Ten days after solstice and it’s already staying light longer. Want to wish me a happy one-year-older? On January first, horses become one year older, regardless of their actual birthdate. Breed organizations do it for ease of record keeping, and I doubt the horses notice. As proud gray mare, that means I am a year older, too. Spare me the party.
My first upgrade when I moved to this farm in 1999 was a place to train horses. I marched off the highest flat piece of land and marked corners of a dressage arena. I wasn’t happy it was next to the road, but if something happened to me, I’d be visible when someone eventually drove by. This passed as a safety plan, but just barely. Then, I had six inches of topsoil ripped off and finally, a caravan of dump trucks delivered the sand. I didn’t have a tractor, so I raked it all down by hand. Call it a labor of love.
It would be hard to explain to someone who isn’t a rider what it means to have an arena. It benefits horses, but as an Affirmative Trainer, it’s also like having a huge room where all the best things happen. Never fear or punishment, only praise and laughter. It’s a happy place where I spent so many joyous hours doing the things I love best. We rode as the full-moon set at dawn. We galloped across the sky with the clouds at sunset.
Before long, I started training professionally, giving riding lessons and eventually boarding a few horses. I would never have believed it, but coaching horses and riders became as rewarding as working my own horses. I gave Riding to Music clinics and offered horse agility. The farm was a busy place, and the arena was the heart of it all. I spent some of the happiest hours of my life in that sandbox.
Now, it’s too quiet. Once I began traveling for clinics, things changed at home. My beautiful arena became deserted. There are five retired souls in my barn: three horses, a donkey and a mini. Each year they cost more to keep. Meanwhile, my clients have gotten older, too. Some have moved away, and some have lost their horses. Others are no longer riding by choice. That isn’t a crime. Bones that were flexible when we were younger have gotten brittle. Laying down your ego and making regretful decisions for our health and the security of animals that depend on us is honorable. And inevitable.
Weeds grow, and I fight them back. I’ve spent years maintaining the footing in my arena, and now it’s an eyesore that reminds me the riding party is over. A reminder that I’m not training there and yet, not retired. I’m in limbo. Sound familiar?
At this time of year, I do a little repurposing. I can’t stand wasting anything, so flip-side, I watch myself for hoarding. It started by cleaning the things I don’t wear out of my closet. It progressed to open season on things I was keeping for good. At this age, what am I waiting for? It was like my closet had a class system, and I proclaimed equality. The last skirt was excused. I haven’t worn one in decades. I eyeballed my three thousand scarves but didn’t touch them. Much of my work is online, so I am still in Covid waist-up dressing mode. Then I tossed out some cooking gadgets for good measure because I hate to cook. I’m getting rid of stuff that holds me back. I’m making room for new things to come.
It started two years ago. I turned some water tanks into raised flower beds because I had more tanks than horses. A celebration that I was no longer boarding. It made me feel free. Whatever you are paying to board your horse, as much as it is, it isn’t enough. Trust me.
I also started selling off my tack. Keeping the things I use at clinics, sending some things to clients who might like them, and then selling the rest a little at a time. Where did all these saddle racks even come from? I’ll pool the money for my next whatever. But there, by my driveway, is a sandy beach with letters around it. It’s like an albatross who pokes me with his beak as I come and go. What do I do with that?
Jolene said, let’s go muck. It takes more time when she and Mister help, so why not? It’s a double win. More dog time and more muck time, which any horsewoman will tell you is when all great ideas come. Amid my limbo worries all year, the reluctant changes and sad losses, I countered by getting Mister and me a dog. The first puppy in ages, and I’ve put all of my horse training knowledge into her. The two species are more similar than you’d think. Or maybe kindness is a universal language. Now the three of us are on a search for our next project. Mister hopes it will include a special lunch. Holding his ears up is exhausting.
How do I land this thing? This third half of my life. They put little stock and even lower expectations on gray mares in our culture, but I won’t let getting older feel like a demotion. I don’t want to travel back in time. Or sit and wait for the next loss. This awkward age feels like being a lame duck in life. Now what?
