I finally return with the right bridle in hand to find my children's house guest--the barely-thirteen-year-old who's all arms and legs and tangled blond hair down to her bony shoulder blades, the one who seems oblivious to her own pale beauty, as if mirrors simply didn't exist, and who's hardly been around horses, having spent most of her life in the city--with her skinny arms wrapped around Teyla's neck in a sweet embrace, long fingers intertwined in her salt and pepper mane, head pressed against the appaloosa mare she hasn't a clue is made out of steel and granite.

I start to tell her that the horse really doesn't like much hugging, that she was a rescue from a series of bad situations, and that she's really not big on the mooshy gooshy stuff, she likes her room, you see--but instead of tossing me her usual long-suffering glance, the gritty Teyla turns her head towards me and sighs, eye softening.

And I don't.

Posted by Kimberly on January 27, 2008 | Permalink | Comments (3)

The Daily Galaxy -- The Consumer Paradox: Scientists Find that Low Self-Esteem and Materialism Goes Hand in Hand.

“Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need.” ~From the movie Fight Club, based on the novel by Chuck Palahniuk

Mad Magazine summed it up with the statement, “The only reason a great many American families don't own an elephant is that they have never been offered an elephant for a dollar down and easy weekly payments.”

I sound like a curmudgeon, but here goes--

I wore overalls to high school. My mom sewed all of our clothes. I spent most of my free time on the back of a buckskin quarterhorse. As a kid, my idea of a big day was hanging out in the woods. On Friday nights after the football games, we went to the IHOP and indulged in too many pancakes.

Doesn't this little girl in the Juicy Couture ad look like she's 11 going on 30? (I've got Juicy Couture and Bratz in my sites these days.) I think it's a bad idea for a fresh, beautiful child, or any child for that matter, to be walking around with "juicy" emblazoned on her chest. I think the reasons are obvious.

OMG -- and now we have Juicy dogs ...

The tenacious heeler sisters would have this Juicy Couture dog hoodie eaten up in about five minutes. Four, if I fed it to them by hand.

I was driving home last evening with the kids, and the farther away we got from civilization and the closer to our little ranch, our oasis, our refuge, the better I felt.

We spend a fortune every year and make some big sacrifices to send the kids to a private school, complete with farm animals and farm chores (yes, I pay good money so my kids can shovel horse, goat, llama, sheep and pig manure in a well-rounded learning environment with a superb student to teacher ratio while still paying for the sub-standard public schools in my own poverty-stricken state with its fat, delusions-of-being-president governor who's too busy campaigning to pay any attention to education), where they are to a large degree protected from what I'm increasingly realizing is ... my very own culture.

Next year, my daughter--who announced to me yesterday that her intention is to be an honor student and go to Harvard as I drove on silently and pleasantly shocked--will be wearing a uniform to middle school. Whew, that's a relief. One less battle I'll have to wage on the cool clothing front.

I think having kids around horses and involved in outside activities helps push back at this culture I'm finding is increasingly in my face. And theirs. Wherever we look it seems.

There's so much stuff out there to distract anyone who's one iota awake from contemplating the riches, the complete and abundant wealth that is to be found inside each and every one of us. I worry that it snags the little ones early and it doesn't easily let go. Unless someone shows them another way.

Whoever said that being a parent is not for wimps was absolutely right. Frankly, just being alive and getting up every day is not for the faint of heart either.

If you ask me, I'd say we're all rather heroic.

Posted by Kimberly on November 14, 2007 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Wisdom calls aloud in the street, she raises her voice in the public squares. Proverbs

Anne over at Smells Horsey writes about her daughter dressing up her horse Buddy in horsey pajamas and all kinds of cute things. And she's relieved her daughter is spending her money on horse clothes rather than on "tight pants for herself that say 'Juicy' across the butt."

I hear that.

Those "Juicy" pants are right up there with the Britney Spears- and Paris Hilton-inspired Bratz Dolls and their equally annoying Petz, both of which I really dislike. To me, these Bratz are like caricatures of girls. Cartoons of the feminine. And poorly drawn to boot. They are someone else's rather uninspired idea of femininity. Not mine.

