under the best circumstances.

I’ve ridden sound, barefoot horses on endless trails, for years.

But I shod my horses last week — and took them on one of the trails we’ve ridden, barefoot, for the past twenty years — and it enhanced the entire endeavor!!!

~~~~

Bright, springy steps replaced delicate plodding.

Heightened enjoyment, not just for my husband and I, but for the horses — as they didn’t have to bother avoiding sharp, crystalline rocks.

Freedom!

Steel, and pads, and hoof packing — actually saved the day!

~~~~

So what caused me to add the shoes?

We’ve had a very long, cold and drawn out winter here in the mountainous region of Southern California this year, 2017. In fact it filled our reservoirs, and broke our multi-year drought.

The ground was saturated for more than two months with snow, ice, mud.

Just when it began warming up, drying out — more rain, snow, mud.

It SNOWED 4″ in early MAY!!!!

And just when my horses hooves were developing their hard, dry soles (a kind of callus which acts like shoe protection for the internal structures and comfort of their hooves) the late snow, saturating the ground, caused those soles to slough — the equivalence losing your shoes on a hot day at the beach . . .

And caused those hooves to feel every pebble. Every rock.

~~~~

Shoes and Pads to the Rescue

Enter steel Natural Balance horseshoes, leather and Shock Tamer pads, and Sole Pack medicated packing material.

As a farrier, it’s something I’ve done for other people’s horses for years: Shoe. Pad. Protect.

But something I’ve rarely needed to do for my own homegrown, four-generation, hardy-hooved herd.

Why? Because my own healthy-hooved horses really didn’t need it. Barefoot worked fantastic for my horses (other than occasional shoes to help with gait issues or overreaching).

~~~~

So when we rode the top of our local high-elevation (8,000′-9,000′) Mt. Pinos trails the other evening and FELT the difference — same trails, same horses, we’ve ridden for twenty years — I knew I just had to write.

Because theory is one thing.

Reality is another.

~~~~

Enter Uncle Ink

I agree. Not all horseshoeing is made equal — that’s why I learned to shoe, from my farrier Uncle, Ink Knudson.

I learned to trim my own homebred herd of Arab-cross horses from Uncle Ink in Malibu in 1990.

Great. Wonderful. Sound. No problems.

But by 1996, I’d moved up here to the mountains, and got an Arab-Tennessee Walker, named Max, with less than ideal hooves.

An old barb wire injury to his coronet resulted in a large scar tissue bulb that he would overreach and tear with his hind hoof, causing him head-bobbing lameness.

The hoof that did grow, came in abnormal.

Abscesses.

Hoof soreness.

Poor Max!

The local farriers up here in our region weren’t able to keep him sound. Even with pads and packing and egg bar shoes.

That’s when I took him down to Uncle Ink .

And Uncle Ink’s shoes made Max sound.

That’s when I realized, the other farriers couldn’t, wouldn’t do what Uncle Ink did.

I had to learn how to nail on shoes — to help Max. To keep him sound.

~~~~

Bad Shoeing is Bad — Good Shoeing is Good!

But what was it about Ink’s shoes that worked?

Why couldn’t the local guys have fixed Max and made him comfortable?

What did Ink know that the local guys up here didn’t?

That’s the real secret — the real story.

Steel shoes, alone, aren’t the culprit.

It’s how the hoof is trimmed, and how those shoes are applied.

As my Uncle Ink taught me, “It’s art!”

And as with all art, it takes a good eye, a good feel, and a good understanding of why you’re doing what it is that you do . . .

~~~~

Uncle Ink was a metallurgist in the Navy in WWII. After the war, he went to Cal Poly,  San Luis Obispo to learn the art of horse shoeing, on the GI Bill.

Then he honed his craft apprenticing with the old Calvary shoers in the LA area.

He worked with famous veterinarians doing specialized therapeutics. He could make any shoe or support apparatus in his coal forge.

He shod every kind of horse for every kind of discipline. He shod for every kind of person, including a cadre of famous actors.

He shod Ronald Reagan’s horses, Roy Roger’s Trigger, Gene Autry’s Champion . . .

And he shod my scruffy first horse, Rebel.

~~~~

The majority of today’s farriers either studied with an elder, or attended one of the farrier schools.

Emphasis seems more on appearance than function.

How nice the low-nailed clinches appear.

How straight and level the hoof.

(The old question of balance!)

Problem is, high, angled nails hold better.

Heel nails, now out of fashion, hold the best.

Many hooves are, in themselves, not straight or level. The bones have de-mineralized in accordance to the horse’s conformation.

Shoeing those hooves “straight and level” is the same as shoeing a straight and level hoof out of balance.

But how do you teach this?

How do these guys learn what it took my Uncle sixty years under the anvil, the forge, the horse, to gain?

~~~~

So imagine my bliss in discovering, that the skills I originally learned to help Max with his old injury, actually improved my sound, “barefoot” horses on a real-life trail ride into my own local mountainous back country.

Solid hoofbeats. Solid horses.

Yahoo!!!!

We’ve got a great riding schedule planned for this season!!!

~~~~

Join Dawn for a Soul Horse Ride!  Experience the thrill of becoming one with your horse . . . Join Dawn and her homegrown herd for a  Soul Horse Ride in the Frazier Park Outback!

Call to book your Life-Changing Adventure today:  (661) 703-6283

~~~~

Like what you’ve read here? Visit Dawn’s sister blog: Journal of Dawn

Copyright 2017

 

 

Dancing in the Light

This time of year, long evening shadows grace our valley, our woods.

Drawing out the shapes, the colors, the motion of our end-of-day rides.

Dancing.

Fluttering.

Creating a certain nostalgia.

Projecting glimpses onto ground, grass, bark, leaves . . .

~~~~

Here, a tail wisping — just a glance — against a pinon.

Now, legs lurching — a brief peek — then gone.

Dancing.

Enchanting.

Highlighting our ride. Illuminating the periphery —

Calling my eye, my heart, to ponder.

~~~~

Feelings flood back — barren winter.

Reminding me of how long it’s been since the warm shadows last appeared.

Now, the shape of my horse’s head, ears, mane — glints from another pine tree.

All of it dancing, moving.

Creating the feeling of Spring.

Projecting light-art, the original motion picture — only seen quite like this, when the sun comes round the mountain, this time of year.

~~~~

As we leave the woods, off to the south — a long, golden shaft illuminates greenish-to-rust-toned foliage.

Warm.

Comforting.

As if it will never end.

Like Life. Like our Ride.

As if the green grasses will never wither — never fade.

~~~~

But this — illusory.

Day is done.

Sun setting, westward.

All seasons change.

Like the years. Like the moonlight.

Calling me to take comfort in the Dancing Light of my Ride — today.

~~~~

Aria, Ella and baby, Hokuleia.

Join Dawn for a Soul Horse Ride!  Experience the thrill of becoming one with your horse . . . Join Dawn and her homegrown herd for a  Soul Horse Ride in the Frazier Park Outback!

