Lessons at Dusk

Mireya decides to take pictures
With my phone.
This is now my favorite photo.
She's got a gift.















Mireya waits for her turn to ride
Like a good cowgirl.
She gets lessons from mommy.
Which mostly consist of
Stop and go riding.

Which is most kinds of riding, I guess













Sierra's lesson on Lily goes well
Lily is a bit stiff,
needs turning exercises.
All those years on barrels















Mireya's turn, stopped on the "bridge"

Canyon, a willing lesson horse.

Who would have thought it?










Horse girl.


Look at that smile.













Writing is going well, thanks for the supportive words! My novel is a mystery of sorts. But here's an example of my writing (that's not horse related) that's been published ( in Christian Science Monitor a few years ago)

Embrace the Boredom

It's not enough for it to be an electronic leash, now there are a plethora of "content" you can get on your cell phone. A young man was relating how instead of having to read old magazines in the doctor's office he can now play a game – Tetris, online role playing, whatever. Now, he said, you don't have to get bored.

This is, of course, a huge loss.

When my daughter whined about being bored, I told her it was a wonderful thing. "Just think," I said in a conspiratory whisper, "of all the wonderful things that happen when you're bored..."
"Like what?" she asked, taken aback.

"You'll see.."

I live most of my own life busy. Rushing here, running there. When a chance to be bored comes – a chance to sit in a non-stimulating environment and be with just myself – it starts out very uncomfortable. First I look for something, anything, to read. Labels. Signs. Fine print. But as time stretches out, beyond the available distractions, I sit with myself.

And I learn things.

Small things connect in my mind. Long gone ideas resurface, surprised at the silence, then scurry about in the quiet, leaving idle thoughts in their wake.

Fragments of songs. Ideas for stories. Scents of food for dinner. Visions of solutions where none were a few minutes before.

Boredom is a gift, really. Like a seedling suddenly free of the shadow of an ancient oak, boredom becomes the open sky that lets our inner self stretch and reach beyond our mental shadows. We rarely let ourselves get past the initial anxiety. The anxiety of having nothing to do.

Nothing to do but think.

With a generation growing up with no opportunity to be bored, I realize they are being robbed by distraction. Robbed of the gifts that only arise when you turn that corner of boredom and run into yourself.

All we can wish for, I suppose, is spotty cell coverage.