We Had a White Christmas

It was perfect.  My dad and the kids all arrived before the snow started to fall.  Christmas Eve day we had snow on-and-off all day.  Each time it stopped snowing, it would warm up a few degrees.  Then it would begin to rain, then sleet, then snow. I'd look out the window and sigh.  I don't know why I love snow so much.  I just do.  Despite it snowing all day, the rain washed away most of it, so we ended up with patchy snow.

Finessa, Camille and Tuffy

Christmas Eve we feasted on roast beef, roasted potatoes and Caesar salad.  Champagne.  Wine.  More wine.  Then bed.  Holidays in our family are all about the food.

Christmas Day was spent opening gifts, feasting on turkey and watching the snow melt.  In the evening the kids wanted to play Cards Against Humanity.  It is politically incorrect and a bit crass -- not something you would play with your mother and grandfather but that is exactly what the kids proposed.  Brett was buried in a football game and declined joining us.  My father is a retired university professor, quiet, serious, and about as far from silly as you can imagine.  I'm very much like him in that way.  But that evening, we were all laughing so hard that we couldn't breathe.  It was wonderful.  The best Christmas gift of all.

My father left Saturday for home.  Sunday night we had more snow; close to two inches fell over night and we woke to a winter wonderland.

The horses weren't impressed with the snow.  They watched me taking pictures from their pastures and wondered why I wasn't bringing them their breakfast.  Humans and their priorities.  Sheesh.

Lucy, Pistol and Jackson

Flash

Tex

The kids packed a sled and drove up the road to the lake where they found a good steep hill to slide down.  Camille took pictures -- I love this one of the lake.

This morning, I headed into the office (I was able to telecommute yesterday) and the kids headed to Kyle's apartment in Berkeley.  It was a magical Christmas.

We're Getting this Haltering Thing Down

Tex loves to roll.  Sunday when we turned him out, he rolled and rolled. And then rolled some more.

When he wasn't rolling, he was romping and running.

Of course, to get to the arena for his rolling and romping he had to be haltered and led out.  When I went into his stall with the halter, he didn't turn and go out the back door into his run-out.  I approached him and spent a few minutes talking and stroking his neck.  At this point, he is most comfortable with contact on his lower neck and withers.  He doesn't like his head touched and moving further back makes him nervous.  So, I stood at his withers with the halter hung over my shoulder, just hanging out until he relaxed.

Draping the lead rope over his neck is something he is comfortable with and it seems to create, within him, an expectation that he will stay and not duck out.  So, I did that.  And I rubbed his neck a few more times -- no pats, just rubs and strokes.  Pats can look and feel like punishment.  I want him to be clear that this about rapport and feeling safe.  He relaxed and I put on the halter.  It felt like he dropped his nose towards the halter as I reached to lift it towards his nose, but the movement was so small that I doubted it meant anything.  The positive thing was that he accepted the halter quietly and calmly.

Tex snorted at the bright white trailer tire covers as we walked to the arena but they are new -- and all the horses, except Jackson, gave it the hairy eyeball.  In the arena, he dropped his head for me to remove the halter and then sauntered off for his first roll.

When it was time to bring them back in, I wasn't sure if I would be able to catch and halter Tex without a lot of hassle.  He knew he'd be going back into the barn and he doesn't like it there.  The only thing he dislikes more is being left alone in a pasture, without a herd mate.  So, into the barn he goes; into his stall between Flash and Lucy.

Surprisingly, he stood still for me when I approached to bring him in.  He took one small step sideways and then stood still.  Again, I repeated the stroking and talking before draping the rope over his neck.  This time, he dropped his nose a good four or five inches right into the nose band of the halter.

Did he get praise to the heavens and cookies too?  You betcha.

Pistol Gets Stuck

Sunday we turned the horses out in the fenced arena behind the round pen.  The arena is good sized and the footing drains well because it isn't very deep.  Shallow footing is a problem in the dry months because it doesn't offer much cushion but in the winter it is just fine.  We will probably use it more in the winter since the dressage court seems to be a continuous combination of slush and ice.

We haven't made any improvements to the fenced arena since it is used so rarely.  Brett has a pile of pea-gravel in the middle that he uses for projects (and which was destroyed by Flash and Lucy, who viewed it as a big toy).  The perimeter fence posts are in good shape but the cross rails are broken, missing or rotten for the most part.  A stream runs just inside the property border, down the long side and then turns at the far back corner and continues down the short side, before going into drain pipe and emptying out behind the goat area.  The short side stream bed is part of the arena and Flash, in particular, enjoyed going in and out of the area during their turnout.  On the long side, the arena fence is just inside the stream.  There is a long narrow corridor between the property line fence and the arena fence.  The arena is carved out of the slope, so the property line fence is high, with a retaining wall that drops to the stream and the arena.  There is a top rail of wood fence and white electric tape (not live) nailed to the posts halfway between the top rail and the ground.

When we turned out the boys, we noticed that the white tape was down and flapping in one section so Brett nailed it back to the post.  The white tape was also missing at the far end of the arena, where the stream turns the corner.  The boys stayed away from there and we didn't think about it twice.  We also didn't walk down to the end of the arena and check it out more closely.  User error on our part.

After we put Flash and Tex back in the barn, and after Lucy, Pistol and Jackson had romped and rolled, they settled down to the task of looking for grass and weeds.  Pistol walked down to the corner -- and walked right through.  The top board was down -- which we had not noticed.  She started making her way along the stream bed, nibbling as she went, with her round belly giving just a few inches of clearance on either side.