Call to book your Life-Changing Adventure today:  (661) 703-6283

~~~~

Like what you’ve read here? Visit Dawn’s sister blog: Journal of Dawn

Copyright 2017

Time Traveler

How many of us have the good fortune, throughout the span of our lives, to re-visit the best of our emotional childhood?

That passionate inner space that stirs your heart to overflowing . . .

Which touchstones open your vault of stored memories?

• The fluttering silhouette of leaves and light on a curtain?
• The beach? A hike? Petting a cat, or a dog?
• The smell and the sounds of the day shifting — from morning . . . to afternoon . . . to evening?

Throughout my life, my access point remains the same: Riding my horse into Nature!

I entered that portal yesterday, and I danced, once again, between worlds.

* * *

Laddie!

All my hopes and dreams for you have come true!

You are my Starboy’s next generation. Starboy, yet bigger, younger. (See My Horse is So Cute! as well as Search: Starboy on this blog for more :))

• Gliding gaits, smooth. Exuberant.
• Responsive. Sensible.
• Every horse-girl’s dream :))
  

You carried me into dreamland yesterday. And I loved every step . . .

Full. Rich. The emotions stirred deep inside.

Bubbling. Roiling.

Like the ocean waves that serenaded my early childhood years. Growing up on the sand, in Malibu, on then-pristine Trancas beach.

* * *

Maybe it seemed more poignant yesterday because of winter’s intervention.

(This being a snowy, wet and cold one up here in the mountains, I’ve only ridden once since November.)

So absence, indeed, made my heart throb fonder.

As I entered the forest gate, I entered my Time Traveling World.

* * *

All the forest seemed alive, calling back folders of stored emotions. Like a personal file cabinet, from which my entire life opened, and flowed . . .

Lacy shadows cascading across green spring grasses.

I’m riding Rebel, my childhood horse again.

Young. Strong. Filled with hope.

Cool breeze accompanied with warm sunshine, the perfect combination.

Malibu. Elementary School.

Easter time. Wind and warm.

All the world alive, fresh, new.

Yellow blossoms erupting along the Pacific Coast Highway: Clusters of Giant Coreopsis, fields of mustard and Oxalis, bush sunflowers, tidy tips, sticky monkey flowers.

Springtime’s fragrant scent.

Blue sky, fluffy clouds. Hovering, floating.

Teenage again!

Riding Rebel behind Will Rogers State Park in the Pacific Palisades.

Endless sky. Endless opportunities.

My life as endless as the horizon surrounding me . . .

Towering Ponderosa tree, here, just off the trail. Still healthy and full and alive. Handsome Granddaddy of our woods.

Motherhood  now. Two lovely daughters.

My girls would ride into the forest here when they were young, tie up the horses, climb into this tree — sing, and play their flutes.

One day, they reported to me: “Mamma! We watched a calf being born in the woods today. We were up in the tree. The cow was in the bushes, near the wash . . . ”

In my mind, I see that calf being born, each time I ride past. I see it again now, and I see and feel the amazement of new life, once again, in my daughters’ eyes.

Across the way, the spot where my daughter, Anna’s, hair was caught by a snag and pulled from her Shetland pony, Silver.

The pain — how she cried! How hard it was to console her. Pulled from her pony by her hair, by a low-hanging finger of a tree.

Up from the wash, into the meadow now. Yellow carpet of Gold Field flowers, tiny blossoms painting the ground in swirling, creamy hues.

I’m here again, the first time we discovered the meadow in full golden bloom, when Fae was young, green, her maiden voyage that Spring. Anna, teenage now, riding her bareback.

I had my camera that day and I photographed the gangly forms of horse, and rider.

I see it again now: Anna sliding off, picking a tuft of yellow florets, and placing them in both her own hair, and in the forelock and browband of Fae’s bridle. Her long legs hopping, stretching, leaping back on again, in acrobatic precision.

Our cantering spot. Our Toodle Canyon . . .

The pond, dried in the drought of the past several years, now full, heart-shaped, inviting wildlife to sip — and horses to spook at their smells.

I’m here again, with my girls — long-since moved away. With my horses — many now, passed to the other side. With my faraway Malibu childhood. Juxtaposed in emotional envelopes, side, by side, by side . . .

Alive again. Decades past.

Time travels. Flashes back.

      Re-living all the feelings. Again.

          Timeless. Alive. All without end . . .

Like an endless loop. Like “The Song That Never Ends”. Playing and re-playing over, and over, again . . .

And all along our ride: The Silent Sentinels (dead trees). Once majestic. Now sliver.  Aged. Wise.

My favorite one, still standing. Broken off at the top. Burned and hollowed below by some long-ago fire. Surrounded by fallen comrades. Twisted, faded.

Enter the longings of Grandmother and Mom, Grandfather and Dad.

Age and wisdom. Hope and loss.

Guideposts of Spirit and values. Philosophy and goodness.

Once here and viable. Now fading. Yet watching, still.

And right along side the bygone, the Old — sprouts the next generation: Fresh. New. Growing.

Encouraging, even in their decay. Our ancestors understand far more than us youngin’s Life’s endless cycles, and wherein we play. In. Out. Endless. Timeless.

All this to the music, the metronome, of my horse’s dancing mane. His flowing neck, swinging. Ticking off each stride.

Each hoofbeat, each memory, each emotion . . . connected through the stride and the dancing mane of my most amazing, time-traveling, doorway to another world: My horse!

* * *

* * *

Join Dawn for a Soul Horse Ride!  Experience the thrill of becoming one with your horse . . . Join Dawn and her homegrown herd for a  Soul Horse Ride in the Frazier Park Outback!

Call to book your Life-Changing Adventure today:  (661) 703-6283

* * *

Like what you’ve read here? Visit Dawn’s sister blog: Journal of Dawn

Copyright 2017

Praising Starboy

Yes, the day is balmy.

Yes, my horse is fresh.

And though we haven’t saddled up since November,

I’m riding Starboy, today, at his best!

* * *

He feels like we’ve never waited

For winter’s snow, mud, ice, to end.

We’ve picked up where we left off,

Starboy, my timeless friend.

* * *

Gliding in perfection,

Flowing with his every silken move —

All, with nuance, dance today

In horse and human groove :))

* * *

How the woodlands beckon,

Starboy’s pace abounds.

Praising precious Starboy,

Hoofbeats, smiles, resound :))

* * *

Awesome, wondrous, synchronized,

How best to describe the day?

Finding bliss on Starboy —

Then feeding his dinner hay :))

* * *

Join Dawn for a Soul Horse Ride!  Experience the thrill of becoming one with your horse . . . Join Dawn and her homegrown herd for a  Soul Horse Ride in the Frazier Park Outback!

Call to book your Life-Changing Adventure today:  (661) 703-6283

– – –

Copyright 2017

Why Ride?

This sounds so stupid.

Do I really need to define it?

Yes . . . I need to know . . . Why do I want to RIDE?

Because resistance requires it.

Resistance makes me lazy. Unseats my resolve. And unless I know just why I must get out and go riding, I might not go at all . . .

– – –

What motivates me to leave my cushy cabin, cruise out the door wearing boots, bearing treats . . . to actually ride/drive/longe or otherwise DO something with my horse(s)?

When I was younger, all I wanted to do was to ride! In fact, you couldn’t stop me if you’d tried. (see post: Ride for Little Dawn)

But Life, age, work, motherhood, responsibilities — even habit — gnaws away at the motivation.

I have the horses, the saddles, the carriages, the harness, the necessary gear. I even have the time these days . . .

And riding season at our mountain elevation has just now become possible.

So I set out this afternoon, this First-Day-of-Spring after our LONG wet and snowy,  Finally-Breaking-the-California-Drought Winter, and made a list for myself of all the reasons to RIDE!

Because if my motivation isn’t strong enough, clear enough, I could miss out . . .

I could sit here at home rather than interact with my amazing life-long herd of homebred horses.

And frankly, time is running out. Or rather onward. Forward.

Starboy is 26 already. How long will he be willing to carry me? Fae, Aria, Laddie, perfect in their training. Perfect in soundness, readiness, willingness.

Don’t waste this, Dawn! Go out there and hit the trails, and live my horse life to the fullest!

– – –

Why is Horsing important to me?

• My horses depend upon me for their food, board, water, EXERCISE, training and care.
• They have done all that I’ve asked of them. They await now, fully trained, fully able, for me to allow their physical freedom and expression.
• Without me taking them OUT, their potential lies dormant, unfulfilled, WASTED. Yes, they live in a large, spacious pasture setting. Yet they will not cut loose, cannot cut loose, to freely gallop and breathe the wind, without me taking them into the woods and allowing them this freedom!
• Like my daughter’s harp, like her piano, here in my living room — without her to play, the instruments sit fallow. No magic. No music. But with the horse — Starboy, Laddie, Aria, Fae — it’s not just an instrument made of steel and wood, but a living, breathing being, filled with Majesty! With God. With Life itself! Made to run like the wind! Domesticated, and bred, and raised by me — for partnership with me!
• By not fulfilling my end of the partnership, I dishonor my horse’s very life! Their reason and purpose of being.
• I bred these horses, sacrificed greatly for them; I traveled and flew to Hawaii and worked on countless other hooves and horses in order to pay for them. This riding, driving, LOVE of these horses is the very reason for all the work I’ve done — not to sit at home, but for to RIDE! DRIVE! And to share these magnificent horses with others!
• These horses are the reason I’ve cleansed and fasted and figured out my diet and taken supplements and lost weight and regained my health.
• These horses are my reason to LIVE! And if I don’t utilize my time with them, I’m being duped by a false illusion that my couch is my life — not true!
• I get to schedule my horse days and fulfill them in order to honor both my horses, and Little Dawn!
• Little Dawn lived for horses. I promised her I’d give her time to ride later, after college, after the kids were grown, after Hawaii, after hoof work and blog work and journaling . . .
• Now I have the time. Now I must honor both girl, and horse, and make the commitment to my horse-girl connection and not let BS stop me, or laziness, or time robbers . . .

– – –

So here I go . . .

• I want to RIDE to feel good.
• I want to RIDE to honor Starboy, Laddie, Aria, Fae. (As well as Mentor, Fanta, Rebel, Stargirl, and all my horses before and since . . . )
• I want to RIDE to honor Dawn, Little and Middle, and some day Old . . . to stay Young, Fresh, Alive, and Vital!
• I want to RIDE for Life!
• I want to RIDE for Goodness!
• I want to RIDE for those who cannot; who wish they could; who never will.
• I want to RIDE for those who USED to ride; who’ve since retired; gone lame; passed on . . .
• I want to RIDE for Today; for Tomorrow.
• For This Year; for Next Year . . . For Eternity.
• I want to RIDE for Meditation.
• I want to RIDE for Beauty.
• I want to RIDE for Spirit. Soul. Majesty.
• I want to RIDE for Joy. Exuberance. Fun!
• I want to do my duty and RIDE!!!

– – –

I want to RIDE:

With a SMILE on my face.

With ZIP in my step.

With PURPOSE.

With WISDOM.

With GRACE.

– – –

Remember the Long Horizon, Dawn.

Ride, LIVE, for the Long Horizon . . . and you’ll get HERE!!

Right where you are, today.

Home with my horses, all fed, warm.

Winter’s frozen snows melted. Spring’s bright sky.

Shedding fur coats, budding catkins.

Rising sap into yet unformed leaves, the canopy of Summer to come.

The promise of fullness in trail rides, gallops, adventures . . .

The satisfaction of a horse life, fulfilled.

Ride on!!!

– – –

Join Dawn for a Soul Horse Ride!  Experience the thrill of becoming one with your horse . . . Join Dawn and her homegrown herd for a  Soul Horse Ride in the Frazier Park Outback!

Call to book your Life-Changing Adventure today:  (661) 703-6283

– – –

Copyright 2017

Laddie, Light My Fire!

Dateline:  Pacific Palisades, California

The year:  1967

I can still picture the scene.

I’m in my early teens, trotting and galloping the dirt fire roads above Will Rogers State Park, riding my first horse, Rebel — the fulfillment of my life-long horsey dreams.

Alongside the horn of my Western saddle bounces the buckskin pouch I sewed myself, containing my small transistor radio — precursor to the Walkman, the iPod, the Smart Phone.

Groovy!

KRLA, my favorite Los Angeles rock station, is playing the long, seven-minute version of The Doors, Light My Fire.

The time to hesitate is through
No time to wallow in the mire

I rise and fall with Rebel’s swift and powerful movement, to the sound, the feel, the rhythm . . .

Come on Baby light my fire!

Listen to The Doors here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=deB_u-to-IE

It’s a magical time. Along with Disneyland, The Beatles, vinyl discs, Star Trek . . . Jim Morrison’s rifts frozen into the framework of my Baby Boomer’s generation coming of age.

This song nails it — encapsulating the elation, the freedom, the escape of riding Rebel — from my everyday, junior-high life.

You know that it will be untrue
You know that I will be a liar

If I was to say to you,
Girl, we couldn’t get much higher . . .

~~~

Light My Fire became Rebel and my theme song.

I can’t listen without transporting back to the rhythm of hoof-beats, the feeling of freedom, the smell of chaparral — and hot sweaty horse.

That, and the GIANT SMILE on my otherwise trying-to-figure-life-out teenage face.

~~~

(From my journal, written the night Laddie came together to really RIDE :))

~~~

Laddie, Light My Fire!

Fast forward: Fortysomething years later, Frazier Park, California

The Scene: Riding my homebred gelding, Laddie, in the woods!

Same rhythm. Same hoofbeats. Same theme . . .

Girl on horseback, experiencing flight. Freedom. Escape from everyday reality into Pegasus’ realm.

GIANT SMILE!

You see, Laddie came together tonight. And transformed from ‘sticky, green’, to full-blown, Rebel-style Light My Fire!

~~~

Homebred Horse!

We started riding Laddie May, 2012, as a four year old.

Born August 22, 2008, I like to wait to start them. Give them time to grow and mature . . .

Especially being half-Arabian. Especially being part-draft, part-Shire.

(For some reason, the smaller horses and the bigger horses seem to take longer.)

Although half-Arabian, Laddie pulled his Grand-Shire’s genes, with Arabian accents. He looks very Welsh Cob: big curvy neck, heavy hindquarters, large high-stepping hooves, complete with feathers.

He’s the third of my four generations of offspring. And I find him the most interesting!

~~~

Training Notes

You see, training horses comes together little by little, in fits and starts.

From the time they are born, you move them in the general direction that you wish to accomplish — personable, and mannered, and safe.

Yet, by their very nature, horses are cantankerous, and dangerous, and animated.

They kick and bite and strike. In a word: Wild!

No healthy young horse I’ve known walks up and allows itself to be haltered — walking perfectly, following.

Some are easier than others, yet, like a Mustang off the range, little foals have to learn all that.

~~~

Apply By Layers 

My favorite description of training horses is like applying varnish to wood. It must be done in thin coats, allowed to dry — and sanded between, in order to shine.

You cannot just dump the stuff on in one session, but must lay it down, layer by layer, building, just so — and stopping at just the right time, to let the lessons sink in . . .

Sometimes you make progress. Other times you just back off and give them time to grow.

The biggest question: Is this horse suited to what I want to use him for? Does he have the build, the mind, the temperament to be safe and fun?

Some individuals, some breeds, fail this requirement. It’s taken me years to work out the mixture, but I’ve got it now, and I treasure it!

~~~

Our Method of Starting Horses

When we first take our young horses out into the woods, we let them run along with the group, free. Then, later, on a rope. And then we let them run free again.

It starts with learning to yield, to submit — to ropes and leadines and people.

Building, ever building, on what has been done before — adding weight and saddles, girth and tack.

They also must learn about trails and footing, trees, rocks and stumps. Barking dogs, speeding cars, loud motorcycles. Gates, mailboxes, dumpsters. Flushing quail, jack rabbits. And a thousand other things that can occur on a ride.

Once, riding Starboy solo, I heard a massive boom. He spooked in place, dipping, but fortunately not slipping off the steep trail. I thought there must have been a gas explosion from one of the houses below.

