Objectionable White Stuff

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Around here? Snow, snow, snow! Just doesn't want to stop. Objectionable White Stuff, as many of you know I call it. The only thing around here that I like in white are Dario and Darling's pretty dresses. And maybe my truck. But the ground? Nope. It can leave anytime now, thank you!

I Object!

I came home, anxious to climb back onto Tika and continue her training. When I walked out to the barn, however, Lefty was rip roaring in such a manner and doing acrobatics in an effort to defy gravity, that Tika, too, thought a little hip hop about the round pen was in order. That was before I saddled her up, of course, but even while lunging her feet were floating a little freely. I bounced up and down in the stirrup a bit, and if I could have guaranteed no reaction from Lefty on the other side of the panels, I'd have gone ahead and climbed all the way up. But the last time Lefty saw someone on horseback, he snorted and dashed off, kicking and bucking as he went.

No need to tempt fate, I decided. I didn't think Tika would react while I was on top, but self preservation being what it is, I opted to haul her instead to the riding club where there were no Lefty horses to distract us.

I pulled my saddle out of the trailer and went back for Tika. Three riders were there, chit chatting quietly. Perfect. They were done with their ride and would be good back up if something stupid happened on our first ride in a week. I smiled, said hello, turned and looked toward the round pen, and...

Where was the round pen?

"Took it down. Clinic next weekend, getting set up. Was brought up at the last meeting, remember?" Um...oh, yeah... So Tika again wasn't ridden. Instead I lunged her a bit, and she was a good girl, impressing those that'd not seen her for a couple months. And then I loaded her up and headed south. South...because I needed to ride! Though by this time it was getting too late to do much on this particular afternoon, but at least if Tika were with Curt, I could get a few rides in this week before moving her home after the clinic. Probably best, anyway, after a week off to take my first few rides in familiar territory anyway, right?

So I left my red head in her stall, which I'd cleaned and bedded with fresh shavings the day I moved her out.

And when I woke up this morning? Snow... (that sound you just heard was my head banging on a wall, just so you know.)

Despite the objectionable white stuff, I did manage to make it down and work my girl, which went off without a hitch. But the forcast for the next few days appears a bit iffy, so I'm not sure that moving her south will get me any further ahead. But what else do we expect with Tika's training? A few days here, a few weeks there...just one more delay in getting our girl going solid, eh?

Beauty and the Punk

We've been hit with a winter blast...and it's not even Thanksgiving yet! My timbers are shivering...I need long underwear. Or maybe it's time to pull out the winter coveralls?

When I climbed out of bed this morning (4:30 am, I do not know why I was up at such an un-Godly hour) my thermometer said 11 degrees. Can we say cold? I think we can.

For some odd reason, my horses do not feel the cold. Maybe it's all those middle of the night feedings I've been doing, adding grass hay to their usual 2 flakes a day alfalfa diet to help them stay warm on these frost bitten days. I decided to turn Tika and Paisley out yesterday for a bit. I led Paisley through the round pen gate, and before I could close it behind me, she shot out across the frozen ground...lead rope flying out behind her. Sigh...

Wasn't long before Tika joined her...Beauty and the Punk, dancing around on the frosty ground. Crazy mustangs.

I grabbed a few shots...and came inside for my hot chocolate and contemplated why my horses felt like celebrating, and I felt like hibernating.

They're wearing their blankets, and I'm wearing a sweatshirt and my heavy coat, scarf and gloves. Without my layers? I'd be frozen just as solid as the water buckets. But not my mustangs...

They fly and dance and carry on like it's summer on the beach. Which it is not. It's winter, and ice covers the ground, and I'm worried about breaking a leg as I walk across the same ground that they feel is a raceway.

Someone once told me that if you don't shave your legs, they'll stay warmer in winter. Maybe that's the trick? My horses don't shave their legs...and look at all the energy they have! This is something I may have to think on a bit as I sit inside and sip my hot chocolate...

Rain, rain, go away...?

I thought it was going to be just another dark, gloomy, rainy day. I was wrong.

It's snowing.

Either that or there are a whole bunch of ghostly orbs at my house. But if that's the case, they must be crossing over to the other side and leaving their spirit bodies behind, littered all over my patio and lawn.

