I've seen some pretty good flamenco dancing here in Santa Fe. Heck, I've even considered signing up for lessons. (Ole!) But I've got to tell you, I think this Andalusian horse flamenco is the prettiest I've seen. What marvelous heart the Spanish have!

International Andalusian and Lusitano Horse Association. Xenophon, considered by most as the founder of classical equitation, wrote of the Iberian horses that they had the ability to gather the hind legs under the fore, falling back on their hocks and raising the forehand, so that the belly can be seen from the front. This ability, which we now call collection, was impressive in that it allowed warhorses to be swift and agile and to stop and turn quickly in any direction. The Iberian horses and their riders undoubtedly gave Xenophon his first glimpse of classical riding.

Posted by Kimberly at November 30, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Arias anyone? And, tell me, is anyone even paying any attention to the poor earthbound creatures in this performance?

No doubt this will have me singing opera as I'm riding down the logging road.

I like to let our andalusian Caprichosa canter down the road by the railroad tracks with no reins and my arms extended out at my sides like an eagle, eyes closed. That brilliant brave gal never misses a beat.

Now that's freedom.

Posted by Kimberly at November 30, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

I used to ride Caprichosa's sire, Caprichoso a.k.a. Junior, from time to time. He's the only stallion I've ever ridden, and he would kneel for you to mount (if you knew the appropriate words in Spanish). I remember riding on his strong back down the Pojoaque creek while he promenaded with grace and flair. He loved to stand in the middle of the frigid rushing water and splash with a foreleg (and he passed this trait down to his daughter), until he got us both drenched. I could have asked him to stop, and he would have complied, but it gave him such joy. On a Saturday, hikers would literally stop in their tracks and stare at him in awe, like they'd seen Pegasus himself in Northern New Mexico. I felt like a queen, some type of royal personage, but at the same time humbled to be carried across the stone and sand by such a mythical, kind and soulful creature.

Posted by Kimberly at November 30, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Hold onto your seats, folks. This is exquisite. Looking at this big, buff fellow makes me realize that our darling Caprichosa is rather fat (and out of shape due to her injury). Back to the diet, girlfriend!

The International Andalusian and Lusitano Horse Association. The Andalusian is one of the great, ancient breeds of horse. It originated in the Iberian Peninsula and is named for the region of Spain called Andalucia though the breed actually was more widespread. The Andalusian horse has been documented throughout European history and was praised as the finest horse of war by the Romans and Greeks in ancient times. It’s history as a equine type goes back even further, documented by cave paintings believed to be 20,000 years old. It has been known by many names throughout history but has always been spoken of with respect for its uncanny agility, courage, presence, tractability and beauty.

Posted by Kimberly at November 30, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

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Posted by Kimberly at November 30, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

If only we could slip inside those eyes and find our way back.

Check out this Flickr photostream by bulldogsrule. Gorgeous images.

A horse named Sunny was abandoned for roughly a year and was nearly 400 pounds underweight when he was found four months ago.

But Sunny has a new owner and is a prancing pony again, WESH 2 News reported.
...

The fact Sunny is alive and well, given how skinny he was, is amazing, but he also beat the odds once again a few weeks ago.

Sunny was being stabled at a friend's house until just before the tornado roared through Seminole County. The stall he was in was leveled.

His new owner, Paula Fulton, said it's just another sign about her special horse.

"He eats, eats, eats. He still does all the things he's supposed to do," Fulton said. "I'm going to rehabilitate him, and he's going to stay here forever."

Read it all.

Posted by Kimberly at November 30, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

This is a silly sponsored ad for Pay Per Post. They asked us to stage a fight with Pay Per Post, so here you go. With Pay Per Post you can get paid for blogging and help cover your high hay bill as well!

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and we are going to have us a fight.
And won't they have such a big surprise.
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And I'll bite their bellies.
I'll pull their tails.
And tickle their whiskers

For I am Sir Pay Per Post
The brave and noble Sir Pay Per Post
Courageous beyond all comprehension.