I’m still a horse trainer, where the antidote to any problem is forward. It can be physical movement or an attitude, but it’s that simple. Forward. Instead of being haunted by a sandbox, I want to grasp at the foggy unknown ahead. So, I barter with myself. Like trading a toy for the shoe the puppy has stolen, I try to trade myself something for what is being taken away. Simple enough, but more complicated than it used to be. What is reasonable at my age and income, but impractical enough to be fun?
I was ruminating in my slightly ripe juices when Jolene swaggered into the studio and said, Hey, you. Pull this rope. She has been doing this for hours as I work, and all the toys from the yard are piled around my desk. Mister is meditating because it’s an activity you do with your eyes closed. It’s easy to mistake for napping at his advanced level.
Jolene says I throw like a girl. She is wrong, of course. I’m not that strong. At this age, it can feel you have more past than future. The problem is that it’s true. Getting older is uncurable because it isn’t a sickness or injury. I could brag that I hoist feed bags. I still do, but since I broke my wrist tripping with one, I am ridiculously careful. I come armed with glasses and hearing aids but no complaints. I used to be critical of my body, but it’s held me together all these years. I don’t think I’ve ever loved it more.
A new year is a privilege, I lecture myself as I nearly whack my head over-handing her unwieldy rope. My heart swells looking around my farm. I never want to be anywhere else. Never want to retire for that matter. Life has always been a ride in limbo, balancing anticipatory grief with anticipatory joy.
Then I hear a sound like no other. It’s a heaving howl that rises whole octaves to a guttural shriek, with gasps for air between each screaming honk to the heavens. It’s Edgar Rice Burro reminding me of my other favorite thing on my farm, and an old idea dusted itself off and started running laps in my frontal lobe. Now we’re doing math at the hardware store. Jolene and I are on a mission.
To be continued…
…
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“When in doubt, let your horse(s) do the thinking.”
And the dogs. Thanks, Pat
Thanks for this Anna,
At 72 I am in a similar place. My husband and I just separated (my idea) and I am staying on the farm. I am blissful with the peace and calm that now enfolds this beautiful space and faced with the realities of a Canadian winter, wind chill is -30C today. I am learning how to use the tractor, bush hogging in the fall and snowblowing the 1 km laneway.
I love how you roll with things, take things in stride and adapt. By slowing down and finding different ways to flourish in new times, spaces and ages we will find a path. Maybe someday we will treat ourselves with the same kindness that we give our animals.
May 2026 be a wonderful one for you.
Susan
That kindness should be our training goal as well as our life goal. Best wishes to you on your beautiful farm.
That’s very true, Susan, we need to be kinder to ourselves. A good plan for 2026!
Happy New Year,
Love, Nuala
Anna you are among my favorite Wild Women! A puppy for gosh sake. So brave you are!
For those of us living in the era of “what next”, I keep trying go with one of my theories of life… trust that just as those horses, dogs, cats, and of course burros, inserted themselves into our lives, the next thing to light us up will as well.
Wishing everyone a joyful tomorrow.
Cathy
True, Cathy. Usually more than one thing. I have enjoyed picking it.
Hi Anna,
I recently stumbled across your public writings and read them all. It makes me feel good and eases my ability to go out and conquer the world. I’m 75 and very happy! An old friend, Mimi Emerson turned me onto your book. I’ll check out the other ones now.
I do not own a horse but used to love riding before Back surgeries. Doc says no!
To me your writings are about LIFE !
Thru your eyes and your animals.
I thank you so much.
Dory Wagner from RI
Dory, thank you so much. And I do write about more than dogs and horses… Thank you for noticing. Have an adventurous new year. Even at our ages.
💗
thanks!
Jolene and Anna on a mission…at Lowes? Now, what will come forth from that expedition, I wonder? Good things, no doubt.
We have a small sandbox at the new farm, right outside the barn, which makes things very simple. It’s truly a play box…
talk about getting stuck in limbo: I was thinking that while playing Gin Rummy with my husband (cards help keep the brain working). I had three aces down, but I was stuck for about seven moves. Like life at this stage. January 2nd, and I just
began working on my list of projects to be accomplished, after the month of visits, gatherings, events and all else. January
is a ‘tired’ month. It’s dark, cold, and one sleeps more.