The jury is still out on whether or not snow is an improvement over rain, but I'm thinking not. Except that it may afford me some better photos when it comes to my daily challenge. After all, mud can only take you so far! And tomorrow's assignment is light. Snow is far lighter than mud, so for the time being, I'll take it. But it can all go away as soon as I click the shutter.

Yesterday as I was driving home I spotted a couple horses way out in a field and decided to shoot them. With the camera, of course. My original intent was to fiddle some more with the vintage look, but once home I began playing with layers on photoshop, coming up with this look. Darling says no, but I kinda like it. What do you think?

2, 3, 4...how much more?

It would seem eight is the number we stopped at. Eight inches of fresh snow sitting upon my ground. Eight inches of white mud...not nearly as lovely as Texas Tea, nor as valuable. But it's here. Again. I only hope it's a far briefer stay and that our roads are passable with a horse trailer by the end of the day.

Steve Holt! had a couple of nice work outs both Sunday and Monday. I spend a fair chunk of time setting up obstacles such as poles and cones, bridges and streamers in an effort to both desensitize him and get him thinking about where he's placing his feet.

In addition to working on trail, I'm taking a firm stance on head set these days. Sort of. Okay, maybe not firm enough. At the walk we've rather got it, but ask for a bit of speed and up it comes! But if nothing else it would seem I've got my left leg back where it belongs a bit more consistently.

Someone Make It STOP...

No sooner am I thinking maybe, just maybe we're heading out of the storm, than it blows back in. Darling had a friend come over and spend the night this weekend. When I left the house to bring her home, it had just begun to snow. 15 minutes later when I returned, the ground was white...again...

The roads were, in my estimation, a bit too icy to travel this weekend so Steve Holt! and I stayed home. On Saturday I led him to the round pen and it was, as I'd suspected, hard packed and slick. As such, I didn't spend anytime warming him up. Being brilliant like that, I then decided to go ahead and climb on his back. Now tell me, does this make sense to you? Too slick to lunge, but not to slick to climb on? Some days my thought process amazes even me. However, up and down I went, three times, and on the third time I asked him to walk once around. Because he has no whoa, we made an extra lap before coming to a stop. That was good enough, I decided, as neither one of us appeared to be real comfortable on slick footing. Not to mention, I need to get that whoa button working.

Sunday's training was nothing more than going for a walk. We went behind the barn and crossed the creek for the first time...running water a foot deep is not an issue, happily. We walked through the neighbor's field and out to the road where he was mildly on edge, but whether it was the new place, sights, sounds or just the howling wind, I did not know. I led him 20 feet down the road, then back into the snow packed field which hadn't had any horses, people or even dogs in it since the snow began. It was just white, crisp and deep. Steve Holt! decided it was perfect for a snow bath and dropped down to roll. First one side, getting up to shake, then a moment later the other side. This time shaking took all four feet into the air and he lept sideways, finding himself at the end of his rope. He threw me a dirty look and tried again to jump and play, but again found himself with a mother not allowing any fun. He's a good boy, and minded his manners as we finished walking home.

Darling and I walked down to the neighbor's arena both days so that she could ride Sandy. Snow melt has made a mess in there, so only half is usable. Half is enough, though, to learn to lope. The lighting is poor, as always in this particular arena, but you can see a happy girl on 'her' mustang. The wind was blowing and the arena door was slapping around; you can see Sandy spook at one point but Darling just sat and rode through it. I was very pleased with them both; she kept him relaxed and he decided there really wasn't much to get upset over.

Steve Holt!

That's right, throw your fists in the air and shout it like you just don't care...

STEVE HOLT!

We hit 50 followers today. Okay, Darling tells me it doesn't count because it was City Boy who finally filled up that last vacancy...but if we eliminate him, then we also eliminate her, and that actually puts me two people shy of my goal. What's a Desperate Horsewife to do? I tell you what she does...she counts those two and gives you better odds of winning, that's what! I'll draw a name and announce it tomorrow, so y'all better come back to see who won.





The snow is finally beginning to melt, thanks to above freezing temps the past 24 hours. You'd think that would make life easier, wouldn't you? But it doesn't. Not for a few more days at least. When this compact snow gets wet, you see, it packs down hard and becomes a layer of ice. So despite the fact that I've got icicles dripping off my roof, the footing beneath us is slicker than snot on a door knob. (Don't ask how I know...)