And I wonder. Why would any mother allow these kinds of societal ideas--"Juicy" and Bratz--to be visited upon her daughters?

Instead of pants that say "Juicy", how about a t-shirt that says Good at Math. A Wonderful Friend. Barrel Racer. Plays a Mean Chopin. History Fanatic. Absolutely Hilarious. Kind. Insightful. Brave Adventurer. Best Sister in the Universe. Big Spirit Inside.

And if we want to go absolutely for broke on behalf of our daughters, because girls aren't all sweetness and sunshine like some old Mother Goose rhyme claims, they do contain the full gamut of emotions, how about Cranky Sometimes. Ill-Tempered. I am Competitive. Or I Get Mad About Things.

Continue reading "Juicy" »

Posted by Kimberly on October 18, 2007 | Permalink | Comments (0)

My ten-year-old this Sunday afternoon after I showed him the photos of the Hungarian horseback archery on Transylvanian Horseman. (Julian in Romania, you have inspired us here in New Mexico!) And this video of a horseback-archery competition in "The Valley" with Lajos Kassai and his students. I've found a couple of really interesting looking books on the subject as well. Here's a fascinating paper based on Kassai's techniques here-- How to Train Your Horse for Horseback Archery.

C. practiced the "Mounted Archery Shooting Positions" on page 15 of this paper on the vaulting barrel, and then we moved to the horse. I don't know anything about this sport, except that it is simply gorgeous, but it seems key to me that the rider has the kind of balance and independent seat gained from vaulting. So I felt competent to school the positions (in a very elementary fashion) shown in the paper.

Teyla, the appaloosa of steel, took this in stride. (She's been hunting many many times.) Branded with the Bar N on her left shoulder, she's originally from the Navajo Nation. I wonder if she has ancestral memories of hunters and bows and arrows buried down deep somewhere inside?

Continue reading "The Hunt" »

Posted by Kimberly on October 7, 2007 | Permalink | Comments (0)

This is the kind of moment that always takes my breath away in equestrian vaulting. Here my daughter is vaulting with sixteen-year-old I. today at the demo we did at the big dressage barn open-house. This was during the warmup. I. is sitting astride Irish Draft Shakespeare's neck with her legs in the cossack straps and J. is standing immediately behind the surcingle.

Each time I see this move, the phrase the wind beneath my wings comes to mind, as one vaulter supports the other.

From a stand, I. supported J. into a modified arabesque.

It always stirs me--this moment in equestrian vaulting when one vaulter supports another in such a profound way. Right now, without I.'s support, my daughter J. simply couldn't do this. But with the kind of confidence and strength this supported exercise stimulates, she will soon be able to soar on her own. And then, she'll be helping the others.

Hmmmmmm.... That's a nice model for living ...

Posted by Kimberly on September 22, 2007 | Permalink | Comments (0)

We had no word for the strange animal we got from the white man—the horse. So we called it šunka waken, “holy dog.” For bringing us the horse we could almost forgive you for bringing us whiskey. Horses make a landscape look more beautiful. --Lakota Holy Man Lame Deer

I love to watch my children and their horses.

It's impossible to tell from this photo, but the coat my daughter is wearing is just about The Rattiest Horse Jacket Around. The fleece is almost bare, the elbows are almost gone, the zipper works sometimes, and it will take a good deal of energy to part her from it. J. gets attached.

The only answer is when the weather gets cooler, this one won't be sufficiently warm, and then I'll switch The Horse Jacket out with a new one from the local tack store. Sneaky mom stuff. But not all that sneaky, because we still have The Horse Jacket prior to this one. A faded red affair with black horses that's hanging in the back of her closet and will most likely do so until she's at least in college.

Last night, J. did some vaulting on Caprichosa. This is very informal stuff. We use a halter and longe line, no side reins, and the very lightweight vaulting surcingle (that's all I've got at home right now) because of Cap's sensible and generous nature and the fact that she usually seems to enjoy it very much. Typical of her breed, she's highly intelligent, and seems to funnel the antics on her back through a refined sense of equine curiosity and a bit of bemusement. I don't believe the horse would tolerate it if we decided to get really serious about it with her, however. We just kind of hang loose, and keep it fun, and then she's thoroughly engaged in the process. It makes for good practice.