Turns out it was the Space Shuttle, Enterprise, coming in for a landing at Edwards Air Force Base, a hundred-plus miles from here! The Shuttle broke the sound barrier — right over our heads — and spooked my horse. How do you prepare for something like that???

~~~

First Time Up

We first hop on their backs, unsaddled, in the yard, after they are relaxed from a good workout — one of us standing at his head, helping the other on.

No stress, no drama.

Quietly up, praising and scratching.

On and off both sides.

Invariably, they reach around with their neck and sniff and chew at our feet, as if to say, “Hey! What’cha you doing up there Ma???”

Layer by layer.

All this prep takes place over the first several years.

~~~

First Ride!

When it’s time for their first real ride, we utilize the herd again. Horses do better in a group than by themselves, so we capitalize on this instinct.

For his first ride we took Laddie out, running along with us for over an hour, working his exuberant youthful energy down — swift-moving through the woods, up the wash, past the galloping place, to the turn-around . . .

My brave daughter, Ella, hopped on bareback and rode without a bridle, just a rope halter, for a good forty-five minutes — Lad, flowing along with the group, not at all concerned about having a rider on his back.

Instead of continuing back toward home, we turned up a side trail, now cantering, riding farther away from home so he wouldn’t be in a hurry — again working with his instincts.

Then she hopped off and back onto her horse, letting Lad run home free, with the herd.

Thus he learns the A B C’s of carrying a person, and doing our bidding as a trail horse — organically, by degrees.

~~~

Saddled Rides

The early saddled rides out from the barn can be interesting. The horse can get ‘sticky’ at any point — get confused, and not want to go. Or turn and bolt . . . with a big leap to the side.

You plan, as best you can, to have everything work in your favor.

Calm day. No wind. No barking dogs or speeding cars or new dumpsters or the like, but even on a country roadway, so much is outside of our control.

My first saddled ride on Lad involved twilight and a nearly full moon, a dark shoulder-less dirt roadway. All going well — then, surprise! The roar of an engine grinding towards us . . . headlights shifting through the willow trees. Face-to-face with the local septic pumping truck — the Big Rig, no less!

But because of all we’d put into him, Laddie handled it beautifully. (His mother, Fae was the one who spooked and pranced in place that night!)

And Laddie’s come along really well. Strong leader. Retaining what I put into him.

Still a bit spooky and sticky and hesitant and green. But smart and smooth — growing in confidence. And willing . . .

~~~

~~~

Laddie, Light My Fire!

So when Laddie finally gave me his speed, his strength, his willingness to carry me without hesitation tonight (and on a solo ride, no less!) it signaled a milestone. So many years in the making!

And I praised him.

And I stroked his big neck.

And I whooped and hollered for joy!

And we flew through the woods, into the realm of Pegasus.

And I heard the Doors, and I felt the rhythm:

The time to hesitate is through
No time to wallow in the mire

And I rose and fell with Laddie’s swift and powerful movement . . .

And my eyes watered with the speed.

And a GIANT SMILE spread over my now-wiser, horse-satisfied face . . .

Come on Baby light my fire!
Try to set the night on fire . . .

AAAAhhhh! You’re AWESOME, Lad!

How FANTASTIC is that!!!!

~~~

Listen to more of the Doors here:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Ed9BjZcoXM

Postscript:  Laddie continues to mature, AWESOME — turning eight this year. He happily carries (and cares for) those fortunate enough to ride him :))

Join Dawn for a Soul Horse Ride!  Experience the thrill of becoming one with your horse . . . Join Dawn and her homegrown herd for a  Soul Horse Ride in the Frazier Park Outback!

Call to book your Life-Changing Adventure today:  (661) 703-6283

Like what you’ve read here? Visit Dawn’s sister blog: Journal of Dawn

~~~

Copyright 2013, 2016

Ride Life! The Reins . . .

What can we learn from horses, and horseback riding, that will help us to Live our day-to-day Lives?

Turns out, plenty.

I refer to this as: Ride Life!

~~~

Ride Life!

Horses.

Unpredictable, thousand-plus-pound animals that we humans, throughout the centuries, somehow learned to tame, control, direct and partner with — from marching to battle and plowing fields, to racing and hunting . . .

To meandering trails and wild-paced gallops — just for sheer joy and pleasure!

I’m often amazed at the similarities between successful riding and controlling our horses, and Navigating the Potentially Out-of-Control Ride we all call Life.

~~~

I work with horses — you could call me a horse expert.

I’ve bred and birthed them, raised and trained them, saddled and shod them, carriage driven and ridden them.

And I’ve observed in that grand arc of horse experience that many of the skills and strategies we learn from our horses can help us Live our own human Lives.

~~~

Horse Goal:  To partner with my horse; to ride in harmony with her; to unite with her, trust her. Meld with her, be ONE with her . . . and with the ride my horse and I take. To learn from the ride, record the ride, ENJOY the ride!

Life Goal:  To partner with my Life — my bigger goals, my higher self; to live in harmony with my Life; to unite with, trust, meld with, be ONE with . . . the Ride my Life takes. To learn from the Ride, record the Ride, ENJOY the Ride!

~~~

Constantly Adjust

One of the strategies required to successfully ride horses, is constantly adjusting my riding seat, my body posture, my hands . . .

For example, when all goes well:

* My body, my hips, all move with the swaying rhythm of my horse’s back

* My shoulders, my arms and hands, follow that swinging movement

* I hold the reins loosely, my arms outstretched, relaxed, everything flowing in unison . . .

* (And I SMILE :))

~~

Yet as my horse carries me, her head, neck, and back forever move — and this movement secretly, silently, pulls the reins — millimeters, centimeters, inches — from my hands.

Therefore, I must constantly adjust my hand position on the reins, or face the fact that my hands become ineffective, and I’ve lost control.

~~~

The Zone of Contact

There is an area, out in front of me, where my reins and my hands are effective in stopping, turning, and controlling my horse.

We’ll call it my “zone of contact”.

~~~

It’s a sweet place, this zone, where soft, yielding wrists and fingers are forever a slight touch or “feel” away from contacting my horse’s mouth — my horse’s mind, that which controls the drive-train, if you will . . .

With my soft hands in this zone, my horse feels free to move forward, unhindered by me — which is what I want.

I want to bring out the very best in her, for the best partnership and cooperation, the most unity and enjoyment.

~~~

If I hold my hands too much in front of this zone, my reins too short — I choke my horse’s ability to move.

Too much behind, my reins too long — a big gap exists, making me unable to seamlessly control my horse’s tempo, direction and speed.

If I hold my hands outside of the zone, my movements will be jerky, rough. She will resist me. Resent me. Our smooth partnership aborts.

~~~

Therefore, the need to constantly adjust . . . which an experienced rider does without thought.

The horse’s movements pull the reins — the rider adjusts — the reins pull — the rider adjusts . . .

And so it goes, like a tennis player adjusting her racket, a surfer shifting the angle of his body on his board, a skier setting the edges, cutting into the icy slope.

~~~

Ride Life!

Now what does this have to do with the Ride we call Life?

Life Goal:  To partner with my Life — my bigger goals, my higher self; to live in harmony, in peace, with my Life; to unite with, trust, meld with, be ONE with . . . the Ride my Life takes. To learn from the Ride, record the Ride, ENJOY the Ride!

~~~

Like our horse, Life is constantly moving, changing.

And like my horse, Life’s-forever-movement secretly, silently, pulls the reins — the safety zone, the control — from my hands. Millimeters, centimeters, inches, at a time.

But how do I adjust my hand position on Life’s reins? Or face the fact that my hands have become ineffective, and I’ve lost control!

Where is my “Zone of Contact”, and how do I Ride Life ? ? ?

~~~

The Zone of Contact

Let’s look at where Life’s Zone of Contact isn’t.

* It isn’t found in freaking out.

* It isn’t found in clutching tight.

* It isn’t found in closing my eyes, holding my breath and “hoping for the best” any more than riding my horse would succeed with that approach . . .

~~~

Life’s Zone of Contact is a sweet place where soft, yielding thoughts and aspirations are forever a slight touch or “feel” away from my Life’s purpose, motivation — that which controls the drive-train, if you will. That which keeps me connected and on the very Ride . . .

With my soft, yielding thoughts in this zone, my Life freely moves forward, unhindered by me — which is what I want.

I want to bring out the very best in my Life, the best Partnership and Cooperation, the most Unity and Enjoyment.

~~~

If I hold my thoughts — my actions ­­– fearfully, too much in front of this Zone, I choke my Life’s ability to move.

Lackadaisically, my thoughts and actions too much behind, a big gap exists, making me unable to steer my Life’s tempo, direction and speed.

When I live Life outside of the Zone, my movements are jerky, rough. My higher self resents me. Resists me. Our smooth partnership aborts.

~~~

Constantly Adjust

Therefore, the need to constantly adjust . . . which an experienced Life-Rider does without pause . . .

Life’s movements pull the reins — the Rider’s thoughts and actions adjust — Life pulls — the Rider, again, adjusts . . .

And so it goes, when fear and resistance attempt to pull against us — we adjust, yielding — loosening thoughts, embracing goodness — taking action . . .

~ Toward love. And trust. ~

~ Toward harmony. And peace. ~

~ Toward my bigger goals, my higher self. Again. ~

~~~

And so I’m reminded to Ride Life, like I ride my horse — on meandering trails and wild-paced gallops — just for sheer joy and pleasure!

And it’s true!

I’m often amazed at the similarities between successfully riding and controlling my thousand-plus-pound-horses . . .

And Navigating the Potentially Out-of-Control Ride we all call Life.

~~~

~~~

Copyright 2015

Photos: DawnHoof (Dawn Jenkins)

~~~~

Like what you’ve read here? Please visit Dawn’s sister blog: Journal of Dawn

My Horse: My Airplane

It’s Starboy’s 25th birthday this month! Born in Malibu, I remember so well . . . and still he’s healthy, sound — ready to fly like a Piper Warrior, into the woods at endurance speed — and enjoy!

In tribute to Starboy, here’s a jovial piece from my journal, written December, 2012.

Señor Starboy :))

~~~

My Horse: My Airplane

My horse is an airplane, my airplane, and my soul longs to take up his yoke and soar.

As I roll open the gate and lead him from his barn-hanger, I feel the thrill of knowing that we’ll be in the air, soon.

Like my fellow aviators, I administer my preflight routine: Brush off his hair coat—check. Pick out his hooves—check. Pad, saddle, girth, bridle—check, check, check.

Pilot and Aircraft — ready to go . . .

~~~

Before I mount, I run my hand across his silky neck, and I remember my dad’s first airplane, when I was very young. After all, it was a horse – an airplane called a Piper Colt — a tiny economical two-seater with not metal, but a painted cloth exterior.

I remember Dad being extra careful in his preflight check to be sure there were no scrapes or tears in the thing. (Fortunately, there never were.)

Dad told my brother and me, “Don’t touch the skin – it’s thin as paper! You could poke your finger through it by mistake!”

Gee, Dad, I thought. How safe is that?

Dad with an earlier plane.

~~~

Fortunately my plane is made of proper flesh – no paint-coated cloth cut-outs for me.

I stand back and admire how he looks: Sturdy sleek lines, aerodynamic contours, built to take on the task at hand.

My open air, VariEze-Berkut-Lear-Jet experimental model (Starboy) is ready to take me into the skies!

I climb up onto his fuselage, clamor into his cockpit. Secure.