And because of that, Steve Holt! and I took it pretty easy today. I went out and saddled him up. I then led him out to the round pen where he wasn't too sure he wanted to do much. Can't blame him. Neither one of us are much into the Hans Brinker thing, and we don't own any silver skates.

Despite the lack of time over the past few days due to Christmas, I have been messing with his face, and as of yesterday was able to get up and around his ears. Given that, I pulled out a bridle and slipped the snaffle into his mouth. He objected. I won.

Today with things super slick, I didn't feel like the usual warm up routine of lunging and running my surveyor tape lunge whip over his head. I went straight for the kill. He objected. I won. Again.

Once he was bridled I led him straight back to his stall where the bridle and saddle both came off. Our time today was very short and very sweet.

With a little extra time I came inside and played with a few photos. I loved this shot of Steve Holt!'s face what with all that forelock and expressive eyes, but it's a bit out of focus.

Quick fix with Adobe was to hit the auto levels to give it a bit more depth and vibrant color, put an easy border around it and then use the craquelure filter. Makes it look like it was painted on a brick wall or something, doesn't it? But you can't tell it was out of focus like you could in the original.

Steve Holt! weekly update: week 2

And the snow just...keeps...falling...

Yesterday when I woke up I walked out into a whopping 8 degrees. The horses had pretty much emptied the water tub, but when I went to the faucet it was frozen. I grabbed a couple of buckets, came inside, filled them with hot water, then went back out and dumped the water on the faucet. Problem solved.

No. Problem not solved.

Hose was frozen. I'd drained it the last time I used it, but evidently there was enough water left somewhere in there to create a blockage, so back inside with the buckets, and back out with steaming hot water to dump onto the hose.

Didn't work. Although I did manage to get myself nice and wet, and instantly found myself with ice covered cover alls.

I've heard some folks put their hoses in their bath tubs to thaw them. That wasn't going to work. The hose wasn't exactly coiled up nice and neat...it was long and stiff and I wasn't about to try to drag it through the house while everyone was asleep to the bath tub. Not to mention I'd have to shed all my clothes, including the ice covered cover alls, before setting foot inside. No...that wouldn't work. Instead I decided I'd stuff the hose into the washing machine.

Remember when I said the hose was stiff and not coiled? Stuffing it into the wash was rather like putting 3' spaghetti noodles into a pot without breaking them...you just stand and wait for them to slowly become limp, stuffing more and more in as you go.

The thought occurred to me that the hose would probably freeze the moment I set foot outside and all this struggle would be for not...and I should have listened to myself.

In the end, I was packing buckets. If I'd just started out packing buckets I'd have been done a lot earlier and wouldn't my clothes wouldn't have been frozen. Live and learn.

On to Steve Holt!'s week. It's been so cold that I've ignored a couple things that I'd hoped to accomplish; picking up feet and standing tied. That said, here's what we've done:

Steve Holt! now allows me to rub his muzzle. I can run my fingers around his lips and up inside his mouth, massaging his gums. He's not sure about the finger in the mouth, but finds it interesting enough to stand for it.

He's now without his short lead as he's become more tolerant of me approaching.

He almost stands still for the big blanket to go on his back, and waits patiently for the front buckles and belly straps.

He leads nicely back and forth to the round pen as well as in the field.

He crosses the bridge.

He'll walk beneath a low pole with streamers; low is an issue as he has to duck his head.

Yesterday I put a new halter on him. I cheated; I put it on over the web halter, then slipped the web off underneath. Whatever...it's done. The rope gives me more control.

He's learning to drop his head with pressure. This wasn't happening with the web halter.

He jumped the blue barrel in the round pen. I didn't ask for it, he's been wanting to do it and finally did.

I ponied him off from the back of Sandy yesterday. We started in the round pen, then (while mounted) I opened the gate and we walked across the field. Steve Holt! stayed back at Sandy's hip and didn't try to move away from us. He was very respectful of Sandy's pinned back ears, but listened to me and walked up to sniff my hand.

Steve Holt! was saddled for the first time, fully, yesterday. He stood with his rope on the ground as I approached with the saddle blankets. This has been a big issue, standing still. Yesterday was the first time he didn't move. Both blankets went up without a hitch. He did try to side step away from the saddle, but not bad. I tightened the cinch for the first time and lunged him at a walk and trot, both ways.