I wonder what my daughter--the one who gets attached, the one who keeps a clipping from Caprichosa's mane in a little medicine bag in her armoire--will remember about the Andalusian horse when she looks back on her across the years from the perspective of a mature woman? The horse who now carries her way up into the mountains through the sunshine and the hail to deep, high country lakes and lets her stand on her back while she walks quietly and carefully in circles, keeping all of that Andalusian power in check.

Will she think of the glimmer in the mare's eye, that hint of the big spirit?

Posted by Kimberly on September 18, 2007 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Look who just moved into the pasture next door.

Toby stands like a stone for hours on his side of the fence, willing, wishing, wanting the youngsters to come by for a visit. He jealously guards this stretch of wire all day long, and won't let any of the other horses near it. He doesn't seem to mind if J. joins him for a look, though. Even though she's a small creature from Toby's perspective, this little girl is one BIG friend.

(For the record, he stole her baseball cap immediately after I took this shot.)

Oh! Oh! Oh! (That's my best translation of Toby's whickering.) They're looking this way! Here they come!

(Breathe, Toby. B-r-e-a-t-h-e ...)

No one could ever accuse Toby of being unsociable.

Toby's newest buds.

Posted by Kimberly on August 25, 2007 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Oh, did I mention? I'm buying Goffert 369?

I'm starting my own Friesian show barn, you see. Goffert 369 and I will be slam dunking all those little kiddos at the local Breyer Horse shows in no time. I hope to be writing many interesting blog posts about how I've taken the plunge into the whole glamorous world of the Friesian show ring. And Martha Stewart can just eat her heart out. Wait until I have a dinner party in my barn.

Posted by Kimberly on December 23, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Ah... ha-ha-ha-hah! These two girls made their own commercial for Breyer horses. This is way too cute. I especially like the part where they tell you not to waste $150 on something like one of those American Girl dolls. (Which I think are very sweet, by the way.)

I've been getting the same er ... commercial ... for something like a year now in my very own home from my own daughter.

The white Andalusian arrived last week. Yesterday, even in spite of the snowstorms here, the marvelous UPS man (my hero) delivered the black Andalusian horse, the English (yes, I decided on English tack) saddle, two cattle dogs, and the cute little girl rider.

Santa Momma can now breathe a huge sigh of relief.

Posted by Kimberly on December 22, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

My 10-year-old daughter J. loves The Saddle Club television show. Ever see it? Very pretty girls in cool, hip clothes and very pretty horses having some excellent horsegirl adventures.

For two summers in a row when I was in gradeschool, my parents raked up the money to lease me a horse for a month at the local stable, which was filled with priveleged Pony Club girls who liked to rub the fact that I was just leasing right in my nose. I can relate so well to this (Or should I say I can soooo relate to this...) from The Abstract Gourmet.

The pony club on the other hand, stood for everything that I wasn’t. Privileged, polished, and perfectionist, and all the pluck and courage in the world did not stop Rocky (and I) drawing the scorn of the primped and plaited members of the pony club brigade. I despised them… Their perfect little ponies prancing around in circles with ribbons in their tails and plaited manes… They were the bourgeois and I was the proletariat. My rugged little pony and I would gallop through the bush jumping logs, tree stumps, fences, and generally causing mischief. I didn’t have a helmet, a crop, jodhpurs, riding boots. I had a hard head, a stick, some old jeans, and a pair of well holed K-mart special Traxx.

Read it all.

Posted by Kimberly on December 15, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Check out Patricia’s blog Experiments in Training Equines. This is a blog with soul.

She writes about her first horse. Later on, I would ride her into town (20 miles). Sometimes I would just use a little kite-string for tack. You could tie her with a thread to a parking meter on a busy street, or put her in hobbles on a grassy lawn. I loved to be riding down the street and encounter kids that wanted to go for a horsey ride. She didn't like to move fast, but she was as reliable as the sun in the sky. When we would camp out in the forest, I would sleep on the ground in my sleeping bag and my filly would stand over me like a mare does with a foal. The first time I woke up to find myself boxed in by four hooves, I thought it was a little scarey, but after a few minutes I felt perfectly safe and went back to sleep.