Awaiting: News of a tiny (abused) Siamese kitten, still at the Humane Society, on treatments for anaemia, poor little soul.
Awaiting: Aviary expansion in an upstairs suite. New design. 7 birds.
Awaiting: A warm enough day to pick up the hilly pasture. No drag at the barn (I can hear Anna sigh).
Awaiting: My order for 10 ft. poles and (faux) Cedar bushes for the arena obstacles/or for decoration. Current temp. 50F-ish.
Good for work.
Must get to work on all projects, feline, equine, opera media, and clearing out the house, like Anna. Scarves are rarely thrown out, they are usually never out of fashion either. Skirts…no, there are many classics that remain.
Great friend and professional groom currently on vacation in Nashville, enjoying the Grand Ole Opre.
Returning tomorrow, and I promised I would strip the stalls before her return. Today’s project.
One of those annoying periods where blankets have to continually be changed: mild days, very cold nights. Hands and nails are torn up. Neck wraps are on and off and on again.
We return home exhausted at night with little energy for anything. Lately…and this is horrible…I can’t even make it through
Masterpiece or a film. I am gone by 10 PM — the internal clock is set to that time. I begin tipping over on the sofa. This age
thing (73rd year for me, 78 for my husband) is a pain when you want to do so much.
My husband pushes me up gently with his hand but I fall over again. Then, shock awake! “How much did I miss?”
One becomes one’s old aunts — eventually. But that’s fine. I loved my old aunts.
Keep up the great work — I wish we had your arena, Anna.
For those who (for whatever reason) do not ride. Strike up a new relationship with your horses in ground games and country walks!
We do this for one hour, 5 days per week, at a minimum 20 minutes in the arena, doing cavalletti work at walk and trot. Then, their reward is to walk out along a country (private) road for 25-30 minutes. All horse farms on either side, in case of trouble, when one can dip into a nice driveway. We just have to watch for dogs. Following the winter walks (all in-hand), we take them behind the barn for a hand-graze — their real reward. And we humans get a good workout. Trotting over cavalletti with a Thoroughbred is a good workout.
I’ll be thinking of you, Anna, in your clutter-busting projects. The trouble is just that it’s a rewind into history and you find so many things, you end up sitting on the floor, reviewing life’s past, reading old cards, books, and before you know it, four hours have passed, never to return. One has to be organized and set a daily limit.
I hope Jolene enjoyed her project shopping experience. Keep us apprised of your projects, Anna.
Happy New Year to you, your family, friends and all the animals. And a special hug for Edgar Rice Burrow.
Love, Nuala
Happy New Year to you and yours, Nuala
And to you, Anna. Keep us vital with your writing — you bring us all together and we appreciate it so much!
The power of friendship.
Nuala
I look for your comments every time I get a post from Anna.
I’m glad you and your husband are chugging along still “doing” horses – I guarantee it will keep you young AND mobile!
I miss horses, but for years now, I have fed the deer – only in the winter when they need it. After all, they are also prey animals & react in many ways like horses. There are four or five who come to get every afternoon at 3:30 – not tame by any stretch of the imagination, but they know where their bread is buttered in winter! Then there are the young ones – likely bucks who have been kicked out by their moms – who come down from the woods. I’m sure nobody gets much corn but they all get a few bites which appears to keep them going till spring.
Having to get myself together every afternoon to walk up back & spread corn keeps me mobile, as does walking Axel morning & night.
Stay safe and take care
Maggie
“What is reasonable at my age and income, but impractical enough to be fun?”
Ha! My friend, Lou, and I are mulling over this very question.
We’ve been like sisters for almost 45 years (she was my tandem partner back in our racing days). We fed off each other. Sometimes she came up with crazy ideas (let’s ride our tandem in the Paris-Brest-Paris race, or let’s run the Empire State Building Stair Climb); other times I did (let’s ride from San Diego to Jacksonville in 17 days, or let’s get back on the tandem—at ages 66 and 76 we rode a 4-day “comeback” tour around northwest Michigan, husbands following in a truck for support).