Brett climbed over the tape and into the stream bed (which was very mucky) to back her out.  She took one step back and her hind feet sunk above the pasterns.  She couldn't move her hind legs, and she started to shake.  Backing her out was not going to work.

Brett fished his work knife out of his pocked and cut the tape.  Then he turned Pistol's head and neck towards the arena and urged her forward.  She pushed her hind feet out and scrambled under the top rail (thank goodness she isn't very tall; none of the other horses would have fit).  She stood in the arena, muddy but unhurt, chewing and looking at Brett with gratitude.

Brett nailed the tape back up where she went through and then we evaluated the corner.  Brett was able to get tape across that midle and we tied the loose top rail board, with hay twine, to the fence wire that is on the perimeter of the property.

Brett immediately added fixing the fence to his project list.  Luckily the posts are in good condition so he will only have to deal with cross rails.

Feeling Spicy

Sunday was overcast and cold with a bit of drizzle and wind.  The horses have been in the barn for a few days and they are looking at being there until Christmas Day.  We will not see sunshine until next Saturday.

Even though they have run-outs behind their stalls, and Jackson is in the roundpen, they get cabin fever in the barn.  Tex, especially.

We decided to turn them out.

Flash and Tex went first.

They rolled and raced around, before settling down to graze on the sparse grass growing by the fence.

After an hour, we brought them back into the barn.  Pistol and Lucy went next.

And then Jackson joined them.

Do you think they had fun or what?!

A Cowboy Comes to See Tex

Yesterday afternoon as I was elbow deep in baking sugar cookies, with a big pot of stock bubbling on the stove, the phone rang.

"I called a few weeks ago about your horse for sale.  Is he still available?  I'd like to come see him."
"Yes (heart sinking), he's still for sale.  It's raining -- are you sure you want to come?"
"I'm close by and the rain don't bother me."

I gave him the address and hung up the phone.  Brett asked how I felt about it and I said "It has to be a perfect match or forget it."  I realized the oven timer had been chiming for awhile; I skidded back into the kitchen and pulled a batch of charred cookies from the oven.

The cowboy was a good 45 minutes away so I went out to the barn to see if I could do something about Tex's dreadlocks.  With the wind and the rain, his long mane had turned into a huge tangled mess.  I groomed him outside of his stall, in the run-out, but under the barn roof overhang.  He's happier outside.  The rain came down while I curried and brushed Tex.  I had the halter on him, with the lead rope draped over my shoulder as I worked.  He didn't budge.  It took awhile to get the tangles out and he stood patiently for that as well.  When I finished, I used some Masterson releases and he relaxed right into them.  I took off the halter and left his stall.

A pick-up truck pulling a stock horse trailer came down our road and turned in the driveway.  I turned to Brett.

"If he thinks he can pull in here with a trailer and just take Tex away, he's got another thing coming." Tears pricked behind my eyes.  Good lord, I thought, I'm getting attached to this horse.

The cowboy was young; lanky and handsome in his jeans and cowboy hat.  He reminded me of the young wranglers at the Alisal ranch; polite and soft spoken.  Sure enough, he works on a cattle ranch a couple hours south of us and was looking for a horse to use at work.  And, to ride in rodeos.  He figured any horse could be "fixed" by just putting miles on him.  A little spice didn't bother him.

We told him that Tex isn't spicy.  He's level-headed and kind.  He just doesn't handle pressure well.  I said I didn't think he would make a good rodeo horse because of that.  The cowboy nodded.  He never touched Tex, wasn't interested in getting close.  He liked Tex's size, his strong bone, and his breeding (I guess the Drifter line makes great roping horses; who knew).  He asked if we would negotiate the price and I said no.  "The price is firm," I said. (I knew he was looking for a $500 horse).  "I'm not even sure whether we want to sell him.  I've started working with him and I like him a lot."

I put Tex back in his stall.  He dropped his head for me when I took off his halter; I gave him a cookie and a scratch on the withers.

Don't worry Tex; we're not going to sell you to a rodeo cowboy.

Catching Tex: Round 3

Friday I helped Brett bring the horses into the barn after work.  More rain, and possibly snow, are on the way through Christmas Day.

Tex watched me come into the pasture and moved off a few feet as we closed the gate.  Brett slipped on Flash's halter and I walked towards Tex.  He walked away so I sent him off.  He trotted over to Brett and Flash.  I was able to walk up to him, scratch his withers, but as the halter slid over his nose, Tex ducked backwards and trotted off.

Heavy sigh.  I slung the halter back over my shoulder and walked out into the pasture.  Tex circled once and stopped, watching me.  I stopped and said "So, what are you going to do?"

He dropped his head and walked over to me.  I was astounded.  But I tried not to show it.  Instead, I praised him and draped the rope over his neck.  He stood still while I put on the halter and I walked him to the barn on a loose lead.

Progress; we're making progress.

Random Friday

1.  Christmas is barreling towards us.  I still have so much baking to do and just this one weekend left.  I am working through the holidays with just the "eves," Christmas Day and New Years Day off.  I was able to do all of my Christmas shopping online which was a HUGE help. And I have severely curtailed my Christmas card list; limiting it to those people who I don't correspond with throughout the year.  I stopped at Starbucks in Placerville this morning and the place was full of people decked out in ski pants, buzzing with excitement as they headed to the snow.