I slept in the barn with my percheron horse Toby not all that long ago. Good thing I had a tenacious heeler dog to keep an eye on him, although the worst thing he did while looming over me all night was to nibble my knees.

Posted by Kimberly on December 14, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

When we went on The Pony Quest several years ago for our then four- and five-year olds, we looked at all shapes and sizes of ponies. And I had to keep repeating this mantra to myself, temperament, temperament, temperament to keep me on track during what turned out to be The Great and Epic Search for the Right Pony.

When one seller led a round, licorice-colored Shetland pony mare from her barn, I was almost immediately in love, envisioning the kids on her back, trotting around the back forty like Bonnie Blue (wasn't that her name?) in Gone With the Wind. But the mare didn't exactly reciprocate my warm and fuzzy feelings. She’d just been removed from her filly.

About a quarter of the way through The Quest for the Pony of Ponies, I realized that if I was going to get a reasonable feel for any pony, I was going to have to ride him myself, no matter how silly I looked. This caused some raised eyebrows and chuckling from sellers, but no one complained, especially when I explained to them who the pony was for.

My husband and I were exclaiming just how beautiful the glossy Shetland was as I climbed up onto her bare back and gathered up a handful of her luxurious mane. We walked once around the arena, and then I asked for a halt, which she executed beautifully, considering she was carrying me instead of a child. While I was praising her to high heaven, she swung her petite head around glare at me with one mean little eye and sunk her teeth into right into my thigh.

Dennis tried not to snicker. The seller was apologizing left and right. I tried to retain was left of my dignity and ride the cranky beast forward.

We settled on a 20 something-year-old P0A gelding with one blue eye. Not a glamorous creature, Thor looked like someone had tossed bucket after bucket of paint at him in roan and red and brown and black and gray and white. And that old gentleman carried both of our children to high mountain lakes and alpine meadows with the greatest of care.

Because he knew if he didn’t, then I was going to have to ride him.

Posted by Kimberly on December 12, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

So here's the little rider I talked about in my previous post.

It's amazing to me the difference between this sweet little doll and this. Sometimes I wonder what we're teaching our girls, if Bratz dolls are what we give them to play with. Not to mention their creepy Bratz horses. Maybe I'm feeling preachy this morning, but it's difficult enough for kids to be kids today. To me, toys like Bratz send the message to little girls that it's okay to wear too much makeup and try to look like you're 35 when you're only 10 or 11, and that the mall and the food court are the centers of the universe.

Santa mom strikes again.

Posted by Kimberly on December 10, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (1)

Donna over at Velvet Cage has written a really funny post about horse toys. She's rolling her eyes at Hasbro's My Little Pony, Barbies horse Tawny, and that really creepy Bratz horse.

Like Donna, I didn't have a lot of toys as a kid either. And the toys I did have, I valued. I still have my collection of Breyer horses that I had as a little girl. My daughter J. has been eyeing them enviously for years. For a while there, when she was very small, I had to keep them hidden on the top shelf of the master bedroom closet. She's finally realized to stop asking me if she can have them. When I think about it, that's kind of funny. Because this is the same child to whom I gave my prized and very real Andalusian mare Caprichosa a few years ago. But its hands off on mom's Breyer collection!

So here's what Santa Claus is been up to this morning. The beautiful Breyer Andalusian stallion Templado will be under the Christmas tree this year. And I'm contemplating a little Breyer rider for him as well.

Here's a conundrum. Western or English tack?

Which would you choose for Templado?

This way in reverse from the way I did it. Like lots of girls, I had my stable of Breyer horses, long before I ever had a real one!

Posted by Kimberly on December 10, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

J. at her vaulting lesson. Here she's practicing her basic seat.

Marcy asked her to get herself organized up on Irish Draft Shakespeare's back, and then requested that she sing. It took a few moments for her to remember a song and then to work up the nerve to do it, but she began with a barely audible Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and by the end of the session was belting it out as Shakespeare trotted around and around the twenty-meter circle. Funny how the louder she sang, the more she unhinged her hips, the less tense she was, held the abdomen lightly, breathed in her upper body, and sat. She was glued to the pad.

