Horses – Page 12 – This Old House 2

The Glamorous Life

Snow… finally. This is the scene out my office window early this morning, looking over to my neighbor’s house. Lots of charm, we’re lucky to see that across the way.

I often hear that I’m living someone’s dream at This Old House…

and I get it… it was always mine, too.

I do feel blessed.

There are some realities that come with the package…

..like mornings like this.. when it’s cold and wet outside

and I’d rather stay under the covers with a nice cuppa joe on the nightstand

and a good book in hand.

The farm doesn’t care, it has things that need attending to…

and attend.. I do.

…sometimes still in my PJ’s.

The chickens didn’t want to come out this morning.

It’s only the second time they’ve seen snow.

First was in October, when it shouldn’t have been there anyway.

By the time I had the horses fed, they figured out the treats

were out in that white stuff, so they better get over it.

This is their oatmeal, they are spoiled for sure…

I trudge up to the barn to grain, hay, water and turn out…

..and the mucking of stalls, ah the joys.
But there is something calming and rhythmic in the carrying out of chores..
and it keeps your weight down. Big plus.
I gained twenty pounds in the two year period where horses were
boarded out and This Old House was being made fit to live in.
I lost those lbs again once farm chores commensed.
I’d rather be doing this than pounding rubber in a noisey gym.
It’s all good 🙂

These cold mornings are the times I tell myself…

you DO like doing this.. . Really!

Pass the coffee, would ya? Light, no sugar.

Farm Updates

We’ve had a small horse farm for most of our adult life, but chickens are new territory this year. I’ve learned a few things. Chickens are mean to one another on occasion and sometimes even cannabalistic. I find this disturbing. I am now fully aware of the origin of the phrase “Pecking Order”. My blue laying Auracana hen is at the bottom of it… and her bottom is what the others have been pecking at. I had treated all for stick fleas several times, to no avail. It was getting so that the poor girl was no longer laying and all her tail feathers were gone, plus she’d walk out in the morning from a night of hen-pecking with a bloody hind end. you’re welcome.

What to do. The local chicken guy said “it’s nature, they’re gonna do it anyway, you just gotta let ’em. ” I could not sit back and watch, doing nothing at all. What I know is…a red heat lamp when chicks are young is supposed to deter them from pecking at each other, but you don’t want too much heat in an adult hen house, even in winter. Husband suggested red light. So, I found a red “party light” at the hardware store and put it in the hen house to see if it would deter the damn pecking. I also started sprinkling the hen-pecked hen’s butt with corn starch to stop the red look and blood specs from attracting the chickens to attack. It worked! My blue egged girl is back to laying and her behind is healing. I also have the added benefit of more eggs, as egg production slowed down once daylight hours were at a minimum. Now with the extra light, more eggs are being produced once again.

By the way… I want to know what people do with a “red party light” anyway.

Maybe I don’t.

I don’t know which is doing all the hen-pecking..

They’re not talking.

Poor Ethel – just one tail feather left.

Heading up the hill… it’s very grey and damp this morning.

A few new additions at the barn…

The gator has a home on the left side of the barn now (keeps out snow and rain)

It’s windy on the hill and the boys manes, tails and hay are blowing with it….

It should be snow season, not mud season.

Husband has installed an interlocking rubber brick isle so that the farrier can do his work on a level surface, important for proper trimming of hooves, and we’re not trudging in mud when cleaning out stalls.

This is a better gift to me than any piece of jewelry out of the finest store…

He jokes about this, but I bet he’s grateful… sorta.

Well, that’s a lie… truth be told.. he says..

It woulda been CHEAPER if you liked jewelry better than horses, who you kiddin.

moving along…

We brought the cuppola from our previous home

and installed it…

And the most exciting news at the barn is the new wood pellet bedding I have just discovered. During a recent visit to a large barn I saw these pellets being used as bedding… did some research and it was hailed as the best, safest, most economical bedding. So I gave it a try. I LOVE IT!! Much easier to clean, easier on my arthritic back, The pellets break down into really soft bedding, and it’s cheaper, less waste, than the pine shavings I’ve been using for all these years. The price of bagged pine shavings is outrageous, so finding a more cost effective alternative that’s easier on the work load is a beautiful thing.

Coady and Lacey approve.