2.  I've finally come up with a new name for Mufasa that I like, that Brett likes, and that Mufasa likes.  I'm calling him Tex.  He is, after all, a Texas bred roping horse.  He comes from a cowboy background and deserves a cowboy name.  Tex is simple to say and when I look at Mufasa, it fits. 

3.  Brett and I both have spots reserved in the Mark Rashid clinic in March.  Brett will work with Pistol and I will work with Tex.  I hope to have my relationship with Tex on more solid ground before we go.  Our cold, wet weather continues -- and Jackson's stall in the barn is the round pen -- so my opportunities to do much are limited at the moment. I'll work with him when I can and enjoy the rainfall when I can't. 

4.  At Thanksgiving, the kids and Brett requested that I stop making so many meals with Plated and the like.  They miss my cooking.  I'll still use the programs from time-to-time but not on a regular basis.  I've been annoyed more than once by late deliveries, incorrect/incomplete recipes and (the worst), a bag of beautifully chopped chard -- that was full of grit. 

The Calm Between the Storms

Our current storm has been washing over us in waves.  Each wave has been a bit colder and wilder than the last.  Saturday we had a respite.  The weather remained cold; but we didn't have rain so the horses spent the day playing  sleeping in their pastures.

Flash and Mufasa were lumpy bookends in their pasture.

The girls and Jackson played with the configuration in theirs; taking turns sleeping and standing guard.

The Crazy Sheeplady created a puzzle and included a link.  Now I'm hooked.  I've created a few puzzles from pictures of the horses.  Check out the one I made from the last picture here.

Random Friday

1.  Thanks for all the supportive comments on me working with Mufasa/Cinnamon.  I've had a few people tell me that they think Cinnamon is a girl name.  Interesting... I see it as one of those unisex names.  We'll see how things go and if the name sticks.  I will probably call him Cinn for short; Cinnamon is a bit of a mouthful when you are trying to spit out "Cinnamon, whoa." 

2.  The horses got their fall vaccinations today.  A new vet (new to us) came out since our usual vet is teaching full time now.  Brett called me afterwards and said the new vet was really good with the horses.  She immediately pegged Lucy as the princess.  Okay, okay; that's a no-brainer; she's very obvious about it.  But Brett liked how she interacted with the horses and donkeys and they seemed to like her.  We don't have any vet-hating or fearing animals right now, thank goodness. 

3.  We are in the midst of another winter storm.  The first wave came in yesterday with heavy rain and hail.  It is spitting a bit still, but we should have clear weather tonight and tomorrow morning before then next wave arrives.  It is supposed to be equally as strong, but colder.  We have a chance of snow on Monday.  The Sierras have been getting a lot of snow which is fantastic for skiers the snow pack.  This morning, when I merged onto the freeway, on my way to work, I was immediately surrounded by cars sporting thick blankets of snow. 

4.  Brett and Pistol had their first real session at Windows to My Soul this week.  Pistol carried around a developmentally disabled young adult who had never been on a horse before.  Brett led her around while the therapists worked with the client.  Everyone did well.  They worked on breathing and balance, primarily.  Brett said that when the client was able to relax, Pistol gave a huge, relaxed exhale.  I'm so proud of both Brett and Pistol.

5.  I sure enjoyed the "Changing Lens" post comments.  I have some more questions and may do another post with them in the next few weeks.  Brett didn't comment on the mare v. gelding question but I'm guessing he doesn't have a clear preference.  For police work, Flash was the perfect soldier and partner.  For the kind of riding Brett does now, Pistol is the willing, careful partner he needs.  She is also very affectionate and demonstrative to Brett.  I love that.

First Session with Cinnamon

Today I had a work day that started very early -- but allowed me to be home before dark.  A storm is moving into the area tonight and I wanted to help Brett bring the horses into the barn.  After bringing in the girls and Jackson, we headed into the boy's pasture.  Flash met us at the gate while Mufasa Cinnamon stood watching from a safe distance.  I walked over, in a matter-of-fact, unhurried way.  He watched me and quivered a bit.  I centered myself and focused on his energy.  I could feel him wanting to leave so I said "whoa" in a firm, even voice.  He stood and I praised him for being brave.  I ran my hand under his long, matted mane and scratched his withers before putting on the halter.  As I slid it over his nose, he reversed and ducked his nose out -- and trotted off.

Interestingly, Cinnamon put himself on a large circle -- maybe 40 meters -- around me.  So, I behaved as if I were lunging him at liberty.  He was confused at first, but then complied.  Brett was mucking the pasture and Cinnamon trotted over and stopped near Brett and the muck cart.  I walked over and was able to stand next to Cinnamon for a few minutes, before the quivering won out and he left.  I didn't attempt to do anything with the halter.  I just wanted him to relax with me standing there.

We did some more circles of trot and then he stopped in a far corner.  I approached and he stayed.  Again, I rubbed and scratched him.  He wanted to leave (I wish I knew what he was so worried about) but he didn't.  I put the rope across his neck and, again, told him to whoa.  This time I was able to slide the halter on without a problem.

We walked out of the pasture and up past the donkeys to the dressage court.  Brett had added some more wood barriers to keep the sand from washing away and I wanted to see them.  As we walked along the outside of the arena, Tuffy started playing hard in the pasture behind us -- galloping, bucking and farting.  I jumped at the sudden noise.  Cinnamon took one step sideways, away from me, and stopped.  He handled it better than me.

I was able to lead him all over the property on a loose lead.  He does have lovely ground manners.

