Bitey-Face and the Secret Passageway
We turn into the driveway and the umpire flings his arms wide and yells, "Safe!" It's the feeling I get...
Jolene. Jolene. Jolene. JOLEEENE!
Sometimes, change sneaks up behind you when you least expect it, knocks you down, and drags you off, kicking and...
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....
Cowboys and Liberals
When people talk about the romance of farming, I think they've watched too much TV and read too little Steinbeck....
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...
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