It’s the limbo week between Christmas and the New Year. The sunset of the year, if there is such a thing. Have you ever thought about how sunrise and sunset look alike? This photo is easy to place because Pikes Peak is on the western horizon here. But I know it’s an old photo because there are no high-voltage export lines from the wind farms east of us. They bind and gag the sunset now, so I use old photos. Low-tech time travel works for me. I’m always half-stuck in my early years on my farm.
I do the hardest math this time of year, tallying the numbers of newcomers and those who have walked on. This year, we said goodbye to Arthur, the goat. I love the chaos that goats bring, and the barn is too quiet without him. The eldest in the barn is Edgar Rice Burro, who had a rough year with recurrent hoof and tendon issues. He is okay, at least for now. The other horses are aging well and being smarter than us, are not overthinking it. The hardest goodbye was Preacher Man on Valentine’s Day. May his incessant barking forever ring in my ears. It’s the complicated ones that change us the most.
I’ve been weaning down the population on my farm for several years. Showing remarkable restraint, I am not getting more horses than I can afford. At one point, I had eight species here, totally around twenty-five souls, not counting the boarded horses and those in for training. I couldn’t do it now. I’m weaning down because as much as I hate it, I’m slowing down. Because it would be too much for someone else to take on if something happened to me. And that’s more likely than it’s ever been, if I’m honest. Besides, I’ve worked with rescue for too long. I know how hard it is to take in a large group. I’ve seen too many people who swore they would take a friend’s horse, but when it happened, simply could not afford it. Too often, elders get handed off too many times.
A Barnie friend says she just wants to live one day longer than her horse. That is my plan too, but I don’t recommend it. Some days it feels like my future is just waiting for animals to die off. But that wasn’t even the worst part. Friends died. Mentors died. The horse industry is struggling. I worry the country has cancer. I worry the planet is plotting revenge on us. If I wasn’t mourning, I was worrying. It was time to turn this rig around. Drastic measures were called for.
At a younger age, maybe I’d try to fix myself. Pick up a food fad, maybe read a self-help book. Now I’m a gray mare, and I don’t need fixing. My feelings are common sense to anyone paying attention. I could wish for shallowness, I guess. But I wouldn’t be good at it. Mister looked even worse than I did. He’d gone from curmudgeon to catatonic.
So, for the first time in years, we have one recent addition. I was sure we’d get an elder dog with one eye and a broken over ear, but this pup kept ringing the doorbell. Jolene was born just after Preach died. I think she was a parting gift, maybe. I’ve always thought that my animals passed me from one to another. I talked to friends, got back up, and when I knew I could guarantee her a full, safe life, we drove to Texas to get Jolene. Mister was beside himself. He would like you to know it isn’t easy being my dog. He needed help, and boy howdy, he got it.
Just as we were cruising into fall, there was one more loss. This time it was me. The event included losing my equilibrium, my hearing, and everything I ate. The emergency room was nothing like a spa visit. They checked my brain for a stroke and sent me home with a nebulous probably-diagnosis. Not whining; I am getting to my point. I could throw a bunch of tough-talking bravado around. I could lounge in denial and say age is just a number, but I’m being honest. This event scared me. For the first time, I wasn’t thinking about what might happen if I died. A bigger question was what would happen to all of us if I was too frail or aged to live this way? As Lily Tomlin says, “Nobody ever gets out of this life alive.”
Please understand that a hearing loss is small fish. I can still muck the barn, and that’s my standard of well-being. But it’s been an adjustment in every area of my life. Even a puppy with superpowers can’t cancel that out. Oh, the irony. The wake-up call I can’t hear. And suddenly, I felt old. Naturally, I Googled it. Recent research suggests aging isn’t a slow, steady process but happens in significant “spurts” or rapid bursts. That made sense. My forties were a battlefield. When I came home from the emergency room, I had landed with a thump in what people call the third half of life.
We all plan to ride until we’re a hundred, but things happen. We are all fine until the day we are not.
