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.

Christmas Horse

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:

Starboy in Sunlight


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.




Starboy at Sunset



Copyright 2008, 2013, 2014


December 31, 2014 · 7:54 pm

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.

Little Dawn with Breyer Horses

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 . . .

Starboy on the Trail


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.

Fae Shadow Trail

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 . . .


Setting Sun -- McGill Trail

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.


Veiw from McGill

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!

The Shadow -- up McGill Trail


 Copyright 2006, 2014






October 30, 2014 · 2:34 pm

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!!!

Fae and Noir - first week

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 (Aladin’s Bay Star) 2008

10 – Hokuleia – 2012

11 – Red Star Noir – 2014

Wobbly newborn Red Star Noir!

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.


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.”

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.



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.


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 . . .

Noir - under Mom's tail


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 how sweet, how smart your half-Arabian nature. (Noir’s sire, an endurance Arabian.)

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.

Nursing Noir


Long live Fanta’s legacy!

Long live Red Star Noir!

My lucky number 11!

One of the sweetest foals of my life thus far!

Noir itch


Copyright 2014


September 22, 2014 · 9:09 pm

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.


Golden Rays

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.


Time lost.

Money spent.

More worry.

No riding . . .

Darkness on the Horizon


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?


Aria, Ella and Hokuleia

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. :))

Aria, Ella and Hokuleia


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!


Leg -- On the Mend :))

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!

Henna Horse


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.


Side Saddle Rider


Copyright 2014







August 12, 2014 · 5:21 pm

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.


Desert Vista

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.

Trees atop the rim

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.

Starboy Mane Silhouette

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.

Buckwheat on the Rim

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.

Buckwheat flowers

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.


Listening for my coaxing.

Starboy's mane

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.

Silver Lined Oak

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!

Trees and scrub


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!

Desert Vista


Copyright 2009, 2014



June 30, 2014 · 12:44 pm

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 . . .

Hokuleia biting my stirrup . . .

Wispy-eyed filly,

bounding, leaping,

come from another

world  what can you

share with me

from your realm?

Beautiful Hokuleia

Your beauty. The

curved lines of your

lovely neck. An

innocent look,

filled with impish

explosions of

youthful joy . . .

Hokuleia Shadow Horse

Leaping, bounding from

your realm into mine.

A portal of hope.

A wild expression

of something

come here from

somewhere else.

Hokuleia Tin Shadow

I stand and pet

your outer limits —

your scruffy mane,

your fluffy coat,

your wispy face,

as if this is all

you are —

Hokuleia Ears and Eyes

Forgetting the regal

heritage of endless

generations past —

stallions and mares —

Bloodlines of

Princes and Kings.

General Patton.

Mare and Foal

And racehorses, and

plough horses. And

scrub Indian ponies,

with spotted coats.

Quarter horses.

Endurance horses.

Desert horses.

Family Shadows

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.

Hokuleia Looking

With the intelligence

carried within your

bounding legs,

your flowing tail,

your swift instincts

which keep you

living, thriving.

leaves on haircoat

Along with the

ephemeral, the


you represent

from somewhere

humans can no

longer go

Shadow Horse Full Moon

Unless carried by

you and your kind,

deep into the

outer reaches

of ancestry and

shamanism and

magic spells.

Hokuleia in tow

Oh wispy-eyed filly,

bounding, leaping,

come from another

world — thank you

for sharing your

magic with me!

Ever unfolding!

Hokuleia Silhouette

Carrying me,

transporting me into

the realm of your

rich heritage

through hoofbeats

and heartbeats and

wispy, horsey love!


Wispy-Eyed Hokuleia


Copyright 2014



May 19, 2014 · 12:49 am

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!



Horse Shoes (Moloka'i)


Copyright 2001, 2014





April 30, 2014 · 10:59 pm