We idle out of the ranch, down the taxiway, ready to accelerate, to elevate, to leave earth’s gravity and experience the weightless thrill of unfettered flight.

VariEze experimental aircraft designed by Burt Rutan. 

Photo Credit: Wikipedia: By Stephen Kearney (Personal collection.)

~~~

Once in the forest, I ease in the throttle – and we’re air-born – just like that! How effortlessly he melds with the winds aloft, soaring up the trail.

Sensitive, responsive, like the best-made craft, my horse climbs, hooves churning, pouring on the power, heaving forth into the great expanse.

His silken mane flaps with the currents, his hooves kick up dust-particle-vortices – beware traffic following too close behind!

Gliding, soaring, we yaw, pitch, and roll our way through the cool-air, wooded-wonderland, my face smiling in delight – whooping out loud, praising Starboy, awakening the little girl in me who always loves to fly.

I remember seeing houses, all the rows of houses and driveways and cars and swimming pools, and how small they looked from above.

I remember falling asleep in the back of Dad’s next, bigger airplane, his Beechcraft Bonanza, on the way home from Disneyland – at 2am – where Dad worked as Bandleader at the Park.

(Listen to Dad’s Disneyland music here: Elliott Brothers Orchestra at Disneyland  — Read more about Dad here: You Can Do Anything and Family of Flying.)

I remember half-awaking to the lullaby sound of the engine, feeling the bumps and swoops of flight, the plane gently caressing me — Dad in the cockpit, a serene look on his face — the small red light, and the glow of the instrument panel illuminating his profile.

I hear the sounds of the radio, static, clicking in and out, and the voice of Dad’s nightly Air Traffic Controller friend at the LAX tower, “How’s it going up there, Mickey Mouse?”

The Old Control Tower at LAX — in operation when Dad flew his nightly Disneyland commute.

~~~

I dodge a tree branch before it snaps me in the face, Starboy soaring, sailing his way upward.

The forest footing feels damp today, boggy in places, snow patches here and there. Not to fear. Acrobatic maneuvers are Starboy’s specialty!

He dances and darts to firmer ground, wiggles his wings, loops the loop and skillfully applies the laws of aerodynamics in his own horsey way.

We barnstorm the woods like a Curtis Jenny with it’s Hispano-Suiza engine my Grandfather told of from his 1918 days in the Army Air Service, WWI.

Grandfather in mechanic suit, holding the prop.  — Curtis Jenny with Hispano Suisa engine.

I remember pouring through Grandfather’s vintage monotone photographs, held into the book by little black paste-on corners. His six-foot-tall frame looked small next to the massive cowling, props, and engine of the planes he flew and worked on as mechanic.

One day, after I started flying, Grandfather explained his favorite acrobatic maneuver, the Chandelle – think Flex-Straw.

He thrust his now-aged hand above him into a steep climb – steel-blue eyes following – rotating into an upward U-turn, doubling back and continuing on – smiling now, just a bit – re-living the thrills of his earlier adventures, before career and kids and life set in . . .

I took Grandfather flying just once, about two years after I’d gotten my pilot license – out of Santa Monica. He hadn’t been in a small plane since Dad had passed, a decade before.

I grabbed his wiry eightysomething arm and helped him into the cockpit next to me, where he sat stoic, looking out at the mountains, and homes, and landscapes below. (I remember the feeling of intense responsibility in piloting him, and great relief in returning him, unharmed, to Terra firma.)

Before he died, he gave me his log book, documenting fifty hours of flight training, as well as his original leather military flight helmet, faded and tattered by time. (Which, when I tried it on my head, fit, perfectly!)

Grandfather, U.S. Army Air Service, Fort Sill, Oklahoma.

~~~

Starboy’s reins feel warm in my gloved hands, transmitting soft contact through rudder and aileron, saddle and leg. No extra right rudder needed to offset this engine torque! Coordinated turns, perfect bank, my airplane’s motion satisfies my soul with fine-tuned grandeur.

And I realize how fortunate I am – how very few who set out to be pilots, very few who endeavor to be horsemen, really master the art, melding as one with their craft.

And I recall my own years of flight over these very mountains, alone at the controls of my rented Cherokee Warrior aircraft.

I remember well one crisp winter day, smiling, singing, weaving above ridgelines and canyons dusted in sugar-coated snow – songs of Judy Collins playing on my at-the-time high-tech Sony Walkman.

Rows and flows of angel hair

          And ice cream castles in the air

                   And feathered canyons everywhere,

                             I’ve looked at clouds that way…

We turn onto a spur trail now, a shortcut toward home. Starboy’s neck stretches, his engine begs more RPM’s. I hold him back – I’m the pilot, he’s the craft. No runaway-out-of-control tailspins for us!

As we rise and fall with the updrafts, the forest smells beautiful today. Early winter silver boughs sparkle in the late-day sun. It’s a perfect flight on Starboy, doing what we love best…

And I remember my life back then, twentysomething entrepreneur, grabbing onto the yoke of life, the Fashion Industry’s fickle trends dictating my every move.

Sales, manufacturing, Boutique shows, employees. And yet all I really wanted was to find a way to make a living with horses. To ride – and fly – and soar into dimensions of the soul…

Here I am, third generation pilot, with a Piper Tomahawk. (My Mom shot this pic.)

~~~
I never tire of the energy, the spectacle, the lightness of flight. How it lifts me out of my earthly doldrums and whisks me into whimsy. And now, here on Starboy, flying home. Satisfied.

Mid-life Dawn winks an eye at her former self, knowing that I’m flying again, like I always have. Cherishing my well-tuned craft and his subtle response to my slightest cues. Just the way it should be.

I’ve looked at life from both sides now,

          From here and there and still somehow

                   With life’s illusions I recall

                             I really don’t know life, at all…

Turning base, descending for our landing now, I see the houses of our valley – like the houses from the airplanes of my youth. And I smile. Big!

Because I’ve looked at life from both sides now, lived life from both sides – up in the air, and down on the forested earth. And I’m here, flying Starboy right now – just where I most like to be.

We touch down at the forest gate – soft, smooth. Then taxi the final stretch to our glider’s home port.

Starboy whinnies, deeply, to the other members of his herd, who answer in shrill reply.

But instead of refueling with Avgas, my Bonanza-Warrior-Hispano-Suiza-Starboy dines tonight – on alfalfa hay!

~~~~

Copyright 2012, 2015

~~~~

Like what you’ve read here? Please visit Dawn’s sister blog: Journal of Dawn

Aria! Coming Together . . .

Here’s a little piece I found in my journal from earlier this year. Reading it, I smile . . .

Aria turned eight last month — and indeed, she’s coming together — just lovely!

~~~

Aria, Ella, and filly Hokuleia, top of the world . . .

~~~

Yesterday Aria came completely together for me!

In that one ride she transformed from green, still-being-worked-on horse-in-training, to polished riding gem!

It makes me remember the time when that happened with her mother, Fae — in Shadow Hills, exploring the mountains behind Hai Mitchell’s carriage driving facility.

Fae had been there in training for a couple of months, working in harness several times weekly, and in stunning physical condition.

And while out riding the hills that day, she graced me with one of the rides of my life.

Fae, Aria’s mother, Mt. Pinos.

I remember it distinctly . . . time stood still.

Suddenly I was re-living the rides of my childhood, my early adulthood, when the kids were young. Fae became a composite of all the horses — real and fantasy — in my life before her.

It took her nine years, yet that day, Fae’s brain and body came together — no longer gangly half-draft (Shire), struggling to sort it all out — but now polished, responsive.

Able to balance her own body, and along with it, balance and carry mine.

Finally ready to really ride and enjoy.

~~~

Yesterday, Aria did the same!

Filly Aria, 2007

It takes such a long time for a horse to mature.

You breed them, birth them. Halter them, wean them. Nurture them, train them.

You feed, and spend — and wait for them to grow. Thinking, hoping, that you know what kind of horse they might be — but not really.

Because, like a little kid, they have so much to to go through.

And there’s so much that can go awry . . . it’s not a given that all turns out as you wish . . .

It takes years of training, painted on in thin layers, each ride and experience building upon those before.

There’s a thrill in that, but the ultimate goal is a seasoned riding horse, whose mind and hooves meld with her rider.

And you can’t push it. Like a blossom, it opens fully in its own time.

~~~

So yesterday, Aria gave me glassy perfection!

I re-live it now, with wonder.

I had worked her down the day before, ponying her off of Starboy in a swift loop from the Snow Gate to the “Y”.

Now, ponying Laddie along until we enter the woods, I let him off the rope, running free.

From the beginning, Aria responds immediately, softly, to my lightest signals — my body never coming off her back unless posting.

Her legs, now my legs. Her body, my body.

Melded, married, swiftly moving forward.

Aria Running

Fluid, flying, outside of the day-to-day realm.

Endurance! Speed! Exuberance in motion!

We transit the forest to the sand wash, up Mill Canyon, running the galloping stretch neck-to-neck with Laddie, still loose off the lead.

(Several times, he enjoys positioning himself directly in front of us, deliberately blocking our progress, slowing the pace — Aria’s head shaking in protest with snarly looks and pressed back ears . . . )

~~~

Turning back, returning toward home on the “Sneaky Trail,” Aria amps into overdrive, turning up her speed — seeking out the twisting, single-track rut — taking the turns, loops, and swirls like a Disneyland adventure ride!

In a flash I’m back in my childhood: Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride, The Tea Cups,  The Matterhorn, Peter Pan . . .

In her never-ending movement I re-live the Roller Coaster at the Santa Cruz Boardwalk, lilting smile upon my face.

Spinning ’round a scrub oak, dodging a thick pinon branch, we sprint up the rise and dip down the back side, in endless loose-reined flight, Laddie following a few lengths behind us.

Now, I feel the spinning, swirling Airplane Ride at Pacific Ocean Park on the end of the Santa Monica Pier.

Laughing, marveling, as Aria’s hooves soar above the ground — I find myself flying my early-twenty’s airplane, my acrobatic glider, my childhood fantasy Pegasus . . .

Oh, to meld with a horse like this!

On her, I body-surf waves, slalom moguls, and pilot my fighter jet, surpassing supersonic speeds!

~~~

And I realize that this ride marks the fulfillment of my dreams and fantasies, not just for her, but for all the horses in my life. Deep-seated childhood dreams . . .

I want to have horses.

I want to raise horses.

From babies, from foals.

I want to ride horses on endless trails —

that’s what I want in my life.

Little Dawn with plastic horses at Grandfather’s house

~~~

And I take a moment and remember all that Aria, my third-generation home-bred mare, and I have been through to get this far:

* The morning, as a newborn, she scrapped to stand on straggly legs.

* Hauling her to the Vet hospital — numerous times — to nurse her wounds and afflictions.

(I remember the evening, as a four-month-old, both veterinarians wanted to put her down, right then — her knee shattered and broken. But she pulled through, she recovered! Not just that, but her hind leg kicked, and resulting surgery, massive vet bills, aftercare. And last year, to the hospital, again.)

* When Ella and I rode her on those the first few rides, reveling in her smooth gaits, her calm, confident demeanor. Deciding that she is exactly the horse one wants to replicate — thus breeding her for filly, Hokuleia, and then, Fae again, for little brother, Noir, to preserve her bloodlines . . .

* Training, nurturing, feeding, board, care . . . all that goes in to breeding and raising and bringing up a horse like this.

And I realize that it’s taken seven full years, and then some — for her to come together! Finally now mature. Reliable. Ready for our endless future adventures.

Aria, Ella and filly, Hokuleia.

