What Happened to the Fun?

 

 I was out front planting bulbs today, a really nice mild day for November and a light mist coming down on and off.  The neighbor girl and two of her friends were out riding her horses

around our dirt roads and giggling and talking and having the best time.  The neighbor girl seems to be an accomplished little English rider but her friends maybe not so much.  There were three girls but only two horses and they kept stopping and changing who was riding who and who was in front etc.  Then they dropped off one girl up the road and I heard her say "ready, set, go!"  and the two horses came flying down the road with the girls giggling like crazy.  I could barely watch, my stomach was flip flopping and I was sure somebody was going to find out just how hard that road really is.  But it sure made me smile too and remember how it was to be 12 or 13 and fearless.  Horses should be fun dammit!  What happened to all that stuff?  I turned 55 this week and most of the people I ride with are my age or older and we're all damned careful!  I want that fun feeling back and I'm gonna get it!  As long as I don't have to find out how hard that road really is.  :)

Ok, so we do manage to have some fun!

Herded up a Tree....by a Border Collie

Reuben the orange cat, named for the kid at the feed store who was giving kittens away, up in the pear tree yesterday.

Chloe, the sweetest, deafest Border Collie in the world, kept him up in the tree for quite a while.  She even missed regular dinner hour.

Husband or Turd?

My job keeps me crazy busy in the spring and early summer and gives me some down time in the fall and winter.  This is great except I live with a husband who retired at 55 after 35+ years at the same job.  He's now 61 and pretty well settled into the retired life.  He loves it and deserves it.  But.....it makes for alot of togetherness during the winter when the weather is cold and snowy here.  We are both outdoorsy types but not so much the winter sport type.  I keep busy with my horses (which he is not an active part of other than feeding when I'm gone and stacking hay) artwork, cooking  and living life as a domestic goddess during my off time.  He, on the other hand doesn't do much in the winter. 

 Here's my trouble.  I had this brainy idea to begin some creative writing this year while I'm off,  something I've always dinked around with.  But to pay more attention to it and see what came of it.  The other day I was clicking away, my computer sits in a corner of a big dining room, and everytime he'd come near I'd panic and x out like I was doing something wrong!  And that's how it felt, sort of wrong in some self-concious, guilty way.
Errrrggh.  So I figured I'd just come clean and tell him that I'm experimenting with some creative writing.  I didn't go so far as to say the word "Blog" because I'm feeling even more self conscious about that.  His response first response was, of course, "huh?"  Then "oh that sounds like something S---- would be doing." 

S---- was a friend who we always poked a little bit of fun at (ok more than a little bit) because she was so into self improvement she was a cliche.  She wrote poetry, attended women's retreats where they did Tai Chi and drum circles and looked at themselves in all their special places with hand mirrors,  ad nausem.  Don't get me wrong, I'm all for getting in touch with oneself, she was just too damn serious about it.

So comparing my little venture into creative writing to HER didn't sit real well with me.  Instead of laughing and agreeing and letting it go I had to go and get worked up for about five minutes.  Then I was over it.  That was yesterday morning and I'm still paying for my five minutes of drama by suffering the Silent Treatment.  Ok well he's not completely silent but very subdued.

I'm already feeling pretty self-indulgent about writing anything in a blog. I mean really, seriously how could anybody be interested in reading about what I do?   And then having the gall to actively seek out people to read it.  Yikes, who do I think I am?

I know that I don't want to share it with hubby that's for sure. Probably not even friends yet.  My question is, do other women who blog share it with their significant other?  Am I weird for feeling this way?  Am I married to an unsupportive turd?

Pumpkin Party

I channeled my inner child yesteday and carved three of the

big pumpkins that hubby grew

 

  Those cheap little carving saws they sell for pumpkin carving are great!  Why didn't I     ever use one of those before?  Anyway you can really carve them up lickety split.  Plus the guts of these pumpkins aren't all slimy like the store bought ones I've always had.     Anyway I was like a kid waiting for it to get dark enough to light 'em. 

                                    The orange cat posed himself perfectly.

                        Woke up to this!  Pumpkin party overnight or crime scene??

Say it Ain't So!

                            

Fickle fall weather never fails to get me when I'm not looking.   We actuallly got some snow in the higher elevations today and a dusting down here in the valley.    I say "actually" but it isn't abnormal at all for this time of year where I live.  The weather can change on a dime. That's why I never can figure out why the first major change of weather from Fall to winter-like is such a blow. 

 Even so, fall is my favorite time of year.   Maybe because it's so bittersweet.  I've always been a sucker for that kind of emotion.   Everything gets so bright and intense like it's saying "look at me, look at me!  I'm leaving soon but don't forget me!"

