Anna Blake **I’m a full-time horse trainer who has written about horses (here) since 2010. My dogs think it’s their turn now.** Have I wandered out of my lane? I’m not a dog trainer, just a horsewoman. But none of us are just one thing, are we? Because I work with horses doesn’t mean that I am … Read more
We’re recuperating from last week’s clinic in Wyoming. I heard more smoke moved in the next day, so the timing was good. We wouldn’t have worked the horses if the smoke had been worse. The smoke followed me home. Some years it’s been more dense, but with daily air quality warnings, this is bad enough. … Read more
We were at a clinic in Wyoming this week. I’m not saying it was hot, but Mister wouldn’t move from the front of the air-conditioning vent. I watch the breeze waft hair off his body in a near-mystical golden cloud. The air conditioner is doing its best on a hundred-degree day. I compare it to … Read more
I’m doing it again. Pretending to be Jane Goodall… you know, if she got a herd of sheep. I was born this way, to the dismay of those who thought daydreaming about animals was an immature waste of time. I guess I showed them, still doing it on the far side of seventy. Jane Goodall … Read more
Mister, who is the voice of conservative reason and common sense, looks me in the eye. What starts as socializing a puppy quietly becomes a habit, and before you know it, you are slipping off to classes and then to dog trials. You wind up driving hours for herding lessons. You end up with ducklings … Read more
I wasn’t thinking, really. The car was packed the night before. I got dressed while Jolene walked me, room to room on my heel. She will Not. Be. Left. Mister would like you to know doing anything at the crap of dawn is not civilized. He was taking his nap after breakfast. He barely woke … Read more
A beady-eyed burnt-orange sun crept over a smoky horizon, and it’s hot-air balloon season in Colorado. Juxtaposition: A new day dawns, but the same destructive fires continue to destroy homes, kill animals, and upend lives while others carry on as usual. My hay guy just delivered a load, $2.50 a bale more than the last … Read more
Yes, it’s a proper word. I didn’t make it up, but I wish I had. Quanked is in the 1893 Glossary of Words Used in the County of Wiltshire. It means overpowered by fatigue. They didn’t say emotional exhaustion, but I’m not alone here. I needed a word that was as old as I feel. … Read more
I traipsed across Minnesota and North Dakota through factory farms and cemeteries this summer. Trying to link childhood memories with physical locations, only to find they were gone. The only building standing seventy years later was a big white barn. Is that how long it takes for things to become unrecognizable? The span of a … Read more
Coming home, the washboard road is as close to a drumroll as we’ll get. We are bleary-eyed and dog-tired. I have a class to lead in three hours. Jolene needs to zoom in her yard like an Indy car. Mister sweeps the farm for stray cats who might need to be barked at. And the … Read more