Is there a way to plan for this? Strategies for the changes that face us sooner or later? I haven’t retired. I love working with my clients and their horses. And it’s not like I’m trapped. I’m coming up on fifty years of self-employment. I know how to navigate tough spots. Most of those same years have been spent with horses. I know how to tuck and roll. Now what?
Some women go to extreme lengths struggling to appear young, as if being young didn’t have problems. That’s not me. I don’t understand being touchy about age. I want to wear my scars like a hiked-up prom dress and muck boots. Embrace the future and let both ends of the day be a sunrise. If we soak in denial, we might miss the good parts.
I’m constantly amazed at my blessings, but it doesn’t escape me that they all came just after enormous challenges. It’s been a rough year, but that is precisely the light on the horizon. Change is coming. Time to drop the load of self-trash-talk and dread that’s holding us back. Age is no excuse. The next few years will be a masterclass. And if we do it right, it might be the best ride yet.
When you look at life impersonally, the cycle is obvious. Things have to come apart to change. We are always trading one thing for another. At this year-end, what do we leave behind? What will we repurpose for the next act? Instead of a New Year’s resolution about correcting ourselves, maybe start with acceptance. Say it with me. I’m never going to be young and thin, subsisting on french fries again. Whew, what a relief.
Especially if the list of things we can’t do is longer than the list of things we can, the question should be, what can we have now? And then get creaking. I mean cracking. Because we’re not dead yet. Because there’s no time to waste. If this is our swan song, let’s belt it out. Off-key and with a teetering rhythm, but loud enough that we can all hear it.
To be continued…
…
An audio version of this essay is available to subscribers on Substack.
Find Anna Blake and The Gray Mare Podcast on Substack or BlueSky social media. Contact me directly at annablake.com. #deletefacebook
My books include three creative nonfiction books, two memoirs, and two poetry books. Available at all online booksellers, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and signed copies from me. Please consider leaving a rating or review.
Join us at The Barn School, our social and equine educational site, with member sharing and our infamous Happy Hour. Everyone’s welcome. For specific horse training advice, search 1500 essays archived on my website. Want more? Become a sustaining member, a “Barnie.” Subscribe to our online group and support the best bunch of like-minded horsepeople anywhere.
Ride for a new brand. Find our Relaxed & Forward and Undomesticated Women swag at Zazzle.
I love you so much Ms Blake. So often you words bring me to tears but its always stuff I need to hear, consider and know. Wishing you and your pack and herd joy in 2026.
Thank you, Jackie. Best to you and yours, too.
I’m with you, Anna! Can’t believe I’m 80. I don’t ride anymore, afraid I’ll fall off Ozzie trying to get off from his back. will land under him, he’ll step on me & break something! So much better to remain on the ground. Things seem to take longer than they used to, I’m not as quick as I used to be, etc., etc. But I’m still here & will be for as long as possible. Take care!
Amen, my sister. As sad as it is smart, but here we are!
Dear Anna, I can really relate to this end of year post. Wishing you good health and happiness win 2026 with your family. Much love, Verna.
Great to hear from you, Verna! I remember seeing photos of your mother… you have good genes!! Best wishes to you and yours.
I love that bit about belting our swan songs! You reminded me that possible rotator cuff surgery, while it would no doubt suck, would not be the end of the trail. Happy New Year!
Nope. You might take an alternate route. That’s my plan. Thanks, Lee
Well Anna, you’ve done it again. This is, for me, spot on. My mom, who lived to be 96, always said to age gracefully (among lots of other great advice) and I hope I’m doing it. Maybe being a lover of animals helps with that. Your advice about that here is very liberating. What’s important is to keep on keeping on, keep doing what we can along with the compromises we have to make. I will be 79 in January and I’m feeding our 17 horses twice, sometimes three times a week in the late afternoon. No more mucking, or giving tours or doing PR; I just can’t. But hands on with my boyfriends and giving kisses gives me the most joy.
I wish you a New Year with some happy surprises and lots of love.