The garden was put to bed a few days ago,  more tomatoes on the ground than we harvested all summer.  But that's typical too, our growing season is short.

I'm glad to have gotten in one more camp trip with the horses last week.  I'm betting the canyon where we rode and camped is a winter freaking wonderland now.  I'm happy to report that the horses stayed where they belonged in camp this time.   I wanted to be extra safe so I bought new rope for the highline, even though nothing was wrong with the old, it was just, well, old.  The first night I heard a lot of hoof-pounding ruckus and there was the gelding sittin' like a dog with his back foot up over the leadrope. He had sort of  hogtied himself.  The new rope stretched like a rubberband.  Once that was dealt with the rest of the trip went smooth as silk.  We all agreed we'd never seen better fall colors.  Alot more than our usual yellows and golds.

So for now I'll keep those colors bright in my mind.  That'll have to do.

The Breakout

 I thought my horse shared a deeper bond with me than he does.  It’s a disappointment.

There we were camped on the edge of the wildnerness.. Staged and ready for  adventures into it.  Fall!  My favorite time of year.  Everyone had their own rig, we had food, drink and heaters!   This was to be one of our last camp trips before winter, yeeehaw!  And two beautiful rides we had before the Great Electric Fence Failure. 

Ever use an electric fence when you’re horse camping?  Don’t.  I’m pretty sure one of those couldn’t keep in a three-legged pony.   Between you and me, I totally blame the breakout on my friend’s horse.  My two would never consider doing a thing like that.  Right. Regardless. Much fun and frivolity was going on that night. We ate inside one of the bigger rigs for the first time that trip due to the wind.  And we toasted our good fortune and good rides and felt blessed to be doing what we love with dear friends. And we heard nothing. 

We started tracking at about 9:30 that night with headlights and flashlights.  Boy it was cold at 6500 feet in October.  Those damned horses were everywhere it looked like.  At a cattleguard they came to a screeching halt and called a meeting, which way to go?  They headed back, no they doubled back, no they went off into the sage. There they were on a side road, nope wrong again.  At about 1am we called it quits and waited for daylight.

It’s hard to lay down and think of sleeping though with  those black, black thoughts running around.  If this turns out badly, I’m DONE.  I’ve been tested too many times.    Where were those stupid guardian angels of mine anyway.  Off duty again?  What was life going to be like without horses when I was forced to call it quits?  It looked like an empty hole.  Linda Parelli’s horses would have come skittering back to her, jumped in her lap and probably kissed her.  My stinkin’ horse knows his name, he comes running across the field at home for a treat, why not now?   He lives for food, why not at least come back for the food?  One of them is badly injured, they’re all sticking together.  One of them may be dead, tangled in barbed wire with a broken leg. 

Morning and not much talking, just taking care of business and getting going.  Lot’s of driving, lot’s of hiking, lot’s of speculating.  No horses.  The most gentle amongst us  quietly and apologetically asked “do you have your gun, uh umm, just in case?”

A tiny patch in the sagebrush, point your cellphone just right at 5 degrees past Venus, a little left of Mars and voila, cell service! Calls were placed to the local authorities.  No local resources were available, best of luck to you. The guy at the Forest Service office said “so are you saying the horses were stolen?”  In hindsight why didn’t I say yes!  He said “have a nice day!” before he hung up.   I sort of lost it at that point.  Calls were placed to friends at home.  People were getting into place to help us on horseback tomorrow. 

Later in the afternoon, one more drive to the cattleguard area; one of us had a feeling.  There’s the stupid brown cow that looks like a horse from 500 feet.  No stupid, that’s the stupid brown cow.  Yes I’m sure.  I’m strung pretty tight and nothing or nobody is moving or thinking fast enough for me.  Hate it when I get this way.  All of a sudden I’m screaming, yelling and crying and my friend is freaking out.  Then she sees ‘em too, about 300 feet off in the sagebrush.   I slam the truck into park, jump out and start making my way thru the waist high sagebrush as fast as I can go. For some reason I’ve got one junior sized lead rope and a bunch of baling twine in my hand.  Damned if those stupid horses didn’t just stand there and stare at me.  Didn’t even offer to step a foot in my direction. Not like Linda Parelli’s horses.   It took forever to get there, I was sweating and panting and crying a little. Then the long walk back to camp with my friend driving the truck. 

The little mare left quite a lot of hide somewhere in her travels, the geldings seemed fine.  They were thirsty and hungry but no worse for the wear.  None of ‘em were talking.  We’ll never know their story. 

