Calming Signals: How the Farm Says Thank You.
It's Thanksgiving time and I should write something special, but I feel kind of ordinary. All I...
COVID-19 with Horses: How Are We Doing?
If horse people know one thing, it's that it's never just one thing. Having horses also means we partner with...
Horse Woman, Our Narrative
Drawing by Rebecca Howard I usually write a gray mare rant annually on my birthday. I'm...
The Problem with Humility
I've gotten sour on a word. Why does it matter? Words are how we understand each other but some words...
Requiem for an Old Truck
req·ui·em/ˈrekwēəm/noun 1.(especially in the Roman Catholic Church) a Mass for the repose of the souls of the dead. There is...
Photo & Poem: Her Words
If her words didn’t matter, her father would lift his eyes from the television commercials and not busy his mouth...
Photo & Poem: Forever Now
Walking past the mare, I let my hand follow the shape of her body, her hair so short it has...
What Will Happen if You Don’t Ride Today?
It's really hot here. How hot is it? I'm not saying. People get competitive. You'd just say it's hotter where...
Photo & Poem: As if Love
She declared that she loved her horse as if loving took a sort of noble skill rare to our kind....
Photo and Poem: Three-Quarter-Ton
Driving home from the feed store on a back road, easing my foot from the gas pedal, the three-quarter-ton...
Photo & Poem: Words
“You’re not wearing that, are you?” Voicing her anxiety first, was my blouse revealing something more than unconventional taste? Welcoming...
Photo & Poem: Sunset to Dark
Talking with her while I walk the farm, I say look what you’ve done with the new grass. Earth sends...
Photo & Poem: No Gloves
The woman doesn’t make a good first impression. Her hair is dry as straw under a ball cap from Tractor...
Edgar Rice Burro on Covid-19 and Physical Distancing (on World Donkey Day)
Does Covid-19 impact my herd? The email asked, "I wonder if you've noticed the quieter world in your horses?...
Photo & Poem: Slap Hands
Sit next to Jack, she said. Mother’s youngest brother on leave from the Army at our kitchen table. He pinched...
It Could Be Worse. You Could Be Married to Me.
"Honey, when you're in town will you pick something up for me?" I don't quite wait for the answer. "Great,...
Photo & Poem: Limbo
As if struck by lightning, the horse died; a clean and horrible quiet. No diagnosis, no cure, no negotiation....
Photo & Poem: Home Farm
The mare stands square, extending her neck, surveying the pond marsh. Are the coyotes on the move? She takes three...
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