Dismounting: How the Ride Ends
You're riding a horse who has taken care of you for years. You're riding a young, greener-than-green horse. You're...
Photo & Poem: Respite
Caramel and blond, a mare as beautiful as she is wildly alert to every sound, brittle bravado searching for control...
Finding Your Horse's Sense of Humor.
His name is Normandy, but he goes by Norman at home. He's been here almost a year now; he belongs...
Photo & Poem: Other
Stalking each other, the pale color of prairie straw, she should be a coyote but her tail has short...
Hindsight Argument for Affirmative Training
He was a huge gelding with obvious draft blood. I could see white all the way around his eye. It...
Photo & Poem: Scream
Her small exhausted body wobbles, too frail to run on uneven hooves, no energy to eat. Don’t call her...
Consistency in All the Right Places.
In the winter months, below-freezing mornings make for stiff joints and a cold bit; midday riding is the best. As...
Photo & Poem: Boundary
Dim light elongates in the lavender dusk, boundaries soften to faded nuance. Barn horses bolt at an inaudible sound,...
Battlecry of the Gray Mare
Sun's up, I've thrown hay, and now I'm in the shower. My second-best thinking happens here because there's a window...
Photo & Poem: Colic Weather
Unsettled in-between days, a musty fog slows the sunrise, flannel jacket zipped-up for early chores. The chill is a relief...
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