Pretty cool.

Posted by Kimberly on December 4, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Found this post-it on the refrigerator this week. My 10-year-old daughter took it to heart when my equestrian vaulting coach gave me the homework assignment of 50 little jumps over the barrel every night this week in order to get me back into shape so I can mount again.

Let's see ... Wednesday is a "yes". Thursday is a "no". Tonight a definite "yes".

J. tells me she's going to give this to our equestrian vaulting instructor this Saturday. Kind of a "report" on ol' mom, I suppose. The downside of doing an equestrian sport with your kid? Well, it made me practice a bunch!

Posted by Kimberly on December 1, 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 on November 29, 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 on 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.

Continue reading "Our kids and our horses" »

Posted by Kimberly on November 28, 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 on 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 on November 25, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Improving the riders' tone and feel for the correct position is an essential part of the first two years' training at the Spanish Riding School, Vienna. (check out Classical Dressage)

Riding on the longe line teaches balance and the correct seat. It also inspires confidence, especially in the beginning rider. This is a very safe approach to teaching children. (And way fun.) It's excellent for the rider whose been overhorsed in the past (many kids fit into this category) and have had a bad experience. Riding on the longe provides a safe environment in which to help heal the fearful rider.

You need a solid horse (temperament, temperament, temperament), a good longer, an arena with soft footing (mine is pretty poor), a simple vaulting surcingle (you can use a saddle too), and a longe whip. (We weren't using a cavesson, bridle, and side reins here, since we're just starting with this horse and this was kind of an impromptu check-it-out session.)

This is quarterhorse Piñon's first experience on the longe since we've had her! I think she had been longed before, but I suspect in mindless circles just cantering around and around to blow off extra energy. Prior to putting the kids on her, it didn't take long to get her calmed down and help her to realize that she didn't have to go fast and that I wasn't going to chase her down with the whip. She is so gentle and agreeable, and settled pretty quickly into the idea that she can indeed just walk on the longe and it's OK. (In fact, it's very good.) I had her fairly relaxed with good control of her gaits and speed with just a halter and longe line.

Posted by Kimberly on October 26, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Where my ten-year-old daughter and friend ride Piñon for something like a hundred miles in the course of one rainy afternoon trailed by me and the cranky appaloosa camera horse.

J.'s horse Caprichosa is still recuperating from an injury, or they would have had her out here too!

Ah ... remember being 10?

I didn't have a horse. Just a hot-pink banana seat bicycle and a vivid imagination.

I rode around and around the cul-de-sac of our suburban Cleveland-area neighborhood and convinced myself it was a dressage arena and the pink bike a fabulous high-stepping, neck-arched, chomping-at-the-bit, midnight-black, warmblood stallion. As I recall, several of the little neighborhood girls had similar steeds, and we went for rousing gallops together down the asphalt.

Posted by Kimberly on October 13, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

I am so proud of these two.

Nine-year-old C. for venturing out there and wanting to ride another horse. He gets a lot of courage from his older sister, J. (She’s riding C.’s babysitter mare extraordinaire, Piñon (a.k.a. Miss Long Legs), here.)

And Teyla. Our little rescue horse. She’s come a long way from being the scared and distrustful mare we brought home almost a year ago. To be able to carry a little boy with such care, given her history of abuse and neglect, speaks volumes about the power of love and kindness to heal a wounded spirit. It’s been a joyful thing to watch this polka-dotted horse come to life.

Posted by Kimberly on October 10, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Horse + girl = energy.

Lovely.

Posted by Kimberly on September 14, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

I did a good half an hour of ground driving with Toby last night. We marched all over the field.

Yes, marched.

That Percheron’s legs are way longer than mine. And he has four of them. (Not to mention the advantage of his 4 tender years compared to my almost 45.) It would not be exaggerating to say that the big jet horse strode forward, all business, sleek hindquarters fully engaged, glossy tail swishing back and forth just above the ground, while I jogged along behind.

And I had help. My (now) 10-year-old-daughter J. trotted right along behind me, holding the trailing ends of the long lines, mirroring my every move. “I want to learn too,” she was saying, breathless, always aspiring to become a trainer. (Her legs are even shorter than mine.)