Next we practiced approaching the tie rail.  This has been a constant struggle for Brett.  Mufasa plants his feet or runs backwards.  He does not like the black stall mats in front of the tie rail -- I wonder if they look like a big black hole to him.  We approached the end of the mat in front of the tie rail and he stopped, then took a couple steps backwards.  I backed him up a few more steps, then walked forward again.  Same thing.  So, I backed him up fast.  He wasn't thrilled with that and followed me right onto the mat.

Last, when I took him into his stall, I asked him to lower his head while I took off the halter.  He braced initially, then gave a few inches.  It was enough.  I took off the halter and gave him a cookie.

Its a start.  I want Cinnamon to understand the rules.  I have clear expectations about grand manners.  I want him to trust me while we work together.  Having clear boundaries and expectations will ensure that he is successful.  I want him to learn that he doesn't have to worry about things when he is with me.  I was pleased, overall, with how it went today.  It's a start.

The Changing Lens: Part 1

I came across some questions that are circulating on horse blogs.  I thought I'd take a stab at answering some them (since its too wet and cold to ride these days) -- but with a twist: I've noticed a change in my approach to riding and horses from when I was younger, so I'm going to focus on that a bit.

1.  Mares or Geldings?
When I was a teenager, I was fortunate to have a horse to ride.  She belonged to a family in town, who's children had left the nest.  She wasn't getting ridden and I was dying to do just that.  Her name was Charohanas -- or Charco for short.  She was a grey QH/Arabian with a snarky attitude.  I adored her.  I rode Charco almost everyday after school, all through high school.  I didn't care about boys, or dances much.  After swim practice, I headed for the foothills where Charco lived in a big pasture.  I rode her bareback; sometimes with my best friend and sometimes alone.  Before and after Charco, I always rode geldings and liked how un-snarky they are.  And then came Lucy.  Yes, she can be a prima dona and a jealous witch -- but I feel more connected to her than I have with any other horse -- except maybe Charco. 

2.  Green broke or fully broke?
When I was young, I thought green broke was fun.  I liked the clean slate and the opportunity to have a horse without baggage. 
Now, I like fully broke.  Especially after Winston -- green broke can mean my body gets broke.  I'm not flexible any more and my balance is definitely not what it used to be. 


3.  Would you own a "hot" breed (i.e., Arabian or TB)?
I've always been attracted to sensitive forward horses.  Arabians were my favorite breed when I was young, followed by thoroughbreds.  I'm too tall for Arabians but I would own another TB.  ... you also can't beat a sweet QH face, and they have the best brain.  When I was shopping for my first horse, I looked at a lot of Appendix QH (half QH and half TB).  When I sold Winston, I was looking for any breed.  Actually, when I bought Winston I was also looking at any breed, and any color, that met my needs. I was looking for attitude, willingness, and sensitivity.  Fortunately, Lucy has all three of those qualities so I'm not looking anymore. 

4.  What was your dream horse growing up?
I don't think I had a dream horse.  I read a lot of books; many of them with horses.  I think each horse in each book (or short story) was my dream horse.  I just wanted a horse.  Any horse.  Short, tall, fat, thin, sound or crippled.  I didn't care.  I just wanted a horse.

How about you?  What do you prefer?

Random Friday

1.  I received a gift from my friend, and neighbor, Nancy.  She loves to quilt and made me this wall hanging of Kersey.  I admit to getting a bit teary eyed when she gave it to me.  Isn't it perfect above Kersey's bed?

2.  We finished out November with 85% of normal rainfall.  It felt like a lot of rain to Brett and I -- a storm every 7 days or so -- but we've been in a drought situation since we moved here so we don't really know what normal is here.  Southern California, where we were both born and lived most of our lives, is very dry compared to Northern California.  

3.  It has also been very cold; lots of frost, ice and even some snow before Thanksgiving.  The arena is very soggy for the hour or two each day that it thaws.  The rest of the time it is frozen rock hard.  The sand is holding a lot of water.  I think our new normal will be riding in the spring and fall, with infrequent rides in summer (when it is ungodly hot) and winter. 

4.  I've been thinking about working with Mufasa.  We haven't gotten many (okay, just two) inquiries from the ad so it looks like he will be with us for a while.  The last few times we've needed to bring him into the barn, Brett has asked me to deal with him.  The energy between the two of them just doesn't work.  Isn't it funny the way that is?  Just like with people, there are some horses you click with and some you don't.  Brett and Mufasa never clicked and it has just gotten more difficult over time.  They've lost confidence in each other and Brett has a very short fuse that quickly runs to frustration and anger.  I feel something with Mufasa; I can't really say what it is at this point but I want to explore it.  He trusts me and I think my quiet, patient energy suits him better than Brett's energy.  Since the arena isn't useable at this point, I'll be concentrating on groundwork to build trust and confidence.  We'll see how it goes.  There is a little voice in the back of my head reminding me that Mufasa is awesome on the trail -- and wouldn't it be cool to have a trail horse to ride.  Lucy hates the trail; too many things to worry about out there; trolls and dwarfs in the bushes and trees.

5.  If it works out with Mufasa, I might have to change his name.  I have been using a different name in my head for him since he arrived.  Brett hated it...  I might need to broach it again.  He looks like Cinnamon to me. 