Good for you, Pat. Sounds like a great compromise.
Keeping on keeping on and keep DOING is the only way to handle this aging shit!
I’ve been horseless 23 years – mainly because after Chico was gone – the thought of starting over financially (we all know that no matter how much we love them – ALL of them – its just so damn expensive to give them the right care) I was only (!) 64 at that time but the thought in my mind even now with the dog, cat & bird is will they be all right if I’m not here. That is not a concern because both my daughter and my son are as, shall we say, besotted with their animals as I am, so I know mine would be ok. Neither of them could afford to take on a horse. And the prospect of an animal I loved going somewhere unknown? No.
Incidentally, my mom lived to be 102 – have to admit that doesnt appeal to me.
So Anna – keep on truckin and above all, keep writing. We need your counsel/advice/whatever!
Thanks, Maggie. Happy to share my whatever!
This rings so true, (she said with a rueful laugh). My grandfather (and I am 73) was a noted judge of terrier classes. In the judging handbook it stated ‘honorable scars from fair wear and tear shall not count against’.
At some point years ago my mother embroidered this on a cushion which I still have. She quoted it regularly and I continue the tradition. Thank you for years of rueful laughs, onwards!
Abigail, thank you. I am still chuckling. Words to live by indeed! Thanks for sharing this!
Gosh. you did it again…as usual. i just need to conjure up some energy from somewhere to belt anything out. i start each day with a thank you. often too tired by the end of it!!
lets all share our swansongs!
and yes to doing more of what we can, and having what we can, wghhile we can, as long as we can make plans for them for if we cannot.
thank you
Great comment, Chris. Yes, the energy thing has changed for me, too. I nap at lunch time. Don’t tell anyone. 🙂
Thanks for this Anna. I’ve decided that as well as being the year of The Horse 2026 is going to be my Belle Epoch. A forced fresh start I didn’t ask for but it could be the start of something amazing. Happy New Year to you too x
Well, looking at the options, it beats every other option. Thanks Rebecca.
I loved this essay …so meaningful for us who have horses and aging ..you gave me inspiration for acceptance and also the change that comes with it
My beloved dog is 12 but still quite active. My horses are 10 and 23 but healthy and strong. I have good friends who ride them with me so they are in better shape than me. I’m still riding too at 78. Thank you again for your wonderful words of wisdom. I’m
Thank you, Lisa. I think having good friends to ride with is a huge blessing.
Bless you, Anna, for so clearly and eloquently describing this central part of my thoughts these last few years.
The theme almost yells out through so many of my recent conversations. It’s a tough – and important – subject.
There aren’t actual “answers” for any of this stuff, that I’ve found.
What, then? We talk of possibilities, weigh concerns, perhaps (for some) even have moments of personal insight and clarity.
It can be a very lonesome process, figuring out (worrying about) “best way/s” to do this part of our lives. The solitude, itself, is intrinsically tricky.
It all remains mostly murky territory, for me. Or – maybe – – uncharted waters. (Can’t even tell if I’m on solid ground, sometimes).
Anyway – your words help. You remind me this is on the minds of other good,-hearted, thoughtful folks (and particularly those of us who have various critters under our wing).
So – sure appreciate the reminder that it’s oft-traveled terrain. Though not a solution – feels good to feel the presence of others who are same-minded.
Sending thanks, smiles and love to all of you and yours, from New Hampshire.
It’s totally on my mind, too. How to land this beautiful life… Thanks Mimi. You are far from along. Best wishes back to you.
Ah Anna, I can relate to this. I’m 74, and it feels like this year, I got old. Bad knees and hips, though I do still have the originals. I still ride Red, but only in the arena, no more trails. I feel that as long as I can climb up there and ride, things are good, even if I feel old and creaky. But this is a constant thought – “ I’m slowing down. (I worry) Because it would be too much for someone else to take on if something happened to me. And that’s more likely than it’s ever been, if I’m honest.” Yup. 3 horses and 3 goats. Michael is still sharing all the chores every day, and keeps an eye on me while I ride, bless him. But I face-planted in the mud yesterday, just tripping on … something. I used to be able to recover from those trips. Right now, I just hope we’re all in the same place this time next year.