Posted by Kimberly at November 30, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

She's talking about the hayloft, but I'm thinking about Laurie right now. I dont' even know the last name of the girl from Sunday School class, but she believes in the farm back in Oklahoma about as much as I do. She doesn't hear the words exactly the way I say them or write them down when I describe it for her though because she's deaf as a door nail. And she can't talk either. I've never known anyone like her before. I imagine all of the words coming at her swirling around in her soundless head, where they get hung up on pegs like you would a shirt or a gingham dress or a pair of pants.

Or on a laundry line like where my Grandma Butler hangs her wash in the front yard with the hens pecking beneath her feet. In front of her tar-papered house that looks like bricks, but it's really only drawings of bricks once you get up close to it. My grandma never had any shoes in the winter time when she was my age, and when they let her go to school, she went there barefoot until she grew up and got too embarassed to come any more. Also when she was a girl her brother and her were in the root cellar when a big black panther leapt across the door right above their heads, and his shadow nearly sliced them in two. That cat scrawled his name with his claws in the trunk of the sycamore tree in their front yard, and the old milk cow never ever would give any milk again.

I come by it honestly.

"Yes, of course, silly." Bobbie's cheeks redden, and I feel bad for the way that popped out of me all sarcastic, like my mom says is not very nice. That's probably what she'd say about telling all these other girls such a packful of lies too. I grin at Bobbie real friendly, squeeze her arm that's linked with mine, and then it's OK. "At night time, all of us kids climb up into the hayloft. We hunker down underneath the patchwork coverlets and tell stories. You can hear the horses in their stalls beneath the floorboards munching their oats or stamping a hoof."

We pause as a whole line of first graders comes by us crackin' the whip around third base, a rooster tail of mud behind them.

Posted by Kimberly at November 29, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

"My grandma and grandpa Butler have a beautiful farm. A big, beautiful farm. Back in Oklahoma."

A red rubber ball comes shooting through the air right past us like a comet. Trent and Troy, the red-haired, freckledy-faced brothers gallop by on its heels, shooting us big grins that we pointedly ignore.

"—in the Winding Staircase mountains," I add for effect. This is brand new material. I think last time I said in the Ozark Mountains, which really isn't even a place in Oklahoma I don't think. But it doesn't matter much because none of these girls are from around there anyway. We're all transplants because all of our folks work for the stinky old tire company or Marathon Oil. Sometimes we kids argue about which one is better. As if our lives depend on it.

"In the Winding Staircase Mountains!" that idiot Troy is making fun of me now, wrangling and rolling the words around on his tongue like the hick they say I am being from Oklahoma and all and having a Southern A-C-C-E-N-T. My mom wants me to tell them that I didn't exactly come to Findlay, O-H-I-O in a busted down truck with a chicken crate on the top. But I don't. I shut my mouth. She says when I am old enough to read some fellow named Steinbrenner I'll understand. It has something to do with grapes and people being real mad. She likes to tell me the story about when she was a young woman with no prospects in Maud, Oklahoma and had to ride all the way to California in a Chevy sedan with her parents and her younger brother Bud to pick apples and oranges and grapes on the farms. And her dad, my grandpa Butler, wouldn't stop for love nor money to let them go to the bathroom because he was in such a hurry. So I guess this isn't the first time she's been plunked down in a strange place like a tornado delivered her, just like me right here at Bigelow Elementary.

"There's this red barn with a gigantic hayloft." I spread my arms out wide like one of those fishermen. "It sits way up on a hill in the middle of the valley. And there's a trout pond in the front. Filled with all kinds of rainbow trout." I look at them smugly, and brag, "I caught one once."

We walk from first to second base in step, strung together like so many pearls, leaving a trail of green and muddy footprints behind us.

"And at the Thanksgiving supper my Grandma Butler hangs these kerosene lanterns, like the ones they had in the olden days—"

Roberta Parks nods her blonde head to let me know that she knows exactly what I am talking about here. Ready to explain to Missy and Bobbie in case they don't understand.

—from the rafters." I pause, turn my face up to the gray sky that is now spitting little drops of water at us, hoping the teacher doesn't make us go inside. " And the whole place is lit up in a golden light."

Missy Burton. "Do the horses mind?"

Do they I wonder? There are eight of them today with their shining beautiful heads thrust out of their stalls, looking at the Thanksgiving spread. My mind is rambling. I'm painting pictures with my words across cheap gray paper like they give us in art class whenever the art teacher comes. "What do you mean?" I press Missy for more information before I dig myself in too deep.