A Long Drive Home

Tonight, after work, I walked out of my building into the dusk pulling my mother's grey-blue suede jacket close around me to keep out the chill.  It had been a long day in the office and I was tired.  I hiked out to the end of the last row in the parking lot and sank into my car.  I threw my bag on the seat next to a bag of juicy mandarin oranges that I had picked up at a roadside stand, after my morning meeting, at one of our hospitals located in a farming community.

I turned the radio to NPR so I could catch the news and the latest status of the shootings in San Bernardino.  As I drove east, with a brilliant sunset in my rearview mirror, I listened to reporters re-hash the story while they waited for a briefing by the San Bernardino law enforcement agencies.  I was so intent on the story, that I blew right past my exit for the country road that leads home.

The next exit was 10 miles further up the freeway.  As I climbed higher into the Sierras, I scanned the exits looking for one to take me home.  Finally, the exit for Pollack Pines appeared and I steered my little car down the off-ramp.  The road didn't look familiar; I wanted to head to to the lake and then drop down from there into our valley.  But this was a narrow, dark, winding road with houses set back from the street here and there.  I thought about stopping and turning on my GPS but I didn't want to stop listening to the news.  Finally, I pulled over and fished my phone out of my bag.  I was, fortunately, headed in the right direction.  A half-mile further on, I turned toward the lake and then started dropping down towards home.

A small doe appeared on the side of the road.  I watched her and, sure enough, she decided to make a dash for the other side as I approached.  I slammed on the brakes; she looked at the car and put on her brakes as well.  I stopped with her nose touching the driver-side door.  I took a deep breath and kept going.

I was almost an hour late getting home.  I was too distracted to cook.  We ordered pizza at the corner pizza place and Brett went to pick it up while I changed and lit a fire in the wood stove.  He called and said that they had burnt our pizza and were making us a new one, so he'd be a bit later getting home back home.

I think everyone was distracted tonight.  Paris, Mali, the Planned Parenthood clinic in Colorado, the Russian passenger plane, not to mention the ongoing terrorism in Syria, the Middle East, Africa, and now this... it's just too much hate to comprehend.

Thanksgiving at Oak Creek Ranch

Tuesday the first wave of a storm system from the Gulf of Alaska arrived.  It brought high wind and pounding rain, but no snow.  When the clouds cleared Tuesday afternoon, the ground was covered in leaves.

Wednesday morning, we woke to patchy clouds that cleared throughout the morning.  We decided to move the horses out of the barn and into their pastures.  The second wave appeared to be a non-starter.  As we led the horses out, the skies darkened and rain, then sleet, started to fall.  The horses have trees and a run-in shed for shelter so we opted to leave them in their pastures.

It snowed throughout the afternoon.  Not hard, but enough to cover the ground with a light coating of white.  Lucy wasn't sure what to make of the snow.  This is her second winter with us, here in the mountains, and we didn't get any snow last winter.  She sniffed it, pawed it, and then jumped sideways when it sprayed her.  Then she settled into her lunch, with a pile of snow building on her back.

Meanwhile, we waited inside for Kyle and Camille to arrive.

Brett wasn't feeling well so he spent the day on his recliner, with chills, worrying that his appetite wouldn't return in time for Thanksgiving dinner.  Fortunately, Thanksgiving morning he felt a bit better.  He's still far from 100% percent but he was able to join us for dinner.

My sister's kids, Kristin and Nick, arrived mid-morning on Thanksgiving.  My dad, sister and brother are travelling this Thanksgiving so I hosted those of us who didn't go, at our place.  I could have asked the kids (all 20-somethings) to bring parts of the dinner but everyone was traveling.  The easiest things for travelers to bring are rolls and pie, which can be picked up at the market on the way.  But, those are my two favorite things to make so I didn't ask them to bring anything.   I made the pies first thing Thanksgiving morning.

Then I stuffed the turkey and slid it into the oven.  We had a heritage breed turkey, which is very lean due to its life running around outside eating bugs and roosting in trees.  It was delicious.

We rounded out the meal with mashed potatoes, gravy, and rolls.  Brett ate a little bit and went back to his chair.

The kids took Kersey for a walk after dinner.

I was on the couch, wiped out.

Thanksgiving Prep

I made my to-do list for Thanksgiving and got started today.  I'm trying to do as much as I can ahead of time so it isn't too crazy on Thanksgiving itself.

I started the morning by making a batch of granola.  I make my own, full of nuts, oats, coconut, sesame seeds, brown sugar, honey and cinnamon.  When it's done baking, I add in dried cherries and blueberries.

Next I browned a turkey wing and some chicken scraps from the freezer.  When I roast a chicken, I save the carcass for stock.  I added onion, parsnips, carrots, celery and a huge bouquet of herbs.  I had it simmering on the stove for most of the day.  I will use it for our gravy on Thanksgiving.

I made pie dough for a single (pumpkin) and a double (apple).  I wrapped the dough and put it in the freezer.  Thursday, all I will need to do is roll it out, fill it, and bake.  Making the dough is the most time consuming and messy part of making pie.

I also tore a loaf of artisan bread into little pieces, tossed it with olive oil, and toasted it in the oven.  It will go in the stuffing.

Last, I made cranberry sauce.  I put a cup of port in a pot with a couple cinnamon sticks and let it simmer together for about five minutes.  Then I added a bag of cranberries, the zest and juice of an orange, some sugar and a smidge of water (the orange wasn't very juicy).  Brett and I sucked on the cinnamon sticks when it was done.

Meanwhile, Brett and his friend Richard spent the entire day working on the fences.  Everytime I looked outside, they were in a different pasture working on a section of fence.  Richard left at dusk and we collapsed on the couch.  Dinner?  I had a bowl of Frosted Flakes and Brett had a can of barbeque beans.