Please keep writing! ❤️
Thanks for this wonderful comment, Helen. I confess, tripping seems as big a challenge as riding. I get bucked off my feet more than I ever did horses. But you state it so simply. I hope we are all in the same place next year, too. Give the goats a scratch for me.
Anna, I too got the sober reminder this year of my potentially imminent mortality so also trying to adapt to a different way of living – taking each day for the gift it is and trying to manage my risk factors without eliminating all new adventures. It is okay to live with the awareness of shortening years, months, days, knowing this is the way of things, including so much I have loved for all these decades. You are approaching this with grace, wisdom and your always present sense of humor and good times. Hugs from out here in the rainy gray northwest.
Thank you, Emily. I am so glad after all this time, to know we are still walking similar paths. Yes, that awareness is there, but this is also such a rich time… and a bit of a wrestle to keep the wonder in balance with the worry. Your photography always does that for me. Best wishes to you and the whole family. Give my best to the tree. And take care, as I will, because we do that a little more now.
I have to ask – how many of us are frankly, insulted, when each time we go to the drs – someone (dr or nurse) asks early in the conversation – “have you fallen recently”? To be honest, the question really pisses me off and just might jinx me.
I realize I’m 87 and that’s OLD – at least that’s what they tell me. But putting that thought in my mind really does not help.
We all just have to keep doing what we can and keep moving. Anyone who still can be close to horses – listen to them munching their hay – just being near them – this is a blessing – we have all been so lucky to have that.
My personal insult is when they as if I dress myself. And I know falling more is a symptom of other conditions, but yes, it is a question I always want to throw back at them… You’re right, it’s all about keeping moving. We are the lucky ones, even if horses are memories. They are still ours.
I am late reading this today. My oak trees decided to drop all their leaves two days before Christmas. I started the clean up over several days then admitted defeat and hired a couple of younger backs for the bulk of it. I still spent a good part of today clearing the last corners. The tally is now 47, 55 gallon bags. I am working on admitting I have limits before, crippling myself for weeks. As hard as I have tried to deny it, age is not just a number.
At least you hired help… it’s something.
Anna,
Yes, Live, Love, Bark! (As I noted on a jar in an Antiques Market, recently.) Jolene would like that, especially if it’s filled with cookies.
Yes, the crash that fractured both my wrists in 2023 was a wake up. Over two years later, wrists are OK, but not so good, and I will not have the same strength I once had — no matter how much PT I have. I make do, and use my arms and legs more, to hold/open things; one has to adapt. In the summer, David tripped over a wide door guard (closed across the barn door area). We were at
Urgent Care for four hours, and I was frightened. Fortunately he did not further damage his previously broken back, but it was close. We are just not as touch and not as well-balanced.
I realised it was time for help and my friend and professional groom (who works full time at a very good stable), offered to help, at first once a week, and now three times a week. It has made life much better, more enjoyable and easier, and we can have some time off. We still do groundwork/games/fitness work with the horses, and we still take them for 30 minute walks daily. Our friend/groom works with us (to keep an eye on us, mainly). And we have a family at the farm, and two other vet techs, plus one nurse.
It’s a good team and just 6 horses, so we all cope well. However, the two vet techs went down, recently, with one of the respiratory viruses and had to stay home for several days…that really made a difference, especially with sleet/snow and cold. You need the full team at work.
All a wake-up call this year, I agree. We did not cut back on other animals at home and still have 7 birds, 6 cats and (yes) a tiny Siamese, previously in a bad situation, who is currently at the Humane Society being treated for anaemia. She is four (4) and only weights 4.3 lbs. She will probably never grow more than the size of a 6-month-old kitten. The trouble with all of us — we can’t close our hearts to any animals. Yet, it’s not ‘trouble’, there is always room at the Inn, isn’t there?