Missy Burton. "Well, with all the platters of food set up on the tables in the middle of the barn aisel and all the noise with people dancing and your grandpa playing his fiddle."

I got that part from the Little House on the Prairie books I found in the open-concept Library that you step right into from your classroom. When the teacher shows it to me and my mom on my first day of school, she seems real proud. Sometimes in my story my mom, my grandma, and my aunts wear calico dresses with skirts that sweep the ground. I don't think I've said anything yet about the maple sugaring. "Nah, they kind of enjoy it. And every now and then someone goes over and feeds the horses all an apple or a sugar cube."

The girls are nodding their heads. Not bad.

Bobbie Odessa. "But what I want to know is do they really let you sleep up there?—"

Posted by Kimberly at November 29, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Just because I feel like torturing myself and therefore you too, dear reader. How would you like to have this handsome fellow in your backyard? I suspect that if our thoroughbred mare Shiloh a.k.a. the SOOOOOOOOOPer Model had had any inkling that when I traded her for percheron Toby she was going home to something like this, she would have loaded herself in the trailer.

Posted by Kimberly at November 29, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

The woman from whom I bought my Percheron Toby (Actually, I did a straight trade—one super-model thoroughbred mare for one behemoth draft) has the most stunningly handsome Friesian stallion at home. In fact, she wanted my thoroughbred for her breeding program. Prior to having the Friesian, she had an entire herd of minis. When she found this exquisite Friesian stallion for sale, she, being a trader by nature, proposed an exchange with the owner of said Friesian stallion. A herd of minis for one Friesian stallion!

And ... that's how she came to have her very own Friesian horse.

Bonus: Check out this darling video of 17.5-inch, 60-pound miniature horse Thumbelina. Smallest horse: How Tiny is the Sleigh?

Posted by Kimberly at November 29, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Alright ... Many of us have already established that we are hideously jealous about the fact that the art-of-fine-living diva Martha Stewart has Friesian horses. (See Fine Thanksgiving Dining in the Barn).

Here's how the impeccable Martha says she came to choose the breed—

josh: Your Friesians [horses] are absolutely stunning. How did you come to choose that breed?

Martha: A friend of mine introduced me to a Friesian breeder in Brantford, Ontario, by the name of Harry Witteveen. Harry is a charming gentleman with a great knowledge of horses, carriage driving, and competition. My friend’s horses (a pair) pulled a sleigh through deep snow—it was entrancing. I purchased four Dutch boys from Harry as a result: Meindert, Martyn, Rinze, and Rutger. They are 7 years old, and they now have a new alpha horse with them called Ramon.

I still don't feel any better about it.

Posted by Kimberly at November 29, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

French rider Olivier Garcia rides his horse Emir et Djugut inside a giant plastic bubble during training for the grand opening of the Stockholm International Horse Show at the Globe Arena in Stockholm, Sweden, Nov. 29, 2006. The three-day indoor horse show starts on Friday and is expected to have an audience of over 70,000 the biggest yearly event at the Globe Arena. (AP.)

This looks like a wonderful dream I'd like to have. Or one of the many snow globes sitting on top of my daughter's piano (although hers is a rather dusty collection!). Wonder how Olivier taught Emir et Djugut to walk inside a giant plastic bubble? Think they do any cantering in there? Airs above the ground? Is there Cirque de Soleil type music? My imagination is running wild ...

Leave it to the French—eh?

Posted by Kimberly at November 29, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

My 10-year-old daughter J. and her 15-year-old Andalusian horse Caprichosa. J. has known Caprichosa all of her life. Isn't that amazing?

Cap is recovering from an injury on her left hind leg. The vet's been out twice to look at her and says it now time for some gentle longing and other exercise. I'm no massage therapist, but I've been giving her the massage treatment too as best I can. We just pulled her shoes recently, so she's a bit tender too. This mare could live on air, and all of this just sitting around stuff has got her a little on the zatfig side.