Random Friday

1.  The three chicks that we bought on Camille's birthday in May (and named Camille1, Camille2 and Camille3) started laying eggs this week.  So almost everyday this week, we got an egg.  The rest of the worthless molting chickens are still on hiatus.

2.  We received one call on Mufasa.  I was not impressed, in my gut.  The guy said he has been competing in rodeos since he was a kid (and is 61 now).  He wanted to know why a horse with Mufasa's bloodlines, training, and conformation was being sold so cheaply.  He told me that I'm too honest and would never make it as a horse trader (he is one).  I will admit to highlighting all the reasons Mufasa would not work as his next rodeo project.  We do not want Mufasa to go to a rodeo home.  He doesn't do well with pressure and needs a quiet life full of trail riding, or maybe chasing cows on a ranch somewhere.  I really don't give a damn if we sell him for less than he is worth or into less than a competition situation.  We are interested in Mufasa's well-being; not in maximizing our ROI.  ---as if that ever works with horses, anyway.

3.  Remember how Brett and Pistol have been going through the evaluation process to be used in the therapy program at Windows to My Soul?  Brett got a call this week and was informed that he and Pistol have been selected to work with a current client.  They therapists love Pistol and they think Brett will be a good male role model for this teenage boy who is very troubled.  Brett and Pistol will be participating weekly, starting in early December and going through February.   Buffy always referred to Pistol as "the wonder horse" and she truly is a multi-talented, awesome mare.

4.  Throughout November, we've been getting rain storms every 7-10 days.  This means we haven't done much riding; just about the time that the arena sand stops squishing and sliding under our feet, the next storm arrives.  There is a very cold storm on its way from Alaska, due to hit just in time for Thanksgiving.  We may get snow, real snow (not the icy stuff) this time.  Kyle and Camille arrive Wednesday, in the thick of the weather so I'll be on edge until they pull in the driveway safe.  My niece and nephew are coming Thanksgiving Day, when the worst of the storm should be behind us.  Still, the roads will no doubt be slick and icy so we will hold our breathe waiting for them as well.  Then, we'll crank the wood stove and get down to the important task of feasting.

5.  Brett's good friend, Richard, is coming for a short visit this weekend.  I expect the two of them will be busy repairing and installing fences.

A Bad Week for Fences and Gates

Tuesday morning as I was pulling on my jeans to help with the morning chores, barely awake, and shivering in my cold dark closet, Brett opened the front door and called up to me.  "We have a problem."  My first thought was burst pipes but, no, it was another section of fence in the front pasture that was leaning to the ground.  We had to move Flash and Mufasa out of the pasture so Brett could remove and replace the fence.  I didn't want to put them in with the donkeys because Mufasa can be a bully and I didn't want him to bother Tuffy and Finessa.  I moved Jackson, Lucy and Pistol over to the donkey pasture and Brett put Flash and Mufasa in the Oak pasture.  Jackson joined the donkeys first.  He's spent time in the pasture before, when he has had an abscess.  He immediately got to work on breakfast.  Pistol is always interested in food so she hardly looked at the donkeys, huddled in the back corner of their pasture, watching the horses arrive.  Lucy has been fascinated by the donkeys since her arrival.  (She nickers softly to Tuffy when we walk by their pasture and seems to think he is foal in need of mothering.)

When I removed Lucy's halter, she immediately paced the fence line and sniffed the piles of donkey poop; oblivious to breakfast.  Tuffy approached her with his ears forward and a jaunty attitude.  He reached his nose up to her and she arched her neck while touching her nose to his.  Tuffy gave a little squeal and bucked.  She trotted off -- and he joined her.  They did a lovely circle, side-by-side.  Lucy stopped, looked over at the others eating hay, and headed their direction.  Tuffy ran in circles around her; trying to get her to play.  She squealed at him and he ran off, kicking out in her direction as he went.  Finessa, remained at a safe distance, watching.

Tuesday night after dinner, while I was buried under a blanket on the couch in my sweats, there was a knock on the door.  Brett climbed out from under his blanket on the recliner and padded to the door.  Kersey looked up with interest from her bed and thumped her tail.  A delivery guy stood there, he had left us a box on the front porch.

"Your gate closed on my truck and I can't get out," he explained to Brett.

Brett put on his work boots and jacket and met the guy down by the gate.  He had dropped off our box and then drove back down the driveway.  The gate opened and he started through.  Then for some unknown reason, he stopped halfway out to do paperwork or make a phone call or god-knows what.  The gate stopped when it hit his van, but there it sat wedged.  Brett released the gate, and the guy drove off.  And the gate no longer worked.  Brett secured it closed with a bungie cord and stomped back to the house.

Yesterday morning, our friend and neighbor, George, came over with his bag of tricks and mechanical knowledge.  The gate had blown a fuse (we didn't even know it had a fuse) and it was an easy, inexpensive fix.

Later in the afternoon, Brett noticed that the wire had come off of a section of fence between the arena and our neighbor's property.  The posts are still solid in the ground so the repair won't be as extensive as the pasture.  Poor Brett, he never seems to get a break.

