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...
Poetry Out Loud: Impulsion
What Horses Want to “Talk” About.
What is it about the snout of an old horse? Especially a pink and black muzzle? How can it...
Poetry Out Loud: Walking the Dog
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...
Poetry Out Loud: Loss
Is Affirmative Training Denial?
It was during a meeting in an online class called Back in the Saddle. We'd shared videos of the week's...
Poetry Out Loud: Wish
I'm changing things up a bit. I'll be posting video of my poetry being read on Mondays. You can...
Distraction: A Simple Answer for Bright Shiny Things
Is your horse distracted? Is he always swinging his head at every noise? Does he knock you with his...
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...
Calming Signals and What You Can’t Unsee.
Our Barn Rat first met horses when she was three days old. She started earlier than some. Now, she's...
Photo & Poem: Weather Change
Hail blown sideways by the wind, dark clouds churning across the horizon, as the horses brace against the stinging ice...
Making Peace with Anxiety
A caption for this photo? "Dressage rider doesn't grasp the fundamentals of team penning." How about "Dressage rider brings a...
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: Her Place
A stick pony to start, with a wooden head and twine for a mane. The tiny girl stomped unevenly, imagining...
Calming Signals and Living on the Ulcer Continuum
Forty years ago, we didn't know about ulcers. Some horses acted crazy and we tried to train them out of...
Photo & Poem: Midsummer
Midsummer, the mare stands square, hooves flat and neck low, her muzzle faced into the corner of a dark stall,...
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