California Smoke Out

It seems like every September, sometimes into October, smoke descends onto our ranch.

We wake up in the morning, open the back door and step into the haze.  It looks like fog, but it smells like a campfire.  The smoke stings your eyes and burns your throat.  But unlike a campfire, you can't move away from the smoke.  It's everywhere.

We are not close to the fires burning west of us, in Sonoma and Napa counties.  Those are a good two hours away.

And the the fires to the east of us, towards Lake Tahoe, are about an hour away.  Maybe less.

There are also fires to the north of us.

Normally, when I head down the mountain for work I can see the outline of Sacramento clearly in the distance.  This morning?  It looked like this.

Donkey Love

Here are some pictures Steve took of the donkeys.  When friends and family visit, the donkeys and the goats are by far the most popular critters on the ranch.

They love having their backs raked with the muck rake.  Here I am demonstrating the technique, with my model Tuffy.

Even Finessa, who is afraid of the much rake when it is scraping on the ground close to her, loves a good back scratch with the thing.

Heather discovered a new donkey favorite: insert knuckle into donkey ear and rub.  Result: donkey bliss.

How can you not love these faces?

Nobody can resist Tuffy and Finessa.  Why would you even want to?

Random Friday

1.  I went back to Physical Therapy this week.  My therapist did not look overly dismayed when I told her about the pain when I rode last weekend.  Instead she was focused on how quickly my back returned to okay afterwards --  two days instead of eight weeks.  She gave me more work to do, and instructed me to ride only at the walk initially and then increase it over the next two weeks as I am able.

2.  In the meantime, I think I broke my foot.  I feel like a walking hobbling disaster.  Three weeks ago, Finessa stepped on my foot.  She was just moving in closer so I could reach the spots she wanted scratched, and I gently pushed her off.  I remember muttering to her "that wasn't very nice" and then I pretty much forgot about it.  I am forever getting stepped on by the goats or the dog, and I drop things from time to time (heavy barn things).  X-rays were inconclusive so next week I go in for an MRI.  In the meantime, I can't bear much weight and have to wear sandals to accommodate the swelling.  Finessa is the one who is sweetly looking at the camera in this picture. She looks small but she's a solid 500 lbs.

3.  Brett finished up the section of fence he was replacing in the girls' pasture and moved them back on Thursday.  Lucy is an interesting character: incredibly demonstrative and sweet, but also incredibly jealous and, at times, downright b**chy.  If she were human, she would be the wife from hell -- pushy, demanding, nagging, and vain.  ...of course, she is a fun ride so maybe she would be worth it...

4.  And here's a picture of Tuffy -- just because he's so dang cute.

Tuffy and Tex

The other day, in an effort to reach the grass growing outside their pasture, Tex pushed a section of fence over.  Brett needed to put Flash and Tex in another pasture until he could replace the fence.  He couldn't put them in with Jackson because Jackson ends up covered in bite marks -- courtesy of Tex who goads Jackson constantly.  Putting the boys in with girls might result in fireworks so he didn't do that either.  The only option left was to put the boys in the donkey pasture.  Brett promised to keep an eye on things and make sure Tex didn't harass the donkeys.  He called me later and said that they were doing fine together.

Sure enough, when I got home all was calm and neither donkey had a mark anywhere.  Tex and Flash were busy grazing and the donkeys were by the gate, hoping for hay.  Later, when I took the cart into the pasture to muck, I found Tex and Tuffy standing side-by-side.  They made an adorable picture.  Tex,  a muddy chestnut powerhouse, and Tuffy, fluffy and sorrel, standing together with Tuffy's back almost touching the bottom of Tex's belly; both with ears pricked forward towards me; two friends.  When Brett brought the hay cart in, Tuffy stood right behind Tex -- waiting for Tex to give the green light on sharing ha.  It came pretty quickly.

I was initially surprised by their friendship -- Tex can be such a bully.  He's left marks on both Winston (who probably deserved it) and Jackson.  He never bothered Flash, who remains alpha despite his age.  But on second thought, the friendship between Tex and Tuffy makes perfect sense.  Tuffy isn't going to challenge Tex -- Tex is four times his size.  But Tuffy loves to run and play.  Tex, more than any horse we've ever had, loves to run as well.  We often see him racing up down the pasture for the sheer joy of the wind in his face and mane, and the power of his thundering hooves.  When we ride in the dressage court (which is behind the donkey pasture), Tuffy runs in circles in his pasture mimicking us.  Finessa stands quietly, watching him, and no doubt thinking he's lost his mind.  Now Tex and Tuffy can run together -- Tex jumping stream as they go around and Tuffy splashing through.

