Drowsy kind of day

My two oldest kids competed in a 4-H horse show today. It was a hot, drowsy kind of day. There was a lot of waiting in between events, very tempting to nap. I brought two books to pass the time with, "Anne of Green Gables" and "The English Patient." I would read a page, then my mind would drift.

(I just finished the fourth draft of my novel "Ghost Moon Night" yesterday and my brain was still fried.)

My oldest, Sierra, competed with her three year old palomino paint named Raffiki. She did better in trail than last year. She's come a long way. Wesley was a speed demon. And his horse, Quincy, who normally wouldn't stand for anything, shocked us all by getting a blue (or first place) ribbon in halter.

Yesterday, I took my kids to wash their horses in the wash racks where we board, and I felt strange just waiting in the sidelines while the kids did most of the work. They wash the horses and tack up, pretty much by themselves.

When I think of how we were as a family two and a half years ago (didn't even know how to put a halter on a horse), I am amazed.

My favorite time of day

My favorite time of day at the stables is sunset, when there's that last little bit of sun slanting from the west, and it washes everything gold; a horse swishing its tail, stirring up some dust and a little swarm of insects; nickers and neighing, and the occasional playing. Everything looks beautiful, as though suspended in time and you hate to disturb it with any noise or movement.

Dollar Ride

I've been away to Moab, Utah, with the family this week. My husband has a conference at Red Cliffs Lodge, which is one of the most beautiful desert resorts I've ever stayed at. Next door, a man runs a horseback riding ranch.

Last night, I took my kids on a little walk at dusk to see the horses. I asked the Lodge front desk if we could go pet them. I told her we were going through a little horse withdrawal (meaning, we have horses and we won't be stupid about being around them). The front-desk person said she'd prefer we didn't. I said, but there are two people out there in the pasture with the horses...

She didn't say no or yes, just said to wait during the day, the horses were enjoying their time off. I decided to take my kids anyway (my husband was off-roading) to see what we could see.

The ranch owner was untacking a three year old horse named Tuffy and tacking up a three year old named Dollar. Sierra, my oldest, asked if he named the latter after John Wayne's horse. The owner said yes, didn't she think he looked like him?

We visited a while, then the man excused himself to go train Dollar. We watched in the falling light, a man in a cowboy hat riding this young horse, doing spins and loping in endless circles, probably a good half hour before we couldn't see hardly anything anymore. It was almost ten by the time we were leaving.

That man on a horse, riding quietly in the dusk; he looked like someone who loved his job and was living his dream.

History: I paid for this?

[This is an installment in "How we got into horses". See right sidebar for other posts.]

The day of Sierra's 8th birthday party arrived. We drove and drove out west to the middle of nowhere; I wondered if maybe I had the address down wrong. But finally, I saw a blue house with a huge red-roofed barn behind it, like Susan described on the phone. At the entryway, a sign said, "Dreamcatcher Ranch."

I drove our minivan down a skinny dirt road past a ramshackle arena full of loose boards, weeds and rocks. I parked beside a sedan and we got out. A woman came out of the house. She had blonde graying hair pulled back in a pony tail and glasses, and wore a white shirt and jeans. She had a way of bouncing lightly on her feet.

"I thought I'd have my daughter's help," she said, "but she had to run an errand."

Susan continued a friendly chatter on the way to the stables, where the horses were. Four horses had saddles on, and looked ready to go. But without her daughter, I had to fill in. I didn't know what I was doing, but somehow, I got kids on, riding double, without any incident. I wasn't sure what I had gotten us into; I had all these horses and girls to keep track of. Some girls were scared which then scared the horses which then scared me. Ally said ,"Oh, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die!" I wasn't much help, really, and Susan was too busy to intervene all the time. I thought, "I paid for this?"

Then the riding was over, all girls accounted for. Sierra had a big smile on her face, and I felt it was worth my feeling like a fool.

Before we left, Susan told me about her life growing up and how she got into horses. She told me that as a teenager, she did not get her parents' support on horses. She worked and saved up, bought her own horse and tack and paid for its boarding. When she needed to go to a 4-H horse show, she had to ride the horse down for about an hour and back. She vowed then that if anyone ever needed a ride for their horse, she would help. And if a kid wanted to ride a horse, she would help. She owned several horses, and they were mostly for others to enjoy.

I looked at this unpretentious woman, at her rough-shod ranch full of flies and piles and discarded appliances. All of a sudden, it didn't seem so rough anymore to me.

"When you turn 9," she told Sierra, "see me about 4-H. I can let you borrow a horse. I've done that with other kids before." Borrow a horse? That sounded good to me. We thanked her and Sierra began counting the days.

Next: Borrowing a Horse

Why we needed a new trailer

This is the one we replaced.

History: Sierra turned 8

[This is an installment in "How we got into horses". See right sidebar for other posts.]

I wanted Sierra's 8th birthday party to be special. When I asked her what kind of birthday party she wanted, she said she wanted a horseback-riding party.

I looked up "horseback-riding" under the yellow pages, and I think the two numbers I found were disconnected. Somehow --and I don't remember now how -- I found Susan, who owned horse property at the west end of town. She told me that she worked as a nurse during the day, but that Saturday we were looking at, she would be off. It would be $25 for a couple of hours of riding for eight girls. I would probably have spent at least four times that much for a horse-themed party; I told her we'd do it. Sierra waited with giddy anticipation.

Next post: I paid for this?

History: And then "Spirit" came along

[This is an installment in "How we got into horses". See right sidebar for other posts.]



You know, the Dreamworks movie about a buckskin mustang named Spirit. It came out in 2002. Sierra, my oldest daughter, was 7. She loved that movie, gobbled it up and begged to watch it over and over.

She discovered a new passion: horses; mustangs in particular.

History: How it really started

[This is an installment in "How we got into horses". See right sidebar for other posts.]

Every summer, my husband's partner Roddy has hosted a horseback-riding party at his place. Roddy and his wife would saddle up their ten or so horses and people with riding abilities from none (like us initially) to a lot would ride in their arena. I watched my children with pounding heart, but the horses they rode were old, dependable ones. Nobody got injured; the worst thing that happened to me was a horse got fed up with me yanking at the reins it reared up and dumped me on my bum. We rode with running shoes and no helmets; I cared more about how my wind-blown hair would look after the party than my staying safe on a horse.

It would be years later, when the bug would bite, but it had begun to burrow into our skin.

History: My first horse experience

[This is an installment in "How we got into horses". See right sidebar for other posts.]

I was probably 12. One Sunday afternoon, Dad took me and my brother to Quezon Circle Park, which was just a short walk away from the government housing we lived at. Dad decided we should ride a horse; someone was giving rides for a certain amount of money for an hour.

My brother got to go first. I was so excited, but when a half hour came and they were still not within sight, I began to worry. The hour was almost up, and they hadn't returned. Finally, in the dusk, I saw my brother being led on a horse by the operator. I had maybe five minutes. So I sat in that saddle, trying to hold back tears, and instead of focusing on the fact that I was on a horse, all I could think of was being so mad with my brother.

Years later, I have three horses at my disposal, and if I actually ride any one of them for five minutes, it's short of a miracle.