Caprichosa is a belligerent, opinionated mare who also has a generous and kind streak a mile long. A year ago, she would have been chasing J. around this round pen the moment I walked out, I guarantee you. She wouldn't have hurt J. intentionally, mind you. She's just full of buggers sometimes. You either have this horse's love and respect, or you don't. And her love for J. is pretty deep. It works both ways.

I don't mean to brag here, but that's an awful lot of longe line, whip, and horse for a 10-year-old girl. And I think she's doing pretty darn well.

This summer, Caprichosa took J. on some adventures up in the Pecos mountains.

Related video: Ride a White Horse to the Mountains

Posted by Kimberly at November 29, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Hat tip: Hoofbeats

Do you like my breast collar?
His sheath was really dirty, but I cleaned it.
In the winter, his Ass gets really hairy.
Don't jump on him, sit down gently.
What a lovely Jackass!
She wants to breed to my stud.
There's nothing like 17 hands between your legs!
Can I pet your Ass?
He had a bad attitude, so we castrated him.
He's got a lot of stamina, you can ride him all day long.
Is she a maiden?
I wanted to breed to her stud, but he's all booked this season.
We'll be breeding tonight, want to watch?
He's really good at walking and pooping at the same time.
He didn't try to run away when we drove the nails into his feet.
He broke his leg, so they shot him.
She bites her baby if it behaves badly.
She's on a new diet, she's only eating grass.
She just got a new rack.
If he's not good, just grab his lip and twist it.
When I'm done riding him, you can have a turn.
They cut his toe off and he walks better now.
Don't worry, if he pulls her teats too hard she'll bite him.
He's much better if you ride him with a crop.
I jumped 4 feet high yesterday.
She's got a really nice, big, square butt.
What color are her gums?
The mother is black and the father is white, and the baby came out black and white.
He tries to kick me when I put my hand in his sheath.
Don't worry, it's normal for his mouth to foam.
All of her babies have been sold overseas.
I know she's going to have a baby soon because her butt is soft.
Her baby started walking about 20 minutes after birth.
Her body was covered in 4-inch long hair, but I clipped it off.
He has trouble mounting her because she's so tall.
She likes to roll in the dirt after her bath.
He has 23 kids by different mothers.
He goes outside in just a blanket.
He was about 6 months old when we branded him with an iron.
I have to use a stool to mount him.
If he's spilling his food on the ground, he might need a dentist.
I was listening to his gut sounds last night...
One testicle is visible, but I can't even feel the other one.

Posted by Kimberly at November 28, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Today the American Humane Society issued a statement about the probable causes of this accident that happened here in Santa Fe, New Mexico.

Investigations Indicate Movie Animal Accident Likely Result of Horse Instinct and Rider Unfamiliarity With Mount. During filming on Oct. 23, 2006, a quarter horse ran into a camera-carrying vehicle, severely injuring itself and its rider, Deryle Lujan, a professional rider/stuntman. Lujan was taken to the hospital in critical condition, and the horse's injuries were severe enough to warrant euthanasia on the set. The accident occurred in Diablo Canyon, west of Santa Fe, N.M.

Here's one possible cause—

The investigative reports noted that the horse had been trained both as a part of a four-horse wagon/stagecoach team and as a solo riding horse. In the scene in which the accident happened, the horse was being used for solo riding. It is believed, however, that during filming, the horse's wagon-team instincts may have caused it to cross in front of the camera vehicle in order to stay with or follow its "wagon mate," another horse (also being ridden solo) that was veering to the other side of the camera vehicle. When not being ridden, that horse was the "lead" animal in the same wagon team in which the ill-fated horse was the "wheel" animal.

Posted by Kimberly at November 28, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Bakarne over at Isadora (that's her horse's name) is a horsewoman after my own heart! From her training journal—

I think that on Wed, assuming it isn't storming, I am going to tack her up and then longe her the same way I did today and then just hop on for a brief walk around the arena. I want to try some of the tai'chi from my book, like feeling where my weight is distributed in the saddle and trying to move it to the center of my pelvis.

I love this type of methodical and thoughtful physical practice when I'm riding. My daughter's Andalusian (when she's not lame as she is right now) will carry me in lovely circles around and around the round pen without me holding the reins and I practice my basic vaulting seat. Thinking nice tai'chi types of thoughts.