The three of us walked cruised through the pinon trees like some kind of strange and unusual train—

Big-Black-Steam-Engine Percheron.

Middle-Aged-Mom Freight Car.

Girl-Equestrian Caboose.

Posted by Kimberly on August 23, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Vernelle is one of our pensioner hens. She lays an egg every now and then. But officially she is retired.

She does not like my big Percheron horse Toby very much.

Mountain Dulcimer Sample 1 by Gurdonark

Posted by Kimberly on August 13, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Check out Michael Hinsdale's exquisite photos on Flickr.

We are hungry. Hungry for nobility, chivalry, sacrifice, honour. We are hungry for meaning, of any kind. Where is the meaning to be found? Charisophia.

After the Galisteo Rodeo and the regrettable missing of the mutton busting, my son C., whose ninth birthday is this weekend, has been asking me if he can please please have some steer roping lessons. Now this is a kid who doesn’t ask for much, and, after all, he tells me, working it pretty hard, he does have a big old quarter horse out in the barn. I mean, you gotta start somewhere, mom. Right?

Right ...

Continue reading "Steer roping and the hero's journey" »

Posted by Kimberly on August 9, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Mary over at Horse Bliss has one good Percheron! (Hey, where do I sign up for horse camp?)

Check out her yummy horse treat recipe and a real surrey with the fringe on the top (that I wish I could buy right now!).

Posted by Kimberly on July 31, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

For Marcy.

She asks the tall, lanky teenage boy if he has ever cantered on horseback before.

He stares back at her from behind the slightly bewildered gaze he wears most of the time.

“In Germany,” she tells him crisply, "and we will be doing only European-style vaulting here,” she reminds the rest of the group before returning her attention to the boy to see if he’s listening, “there are only two vaulting gaits―walk and canter.”

From astride the big draft horse, out on the circumference of the roughly twenty-meter circle, hands lackadaisically grasping the vaulting surcingle handles, Joseph’s dark eyes are hooded with heavy lids, rimmed with coal-colored eyelashes. His shining black braid swings to a lazy halt as the mare squares up and stops beneath him from a walk. His voice is barely audible as he shakes his head slowly from side to side, like he’s just been bombed out of bed after twelve hours of dead-to-the world, teenaged-boy sleep, and finally answers with a dull-edged, “No.”

Continue reading "The Sorceress" »

Posted by Kimberly on July 15, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

My two little ones. The way that my 8-year-old son wools on our 4-year-old Percheron, you'd think Tobias was an unusually large black lab! I guess that's what happens when you've been around horses since the day your were born. These two are very close friends.

Posted by Kimberly on July 9, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

in the medeival Welsh tales The Mabinogi of Pwyll Prince of Dyfed and The Mabinogi of Manawydan ap Llyr, Rhiannon was a daughter of Hefeydd the Old. Pwyll first met Rhiannon, when she appeared as a beautiful woman dressed in gold and riding a white horse. Pwyll sent his horsemen after her, but she was too fast.

As they were seated, they could see a woman on a large stately pale-white horse, a garment of shining gold brocaded silk about her, making her way along the track which went past the mound. The horse had an even, leisurely pace; and she was drawing level with the mound it seemed to all those who were watching her.

Posted by Kimberly on July 4, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Courage is ...

Continue reading "Courage" »

Posted by Kimberly on July 3, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

I want to go to horse camp too! (I'm sure my boss would understand...)

J. and C. are learning to post at the trot. I've sat in on a couple of lessons to see if I can pick up any clues about teaching riding from the instructor, whose been very gracious about sharing his knowledge. From my vantage point in the bleachers, as all of the little riders and ponies pass by me, I'm counting one-two, one-two, one-two under my breath! C. hasn't quite gotten this rising trot thing down yet, but he's getting there. It's fun to watch these young riders learn and progress.

They have the cutest little ponies at camp. But J. was has been the most excited about getting to ride a Level-4 dressage horse. She'll be talking about that for days.

Posted by Kimberly on June 30, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Quarter horse mare Piñon is boosting my 8-year-old's confidence in the saddle. We're wor