Its tempting to leave them there, together.

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.

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.

Donkey Antics

Tuffy and Finessa were playing hard this afternoon.

Tuffy grabs a mouthful of mane and neck, while Finessa spins in circles.

They break apart and run, trotting with their heads high and ears flying behind.

Tuffy runs up behind Finessa, who lets loose with both hinds.  Smack!  Right in Tuffy's chest.

They run, cantering with their heads low, ears flying and hind feet throwing in an occasional buck.

They stop, look at me, and put on their most innocent faces.

...and then they are off for more fun.  Not my idea of fun, mind you, but clearly their's.

Musical Pastures

Brett asked me to take a look at Jackson this morning.  I usually muck the girls' pasture and Brett does the boys'.  Jackson wasn't limping but he was scuffed up again and, this time, I could clearly tell that the scuffs were from another horse's teeth; not tree bark and not predators.  I've had my suspicions; Mufasa is pushy with Jackson but I've never seen him be aggressive to the point of biting.  Clearly, he's a sneaky horse and bites when no one is looking.

Jackson is also too thin -- while Mufasa and Flash are in good weight.  That, combined with the bullying, convinced me that Jackson needed to be moved.  He needs more weight going into winter and he needs to be left alone.  He has laminitis and is prone to abscesses.  I don't want him pushed around when he is in too much pain to get out of the way.  Every winter I hold my breath; wondering if Jackson will make it through.  I want him to have the best shot possible.

We moved him in with the donkeys.

Tuffy wanted to know how long Jackson was staying.  He wasn't letting them near the hay.

Jackson dove into the hay but he did, eventually, let the donkeys join him.  The donkeys can't have a lot of hay so if Jackson limits their access, its a good thing.  Jackson needs the groceries; they don't.

Brett and I spent the afternoon spreading eleven yards of bark in the garden.  Brett brought it in with his tractor and I spread it with a rake.  The sky was dark and cloudy, but the rain held off until we finished.  As I spread the last tractor load, rain started to come down.

We moved the table back under the oak tree as the rain intensified.  Then the heavens opened and the deluge started.  We ran (okay, Kersey and I ran; Brett walked) for the house.  Forty minutes, and half an inch of rain later, it was over.

I love how the daisies and black-eyed Susans pop after it rains.  So clean, so crisp, so bright.

After chores, Brett barbecued a couple steaks and I boiled some corn we bought at the farmers market this morning.  We also drove out to South Fork Farms and bought a loaf of amazing bread -- stone ground organic wheat, baked in a wood burning brick bread oven.  (No, we did not finish our steaks.  The were HUGE.  Kersey is going to love her breakfast tomorrow).

King Fire Update: With the help of the rain this week, the fire is now 84% contained at 97,000 acres.  The smoke is greatly decreased; we didn't notice any at all today -- the first time in two weeks.  The weather has been cool here with snow further up in the Sierras last night and today.

More Buttons

Lucy has more buttons that I can push than any other horse I've ever had. This morning I found more. We were working on trot-walk-trot transitions so I could practice my half-halts and she could practice balance. We trot in a nice frame, then I slow her trot, drop to a walk -- for a couple strides -- then go back into trot. We were down at the far end of the arena and when I asked her to go back into trot she cantered instead. A light bulb went off -- she knows how to do walk to canter transitions! We tried a few -- ooh la la. I've never ridden transitions like that -- smooth and easy and balanced like the fancy upper level riders do on their horses.

In addition to transitions, we did some more counter-canter and a few leg yields. We started our warm up by walking around outside the dressage court. Lucy loved it and was stretching down nicely so we went into the arena.

At about that time, Tuffy and Finessa decided to do laps in their pasture which is right at the base of the dressage court. They were racing each other, with puffs of dust coming up from their little hooves, screeching to a stop, climbing on top of each other, snorting, and taking off again. It was a bit much for Lucy. She threw her head in the air and stopped, snaking her neck back and forth like a cobra. I was concerned for a moment.

Then I remembered... this is Lucy, not Winston. I can ask Lucy to ignore the donkeys and she will. I took a firm contact with the outside rein and squeezed with my legs. She said, "oh, okay" and went forward nicely. No more silliness. No argument. No fight.

Just happiness. Pure harmonious happiness. Pinch me.

Are You My Mother?

Last night, I went out to the barn to check on Lucy and the dogs before going upstairs to bed. The dogs met me at the door and followed me up the aisle to Lucy who had her head poking out of her stall into the aisle, watching us. Kersey stood next to me and Lucy reached her head all the way down and sniffed the top of Kersey's head. Kersey looked at me: Do I stay here next to you and let this huge horse sniff my head, or do I retreat out of reach next to Sedona? In the end, she stayed frozen in place and Lucy lifted her head back up to me. I gave her a cookie and said goodnight. Pistol was watching from her stall and gave me a look that said; There had better be another cookie in your pocket for me. Of course there was.