We learned a great exercise at vaulting practice last weekend for making this type of connection through the pelvis and the core. I'll get out the video camera sometime this week and show it to you.

Posted by Kimberly at November 28, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

As I've been saying, I'm returning once again to vaulting, and that's going to take a lot of work. Why am I doing this I ask myself? Well, first of all, I love it. There's nothing else that really gets to me the way this beautiful sport does. And the brief brilliant moments when I experience truly dancing with the horse are the most incredible highs. Second of all, I have to get back into shape. Having just turned 45, I feel that I'm at a bit of a crossroads here. That it's either do or die. Well, that's what my vaulting instructor—a woman who's spent a lot of her life practicing fitness, horsemanship and ballet—tells me, anyway, and I know she's right. I'm not speaking of literal death here, but the kind of death that people like myself experience when they are not truly alive and in their bodies, moving about. I need to remember the lesson I learned when I broke my back and was trussed up in a back brace for a year—you know, the one about not taking my healthy body for granted and being grateful that I can move.

My vaulting instructor, who is not one to mince words, told me that I'm an athlete—funny, I've never been called that before, but guess it makes sense as a description for a woman who has spent 4 years leaping on and off of a horse—and to lose all of that athleticism would be a shame. She also told me that if I quit again, she's going to be really mad at me!

Something to think about as I'm doing little jumps over the vaulting barrel for what sees like the 600th time this week. It is possible that this is some kind of mid-life crisis. Well, I can think of worse ones. And, whatever it is, I'm not going quietly into the night!

Posted by Kimberly at November 28, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

How would you like to be trailed by a TV crew when you're trying to catch your horse? Chester's owner actually got him a massage at the end of all of this!

Concord Monitor. Chester, the black-and-white pinto horse who escaped from his paddock in Loudon last week, found his way home just in time for Thanksgiving, according to his owner.

"He is home safe and sound, and I had a much better Thanksgiving than I thought I was going to have," Sarah Gardner said.
...
Gardner had no luck until Wednesday afternoon, when a hunter spotted Chester in a farmer's field near Pleasant Street, about four miles from Gardner's home.

Gardner, trailed by a WMUR-TV camera, responded to the call with a bucket of food.

Read it all.

Posted by Kimberly at November 28, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Ooooh. Check it out! Who wants to go to Hong Kong in 2008? I would muck out stalls gladly to get to attend.

Volunteers sought for olympic horse events. Around 1,800 Volunteers will be recruited by the Equestrian Company to help make the Olympic Equestrian and Paralympic Events in August and September 2008 respectively in Hong Kong a smooth operation. The role of the Volunteers is to complement the work of the full- and part-time staff. Their prime duties are to assist athletes, working staff, spectators, guests and other visitors in 2008 and in August next year, when the Test Event will be staged.

Mr Lam said the Volunteers would undergo various types of training which included residential, weekend and evening training as well as on-site practice.

Applicants can be persons of all nationalities who have the right to enter and stay in Hong Kong during the training and service periods.

Posted by Kimberly at November 28, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

I have only "met" a couple of mustangs in my life. But I just discovered this fabulous blog by Andrea in Idaho, who has a beauty of a mustang named Tonka. And now I feel I know one a little better. Andrew writes about developing a relationship with the mustang horse as eloquently as she describes trimming his hooves—

As it was he was mouthing my back and licking snow off the leadrope and basically being distracted. He stood like a rock whenever I picked up his foot though
...
I've spent some time with him the last few days, just grooming and messing with feet. He's a sweetie and I am so looking forward to our lives together. I have very high hopes for this guy. Not that I expect him to become famous or great or anything, but I do think we'll have a lot of good times together.

Definitely check out Mustang Saga.

The blogosphere. Horse-o-sphere? Equestrosphere?! (Help me out, here people! What should we call this medium we're writing and conversing in?) is growing growing growing.

Posted by Kimberly at November 28, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Oh my gosh. You must. You must check out this Flickr photostream by cenz. What magic and evocative images are wrought!

Following up on my previous and very wise post Our Kids and Our Horses.

Me: Hey, C.! Do you want to come vaulting with us this morning?

C.: Nope.