~~~

Last year, one of the teenage kids at the riding program Aria went to for training commented, “Someday, I want to have a horse like this!”

My reply: “You cannot buy a horse like Aria — no one will sell them. You have to make one!”

I’m beaming right now with the accomplishment! :))

~~~

Aria Shadow Rock — Malibu

~~~

Copyright 2015

~~~

Read more about Aria here: Aria, My Pegasus

Horseman’s Prayer of Praise – Reblog

It’s that time of year when I reflect on the Miracle of keeping horses – and all the commitment caring for them involves . . .

And now, as winter hits, their coats grow thick. Our riding time grows scarce.

Here’s a Reblog that seems to fit this sun-goes-down-early, trying time of year.

As I reflect on my lifelong love – and commitment – to horses, I remember wondering at times: Will I be able to care for them? Feed them? Keep them?

Thus far I’ve raised four generations, and at times it’s been absolutely challenging. The economy. The weather. Moves. Marriage. Children. Work. Health.

I wrote this poem with heart-felt angst after the economy dropped – going into winter’s snow and cold – December 2008. At that time I truly didn’t know how things would work out.

Thus its special meaning to me, because, indeed, God came through. : ~ )

Times got tough. We tightened our belts. Our family had to work long and hard. Yet our horses continued to be well-fed and cared for. And I consider that one of the Major Miracles of my life!

I believe God hears our cries – and also our praises. I believe we’re tasked with the job of praise!

So Horsemen, keep the faith going into winter this year . . .

Lord God, hear our Horseman’s Prayer:

 

Horseman’s Prayer of Praise

 

Bless my horse, Lord God above,

Bless his gentle soul.

Keep him fat, keep him sleek

Keep him warm from cold.

 

Help me, God, my horse to keep

In good times and in bad.

Fodder in his feeder deep

And what ‘ere he needs to have.

 

I praise You for creating him

For entrusting him to my care.

For when life presses hard on me

My horse is always there.

 

His ears prick forth when I arrive,

Nostrils nicker hello –

Happy hooves trod my way

And follow where ‘ere I go.

 

Willingly he bears my weight,

Without complaint he soars

Where ‘ere I wish, he doth me take

As one who doth adore.

 

For You have made him strong and fast,

Faithful, swift and true.

Bless his soul where ‘ere he goes

For he’s my constant blessing from You.

 

And when he’s gone into the earth

Receive his gentle soul

For he’s lived his life with love and grace –

And fulfilled his earthly goal.

 

 Amen

 

 

Copyright 2008, 2013, 2014

Ride for Little Dawn

I’ve been tracking this theme for several years now, wondering what it is about grown-up life that loses spontaneity?

I want to get out and ride my horse, but something seems to get in my way . . .

So I hopped on tonight for an impromptu Ride for Little Dawn – and it was fabulous! Here’s the concept, written a few years back, in August, during the peak of summer riding season.

~~~

Changing seasons bring changing moods. Riding is different for me now.

Years ago, I lived to ride. I fantasized myself forever riding my childhood horse, Rebel, especially while stuck sitting alone during lunchtime at Emerson Junior High.

Little Dawn loved horses more than life itself.

But Mid-life Dawn, during precious time off from work, gets tired, wants to hang out at home. And there are so many errands and things to do . . .

I’ve always been a trail rider, an endurance rider. And these kinds of rides take energy – especially now that the kids have moved out and I’m riding alone again.

But I promised Little Dawn that she would ride later . . .

After the children were grown.

After the bills were paid. 

After the horses were raised and trained.

I gave her many excuses.

And now I find myself with internal battle.

I put off riding on Saturday because I was just too pooped. Now it’s Sunday.

Do I honor Little Dawn and take her riding, even if I’d rather be doing something else? What resistance stops me from getting out and enjoying the horses I’ve worked so hard for?

~~~

After writing this journal entry and defining my quandary, I made my move.

The last two nights I got off my butt and rode. For her . . .

~~~

Sunday I saddled Starboy and ponied Mentor, leaving late, at 6:30 p.m. We pulled the grade to McGill trail, climbing the switchbacks into the wilderness up the side of grand Mt. Pinos, our mountain neighbor and protector, standing 8,800’ above sea level.

Sounds fantastic, doesn’t it?

I made my sad self rally.

I got out, I rode . . .

Then why was I still so tired? 

Why did riding feel like drudgery and work? Commitment, not exuberance? Prodding Starboy to keep a steady trot up the trail.

~~~

Then, somewhere up the switchback section, Little Dawn showed up — and the work gave way to adventure!

There on the hillside next to me, The Shadow appeared. The same Shadow of old. The one Little Dawn loved to watch. The only witness to her childhood rides.

And there was Little Dawn in The Shadow, bathed in milky late-day light.

Riding her beautiful horse again.

~~~

She looked young, athletic, fit.

Her arms were muscled and strong.

She even wore her hat, like days of old.

She got very excited at seeing her image again, and I, too, got inspired to be up on Mt. Pinos, riding my wonderful horses, in the finale of a perfect summer day.

~~~

Little Dawn thanked me for honoring her, for taking her riding even when I didn’t feel like it.

And I stopped and wrote a poem about her, and The Shadow, and the horses. (I had paper and pen in my saddlebag, a first!)

And then we talked, sitting on the horse, right up there on the side of the mountain.

She spilled out her heart — how she’s waited and been patient and grown-up as possible . . . but really, she never got her turn. And she’s been waiting for me to SLOW DOWN and to listen to her!

To honor her — and not just my day-to-day concerns.

And I agreed. And we discovered a new commonality, based around the horses, and Nature, and spontaneity — and we made a new commitment to one another, right then and there . . .

~~~

Little Dawn loved the ride so much, and was so enthused, she talked me out of turning around when the sun’s light set, and we  persevered on, into the now deepening twilight — two more miles to the lookout above the meadow.

As per our custom, we dismounted at the lookout and a ‘bar tender’ (that would be me) thoughtfully served up carrots (from our saddle bag) for the patrons (Starboy and Mentor), who showed greedy appreciation with soft busy noses . . .

Now, with the horses rested and happy, we turned to ride back down the single-track, side-of-the-mountain trail, engulfed in complete pitch-black-under-the-trees-darkness — no moon tonight.

(We didn’t get back to the ranch until 10:30.)

But even though it was dark, and at times a bit unnerving, Little Dawn didn’t fret. Even when Starboy went off-trail in the blackness!

She just corrected his path and began singing camp songs, and Beatles songs, and nursery songs, and gospel songs, and Big Band songs . . . until we were out of the four-miles of tree-shrouded darkness and back in the open valley again, under the bright canopy of stars.

The ride was so exhilarating, I couldn’t wait to go again! My body didn’t even hurt the next day.

~~~

So last night Little Dawn and I rode Angel and ponied Sage. We started out at our favorite end-of-day time. I wanted to go back up McGill, but kept seeing a mental picture of riding South toward Plunderosa, so that was where we went.

We zipped through the forest, flew through the wash — Angel moving out happily, steadily, in a big-strided ground-covering trot — Sage following along perfectly, like a choreographed dance partner, not at all pulling on my arm.

Two hours of mounted bliss.

~~~

Little Dawn loved it, and so did I.

She’s still talking about it today — and planning another ride for later.

It sure is great to have her back in my life!

~~~

(We ended up hauling to Malibu and riding two more days — making four back-to-back rides in a row! How’s that for transformation?)

~~~

So whenever I haven’t ridden enough, whenever the cares of life seem to get in the way, I think of Little Dawn, find the time to saddle up my horse, take off into the woods — and ride!

~~~

 Copyright 2006, 2014

 

 

 

 

Red Star Noir ~ My 11th Newborn Foal!

Ah, the joys of new life!

Fae’s latest accomplishment, Red Star Noir, came into this world on August 19, 2014 — and as I now count, he’s my eleventh new baby foal!!!

My newborn foals:

1 – AA Mentor – 1985

2 – Mentor’s Jewel – 1989

3 – Starboy – 1990

4 – Angel -1991

5 – Fanta’s Sir Prize – 1995

6 – Fanta’s Fae Dancer (aka Fanta’s Dancing Fae ) – 2001

7 – Maverick – 2007

8 – Aria – 2007

9 – Laddie (Aladdin’s Bay Star) 2008

10 – Hokuleia – 2012

11 – Red Star Noir – 2014

Wobbly newborn Red Star Noir!

~~~~

I remember as a kid, some time during junior high, the horse calendar that hung in my room. One month there was a picture of an adorable bay-colored Arabian colt, perhaps just two weeks old.

I remember looking and wishing and marveling at the beauty of his fresh life. I wondered what it would be like to hold him, pet him. Raise him, love him. And I decided: SOMEDAY, I’ll have a baby horse of my own!

I remember wondering: Would I really? How? How could that be possible?

But I tucked that wish away, along with my life-long desire to have, ride and love a horse of my very own.

And I went back to living my junior high life. Not knowing if either of those dreams would EVER come true.

~~~~

Then, completely out of the blue one day, Mom made the announcement, driving alone with her in the car. (I remember it oh so well.  I was thirteen.)

Her voice cracked a little, and she said: “Dad and I have decided to get you a horse.”

What? Really? After all these years of begging??? Wahoooo!!! This is my dream come true!

I ended up with a scruffy unregistered strawberry roan, Heinz 57-Appaloosa/Arab mix named Rebel. Said to be seven years old, he’d been a family’s “trail horse”. He had a long nose, beautiful eyes and a swinging black tail.

Rebel was the perfect first horse for me. Rugged, rank — he challenged my limited skills and fulfilled my endless horse-addiction.

He became the focal point of my existence.

Rebel got me through the tough times, the lonely times, of junior high and high school. I LIVED for riding Rebel.

Through him I experienced freedom. Riding, flying, through the wilderness on wings of horsey joy. (See: Laddie, Light my Fire)

~~~~

Then, when I was sixteen, Dad passed away from a heart attack — changing EVERYTHING in my life — one fateful night.

“Honey, things are always changing. The sooner you get used to that, the better off you’ll be.” (See: Cha-Cha-Changes!)

Did Dad know something when he told me those words, just weeks before he suddenly passed?

Again, Rebel was my constant. My confidant. My outlet. My sanity. He was my freedom on four fabulously swift legs.

And I turned to him even more after losing Dad.

We would ride the Southern California mountain trails all day, every Saturday, The Doors singing “Come on baby light my fire . . .” from the transistor radio strapped to my saddle. Grit in my teeth, smile on my face, on and on and on, as far as we could go.

Yet after finishing high school, I began wondering about the reason for life.

What am I to do with my life? Why are we here? Where do we go after we leave this green Earth? Where is Dad now?

I dropped out of University and did what I’d often dreamed I’d do. I rode Rebel into the California wilderness on a ten-day, soul-searching, solo trek. Just me and Rebel.

Alone.

~~~~

My time alone in the wilderness toughened my determination. I overcame many obstacles, completing my “hero’s quest”, and I came back into civilization with new resolve.

I will live my life to the fullest. I will live as close to Nature as possible. I will pursue all my dreams!

Following my love for horses and animals, I worked teaching horseback riding, then milking cows on commercial dairy farms.

I chopped down trees, sewed canvass, built a Sioux Indian Tipi — and lived in it — as close to Nature as I could be!

Rebel lived outside the Tipi in the pasture with me, only a sheet of canvass between us.

Those were awesome times, living on the Earth, literally! With horses and cattle surrounding me. Until, eventually, Rebel aged and passed away.

Afterwards I had a brief stint with another horse, an Arabian mare I called Stargirl. But she met with tragedy, and I was horseless for a number of my mid-twenties years.

Eventually I went back to college, learned to fly airplanes, and started my own fashion business.

(See: Entrepreneur — Lessons Learned over 40 years)

~~~~

Now, I was in position to own a horse again!