Our Longest Hike in, well, Forever

Brett and I used to love hiking together.  Then his knees quit working and my feet started screaming so we pretty much quit.  Brett now has two bionic knees and I have wonderful inserts in my shoes.  In the past year, we've started going on short hikes together.  While we were in Yosemite, we decided to tackle the mist trail, which leads to Vernal Falls.  Our plan was to go as far as the footbridge, which gives you a view of the falls in the distance.  The climb is pretty steep but not too long to get to that point.  We stopped on the bridge, admired the view, caught our breath and waited for our heart rate to return to normal... and then we kept going.

At the junction of the mist trail and the John Muir Trail we veered right and headed towards Nevada falls.  We put our heads down and made our way up the switchbacks.  One, two, three... a look at each other, a smile ... four, five, six ... glancing up, the sheer face of the cliff rising above the last switch back ... seven, eight ... legs like rubber, we hit the top and the trail started to level off.  Then we hit ice.

We turned around.  I tried to walk on it a bit, but it was slick and slippery and I almost fell.  I sat on my butt and slid back down the trail to Brett.  And we headed down.

At the trail junction, we turned back onto the mist trail and continued up towards Vernal Falls.

We got fairly close, but didn't climb the stairs carved into the granite.
I took a picture and we headed back down.

We hiked almost six miles.  SIX MILES!  And it was a steep six miles.  Brett's knees were a bit sore and our feet were screaming by the time we got back to the car, but we were thrilled with ourselves.

This morning we left right after breakfast.  A storm was coming in and we didn't want to be caught in the snow.  We barely made it out.  The snow was falling thick and fast, the road obscured and cars on the shoulders -- either giving up or sliding there.  We managed to get through (gotta love a Subaru).

We stopped at a couple wineries on the way home and were gifted with a gorgeous sunset when we left Cooper Vineyards.

Back home, Chris had tucked the horses in the barn.  Brett went to the neighbors to fetch Kersey while I got the wood stove going.  It was 48F in the house; in the 30s with slushy ice on the ground outside.

Random Friday

1.  The storm earlier this week was a good cold one.  Enough snow fell in the Sierras that many of the ski resorts were able to open.  We were on the cusp of getting snow at our place, with temperatures in the high 30s.  We did get a significant amount of rain.  So far, we are at 85% of normal rainfall for the season -- a good start.  And, there is another storm coming through this weekend -- another cold one with heavy rain.

2.  I was able to finish planting my 500 daffodil bulbs before the rain started last weekend.  I have planted 500 daffodils each fall since we moved into the house -- we are going into our third season.  I completed the circle around the front lawn and put the rest in my garden and around the tree where we scattered Sedona's ashes.  My favorite flower and my favorite dog together; it seems appropriate.

3.  The chickens have not laid an egg in a week.  heavy sigh

4.  Last Sunday, Brett and I rode before the storm let loose.  It was overcast and cold, with a bit of wind.  Lucy was full of energy but well behaved.  Pistol worked in a beautiful frame and was happy (and fit enough) to do a lot of trot and canter work.  Her trot was particularly nice to watch.  As we took the horses back to their pasture afterwards, scattered drops fell.  By mid-afternoon, we had moved all the horses into barn.

5.  We will be spending this weekend in Yosemite; celebrating our 15th anniversary.  We had such a good time there last year that we decided to go again.  Yosemite is 3 1/2 hours south of us -- and Lake Tahoe is an hour east.  The drive to Yosemite is beautiful; no freeways, just a country highway winding through the Sierra foothills before climbing up into the mountains and then dropping into Yosemite Valley.  We are fortunate to live close to two of the most beautiful places on this earth.

Selling Mufasa

Since Brett stopped riding Mufasa, Mufasa has been spending his time in the pasture with Flash.  In the summer he wore a fly mask, he gets his share of the cookies Brett carries in his pocket, and Brett checks him daily for ticks.  Other than that (and regular vet and farrier care), he is left alone.  With the demands of keeping the property up, Brett is only able to ride Pistol a few times a week.  There is no additional time left for Mufasa.  -- and the same goes for me.  I don't ride Lucy, or spend as much time with her, as I would like.  Any "free" time I have on the weekend is devoted to her -- or Jackson.
We tossed around the idea of selling Mufasa -- or even giving him to a trainer with the right skills (one who trains using the same philosophy as Mark Rashid).  But, we didn't take any action on it.  We want to make sure we are doing the right thing for Mufasa and that means being confident that he will be okay.

When Brett took Pistol to the Mark Rashid clinic a few weeks ago, Brett spent a fair amount of time talking to Mark about Mufasa.  Mark remembered Mufasa from the clinic in March.  He said that Brett had made the right decision in deciding to stop riding him.  At 66, riding a skittish horse isn't a smart thing to do.  Mark still feels that there is really good horse inside Mufasa and, in the right environment, he could be wonderful for someone.  He needs a confident, flexible, rider.  When we bought him, he was being ridden by a 20-something kid with a balanced seat and a kind manner.  Mufasa was better then, than he is now with us.  We are not the best place for Mufasa; not for him to be the horse that he is capable of being.

Yesteday afternoon, a cold winter system moved into the mountains from the Gulf of Alaska.  We set up the horses' stalls and then brought them in.  The girls and Jackson came in first.  Then we went to the boys pasture where I put a halter on Flash and Brett went to get Mufasa.  Except that Mufasa had a meltdown.  He would come close to Brett, trembling a bit, and then lose his nerve and run off.  Brett was getting wet and increasingly irritated.  He threw some hay in the run-in shed and stomped off to stack hay in the barn.