Me: You know I bet you can talk Marcy into a big old whoop-de-doo canter on her gigantic Irish Draft horse for a few times around that circle!

C.: Nope.

Me: Boy, you should see that Shakespeare, C. That Irish Draft horse looks just like something King Arthur would have ridden himself.

C.: (Silence.)

Me: Did you know that vaulting is one of the types of riding the medieval knights used to prepare for warfare? This is the kind of riding those ancient warriors did. I'm talking real macho man stuff here, C. In fact, I'll bet it would be helpful for ... uhm ... jousting.

C.: (Smirking now, because he knows I'm pedaling as fast as I can.) Not interested, Mom.

Posted by Kimberly at November 28, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Bill over at Our First Horse writes about their 10-year-old son's current lack of interest in their two horses—

Well, we had hoped he’d take to the horses more than he has and would write some posts here and there. It hasn’t happened. Yet. We haven’t given up hope but he’s not showing much interest. Mikki and I can’t really understand this since we would have both LOVED to have had a horse at his age ...

When we bought J. and C. their POA pony Thor several years ago, had him secretly delivered before breakfast, pretended there was something odd going on down at the barn that the whole family had to go investigate after we finished our huevos rancheros, and lo-and-behold, when we got to the gate there was a handsome, spotted, blue-eyed pony waiting in the pasture, we expected them to be delirious with joy like my husband and I would have been had someone just given us a pony at ages 4 and 5. Truthfully, as kids who've both been around horses their whole lives, they were fairly casual about receiving a gift most kids could only dream about. (Dennis and I still laugh about how we each finally got that pony we'd always wanted when we were in our forties!) We had a hard time understanding that too.

So fast forward a few years later, and now I find myself with a daughter who is just about as horse crazy as I am. And when I understood the extent of her love for the horses, I gave her my prize—my Andalusian mare Caprichosa. My son is a different story, however. He loves his horse. He really does. But horses are not his passion, and I'm not quite certain that he understands what a privilege it is to have such a thing. And I'm sure he definitely has no concept of the financial cost.

Once when our family was riding up the Cave Creek Trail in the Pecos Mountains, we passed a group of hikers who told us they were from New York City. They knew the trail etiquette and stepped aside for us because we were on horseback. They seemed filled with wonder as we passed by. I could tell they were just dying to touch one of the horses. I know what it's like to live in a big city. How easily you can get disconnected from the natural world. So as I was thanking the hikers for letting us pass, I halted Caprichosa and asked them if they'd like to pet her. From the looks on their faces, you'd have thought I was offering them a handful of diamonds. I dismounted and explained to them what kind of horse she is and told them that she loves people, that she's quite friendly and social, to not be afraid, go ahead, they could touch her. You should have seen the looks on their faces when that lovely mare nuzzled them one by one. My kids still talk about that.

So, here's what I think. No, a parent can't wrangle or will a kid to be interested in horses, no matter how much a parent loves the whole equestrian life, unless we want to face the consequences of that later. As an avid horsewoman, and a mom, I've had to learn the art (and I'm still practicing, believe me) of standing back and letting my son (whose definitely not as wild about horses as I) find his passion. And, in the meantime, there's a horse in the barn who is his, who is suitable and safe for his skill level and helps him feel a sense of accomplishment when he does ride (and he digs the whole mountain trekking thing). I can also use his horse myself and for packing into the mountains or as a guest mount. She also seems to have potential as a vaulting horse too!

For what it's worth, this works for us. Although all of that hay sure is hard to pay for sometimes.

Posted by Kimberly at November 28, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Pet Artist Connie Moses has published some gorgeous photos here and here of carriages and horses in Acadia National Park in Maine.

Our yearly horse vacation in Acadia National Park Maine was unusual in many ways. We have enjoyed the carriage roads in the Park for the last 14 years with our horses stalled at Wildwood Stables and us camping on the Wildwood grounds.Anyone who visits Acadia and the Bar Harbor area will appreciate its beauty and unique ocean panorama from Mr. Rockefeller’s 57 miles of carriage roads, Cadillac Mountain, and the several other peaks of Mount Desert Island. Read it all.

Oh, that looks like a fabulous time. Especially with the many miles of carriage roads. It's hard to imagine a day without seeing automobile traffic in this world, isn't it?