Guess I passed another test.  I don’t have to keep that promise to myself. Until the next test comes along.  Guess this means life won’t look like that empty hole.  Thank you guardian angels, thank you horse gods.  My horse doesn’t have that fairy tale bond with me that every girl wants it seems.  That’s okay.  I’ll take what he gives when he wants to give it.  And go back to using a highline.

 

Finding Herman

Have you ever had one of those kinds of colds that make your head feel like you’re underwater and you can actually hear the roar of the ocean in your ears?  The kind of cold where you really have to marvel at the amount of pure snot that any one human body can produce.  You’re sort of swimming inside your own head.  But, and here’s the big thing, have you ever blown your nose so hard that something actually spurts out of your eye??  Believe me it’s as weird as it sounds. It is a pretty complicated duct system up in there though.  It’s like a projectile tear is what it is.  Anyway that’s the kind of cold I was getting over on the day when me and my horse Molly found the dead body. Well a skeleton-y body, in a narrow wash in the hills on the east side of the valley where I live.

I say “my” horse Molly because I always do but she really belongs to my step-granddaughters who live out of state.  Their dad thought they needed a horse to call their own when they come to visit.  That’s sure not very often and it turns out they prefer quads to horses anyway.  But that’s a whole other story.  Anyway I’m happy to have little Molly here with me and I try to take her out for a spin as much as I can even though she’s not my main riding horse.  She’s a barely 14hh Spotted Saddle Horse with two dark crackly blue eyes outlined in black eyeliner.  Very dramatic!  She’s built like a small tank so I don’t feel too badly asking her to carry my 6’ self and I got over feeling foolish on her when I found out what a kick she is to ride.  When she gaits it’s like riding a wind-up horse and it just makes me laugh.  Her little head gets to bobbin’ and her fat furry little ears are always perked ahead and she’s says ok where are we goin’ now and what are we goin’ to do next!  I love that kind of attitude in a trail horse.  So far I haven’t found anyplace she won’t go although she will offer an opinion at times.  But I like that in a horse too.  Opinions.  Sometimes they’re right.

Anyway  there we were bobbin’ along through this narrow-ish wash with out a care in the world heading for home. 

We came around a little bend and bam! Some animal or other had been digging at the edge of the wash where it met the bank and spewed out a bunch of rocks and dirt into our path.  Pretty big rocks too.

Caught my eye for sure and I’m saying to Molly what on earth could have dug all that stuff out into the wash and why?  She wasn’t the least bit interested  as she was feeling pretty purposeful about getting home.  Then I saw the reason for the digging.  Part of a ribcage was sticking up out of the dirt  and some kind of fabric was smushed up around it.  I don’t know why I kept going but I did. Maybe because you see bones out there sometimes.  Deer or what have you.  We got about 50’ past and I told Molly sorry girl but we gotta go back and check that out again. She did offer a brief opinion on that.

The fabric was actually part of a shirt.  Had a tag on it, size L.  There were buttons and button holes and a cuff and what looked like a knitted scarf all balled up and sticky looking.  I sort of came to and realized there were actual flies buzzing around on it and it was February and some kind of god-awful smell was making it’s way through my clogged ducts.

The authorities were summoned.   I still  hoped that it was somebody’s big family dog that they just happened to dress up in men’s clothing before they buried it.  I know,  pretty silly.  But I was worried the cops had come out there for nothing. Then I was worried they’d come out there for something.  Two detectives, a  couple of pokes with a stick and part of the pelvis was exposed, a few more pokes and there was the spine.  The remains were declared to be human.  Fully intact in a shallow grave as it turns out.

That night at home hubby and I hypothesized  and wondered and speculated.  We joked; Ribs for dinner tonight, dear?  Yes but perhaps a bit more meat on them this time please!  We googled human decomposition rates, we googled missing persons, we speculated some more. We were dumbfounded.  Practically in our backyard!  Well ok, across the valley but in a place I ride all winter long!   We had a drink or two to calm our nerves and toasted To Herman!  Yep I named him, guess that means he’s mine.  The porkchop on my plate looked disgusting.    Later on.  Just me.   The morbid thoughts, the awfulness of it all.  Does anybody miss him, will anybody be sad?  Or worse, what if nobody has missed him, what if nobody is sad?  Is life really so cheap and meaningless? What were his last minutes like?  Eeew. Why did I find him, is there some cosmic reason that I chose to take Miss Molly on a ride on that particular day in that particular wash ?  Or is everything just random like my jaded self tends to think?  I mean come on, what’s it really all about Alfie?  The ocean roars, the waves pound.  I’m swimming inside my head.   I blow my nose hard and something spurts out of my eye.  It’s like a projectile tear is what it is.