The gardens are confused.. although if we can believe the forecast,

they are about to be reminded of the season we’re actually in…

Goodbye Old Girl

In 1984 when I first moved to Connecticut as a 19 year old, I fell hard for a farrier and a filly. Not long after, the farrier flew the coop, and that was a good thing. The filly stayed with me, though, and she has remained on the edges of my life ever since. I bought her with a saddle that no longer fit my needs and money I had saved which should have gone toward my education, although this mare GAVE me an education. We were both green… she was not yet broke and I was broke but not yet knowledgeable in training a young horse. We learned together and we did just fine without fancy trainers or an expensive lesson program. Many an hour was spent on the trails, with some ring work to fine tune the rough edges… although ringwork has never been a passion for either one of us.

As the years rolled on and my family grew, I rode deeper in to the horse world and wanted a more athletic horse that would help me expand my horizons. I wasn’t ready to let go of Kid, so I found someone through a mutual friend who would lease her on my little farm. H and I became great friends, and she soon came to love Kid as her own. Eventually, she bought Kid outright and has loved and cared for her ever since. This has not always been an easy feat… Kid was a MARE. And if you are a horse person, you know what I’m talking about. She was the little girl with the curl.

Sadly, at the age of 28, Kid’s medical issues have taken their toll, and H had to make the very difficult decision to let her go peacefully, rather than suffer a winter of discomfort. She was laid to rest yesterday on the farm she has called home for the past few years. H has written a tribute to Kid, and I’ve posted it below the photos….

She was an appaloosa that never broke out in spots –

Our first Hunter pace, in 1988

My wedding day, also 1988

College girl at the age of 3 brushing Kid

College girl and Kid many years later…

H with Kid at one of our favorite trail destinations…

and in her last year.

Sad to see her go… but comfort in the knowledge that this mare had two women to love her all her life, something I wish could be true for all horses.
H- thank you for giving Kid a wonderful second half.

Good-Bye, Kid

12-16-2011

Sometimes you have to let go of a dream…and it is not done easily, or lightly. Especially when that dream weighed upwards of 1,000 lbs. and carried you down sunlit trails, through rushing streams and over any number of immoveable objects along the way. With the slightest squeeze on a rein, the light tap of a heel on a flank, off you’d go for the day’s ride. You and your constant companion, your loyal friend…your horse.

In my case it was an Appaloosa mare named Kid – a proud, headstrong girl with a mind of her own. She would argue with me over which trail to take for the ride home (she was always right), and let me know if there was a snake or, heaven forbid, a cow within 50 yards. She would go over or through anything – even if she was afraid – as long as I told her it was OK. She was brave and curious on the trail, stopping in her tracks if she thought there was a monster in the bushes…then slowly creeping toward the scarey thing because she just HAD to know what it was. She would bang her nose on her feed bucket at dinner time, and tell me when she’d had enough brushing and primping (not a girlie girl, that one.) In many ways she was more like a cat than a horse, allowing me to get close and pet her when she was in the mood. But when she’d had enough…I was told.

And getting her to respect my authority and my space, well, that was an ongoing challenge. Every day we’d have the same discussion. Me: “No, you cannot step on me or push into me. Your space is THERE, my space is HERE. You move YOUR feet. I don’t move mine for you.” Her: “Oh, really? Are you sure I can’t push you…just a little?” Me: “Not an inch, not a chance, not today, not tomorrow.” Her: “Seriously? I just thought maybe…oh well, all right (as she lowered her defiant head down and let out a sigh) HER: “I guess you’re the boss (today, anyway.)” And so it went, day after day with this independent, strong- willed, proud creature who would do anything I asked that was physically possible….but I had to win her over every single time.

But she had her gentle side, too. She would carry a child with the utmost care, or slow down if she felt you were becoming unbalanced. That’s not to say that she didn’t have a buck in her…oh, yeah, she could give you the ride of your life. I remember a wonderful trainer asking her to canter and she just kept trying to get him off her back (he was kind and gentle – she was just testing and being lazy.) I heard him say “Give me whatcha got, Grandma”…and boy, did she. She was eighteen at the time.
And now she is 28, and feeling old and tired and just not her feisty self. I have watched her health slowly decline, piece by piece, with her dignity and pride being chipped away. I did my best to keep up with each change, making adjustments in her feed, exercise and care to keep her well, happy and comfortable. And she kept going strong for many years, working and playing with me, and enjoying life. Until too many uncomfortable things started to pile up and her expression slowly began to change. Finally, one day she looked at me with tired eyes and didn’t want to move from the spot she was standing in. And when she did walk, it was with deliberate, painful steps…and then I knew. No more tests, medications, or supplement concoctions to make her comfortable. We were past all that, and she’d had enough.