This morning Pistol and Lucy were quietly waiting for breakfast. We gave them the morning to continue getting to know each other through the safety of a fence while we went to the farmers market.

At noontime, Brett put a halter on Pistol and I put one on Lucy. Lucy and I followed Brett and Pistol out of the barn. I wanted to walk Lucy around the property a bit; particularly up by the dressage court where I will be riding her. She walked along on a loose lead until we started up the path to the arena, past the dreaded miniature donkeys. Tuffy had run up to the fence to get a closer look at Lucy. She wasn't so sure she wanted a closer look at him.

Lucy danced next to me as we walked along. About halfway to the dressage court we stopped and I turned her to look at Tuffy. She stood for a minute, stretched her nose out to him, and took some cautious steps to the fence. Tuffy stood his ground on the other side, with his nose pressed up against the fence. Lucy arched and stretched her nose down to Tuffy and ... nickered. The soft, blowing, tender nickering sounds that a mare makes to her foal. Tuffy didn't know what to think.

Hey, lady. I may be small but I am a grown up and you are NOT my mother.

We continued our walk. Lucy didn't mind the donkeys (poor lost children, just need a mother) after that. As we started walking around the dressage court she saw Flash, Jackson and Mufasa hanging their heads over the fence of the upper pasture, ogling the girls for all they were worth. Lucy started dancing again.

After our walk, we put Pistol and Lucy together in the clover pasture (which is pretty dry and not deserving of that name right now). Lucy floated back and forth in a very elevated trot and then rolled. Three times. She and Pistol didn't bat an eye at each other; just got down to the hard work of grazing.

The clover pasture shares its western fence line with the goats. I had been warned that Lucy does not like sheep so we weren't sure what she would think of the goats. She kept a wide berth initially, but within an hour she was grazing along the shared fence, completely unconcerned with the goats.

She seems to be settling in nicely.

This Too Shall Pass

There is storm system north of us sending cloudy skies and breezy conditions to our valley.

The rain from last weekend soaked the ground and sunshine coaxed the seeds into sprouting; we have green grass springing up in the pastures.  Finessa has wasted no time in sampling it.

After breakfast and chores, Brett and I headed into Placerville to look for a mud room bench at the Antique Fair.  We wanted a small bench that we can sit on while taking on and off our shoes.  We found exactly what we were looking for, wedged it into the back of the Subaru and headed back to the ranch.  I wanted to ride before our lunch at MiraFlores winery.

We tacked up Winston and Mufasa in their stalls.  After all our work yesterday in the barn, it's finally horse friendly.

There are rings in the stalls for tying horses while they are tacked up.  Winston is good about being groomed and tacked up in his stall; we've done that at a few shows.  Mufasa doesn't like to be tied and will pull back so I used baling twine to create break-away loops.  You tie the lead ropes to the twine loop and that way the twine will break if the horse panics.

Mufasa stood quietly in his stall with one eye on Winston, next door, and the other on Brett.  The trust between Brett and Mufasa is steadily increasing.  They are so fortunate to have found each other.  Winston was a bit fussy, worrying about where everyone was and what they were doing.  We mounted and rode out to the dressage court, with Winston and I leading the way.  Winston walked into the arena without balking and we made a couple uneventful loops around the entire arena.  As I was getting ready to cross the arena and go the other direction, Winston decided he was done.  I understand that he was tired and no doubt sore from our work on Saturday but his behavior was unacceptable.  Once again, he plowed backwards dragging the arena rails and a pylon with him.  I know I should have smacked him with my whip and sent him forward and to work but, well, my confidence just isn't there.  I'm disappointed in myself.  Next time I will deal with it from the saddle.  And I know he will outgrow this and he will get fit.  He's six.  Its a difficult age -- kind of like the terrible twos.  Instead of grabbing the bucking strap, giving him a smart tap, riding out the inevitable buck and trotting off, I got him to walk forward by kicking.  Back in the arena, he threatened to go backwards again.  I kicked until he walked forward into a halt and then I got off.  The lunge line was hanging on the fence.  We worked on the lunge line, on transitions because they require obedience.  I hadn't planned to canter today but he ended up doing interval work -- canter-trot-canter.  He had to be prompt and he had to keep the gait going until I decided it was time to transition.  He has a bad habit of trying to make those decisions himself.  So, we did get some work done.  I will get braver.  He will get older.  This phase will pass.