Twice yesterday, for the first time, Steve Holt! approached me of his own free will without me having to work for it.

Yesterday marked a turning of the page. Not that we haven't got a lot of work ahead of us, but he made a decision to begin trusting me at a new level. If I were a more aggressive trainer, I'd have climbed on. But I'm not...I'm slow and soft. There are still holes and it's been too cold to spend that much time out there filling them. With the weather like it is, I may eventually have to take my first ride here at home, but I really hope not.

The goals for this week remain similar...if not the same. Pick up feet. Handle ears. Get a bridle on. Work on trailer loading (only haven't done this because City Boy has had the truck at work, meaning I can't back the trailer to a safe loading place...although I don't think we'll have any issues with this.)

White Mud

Oh
My
Word!!!

I just checked the weather online. We're actually colder here than in Burns!

This afternoon City Boy came inside and gave me a crazed look, saying, "I'm not moving to Burns, this is too cold! Are you still wanting to live there after suffering through this???"

I couldn't help it. I had to answer like I always do, "But it's a dry suffering!"

In truth, I see this as a foot of white mud. Oh, sure, it's pretty to look at, and as Darling pointed out, the landing is much softer when you've got a bit of cushion. But when the temps begin to rise? What then? It melts back into a muddy mess...

***********

Steve Holt! is coming along, although he has a couple of hang ups. First, he's not wanting his face touched. Not since Sunny have I had a horse who's so protective, but eventually Sunny got over her fear, and Steve Holt! will, too. His second issue is having something approach him from the side, such as his blanket or the rope in my hand. It truly is a self preservation reflex, the strongest I've come across yet. But despite his desire to protect himself, he's a very outgoing young horse.

Yesterday I grabbed a handful of streamers made from surveyor's tape and tied them to the end of my lunge whip and proceeded to harass him. Yeah...harass. That's how he viewed it. We lunged in the round pen and I just kept reaching out and letting those streamers fall across his face until he conceded. It wasn't the same with my hand, though...he still fought that, but eventually I was able to get my fingers rubbing and working along the sides of his muzzle and even into the edge of his lips.

Today we repeated the head lessons, plus stepped it up a notch with setting things upon his back. First it was the felt saddle pad, then the little old saddle. He pins his ears and arches his neck, but does not attempt to kick, bite or lash out. If I let him walk in circles, he doesn't react at all (except the walking part), but it's time for him to relax and learn to stand.

Whiskercicles

The snow was falling pretty good here today. The horses all have icicles ...er, whiskercicles... hanging off their muzzles, forelocks, manes and tails. Steve Holt! even has them hanging on his blanket! I never did go out and measure how deep it got, but it's there and it's white...and the only good thing about it is that the temps have gone from low 20's to low 30's. Steve Holt! seems to enjoy eating it. In fact, all my horses prefer to 'rough it' and chomp on ice rather than go drink water. Crazy mustangs.

Steve Holt!'s day was much the same as yesterday, without the saddle. We led to the round pen and he followed straight in. He likes the blue drum and wants to push it around a bit. He trotted a couple of easy circles, pushed his muzzle around in the snow and then stood and looked at me, wondering what was next. Because the ground is slick, I don't want to work him on fast circles and stops, so instead I led him out into the field where the geldings were hanging out.

Both Dude and Sandy stepped up to say hello at one point while we were out. Steve Holt! responded only with a polite 'How Do' and stuck with me as we wandered over to the community salt lick, then the big water tub. After he investigated those two items I led him to the trail bridge where he proceeded to lick the snow up, then tried to take a bite of what he most likely assumed was ice. He was disappointed. I asked him to step up and he didn't take long to show off, climbing up with all four feet and stopping, making sure I noticed just how good he was. After climbing down he began to circle at the end of the rope. Self lunging. Gotta love it. He even self lunged over the bridge. Crazy mustang.

Darling hauled Sandy out to play again today. I snapped a quick pic with her camera, and she came in and played on photoshop a bit with it. I asked her to send it to me, but didn't realize she's resized it so small. Bummer. Well, there they are, just the same.