So in 1980, I bought an Appaloosa yearling mare, named Fanta (Smokey Joe’s Fanta).

Little did I know when I was outbid on the original mare I’d come to buy at auction that day, that the understated roan filly I ended up purchasing would continue her legacy in my life — some three decades later!

(I definitely ended up with the better horse!)

Fanta’s combination of Appaloosa, Running Quarter Horse, Racing Thoroughbred, and (1/4th) Arabian gave her speed, endurance and silky-smooth gaits.

Her BIG trot, bounding canter, and animated walk made her a pleasure to ride.

After deciding to train her myself, and spending the next several years researching and accomplishing the task, I also ended up purchasing a purebred (in-foal) Arabian mare who soon gave birth to a beautiful, intelligent bay colt: AA Mentor.

I got my baby horse after all!

Under the lamplight, in the sweet smell of straw, breathing his fresh newborn scent, my baby horse dreams came true. Singing, cooing, rubbing his soft fur, I’d whisper of how we’d ride together, fly together — him carrying me, into the mountains, by the sea, over endless rolling hills . . . the wind rushing through our hair.

Holding him in my lap, Mentor filled my heart with not just love, but fresh purpose and perspective. Here was new life for a new future. A new portal to magical adventures ahead!

Although Fanta was six when Mentor was born, it was love at first whinny — and despite their difference in age, they became life-long mates.

~~~~

Soon after Mentor’s birth, my life went through big changes. I, too, gave birth to my own baby girl, and then another . . .

And Fanta gave birth to Mentor’s babies, and she and I ended up raising our offspring together — horses and humans bonded like siblings.

I got another Tipi, living again on the Earth, with my babies, with my horses — even Nubian milk goats. Once again, close to Nature.

Completely magical!

Little kids and little baby horses romping, bucking, playing dress-up — inventing their own language, games, rules. My kids and Fanta’s — exploring life. Growing up side-by-side.

Eventually my kids grew taller, the horses matured, and we’d all ride together — wild rides through the wilderness. Horses and humans of the same herd — bonded, it would turn out, for generations yet unborn . . .

(See: The Vast, Great Sea of Horses)

~~~~

So now, long after my kids have moved out, long after Fanta and Mentor have passed — a new life enters my herd: Red Star Noir!

And get this — the timing, the beyond-coincidence planning of the Cosmos — born just three days after my first grandchild was born. :))

Oh Fanta, you and I, raising babies together again!

This one, yet another grand-colt. Born within days of my grand-daughter.

And we welcome you, Star Noir, to our family. To our herd.

And now, once again, I snuggle you. I breathe in your fresh baby scent . . . rub your fur, scratch your favorite itch spots. And I whisper sweet images of us riding together, flying together — you carrying me, like Fanta and Mentor before.

~~~~

~~~~

Update on Noir 

Sadly, Noir didn’t reach his second birthday.

Sometimes, horses live and thrive and excel. Others fail to come to fruition, or run into difficulties beyond which we can deal.

It’s part of Life. Part of owning, breeding and raising horses. And I’ve learned to be OK with it. (See my post, One-Third ~ Two-Thirds (the Good and the Bad.)

One thing I know — happy, free — Noir joins the ranks of herd and family-mates on the Other Side of the Rainbow.

Where the grass is always green.

Where there are no fences or limitations.

Where the exuberance of Life continually flows.

Galloping. Free. Unhindered.

Amen!

May God bless Red Star Noir :))

DawnHoof

(June 2019)

~~~~

Copyright 2014, 2019

~~~

Little Dawn with plastic horses at Grandfather’s house

Join Dawn for a Soul Horse Ride!  Experience the thrill of becoming one with your Horse . . . Join Dawn and her homegrown herd for a  Soul Horse Ride in the Frazier Park Outback!

Call to book your Life-Changing Adventure today:  (661) 703-6283

~~~

Please also visit my Life Blog, Journal of Dawn,

for Strategies and Insights into the

Journey of Life

~~~

One-Third ~ Two-Thirds (the Good and the Bad)

Much of the time with our horses (as with much of life) everything goes wonderfully — just as it should. Our horses are sound, healthy, happy.

We ride into the sunset with flowing manes and golden rays.

But what about the times when things go awry — the hoof, the leg, the eye we count on to function normally, suddenly limps, swells, inflames?

I’ve come up with a philosophy that has helped me though the tough times of life, and horse stewardship, and I’d like to share it with you.

~~~

Most of the Time, Things go Right :))

Most of the time, thankfully, things go wonderfully right. We ride our healthy, sound horses and live the dream we envisioned when we first set our sights on owning one.

“My horse is coming along beautifully!”

“I had the BEST ride over the weekend!”

“My mare is in foal — I cannot wait to see what this foal will look like!”

Yet in all this wonder, we tend to forget — we are experiencing the Perfect Two-Thirds of Horsemanship, when everything goes according to plan. :))

~~~

But ~ Sometimes, Things go Wrong :((

However, as we dance with horses through the long-haul of life, we will, from time to time, experience the Flawed One-Third, when things go wrong. (Yes, hopefully this will be an even smaller proportion . . . )

Some mysterious injury occurs.

You come out to ride, but your mare’s leg is blown up.

You go on an amazing, fast-moving ride, but your gelding takes a bad step, and is now off . . .

A bout of colic.

Or worse . . .

You have to call out the Vet or haul to the Hospital.

Worry.

Time lost.

Money spent.

More worry.

No riding . . .

~~~

Your mind works overtime in an endless loop.

“Why did I let this happen?”

“How STUPID was I to not ______________!!!”

“How can I be sure this will NEVER happen to my horse again?!!”

You start feeling sorry for yourself.

All your horse friends are out enjoying the good weather, their sound mounts . . . and you are unable to ride yours.

You start wondering if this is the way it’s going to be from here on — are ALL hopes dashed of EVER riding and enjoying your horse again?

~~~

As a horse owner, breeder, trainer, farrier over the past fortysomething years (I’ve raised four generations thus far :)) I can tell you, I’ve been through all this.

The two aspects, good and bad, seem to go somewhat hand-in-hand.

And I can tell you, sometimes it doesn’t seem at all to work out. Sometimes a horse must be euthanized. Sometimes a horse must be determined to be unsafe or unusable.

But MOST of the time — Two-Thirds of the time, everything works out beautifully. :))

So you know what I’ve learned to do?

(I’m repeating it here, as much for me to remember, as for you to hear!)

I’ve learned to get over the worry, get through the bummer as best as possible — as if it were a test — bless the One Third, and move on.

Because without the One-Third, I would never have the Two-Thirds — the beauty, wonder and perfection my horses bring my family and me.

(Like the photos, above and below, from last fall of my daughter, Ella, enjoying our horses. :))

~~~

But this summer presents a different picture.

Lately, it seems the One-Third has been busy at work.

A mare with a blown leg, a large hospital bill. Another horse with an inflamed eye.

Oh, I can feel sorry for myself.

But I’d rather feel grateful that the leg has quieted — the mare will heal!

The eye has toned down.

I’ve found it better to focus on the Perfect Two-Thirds, and do what I need to do to get through the Flawed One-Third, than to worry and drive myself nuts!

~~~

So when horsing (or life) seems to go South on you, when bad things happen to good people, good horses — take a deep breath.

Ask: What do I need to do now?

And DEAL with it, the best you know how.

Take your lump and get over it.

And focus on the goodness.

And be grateful for all the perfect rides.

And consider the time you spend nursing a sick horse as bonding time with your beloved.

And know that, in time, as long as you stick with your positive horsing program — the Two-Thirds shall prevail.

And yes, you will be riding again.

And laughing!

And loving your horse, in all her soundness!

~~~

And if you discover that you do have the wrong mount, if all that’s associated with a certain individual seems to ALWAYS go South . . . determine when to cut your losses — search for the horse that will better serve your needs.

And move on into the glory of horsemanship you envisioned from the start.

~~~

~~~

Copyright 2014

 

 

 

 

 

I Ride Into The Painted Desert

Join Starboy and me on a ride from 2009, at the wild rim of Southern California’s Antelope Valley desert — where mountains, trees, and sagebrush encircle the vast desert floor. Breathtaking!

I went to that area today and photographed some of the scenery.

~~~

I ride into the painted desert, along the rim.

On my Bay steed, my companion.

Willing mount who trods wherever I bid.

A massive gray thundercloud, miles-wide — hear the clap — marches our way across the barren expanse.

Dark wisps of raindrops, like a moustache, drape downward, with a twirl, never reaching the distant desert floor.

Beside the solemn advance looms a white swath of creamy cloudtops punctuating the adjacent darkness.

The depth, the contrast, the subject, reminds me of a painting by one of the masters.

Remington couldn’t have captured it better.

I stop the Bay to breathe in the sight.

Oak trees line the nearest hillside.

Sagebrush paints the meadow pale green.

All draped in the deepening drama of the approaching darkness.

A cool wind whips through the Bay’s tangled mane.

Up here in the foothills, we create our own artwork.

Little buckwheat flowers paint a burnished backdrop to horse and rider.

I watch his sleek neck move against their endless faces, picking his way across the wash.

Finding the single track trail, we wind up a steep section, turn back on ourselves at the Manzanita bush, and keep climbing.

Here at the ridge, the trail looses clarity. Animal paths are easy to confuse.

We pick what appears to be the best one, and I lose my hat, plucked by scrub and fallen steeply below.

I’m lucky I don’t lose my neck!

The brush is grown over — a deer trail. Not tall enough for horse and rider.

We follow their rut into a scratchy branch that comes to my chin.

The angle of the slope, the agility of my mount are hard to describe.

Almost defying gravity!

At this point, there are few options of retreat. We’re in too deep.

The Bay waits as I manage to contort and duck beneath.

Picking our way, pushing branches, my arm bleeds in the process.

Ah, reuniting now with the bigger path. Out of the brambles.

The trail drops down the steep grade, but my Bay keeps his steady, light pace.

Loose-reined.

Listening for my coaxing.

Climbing toward the next ridgeline, we traverse another falling-out section.

Then onto a jeep trail headed below.

A wizened drop hits my arm.

And another.

As much as the desert, straining upward, wants a drink, this cloud fizzles.

The darkness engulfs us now, sputtering.

Yet the brightness stays along side, illuminating hope.

I decide to go back and retrieve the hat. My new red one.

We head back up to the ridgeline.

I dismount and lead the Bay down a narrow furrow —  my but he’s agile.

We come out above it, have to drop down.

Bend down.

Arm stretched.

Got it!

~~~

I ride into the painted desert, along the rim.

On my Bay steed, my companion.

Who listens and keeps good care of me.

Into vistas of vastness and landscapes of eternity.

It really doesn’t get much better than this!