We took a week-long vacation in the Pecos mountains with our children several years ago when they were 5 and 6. Packing up two little children and a trailer load of horses for a week is exhausting, but once we got up there it was one of the most relaxing and invigorating weeks I've ever had. It was funny how all of the horse folks camping out at the Jack's Creek base camp in their trailers were sound asleep in their beds the moment the sun went down. That's what days filled with mountain air and horses will do to you!

Unfortunately, Acadia National Park is too long of a haul from here. But I sure enjoyed it vicariously.

Posted by Kimberly at November 28, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

The White House Christmas Tree arrives by horse drawn wagon, Monday, Nov. 27, 2006, at the White House in Washington. The tree comes from Crystal Springs Tree Farm in Lehighton, Pa. The farm won a national contest to have its 18-foot Douglas fir tree displayed in the White House. (AP)

The highlight of the season: We cut down our own Christmas tree each year.

Although we deliver ours to our home in the back of a pickup truck and not by horsedrawn wagon (not quite as charming as the White House process!). Our local U.S. Forestry Department Office sells permits for a pinon every year for $10 to $15. While I hate to cut down a tree, it's part of the US Forest Department's plan to get the big pines growing again up on the mesa above my house. The trouble is, the trees look so much smaller out in there in the middle of thousands of acres filled with trees, and I tend to get greedy. We've brought him some giants a few times that barely fit way up into the clerestory! That sounds cool, but my house is not all that big.

Posted by Kimberly at November 28, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Crystal over at Crystal and Cookie writes about giving her horse a trim with the clippers yesterday.

First thing, I clipped Missy. She hadn’t been body clipped in a long time and is sensitive about some parts, so I was cautious about how she was gonna be. I planned on doing this over a series of days, doing what I can each day. Anyway, she was completely, awesomely behaved.

All of my horses have wooly ears and whiskery muzzles. Their fetlocks are shaggy. We are quite uncivilized over here. They're not stabled, but pastured with a loafing shed. And we don't show. At least right now we don't. The last time I clipped someone was when we took Caprichosa to show and tell at school! Crystal's post has reminded me that desensitizing a couple of my horses to the clippers would be a good winter project.

Posted by Kimberly at November 28, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

It is the biggest lie I've ever told. And once it jumps out of my mouth like a slippery green toad, there is no turning back. The story is as undoable as what Pastor Rich says is the work of Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior on the cross on Easter Sunday. I hold my breath. Gauge their response.

Roberta Parks. "Start again. Back at the part where there are wreaths of wild flowers hanging on the door of every horse's stall."

Stunned that she's got my story down nearly word for word, the relief whooshes right out of my mouth like the air out of a balloon at a birthday party, and boy howdy they are still believing it.

I've got the joy, joy, joy joy, down in my heart.

Missy Burton. "Did you really get to sleep in the hay loft?"

Down in my heart.

Bobbie Odessa. "Oooooooh." The freckles on her nose all squish together. "That would have been itchy."

Down in my heart. To stay.

Roberta Parks. "I bet it sure smelled good." (We all breathe in the tinny morning air, trying it out, and get a good whiff of the Cooper Tire plant instead.) "Too bad you aren't going there this Thanksgiving."

All three girls' faces are filled with agreement as solemn as the lead-looking sky. They are absolutely right.

At this point, I figure I'm going straight to the pit of hellfire and damnation anyway. So I might as well make it good. My audience is eyeballing me expectantly. I survey the playground to buy myself a little time before the next installment of the grand tale. Lay heavy eyes on the tether ball poles, the jungle gymn, the merry-go-round, my mind racing. Set my sights far off into the distance beyond the postage-stamp yards. The slew of dead brown lawns. The crackerbox houses, as my mom likes to call them, newly risen out of the dirt like Lazarus himself. I'm pretty sure Missy and Bobby and Roberta all think I am doing some heavy remembering.

Missy Burton chews a piece of her mousy brown hair, twisting it around and around her finger until I'm feeling kind of winsome like and think about reaching for a strand of my own, but my mom has nearly broke me of that habit. Nasty, she calls it.

