Somebody 'esplain dis to me.

Spotted at Love Field on Monday.

Theories?

Baby's fall

It was the worst day ever.

Okay, I take that back. When we found out our eldest daughter (who was two days old) had a birth defect that would require open heart surgery when she was seven months old - THAT was the worst day ever.

But this was damn close.

Mireya fell off Canyon. And it was all my fault.

First of all, she's fine. I mean, she got a few bruises and scrapes, but she's fine.

But the fact she fell, that was all my fault. I didn't have Canyon's rope (he had been latched on and I was letting her "steer") and he took off in the little arena. As she got scared, so did he, and he cantered. She stayed on for two beats then hit the ground.

The only things I did right was she had her helmet, boots and jeans on and we were in a sandy arena.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

She's come around, we've all told her she's joined the club since we've all fallen off a horse a time or two. Her new nick name is Rodeo Princess. Injured Rodeo Princess. She loves that.

.............



But I never, ever wanted her to fall.

I also never want:

• Her heart to be broken.
• Someone to yell at her.
• Her to get a fever.
• Twist her ankle.
• To be scared.
• to be sad.

Okay, I know, I'm going too far with the last one. But that's what mothering is in my world. The world biggest physical and emotional bubblewrap.

And what happened was completely preventable. The moment I looked at Canyon and felt that shift, that sense that he wasn't listening, I knew. But I thought, one more.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

God cut me some slack, and she came away very nearly unscathed. She came back to the stables, but doesn't want to ride. I'm not pushing it, although I did tell her the reason Canyon took off was because he is a big old chicken and he didn't know that she'd fall off and that he wasn't trying to buck her off.

Which is the only good part of the whole damn thing. Canyon was freaked out (since we all started yelling at him to stop and our group fear normally would have triggered a buck in the old days).

Afterwards my husband took Mireya home and I worked Canyon. I ran him around the round pen, both of us terribly upset. He bucked and ran like he was being chased, I cried and snapped my carrot stick. When I put him up he was listening to everything I said, watching me carefully, warily.

I sat there with Sierra, finally crying, and my big girl said it wasn't my fault. She was wrong, of course, but it was nice anyway. And she said she'd share her horse with Mireya, which made me proud.

Adam came back (having dropped Mireya off with grammy) and I broke down the rest of the way. Hell, I'm breaking down now, just writing about it.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

.............



I went back the next day and Canyon and I did some despooking, trail riding, and relationship repair.

It'll take a few more sessions, but he came around a bit. Today we did some work and I could see we'll need more time to heal up and move on.

I'm still upset. So is he. But neither one of us meant any harm.

I have to remember that. And cut us both some slack.

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.

Lily and Sierra hit the trail

Sorry I've been gone so long. It's not going to get better, I'm afraid. I've recommitted to my writing (I have one novel with an agent and am working on a second I just figured out the plot for) and have to redirect my energy there.











So I'm going to go for quick, brief, entries.

Horse Haiku, if you will.

(Not true Haiku, for all you purists out there.)

















Saturday Sierra had her first trail ride on Lily
Lily is the horse I dreamed she would be.
Level headed. Responsive. Spook free. Patient.
My daughter glows.




We rode with our friend Rudy at his house
with his daughter too.
She's starting to become... horsey.
Dad's pumped.










Saturday I rode alongside Sierra, riding Canyon.
Charged by horses on the other side of the fence,
He had to canter in concern for 20 yards or so.
He did not buck. I did not freak. I let him canter a bit.
We got through safely.
Progress.











Despooking is starting to pay off.
Scary sheets bear carrots.
Green balls are squishy.
Courage is a long road.
A road worth riding.

Trust is a long road too.