It was likely my idea for an adventure on our decennial birthdays, although she contributed. At 20, before Lou came into my life, I rode my bicycle across the country (a celebration of our country’s 200th birthday as a good excuse). At ages 30 and 40, we set a 24-hour women’s tandem road record. At 40 and 50, we pedaled across Michigan from lake to lake in less than 12 hours. At 60, it was me again, pedaling solo to Montana and back to Michigan (to celebrate 40 years of my trip in 1976—another excuse).
This year, we turn 70 and 80. We both feel the need to do something…
Can’t wait to see what you and Jolene are up to!
I’ve seen photos of the two of you. Totally undomesticated! and patti, I can’t wait to see what you two are up to!
Ha! I joke that she’s my “evil twin!” I can’t wait to see what we do too!
My brother recently looked around my farm and commented on how much work it is to keep up – then asked me if I have an “exit strategy”. Seriously? While I understand and appreciate his concern, it took me way too long to get here! That being said, I do have a plan for providing lifelong care for my horses, dogs, cats, and goats if something should happen to me, but as long as I can draw breath and keep moving forward, my exit strategy is to leave in a pine box. Preferably later rather than soon, but my crystal ball is currently on the blink.
We are crusty old hens who won’t leave our nests. Thanks Karen
Downsizing is good; I have been at it for a while, but not moving as quickly as I should be.
Downsizing is a lifestyle here.
Thanks for this, Anna. Good to know I’m not alone, facing the detritus of seven decades without a perky Marie Kondo mindset.
Since I decided there has to be a purpose for good in all the life I lived the hard way, I’m still “working.” But all the apps, subscriptions and attention-getting hoop-jumping for online success are distracting at best. I keep running up to the cost hurdle of hiring a savvy tech person to take over that part but there are so many creative decisions made along the way…so once again I decide: I can do it.
About that time I leave to muck, feed and listen to horses chew while trying not to think about all the spur of the moment social or adventure things that caring for horses excludes from my life. Then I imagine a trailer with them in it, driving off to the best non-profit retirement home I can find…for life…and once again, through tears, decide: I can do it.
But I gotta say, my 70s are seeing way more rocks and hard places than I remember in previous decades. I admire your Affirmative POV!
I agree on both counts. It’s alarming the challenges of a small business. We are the tip of a massive iceberg of challenges. The work outside that is never done. And age is most obviously more than a number. And so we persist. Stay strong in the New Year, Michelle. You can do it.
Love this. Can’t wait to read what’s coming.
Hehehe, thank you, Candis
Downsizing and decluttering, helps me so much mentally. My hardest decision in that area is what to do with 20 plus years of Equus magazines! They were a great resource for so many years. So hard to even mentally send them to recycle. Although they haven’t been out of the boxes for years. I’m making good progress on the house and barn overall, a bit at a time. Making peace with winter. Thanks for all of you! 76 days till SPRING
Those are the tough ones… good luck. I feel that way about a library of horse books that are partly out of date, and not nearly as quick and easy as online research. Congrats on making peace with winter… that’s a fight that’s hard to win. Best to try to get along. Thanks Taz.
I am so ashamed that my 20 years of Equus starting I believe in 1987!! finally got tossed into recycling a couple years ago. I hated to do it, but there was no one who wanted them. There was so much great stuff in them too.
I sympathize.
I am so appreciative of a blog about aging disguised as a blog about dogs, and horses, too. I guess your pieces are all of that and MORE. You already know I enjoy your wit and humor and ability to weave disparate themes together so masterfully. I find it difficult to plan a future when essentially I’ve “aged out of futuring.” but I’m working on it. I borrowed that phrase from the 90 year old NPS ranger lady on a podcast.
You are setting a good example for us. Bet you didn’t think you’d grow up to become a good example, did you? But truly, I love your writing and always look forward to reading it.
Thanks, Sarah. Great comment. Aged out of futuring? And still alive? I don’t know what that means. But you are a very long time reader and I am very grateful. And you are so right, family members thought I was an example of many things, but never good. Hehehehe!
I suppose I should do ALL the catching up before commenting (sorry; I won’t), because my last comment (on an earlier post) about planning ahead for our animals’ future really belongs here. Great (gray?) minds think alike!
Yup, I think we do, Michelle.