We lock arms and begin our recess-long stroll around the kickball field. The rain-glutted sod squishes beneath our tennis shoes. It doesn't hardly have any roots at all and once a boy got in some serious trouble for rolling a piece of it up like a carpet right after the nursery men put it down. And I start telling the bald-faced lie once again. Right from the beginning.

As I have every recess this week to any kid who'll listen.

To be continued. I'll finish both this story and A Hard Night Sky this week!

Posted by Kimberly at November 27, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

This is a wonderful story. Can you imagine riding blind?

The Journal News. PEARL RIVER - A little more than a year after she resumed horseback riding after being forced to stop when she became blind, Alison Dolan is now a champion.

This month, she won the Exceptional Challenge Cup at the American Royal Horse Show in Kansas City, Mo.

Dolan, 45, outperformed nine other riders with varying disabilities to win the award.

"I was holding my breath when they announced the runner-up," she recalled. "When they said my name I almost jumped out of my saddle, I was so thrilled."

Dolan was the first blind rider to compete in the event.

Read it all.

Posted by Kimberly at November 27, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Jessica Klein and Shammy, her 15-year-old horse, take a walk in heavy snow in Vancouver, British Columbia following riding lessons November 26, 2006. REUTERS (CANADA)

I love riding in the snow. Although we haven't had a single flake so far this year.

Do you use special shoes for winter riding? My horses go barefoot each winter. We don't really get enough snow here to warrant the other.

Posted by Kimberly at November 27, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

What kind of equestrian activity can you do when it's too cold and too dark outside to ride?

After my terrible mounts at equestrian vaulting practice the other day, my vaulting instructor told me my homework is 50 jumps over the vaulting barrel every night.

The problem with my mount right now is that 1) I can't seem to get off of the ground right now; and 2) I'm turning into the horse, which is completely incorrect form, and if you're not careful you'll find yourself underneath the horse.

Posted by Kimberly at November 27, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

The title sums it up, really.

I choose to think of this as my hard-headed example of the indefatigable nature of the human spirit in the face of overwhelming odds. ;-)

I have serious conditioning to do.

Posted by Kimberly at November 26, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

In order to get here, you have to do this first.

Competitive vaulting was brought to the United States by Elizabeth Searle from Germany in the late 1960s. (With over 100,000 vaulters, vaulting is considered a prerequisite for riding in Germany, and over 50 percent of German riders holding competitive licenses were vaulters in their early years.) She attended a vaulting display at the Olympic Games of 1956 in Stockholm on a visit from America and realized immediately that the United States Pony Club would benefit by the inclusion of vaulting in its program in terms of safety, opportunity, preparation for riding, and fun. When she took over the running of a riding school with a high accident rate, she insisted on all pupils gaining a proficiency certificate in vaulting before being allowed to join a riding class. The accident rate dropped dramatically.

Posted by Kimberly at November 26, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

My 10-year-old daughter J. vaulting on the handsome Irish Draft Horse Shakespeare this afternoon. Here, she's working on her seat at a trot.

Want to learn more about vaulting or schedule a lesson? We're in the greater Santa Fe, New Mexico area.

Posted by Kimberly at November 25, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

But I did it!

The Official Site for the Percheron Horse Association of America. Long before the invention of the motorized truck and farm tractor, the Percheron draft horse provided the power to build and feed our nation. Now this noble horse provides the power, substance, beauty, and style as America's work and recreation horse for the twenty first century.

History and origin of the breed. Except for the recent past, the history of the Percheron breed is not exactly clear. The Percheron Horse did originate in the province of Le Perche, near Normandy, France. The ancestors of the modern day Percheron served as war horses carrying knights into battle instead as draft animals in the field. Those horses were light, sure-footed and spirited. As agricultural pursuits began to take precedence over battles, these horses were bred more for size, weight and strength. The French, however, kept very few records regarding breeding which allows for speculation on the breeds true origins.

It is widely believed that the Arabian horse played an important role in the development of the Percheron. By the time of the crusades, the Percheron breed was widely recognized as outstanding for his substance and soundness, as well as for his characteristic beauty and style.

By the 17th century horses produced in Le Perche had attained widespread notoriety and were in demand for many different uses. The Percheron of this time showed less scale and easily