Mufasa was miserable.  He was running around in the rain, calling to the others.  I took his halter off the hook and went into the pasture.  I must have been a sight -- my rain jacket zipped up tight, and my cowboy hat squished onto my head on top of the hood of my jacket.  It worked well for me, but I'm sure I looked like some freaky alien.  Mufasa snorted and took off.  I stood by the gate and he eventually came over to investigate.

Me, in a quiet, kind, but matter-of-fact voice:  Mufasa, you are a pain in the ass.  I know you want to go into the barn.  You need to trust me.

He took a couple steps towards me -- and then took off.  I stayed by the gate.  He came back.  We did this for what felt like forever.  I told him that I wasn't going to put the halter on him until he touched me.  He had to touch me first.  He was curious about the jacket and my dripping hat.  He did, eventually, stretch out his nose and touch me on the shoulder.

I approached him, slowly but with confidence.  He trembled.  I praised him for staying.  I scratched his withers and then slipped the halter on.  He thought about wiggling out and running at one point, and I said "whoa" in a stern voice.  He stayed.  And then we calmly walked into the barn where dinner was waiting in his stall.

Brett and I talked about selling him again.  We had hoped that time in the pasture would mellow out the fear, but it hasn't.  I created an ad.  I tried to make it honest and fair to Mufasa.  We'll see what happens.

Three In a Box

Lucy, Pistol and Jackson have been sharing the run-in shed.

Look Ma!  Lucy let me in!

It's just your head Jackson, I don't know if that counts.

Lucy: This is Buckingham Palace and he's our guard.

Better shine those boots, Jackson.

Random Friday

1.  Goldfish questions answered: We do not feed the goldfish.  They live on algae, mosquito larvae and bits of hay that wash off the horses' lips when they drink.  There are around 5 fish in each water trough.  We have rocks or concrete blocks at the bottom of the trough so the fish have a place to hide from predators and to hibernate during the winter.  The water in the troughs does get a layer of ice on cold winter nights and the goldfish disappear into their beds once the water gets really cold.  It's a good system and watching the goldfish swim around makes me happy.  I don't know why I love watching them, but I do.  Sometimes they will swarm around the horses' lips while they are drinking, looking for food.  Flash doesn't like it.  He always swishes the water around by swinging his head through the water before he drinks.

2.  Fall is in full swing in the garden.  The last bloom of roses brings a splash of pink in a palate otherwise dominated by gold, orange and red.

3.  Pistol is looking great.  She'll always be a stocky horse but muscle is starting to be more pronounced than fat.  When we ride, she and Brett spend a lot of time at trot and canter.  I'm not sure how much regular riding she will get with winter coming on, but the foundation is set and she is thriving.

4.  We had a wet, cold storm system come through earlier this week.  We decided to try putting Jackson in the covered round pen and put Pistol in his stall.  Jackson is the most independent of the horses; he marches to his own drummer and doesn't mind being alone (as much).  Also, the round pen stays bone dry whereas the stalls have run-outs which get wet and muddy.  The drier we keep Jackson's feet, the better he does.  Brett lugged a big black rubber water trough into the round pen and filled it with water for Jackson.  When he went outside the pen to turn off the water, Kersey ran in and jumped in the water trough.  Brett scolded her for splashing and swimming on a cold overcast day and for making a mess in the round pen.  Kersey just looked at him and thumped her tail.

5.  The chickens are still molting.  I did some research and learned that molting can last up to three months.  Aack!  We haven't had any eggs from the chickens in the past two days.  We might be reduced to - choke - buying eggs if they don't start laying soon.

6.  Autumn on the ranch.  One of my favorite times of year (after spring).

Cold and Frosty and Perfect

Yesterday morning we had our first frost.  This morning was a repeat.  The horses were wound up before breakfast; racing up and down the pasture.  Even Jackson joined in; losing a hoof boot in the process.  After chores and warming ourselves by the wood stove, cup of coffee in hand, we drove over to Apple Hill -- which was blissfully quiet on a Thursday morning.  I had today off (she pumps her arm enthusiastically) and Brett let me pick the itinerary.  We ate apple cider donuts, fresh from the fryer, crispy sugary crunchy with a soft melting interior - tossing the donut from hand-to-hand because it was still hot.  The we filled the back of the car with a crate of Fuji apples, bags of Braeburn, Granny Smith, Arkansas Black and Golden Delicious apples plus a big jug of apple juice for Brett, and a caramel apple for me.  Then we hit the fudge shop.  (Diet? What diet?)

On the way back home, I suggested taking Kersey somewhere for a hike.  We thought about Jenkinson Lake which is very close but the water level is so low that it looks more like a puddle than a lake.  Our favorite lake for kayaking is Wrights Lake, halfway between us and Lake Tahoe.  We decided to go there.  Brett called the ranger station to make sure the road was still open.  The ranger told him that the lake is closed to camping and boating for the season, but hiking is still allowed.  He said that there was some patchy snow but it was not enough to be a barrier to a hike.

Ten miles from the lake we hit patchy snow.  Soon the road looked like this.

We parked outside the barricaded road and Kersey immediately starting doing donuts in the snow.  We followed the road to Dark Lake, where we snapped the leash onto Kersey.  She wanted to swim.  And it was 35F.

Then we walked through a deserted campground to the boat launch at Wrights Lake.  We walked on the road because the snow was too deep to find a trail.  Patchy, my foot.

We got home just in time for evening chores.  Albondigas soup is on the menu for dinner.  It was a great day.

You can see ice on the lake, behind Brett's head.