~~~

Copyright 2009, 2014

 

Wispy-Eyed Filly

My yearling filly, Hokuleia, my fourth generation foal, filled my dreams the other night. And I awoke with the impression of this:

~~~

Hokuleia biting my stirrup . . .

Wispy-eyed filly,

bounding, leaping,

come from another

world — what can you

share with me

from your realm?

Your beauty. The

curved lines of your

lovely neck. An

innocent look,

filled with impish

explosions of

youthful joy . . .

Leaping, bounding from

your realm into mine.

A portal of hope.

A wild expression

of something

come here from

somewhere else.

I stand and pet

your outer limits —

your scruffy mane,

your fluffy coat,

your wispy face,

as if this is all

you are —

Forgetting the regal

heritage of endless

generations past —

stallions and mares —

Bloodlines of

Princes and Kings.

General Patton.

And racehorses, and

plough horses. And

scrub Indian ponies,

with spotted coats.

Quarter horses.

Endurance horses.

Desert horses.

Through your veins

flow the history of

our world, from

a different vantage.

From herds of freedom,

to beasts of burden,

to pawns of war.

With the intelligence

carried within your

bounding legs,

your flowing tail,

your swift instincts

which keep you

living, thriving.

Along with the

ephemeral, the

otherworldly,

you represent

from somewhere

humans can no

longer go

Unless carried by

you and your kind,

deep into the

outer reaches

of ancestry and

shamanism and

magic spells.

Oh wispy-eyed filly,

bounding, leaping,

come from another

world — thank you

for sharing your

magic with me!

Ever unfolding!

Carrying me,

transporting me into

the realm of your

rich heritage

through hoofbeats

and heartbeats and

wispy, horsey love!

~~~

~~~

Copyright 2014

 

When You Wish Upon a Horse

I dedicate this piece to Kathy — she told me today, she’s saving to buy her first horse. :)) Kathy, your horse awaits you. Dream on!

~~~

When You Wish Upon a Horse

She who awaits the perfect horse,

Knows it’s a matter of time, of course —

All life begins with desire,

Working strange Magic to set Souls on fire.

 

Your horse exists now, as surely you do —

It’s just a matter of time before your Dream will come true.

Hold onto your passion, look up to the stars,

Dream your horse Dreams, it’s really not far.

 

Horses have powers much bigger than you,

They knock on the heartstrings of only a few.

 

It’s hard to conceive, but believe me in this —

The horse will be yours when your Spirit persists

In holding your Dream with all that you’ve got,

When your love for horses is a true love so hot

 

That nothing will chill it — not let-downs or doubt —

Your horse is good as yours, and will truly come about.

So talk to your horse — as he already exists —

There is a strange, wonderful power in this.

 

Pray and let Heaven take over the task —

It may take some time — but you’ll find her at last.

 

Then comes the real task, the learning to speak

The language of horses, the strong verses meek.

Read all that you can to prepare for the day

When you add to your budget the expense of the hay.

 

Learn all about horses while you now have the time.

And rejoice in the friendship you surely will find.

For Life has its challenges, the good and the bad,

Yet your horse will help you through sweet times and sad.

 

As Creatures of Magic — truly you’ll see —

Your horse will help mold you into what you will be!

~~~

~~~

Copyright 2001, 2014

 

 

 

Riding: The Allure, The Passion, The Obsession…

Horses and riding have always allured me, and the intellectual side of myself has, from time to time, tried to figure out — Why?

What calls my Soul to horses? Why is it that nothing else will quite do?

Join me on my quest to discover what it is, and why, us horse people must ride. 

~~~

California: Pacific Crest Trail, off Liebre Mountain — Springtime, 2002.

Buckeyes are just beginning to pop with small brilliant lime-green ‘palm trees’ bursting out at the end of the branches.

The tree we pass now is overgrown and grabbing for my face; I duck hurriedly and just miss it.

Now we glide past gooseberries with stalks of shiny green leaves and delicate red florets. Now more buckeyes. Now a grove of clustered, densely-packed oaks with textured gray bark and bluish leaves.

This is one of my favorite places, a steep incline at the Northern reaches of the Angeles National forest, above the vast Mojave Desert and the great Tejon Ranch.

Time stands still on this edge of forest rim, except for the constant changing drama of the seasons.

~~~

Now, we approach the ‘digger pine’ forest — eerie enough to also be known as ‘ghost pine’ — so thickly wooded you’d think someone had planted it.

But nature herself did, decades ago, when the first football-sized, sap-laden cone scattered its seed and took root here.

Usually solitary sentinels on a north-facing ravine, this grove is most unusual.

The lighting changes under the labyrinth of the trees, filtering through millions of dainty six-inch long gray-green needles, and creates an atmosphere unique to digger pines alone.

I glimpse inside a small level opening in the midst of the grove where a picnic table slumps, wooden benches warping. 

And I remember the times we’ve dismounted and eaten a snack here . . . 

We ride our fit horses at endurance pace — fast — not because we prod them — but because they want to.

We float through the towering overgrowth, as in a tunnel, following the ever-climbing path upwards. Browned needles carpet the undercover and further dampen the light.

The wind is quiet here with the cover of the trees, and we race toward the arch-shaped opening at the end of the wood, bursting out into a long, slightly uphill straight-away.

~~~

We really fly now, dodging stray ceanothus branches and suddenly smelling a strong scent of sagebrush.

Up, up, up we venture, horses sweating and breathing harder as we hit the steeper section of trail.

“Branch!” I manage to shout back, as I push aside and dodge another one. “Thanks!” I barely hear in muffled, groaning reply.

As we approach a six-inch wide rain rut in the climbing narrow trail, I become aware of the precision of Starboy’s hooves:  wide black blurs flying out in front of me.

Mechanically, perfectly, he straddles the rut, deepened from winter’s runoff. His nose inclines toward the earth, nostrils flaring, deftly picking his steps.

I hear Fanta behind me, wheezing, surging in Rick’s hands, pulling at her bit. Wanting to burst past us, to show how much better and faster she could take this stretch . . .

~~~

Finally, we come out to the brief level straight-away at the top of the long climb.

I catch a quick glance of what remains of my favorite old, gutted-out, Valley Oak tree.

The bark is gone, exposing the gnarly and swirled, marble-like underwood. Its great trunk stands, perhaps thirty feet tall, the top long ago severed by snow, or wind, or lightening.

Although we fly past it at a gallop today, I remember the time when I stopped to marvel at it. I took my mental picture that day, and decided it was grand.

I see this picture now, and smile, as we whirl past; a quick mental wink.

~~~

All this makes up a ride. The adrenaline flowing between horse and rider, the beauty of the horses and their movement, the changing textures and beauty of Nature.

And the newness of each ride dwells along side the old. One ride juxtaposes itself upon the next in a matrix of memories, creating a rich history.

Sometimes I find myself re-living a section of trail from a long-ago ride I thought I had forgotten.

Lying in my bed, somewhere between sleep and awake, a vivid tape replays itself — and I see the trees again, see the winding contour of the trail, feel again the surge of the horse, and the excitement of the moment.

~~~

Like Woodside in ’85 riding with my new friend, Terry, and her Morgan mare, Velvet, when I was first introduced to the concept of “endurance riding”.

I had always preferred the freedom of riding trails to the confines of riding circles in an arena, which made me stand out from the other girls at Cory Walkey’s English Riding Academy in the Pacific Palisades.

My cheap western saddle and scrapping roan gelding, aptly named Rebel, separated me from the English jumping clique.

I lived for Rebel throughout my tentative junior high and high school years — long arduous solo rides throughout the Santa Monica Mountains being my special favorite.

I had no definition for what I did until I met Terry. “Endurance riding.” I liked the sound of that.

When I met her, Terry was conditioning for the grueling 100-mile Tevis ride in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. She had selected Velvet from an endless pasture of horses at an aunt’s ranch somewhere, for the virtue of the mare’s large, ground-covering trot.

(My Appaloosa mare, Fanta, whom I had bought several years after Rebel, had to canter to keep up with that trot!)

~~~

So, some years back, I found myself in that state between sleep and consciousness, when the clearest recollection of my first big ride with Terry, out of nowhere, flashed back full-bore.

Like a dream, the ride returned to me.

There I was, riding Fanta, trotting down the east side of the mountain trail from Skyline to the bottom, in Woodside.

Since then I can re-live that same ride at will, as I have, numerous times throughout the years.

First, there was the certain little winding section of trail, and the chatting, and the laughter. The tall redwood trees creating a canopy, with smaller growth by the trails edge.

The bottom section where we let the horses drink, willow trees in the cool rushing creek. I could hear the water, smell the moist soil and rotting leaves.

I saw, also the top section of the trail, when I learned by watching Velvet that a horse can actually hop over a chest-high fallen tree from a standstill, if taught to do so.

A graceful athletic thing to watch; a painful, jarring thing to actually do.

~~~

And then I flashed on the blossoms of a plum tree in springtime, at the edge of a wonderful old ranch there, on the dirt road where we would ride by.

And when the fruit came to ripen in summer, I remembered stopping to feed Fanta plums . . .

I didn’t dismount, but picked them while still in my saddle. Fanta careened her silken neck and reached over to my hand, with anxious lips, as I stuffed her mouth with the delicious morsels.

She slobbered frothy pink plum juice which dribbled onto hands, saddle and pad, as she gorged herself.

I whispered sweet nothings to her and rubbed her mane.

She spit out the pit and bent back her neck for more . . .

~~~

Horses and riding have always allured me, and the intellectual side of myself has, from time to time, tried to figure out, Why.

What calls my soul to horses? Why is it that nothing else will quite do?

~~~

In fact, as I write this, I realize that the ride with Terry that day was different.

Not only was it my first big ride endurance conditioning, which opened the doors to the possibility of trotting over endless distances.

And not only was it my first time on the redwood trail that was to become my favorite haunt — the big two-plus hour ride I had always dreamed of when I bought Fanta as a yearling, and had to wait for years until she was ready to finally ride, train, and enjoy.

But I can now recall the conversation we had on the winding stretch of trail that has become so memorable — the subject of the laughter.

~~~

We asked ourselves why! Why do we do this? What is it that makes horses and riding so alluring, so all-encompassing to our Souls?

As “horse people” we spend small fortunes keeping our horses. We feed them and nurture them and sacrifice for them.

We become truck drivers and hay haulers and fence builders for them.

We become mothers and medics and slaves to our horses, who munch their hay and carrots and grain contentedly, not seeming to have a clue that we have altered our lives to accommodate them.

Some of us have even lost marriages and friends over them — putting them above all else.

Why? Why? Why?

~~~

Terry and I defined it that day, yet it is a definition ever redefining itself.

* We ride for Freedom. The freedom of youthful abandon, heading out and letting the wind direct our path for the day.

* We ride for Nature. Riding puts us in places outdoors we wouldn’t get to any other way; the trees, the trails, the wonder of being out in the great wild.

* We ride for our Horses. They love the rides even more than we do, picking up their pace and sniffing the wind, legs flying, experiencing their own form of freedom. Willing companions, partners, Soul mates . . .

* We ride for our Souls. Riding feeds us. It puts smiles on our faces and a lift to our gait. It gives us depth of character and heightened experience our Souls crave.

Riding, the allure. Riding, the passion. Riding, the obsession. The more we ride, the more we have to ride.

“One good ride begets another.”

~~~

Someday when I’m old, bedridden, feeble-bodied — the rides will be there for me.

Woodside. Malibu. Hawaii. Mt. Pinos. Pacific Crest Trail. Vivid and clear, each bend in the trail. Along with each horse I’ve loved and trained and mothered.

I had a mantra that got me through junior high school . . .

“I’m always riding Rebel.”

No matter how lonely it got on the upper patio during lunchtime at University High, I would mentally repeat, “I’m always riding Rebel.”

Because the times that mattered most to me were the times I spent with my horse.

Those were the times I used my mental camera.

Those were the times most memorable to me.

I took stock of those times, and they always returned and freed me — and fed my Soul.

