Self-Awareness Without Apology
We aren't kids anymore. That's the complaint. Riding seems easier in memory. When we were younger, riding was rose-colored and...
Light Leading: The Invisible Rope
She was born on a full moon so I named my Iberian filly Claro De Luna. She was so...
Travel Blog: Addressing the Vegetarian Haggis
Distant Balmoral Edinburgh, Scotland. The first moments in a new country are never the best....
Photo & Poem: Say Her Name
As you say her name, your voice drops deep, a tight raspy croak. Not haunted with loss, but shaken...
Meeting the Przewalski's Horse in Scotland
Val and her son, Hulagu They're wild horses discovered by Nikolai Przewalski, a Polish-born colonel in the...
Photo & Poem: Ducks and Geese
Seven iced-over winters followed by sweet bugs on long summer days. Flightless old girls with twisted toenails and dim...
See It Through His Eyes
It's a perfect day. No wind, not hot. The kind of day that you spend most of the months of...
Photo & Poem: A Smoky Memory
A dusky pink summer dawn, stepping out the porch door, halt. Dread at the smell of unnatural heat. How...
A Natural Instinct to Dominate
I find it fascinating to watch children talking to animals. It's almost like studying mustangs. Kids are who we are,...
Photo Challenge & Poem: All Time Favorite
Directions Turn on the dirt road at the bottom of the hill, then go past the big curve. Slow on...
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