I am delighted to see a photo of Edgar Rice Burrow, and so sad to hear about the goat. Just warmed that he had such a good life with you. And the bark that you miss…will bark forever in your heart.
My brother called from Ireland last week. At the end of our conversation, he said, “Well, keep going until you don’t.”
(Likely, borrowed from Dame Maggie Smith’s character in Downton Abbey.
That’s all we can do.
I have set up a trust fund for the horses, should anything happen. And a lovely private estate where they can live out their days, with two young women we trust and who we know love them.
I think the four of us will likely travel on not far from one another, as most horse friends would want.
Wishing you a very healthy, renewed and happy New Year.
With love to all,
Nuala
Best wishes in the New Year, Nuala.
Getting older is not for the faint of heart, is it?
I cant imagine how hard it was and is for you to deal with TWO broken wrists, and a fall for anyone with a broken back is seriously frightening.
Having previously spent a four hour stretch more than once at an ER – I can more than sympathize.
Far too many of my friends from back in my horse times are gone already.
I believe that anyone who keeps and loves their animals must make sure they are cared for – in case. Looking at the “adoptable” animals at our Humane Society shows that isnt always the case.
I hope your New Year is a safe happy healthy one
Maggie
I did not know of Arthur’s passing… he will be missed… They are prisms through which life refracts… be they with us or long gone.
‘Slàinte mhath’ in a song to a gathering of friends well met … Anna, dear Edgar, the one and only Mr. Big, the horses, the lamas? Mister & Jolene, the invincible barn cat, the Barnies, the birds by the pond…
https://youtu.be/_GYCZGwUZuw
Oh, Prita. That was lovely! Thank you.
Anna,
I am sorry to say that my end of year Talley has included an unwelcome guest. Never has aging been more apparent than over the last two months. My spouse had a total knee replacement at the end of October, leaving me to manage all the heavy work instead of sharing it. The wrinkles, the fat in unexpected places, the less than rapid recall have been with me for awhile, but who the heck stole my stamina? I don’t think I’ve ever been so chronically exhausted! Oh well, it is what it is, but it did feel good to whine about it among some who might understand.
Wishing you all the good possible, and the fortitude to cope with the not so good.
Thank you, Laurie. And best wishes to your spouse for a quick recovery. As if anything is quick these days… Me, too, for stamina. It does no good to push it either, I notice. Best in the new year, my tortoise sister.
You’ve always kept it real.
Acceptance…. Then adapt. We have to keep finding our new normal.
Thank you and best wishes in the new year.
Quite a compliment, Deb. Thank you. And for lots of us, our whole lives have been a different normal. We’ll get through this. Best to you and yours, Happy New Year.
My young cat is my morning alarm, pre dawn we take a walk together, sadly he’s on a harness where we live currently, but at the end of a short road we’re in the bush and that is satisfying.
Must admit, sometimes after our return and breakfast, I join both cats in a nap.
This week I was offered a motorcycle to go for a ride on – tempting as I used to love motorcycle riding. But I know my strength just isn’t the same, and the risk is too great.
In my new town I’ve come to know a lady and her dog who I meet out walking. She’s a pretty spry 88yo, and it’s heartening to meet someone still doing life pretty well.
I was looking forward to your course next month but it’s on zoom, which for various reasons I can’t do- is there another option please?
I read a article that shared research about the healthy lower stress levels in countries where they siesta… So I nap for my health. Or that’s my excuse. Great comment… Maybe she got to 88 by not taking up motorcycles!
As for the workshop, the only thing I can think of is sharing the link to recordings of our meetings if you have a computer, tablet, etc that you could watch them on… you could write along with us and we would miss your company… but that’s the only thing I can think of.
Unfortunately it’s a long distance to a good free internet service, and my data plan at home is very costly, so it looks like it’s a no go sadly☹️
Could I purchase it as a lesson plan and just work solo- given Ive studied in the past that way, with no issues?
Let me think…. and I will email you in a day or two. Thanks, Annie