~~~

For me, riding is my outlet. It is my Passion. I has become me.

~~~

Copyright 2002, 2014

 

My Horses ~ My Art ~

* Canvass:  The forest

* Paintbrush: My saddle, my bridle — Atop four willing hooves

* Medium:  My horse

~~~

~~~

My living, breathing, finely-sculpted, fluid-formed expression — a palpable, pulsing artform on four hooves.

To me they symbolize something even grander and more elegant than the amazing beings that they are.

My horses carry me into their realm. Into Nature and Freedom itself.

~~~

Together, we become part of a living painting, with changing light, shadows and shapes, back-dropped by trees and earth and scrub — all kept in constant motion by the ever-beating metronome of hooves and lungs and heart.

Like the famous works of the Masters, my horses free my passions and feed my soul. They take me higher, deeper — into a greater world than I would ever reach alone.

 ~~~

As I watch my horses frolic in their pasture, I delight in how they move and respond one to another. Like a grand living organism, each seems to know his position in the herd and accept, or challenge it.

From my vantagepoint, I observe the antics, the movements, the intentions played out in the acre-sized fenced framework before me.

~~~

I interact with the art and the art interacts with me. My presence alone draws the horses to the fenceline, curious, creating both jealous displays of temper, as well as outright outbursts of fun. 

Apples tossed into the boundary cause a scurry of activity, each seeking a tidbit, oftentimes challenging a herdmate with ears pinned and hooves threatening. But soon, outstretched necks and gaping mouths chew contentedly, dropping frothy morsels from sticky-lipped muzzles.

~~~

Ropes and halters lead them out of the field. Obsidian eyes, soft necks and tangled manes follow closely. Dusty dappled coats receive brushing, blankets, saddles . . .

My tack, my gear, another aspect. The lines, the shapes — pommels and cantles, stirrups and reins — curved leather cradles of tradition, function and fashion. Colorful conchos. Riveting rosettes. Little details that make up the ambiance of the whole.

~~~

Once in the saddle, my rides into the wilderness become my paintings. My masterpieces. And I paint them again and again. Each one unique.

A ride never really repeats itself, even on the same horse, same trail. Each adventure offers a fresh approach, a new angle of light, arc of color. The result keeps me riding, ever renewed, in this life-affirming endeavor.

~~~

I ride astride my horse, her dark mane pumping, flowing, as we float across the vast reaches, ears pricked forward, ready to greet the ever-unfolding scenery. I inhale the wildness of the place, adding to the intoxication, fragrant blossoms, vanilla perfumed pine, the earthy scent of amber leaves.

Others from our herd gallop alongside with flaring nostrils, dancing hoofbeats and outstretched tails, painting a fast-flowing portrait of joyous abandon. Embracing freedom with every stride.

~~~

My trails become my canvass. Texture and color, line and space, light and dark punctuate the endlessly pulsing pace.

The sagebrush in the valley floor greets my eye with rumpled heaps of widespread welcome. Once in the forest, gnarled-branched pinon pines become ghostly gatekeepers with brilliant lime-colored lichen “fringes”, their eerie moanings all but audible.

Contained in the images of the forest blurring past are flashes from my childhood — the daydreams and horsey yearnings from monotonous schooldays past. Now, I live those dreams, I breathe them. 

I served my time back then, so that I can ride my time now — and paint my present, my future, with horses.

~~~

The outer reaches beckon. Up, up we plunge, forward into the landscape, into greater veils of wonder the farther we venture from home.

Here the light shifts, takes on new meaning. Instinct calls us, drives us on. 

Up in elevation, to thinner air and vistas of grandeur.

~~~

Past fatigue, past complaint, into the outer reaches of what we are capable of — for therein lie the prize portraits, the Art Nouveau, the Renaissance of distant reaches afar.

~~~

My painting complete, inspiration fulfilled. Back at the ranch, bridles, saddles removed. Backs and legs groomed. Yummy cookies eagerly consumed, lips licking a long time afterwards.

My treasure trove of horses, back in their field, happily chewing hay.

I live. I thrive! Ready to “paint” another ride. Another day . . .

DawnHoof

~~~

Copyright 2014

Photos: DawnHoof (Dawn Jenkins)

~~~~

Please also visit my Life Blog, Journal of Dawn,

for Strategies and Insights into the

Journey of Life

~~~~

Horseman’s Prayer of Praise

As I reflect on my lifelong love – and commitment – to horses, I remember wondering at times: Will I be able to care for them? Feed them? Keep them?

Thus far I’ve raised four generations, and at times it’s been absolutely challenging. The economy. The weather. Moves. Marriage. Children. Divorce. Work. Health.

I wrote this poem with heart-felt angst after the economy dropped – going into winter’s snow and cold – December 2008. At that time I truly didn’t know how things would work out.

Thus its special meaning to me, because, indeed, God came through. : ~ )

Times got tough. We tightened our belts. Our family had to work long and hard. Yet our horses continued to be well-fed and cared for. And I consider that one of the Major Miracles of my life!

I believe God hears our cries – and also our praises. I believe we’re tasked with the job of praise! So Horsemen, keep the faith going into winter this year . . .

Lord God, hear our Horsemen’s Prayer:

Horseman’s Prayer of Praise

Bless my horse, Lord God above,

Bless his gentle soul.

Keep him fat, keep him sleek

Keep him warm from cold.

 

Help me, God, my horse to keep

In good times and in bad.

Fodder in his feeder deep

And what ‘ere he needs to have.

 

I praise You for creating him

For entrusting him to my care.

For when life presses hard on me

My horse is always there.

His ears prick forth when I arrive,

Nostrils nicker hello –

Happy hooves trod my way

And follow where ‘ere I go.

 

Willingly he bears my weight,

Without complaint he soars

Where ‘ere I wish, he doth me take

As one who doth adore.

 

For You have made him strong and fast,

Faithful, swift and true.

Bless his soul where ‘ere he goes

For he’s my constant blessing from You.

 

And when he’s gone into the earth

Receive his gentle soul

For he’s lived his life with love and grace –

And fulfilled his earthly goal.

 

 Amen

Copyright 2008, 2013

Wonderful, Willing Starboy

From my Journal – August 14, 2009

Starboy mills ‘round his paddock, head low, rubbing his face to his knee, swishing flies.

All day long he lingers, contentedly, with sister Angel by his side, strolling toward the neighboring paddock, toward the water trough, toward the feeder – awaiting his next flake of hay.

I give him my kisses, and go out of town, on business, leaving him.

While I’m away, I return to his paddock in my mind, at will, and there he is in my mental peek, content again.

And when I return, he whinnies at the sound of my car’s engine, at my whistle, and trots up to greet me – no guilt trip.

~~~

I walk inside the paddock, rubbing faces, removing fly masks, reuniting with the herd.

I halter and lead him out, tying him to my horse trailer.

Brushing off the dust and shedding hair coat – sleeking him out – I plop my blanket, my saddle, onto his back, and slowly cinch up.

I offer him the bit, and he grabs it, like always, from when he was small, when I raised him.

In my younger years, I leapt into the saddle.  Now using a small step-stool, I clamor on.

Starboy braces, politely, for my middle-age weight to descend upon him. I find my off-side stirrup, gather up my reins, and move my body slightly, as signal to walk on.

Out to the road, off the property, he effortlessly, willingly, goes. Wherever I point him, Starboy cooperates – and travels at whatever speed I ask.

What kind of relationship can be compared to this?

He serves, without complaint, at my beck and call. And I serve him, in return, for nineteen years now, like his mother and sire before him, making sure of his pasture and hay.

Few people can boast three generations of home-bred horses, but those who do, understand.

As long as you’re dealing with good genetics, there’s nothing that compares.

~~~

Out on the trail now, Starboy surges forth, my stiff lower back complaining. I rein him in a bit slower.

The trail gains ground into the forest now, into the wonder. Trees tower above us, in the twilight.

The feeling of magic overtakes me, and Starboy trots lightly on.

No coercion, no domination, merely a suggestion that we speed up, or slow down – my body shifting ever-so-slightly in the saddle.

A quiet cluck and inclining forward of my reigns enough to squeak him into a smooth canter . . .

I smell the vanilla of pine bark now, nighttime descending.

And I marvel, again, at Starboy.

And how well he behaves since I’ve been gone.

~~~

~~~

November 26, 2013

Here I am, marveling at Starboy, once again. I wrote this sweet little piece four years ago, in 2009. Since then a few things have changed:

Angel is gone now, on the other side of the Rainbow, even though she was Starboy’s junior by a year.

She had Cushing’s syndrome and passed away at nineteen – the very age of Starboy when I wrote this piece.

And Hokuleia was born August, 2012 – our fourth generation! And she has Angel’s energy. And she has Angel’s love.

~~~

And I am changed – I’m very happy to report – for the better.

After a bad injury and much pain (at my doctor’s recommendation), I went gluten-free in December, 2011. Turns out this incident was a major “Blessing-in-Disguise”.

By changing my lifestyle and diet, I lost stubborn pounds of middle-age weight. But that’s not all:  I ALSO LOST MY JOINT PAIN!

In fact, as I read over this piece I feel badly for the “old Dawn” – who was exhausted and who ached – and who weighed down her wonderful horse.

I’m happy to say, “No More!”  : ~ ))

~~~

A spring has returned to my step – I no longer “clamor on”. Now I lift myself up into the stirrup, the saddle, with joy’! Pain-free!!!

My back no longer complains. My knees, my hips, my neck ride along with Starboy like they did in my youth.

So there is hope when it comes to pain, to injury, to age!

Now the healthful micro-nutrients and herbs I take – turmeric, hawthorn berry, ginger, boswellia, cinnamon, fenugreek – can work to rejuvenate my cells without the burden of fighting the inflammation brought on by the gluten (found in wheat and most grains).

Now the vitamins and supplements – B-100, Vitamin Code Multi’s, thyroid, and adrenal support, Perfect Food (green powder) – can work their nutritional wonder.

~~~

Now Starboy, twenty-three years young, carries my lighter profile.

We rode three hours recently, FLYING, like in our days of youth – striding out, floating, galloping – breathing-in the fresh forest air.

Discovering a brand new trail in the process – trotting, twisting, surging, dipping, along the contours of the rapid single-track.

Now Starboy lingers in his paddock with sister, Fae, and filly, Hokuleia. Happy, content. Yet a bit wider at his middle-aged girth than before.

Wonderful, willing Starboy. Ever ready, ever up for the latest adventure.

~~~

I’m fresh back in town now, from a business trip. And finally, we’ll be riding tonight . . .

Soon I’ll smell the vanilla of pine bark, nighttime descending. And I’ll experience his smooth canter – on our latest adventure, into the forest.

And I’ll marvel, again, at Starboy.

And how well he behaves since I’ve been gone.

~~~

~~~

Oh my – reading this over just now, I have tears! For how long will he be with me?

Wonderful, willing Starboy – I treasure you all the more as you grow old. For our time together here won’t last forever.

But our years have been full. And our love, complete.

And I’m filled to the brim by our love.  : ~ ))

And when the time comes for us to part, when you go over the Rainbow to join the others – I’ll be here waving, loving, cheering you on – tending to the herd, here on this side of the veil.

I’ll take care of Fae, of Aria, Laddie and Hokuleia.

And I’ll cherish my love for you, like the others.

And I’ll wait my turn . . .

Until my time over the Rainbow arrives.

~~~

 

Copyright 2009, 2013