Finally, Jolene Speaks.
It's still dark out, and I'm sitting on the edge of my bed trying to pull my pants on. Isn't...
The Gnawing Bite of Anticipation
It felt like a militant act of self care. Like cutting your hair really short or tossing out jeans for...
A Radical Act In The Midst of Uncertainty
I’m not the sort who wakes up in a cheesy rom-com. Even when I was young and my body parts...
Nipping at the Heels of Despair
My horse sister called to ask how I was. It wasn't small talk. We tell each other the truth and...
An Anniversary Promotion From a Dead Horse
Today is a big anniversary for me. Here is the thing about anniversaries; they only matter to the ones having...
Can We Talk About Our Gray Mare Future?
I've been pondering two conversations about horses lately. They aren't very cheerful and I always know, no matter what I...
Septic Tank Trauma
I bet you flush the toilet in town without a hint of paranoia. I did before I bought my farm....
A Panic Room Or A Personal Haven?
How can being older feel like an unfamiliar experience? Awake every step of the way, but we seem lost and...
Finding Sanity While Worrying for the Future
Wrung out and pooped from consecutive days of snow and 40 mph winds, interspersed with monster gusts that felt like...
The January Manure Wars
I like to use farm implements for a couple of years after they first break down because I'm frugal. Think...
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