So I made that saddest of all calls to my equine vet, who knew Kid well. I told her all the reasons why I thought it was time to let her go, and she understood right away. I felt guilty, sick and grief-stricken, and when I put down the phone I wanted to call back and cancel. But this was not about me.

I was with Kid every day from the time I made that phone call…walking her if she was up to it, letting her stand in the sun when she needed a rest, and giving her pieces of her favorite treats. When the final day came I brushed her one last time, and hugged her neck, which she allowed me to do without an objection, just this once. I chose a photo of the two of us to bury with her, and on the back of it I wrote her a note:

“Good Bye my strong, proud, wild girl. I loved you so. Rest well and be free from pain. I’ll always be with you, and you will always be in my heart. You lived life on your own terms. Good Girl, Kid. Good Girl.”

snapshot sunday

Rise & Shine

A typical morning at This Old House

5:00 am (no good reason, just always up at that hour)

Light, no sugar.

Dogs go out…

(are you seriously taking a picture?? I gotta go!!!)

Dogs fed & watered

The Man is already at his desk with lists for the day…

The bear needs to be poked to get ready for school…

Breakfast of Champions, complete with lunch money

Chickens fed…

Horses grained, hayed, turned out and watered…

See that bus up ahead?

It’s the one we missed this morning because I was out taking Rise & Shine pictures.

No, I didn’t make him run for it.

So I drove the rest of the way to school,

passed the bus on the highway, even.

Because sometimes, thats how we roll.

*sigh*

(it’s dress-down day. For $5, you, too, can dress casual! )

What does your typical morning look like?

Tomorrow AM, if you’re so inclined to join me,

post a pic or two or ten that catches the essence of your typical morning.

I’ll post it here if you let me know the link.

Title your post “Rise & Shine”.

Misty Morn

A Sunday of nothing much

Him: What are you taking pictures of?….. again.

Me: Just stuff.

Him: When do you run out of things to take pictures of?

Me: (speechless… maybe a raised eyebrow and inaudible sigh. No, scratch that. My sighs are never inaudible.)

Come sit on the porch….

One of my favorite pleasures in life is the simple act of porch sitting, especially on a rainy day like today. It’s as if the porch beckons you to just sit for a while, stop the whirlwind that is life, and just observe, breathe, be still. How often do we give ourselves permission to do so.

We had a little porch with a slate floor at the front of my childhood home. I fondly remember sitting on the porch with a coloring book and crayons or cookies and milk, watching the rain come down. In the early years, the smell of my dad’s tobacco pipe, my mother’s music…usually Kris Krisofferson and Rita Coolidge, or Peter, Paul & Mary… Simon & Garfunkel.. playing inside on the record player. Those songs stay with me today… Who’s to Bless and Who’s to blame…. Silver Tongued Devil and I… Homeward bound… Bridge over troubled water..

Sometimes we’d have no choice but to watch the neighbors across the way as they sat on their porch… arguing… Joe and Virginia… an old Italian couple who kept a very tidy little house and garden. They couldn’t stand each other but oh, could they grow a mean tomato.

So while we’re sitting on my porch, let’s talk. Thank you all for your very conscientious and insightful comments left on my blog regarding goods made in the USA. We’re in a real predicament, we Americans. I truly believe this is one way we can answer our own problems. The government and big corporations arent’ going to do it for us, we need to take our own stand, send the message ourselves. Buy American whenever possible, buy local produce, frequent mom & pop shops and restaurants and forgo the chains… let’s just do it. I went to Bob’s yesterday to look for sneakers for my son. I saw lots of tops I’d like to buy for myself, all MADE IN CHINA. *sigh* It’s not going to be easy, but we can do it more often than not. It starts with just one simple act.

Plans for the next Dog Days Adoption Event at Parmelee Farm are under way. Three weeks to go, lots of funds to raise, plans to make, and things to bake for our Bid, Barter and Bake sale. The last one held in Essex was a big success.. $2,000 raised in one day, all paid for the Mystic Valley event last weekend, where ALL dogs were adopted. Amen. Thank you to my blog friends who donated to the cause. You rock! … For those of you who are local and reading my blog, if you’re a baker, or if you have a household item we can add to our Bid Barter Bake sale on August 20th, contact me at karenthisoldhouse@hotmail.com and I’ll be more than happy to pick up the baked item or household item the day before the sale. (August 19th).

I hope you’re all getting some respite from the heat and dry spells across the country… we’re seeing steady rain since last night around midnight and it is so refreshing, even for the horses.

This is what my kitchen looks like since the farm stand can’t open due to the weather.