Thank you, Lord, for global warming

Because if it weren't for global warming, I'd surely have died of hypothermia out there today! Ten minutes in the cold air and my fingers were aching. I believe a new pair of gloves may be in order. I had to ask around to other horsemen today, to find out what they're wearing. Something warm, but it needs to be thin enough for my fingers to be able to grip ropes and reins.

Katee told me she uses wool gloves, then puts leather gloves over the top. Sounds like a plan. The leather can come off when I need to have a bit more feel, but go back on once I'm finished with the fine motor skills and am back to packing hay or chipping ice from water tubs.

Have you got a preference when it comes to keeping the fingers feeling fine?

Steve Holt! and I managed a couple of firsts today.

The other three horses were happily munching on excess hay when I walked out for the morning training session, so it was easy to lock them into stalls. Three horses, two stalls...but it worked. They eat three to a stall half the time, and with bellies full there was no arguing or bickering. Once they were secure and out of the way, I clipped the long rope onto Steve Holt!'s short drag line, took a deep breath, opened up the panels and led him outside of the paddock for the first time.He was great. More than great. He was completely awesome! I've not had a single horse to date that walked straight out of the gate with me and didn't try to jump off to the right just a little in an attempt at freedom. Steve Holt! barely glanced towards the opening (which in reality isn't an opening, as there's a fence over there, but it looks like freedom after being trapped in a paddock for a week.) Instead he stepped right out alongside me, then looked at the blue barrel off to my left and wanted to go visit it.

And do you recall the trouble I had getting Sandy through the round pen gate? None what so ever with Steve Holt!! He walked through the opening like he'd been walking through narrow gates his entire life. Not the least bit of hesitation.

Steve Holt! walked easily in circles around me. I wasn't asking him to lunge, but he walked at the end of the rope as though that were his routine. He didn't pull, he didn't get excited and try to play in the larger space. He just walked with no tension, curiously looking at the old saddle which was sitting on the rail, or the saddle blanket sitting on the opposite side.

While most horses would be using the rail as a safety net, Steve Holt! didn't mind walking a foot or two away from it. In fact, he easily came in 5' from the rail and continued his circles in a nice, steady pace.

We did this twice today, and I think it's really made a change in his attitude. He felt good, and he enjoyed me taking him out there. Our second trip out began with a much easier catch, and later when I went out to feed dinner, he stood in his stall and let me walk up and pat him without trying to dash away like he always did.

During our second venture out, I decided to pick up the saddle. With it in my arms, Steve Holt! became a bit more concerned and his pace picked up as he circled me. But when I reached my arm out to him to pet his neck, he stopped and I was able to rub the saddle up against him without him bolting away. I also picked up the long PVC pipe that was laying out there and let him trot around with it on his back. That was something he wasn't thrilled about at first, and he gave a couple tiny kicks up with his heels before settling into a trot, then a stop. He decided it really wasn't worth the effort, I guess. Hope he feels that way when I climb on!

Too bad the snow is supposed to stick around. I'd like to get him out into a few arenas, but I guess this is God's way of slowing me down. No rush, right?

Can You See It?

It's horrible...just plain horrible. It was still dark when I walked out of the house. Darling had just climbed out of bed and was getting ready for school as I opened up the door to go out to feed. It hit me straight in the face. That smell... I shook it off and told myself not to dwell on it. Surely it was imagined.

I headed down the steps and across the yard where the horses and sheep were waiting not so patiently, calling for me to hurry up with their breakfast. I then slipped back inside without giving the smell another thought. Darling was up and refusing breakfast. She's not a morning person and can't stomach anything related to food till nearly noon. She brushed her teeth and combed her hair, then we were out the door and headed to the bus stop. Darling didn't notice the scent that had come crashing up my nasal passages, and I didn't say anything.

A bit later I went out to start cleaning. It was daylight now. The smell wasn't so strong. I wanted to ignore it, to pretend it wasn't there. But like a bad accident where you just can't help but look, it was pullied my eyes towards the hill where I saw the whole, gory mess...

...snow...

As I sat here relaying my horrible, awful experience, Darling came by and sat on my lap to read. She got to the smell, and said to me, "I know what the smell is," with a triumphant smile. "Snow!"

"No! Don't say it!" I shouted back at her in a panic, looking around to see if anyone may have heard.

"Why? Are you afraid if I say snow, it'll come, just like if I say Boogey Man?"

"Aaaaaaggghhhh!!!!" And with that I dumped Darling onto the floor with the dogs and forever banished her from my lap.

Poop Soup

Where did our blue skies go?

The rains have been relentless. Add that to the melting snow from this past weekend and WA state is a mess. Up here, it's just annoying. Down south, they're requesting federal funds to help with rebuilding roads. I-5 had nearly 10 feet of water over it and is closed momentarily. If you want to drive from Seattle to Portland, it'll take you 7 hours as you'll need to head east through Ellensburg; meaning a trip over the pass before heading south, then a trip back over another pass in Oregon. It's just insane.

Here at home, the formerly frozen ground gave way to a few inches of snow, which turned into a sloppy mess once the rains began to beat down. The gravel in the paddocks seems to be holding up well, although the manure has become liquified and impossible to clean up. And while no one is walking around in pastern deep mud, it's still wet. With Quiet Storm gone, the paddock that Firecracker was in has doubled in size and she has access to both stalls. Still, her feet can't help but come into contact with moisture as the water just can't seem to drain away fast enough to keep up with the rainfall. Another load of gravel, especially in the stalls, would do wonders.

Since the bad weather began I've not spent much time out with the horses. Cheryle came and trimmed Quiet Storm and Jet on Friday, and with Firecracker aborting her foal on Sunday, I decided to just leave things be for a bit. Firecracker's training has consisted of me waiting for her to come up and get a mouthful of alfalfa pellets before I left the paddock. Unlike Sunny, who snatched a mouthful and ran between bites, Firecracker stands there and munches away. When I opened the window to put hay into her stall yesterday, she walked right in and pushed her nose up to my face, obviously feeling very comfortable. After a week off, and with that bit of relaxation, I decided I'd best jump back into training mode.

Firecracker struggles with the whole join up process. She knows to turn and face me, but she doesn't want to come into my space. I can walk left or right and she'll pivot to keep her attention where it belongs, but if I walk away she also turns away. Yesterday I managed to get her to take a few steps towards me. I feel limited by space, as I can't walk more than five feet before coming to a fence. Firecracker managed to keep fairly close a couple of times, but when I stopped her ears went flat back and she snaked her head out at me just like a snitty, bossy mare would push around another horse. I have to admit I felt very vulnerable at that moment! That attitude just won't do, but at the same time I need to encourage her into my space so I don't want to get after her in an aggressive way. Raising the hand caused her to take a step back before we started all over again.

After ten minutes of working like that, I pulled put my lariat and started tossing it over her back again. Jumpy the first time or two that I swung my arm, she settled right down and eventually allowed me close enough to rub the loop on her shoulder. When that happened, I told her she was a good girl and walked away. Total training time? Fifteen minutes, followed by dinner and me standing and holding her alfalfa pellets. I think food is going to be a big motivator when it comes to me being able to touch and handle her.

Got (more) Snow?

Snowy Ear (Quiet Storm's)

Firecracker has icicles hanging on her forelock!

It's snowing. Again. More. I don't like.

This morning I was supposed to haul Quiet Storm up to the vet clinic for her health certificate. I don't know what time the snow began falling, but I do know there was enough on the ground when I woke up at 5 to think twice about hauling anywhere. The temps are low, 29 F, so the flakes are small and not accumulating much. But it's not stopped all day. The vet, bless his heart, came here.

I've struggled to overcome these feelings of loss over Quiet Storm. I regret letting Darling make this decision. I'm the one who put it into her head, and although I tried to talk her out of adopting last month, it wasn't because I didn't want her to sell, but rather I wanted her to sell before getting a new horse. We're both grieving right now, feeling a bit as though we're betraying our old friend. I wonder what goes through the minds of horses who are bought and sold? Do they feel confused, unloved, forgotten? The one blessing is that Stephanie will spend every spare minute with Storm when she gets there, and I know that little mustang will thrive on it.

So, depending on the weather, tomorrow is the day we'll say goodbye to our dear little friend. I keep telling myself, "One less mouth to feed, one less paddock to clean, and one less set of hooves to trim..." And at some point next summer, Firecracker will have foaled, giving Darling and I one more project to look forward to.