The wedding march

Patch's room is the shelter. No one except Patch seems to like the shelter, there is only room for one. You can see the barn and typically the horse in the end stall, Texas or Amber. It's also huge, covered on three sides, complete with two windows and a doorway area to look out. It's hardly torture. All that does not equal the "ideal room" for Katie, Texas or Amber. Patch on the other hand uses the space and privacy to do what he loves best, eat in peace. Heck he's even started pooping in one general area, I am convinced he just needed more room before and wasn't really the single messiest pony ever. I watch these things; pooping habits occupy my thoughts at least once a day.

In any case Patch does not hate the shelter, he normally walks right behind me and into the shelter we go.

Last night Patch decided it was too early to go in, he stood in front of the barn and stared at me as if to say "how about ummm no". I actually had to put a halter and finally a lead rope on him. Putting Patch away never requires a halter much less a halter and a lead rope. It might on occasion require that I show him dinner is waiting, honestly that's the extent of it, normally!

Last night I think the old boy was insulted that I'd put a halter and a rope on Him over dinner time! Imagine telling Johnny Cash he needed an electric guitar to succeed, that was Patch's face last night the minute the rope clicked onto his halter.

It took us ten minutes, it seemed, to get approximately 75 to 100 feet (I suck at distance but it's not far!). It went like this...

We got the rope on the halter, Patch looked at me, pinned his ears and squinted his eyes as if to say "HMPH" and turned his head straight away. As far as he was concerned not only was this horrible treatment bullshit, he was not going to comply.

I looked at him and told him in no uncertain terms, we were going up there. I pointed, he looked at me when I talked and looked to the shelter when I pointed. Patch is freakishly smart; he saw hay in my trunk the other day and also saw me close the trunk without removing the hay, he stood there placing his nose on the trunk and looking at me alternately for a good thirty seconds before he gave up and walked away disgusted with my inability to do as told.

In any case, last night standing there stubborn as the stereo type, I figured we'd walk in a circle and head to the shelter. Patch usually takes this version of do-si-do as my version of "alright enough" and off we go to where ever we are headed. Not last night. We did a cute little circle in front of the barn only to stand stock still with Patch looking at me like Johnny Cash holding an electric guitar cable, confused and none too pleased.

I moved forward holding the lead rope, not looking back at him and he moved a step. I thought we were done being pissy and kept moving forward. Patch took that one step and stopped, perfectly square, staring straight ahead. I was, as a result, stopped.

I walked back to him, told him again that enough was enough, pointed and moved. He moved one flippin step! He loves, LOVES, looking like the big bad Appy that he is. I swear to goodness he puffs up his chest the moment his ears pin (which is often). He is about as scary as the stay-puff marshmallow guy (and with his winter coat resembles him as well) but he tries! I got the full on Patch display last night right up to the very door of his stall, one step at a time! He stood there front feet on the very edge of the doorway, his nose sticking inside, and snorted before he went in. I don't think it's hard to figure out what that snort meant!

Tonight he and Amber were in the yard while I was getting dinner ready. Texas and Katie were glued together in the lower half of the pasture doing god knows what when Tex noticed me bringing dinner to Patch's stall. I met him at the gate and he and Katie were in before Patch and Amber even cared what they were doing. Dale was giving them an apple, that takes priority over Tex and Katie's activities!

Patch came up to the barn first, cause Dale headed there and with him the possibility of more! Amber went in fine once she got over Tex being in "her" stall which left our buddy Patch. He apparently did not feel the need to go in and was once again perfectly fine standing there watching the poor saps that got conned out of the yard by a silly pile of hay!

Out came the halter followed by the lead rope. Patch pinned his cute little ears and I figured we were going to have to match stubborn for stubborn while my teeth chattered! In his defense five o'clock seems early when day light is finally coming back...

I pretty much repeated my speech from last night, added the promise of an apple, and walked forward. I was stopped short when Patch decided that as great as that apple might be he was not easy or stupid. He did the one step thing. I just stood in front of him, at the end of his lead rope, and waited. He relented and followed, right behind me, polite as can be. I doubt if my lecture on cold weather, ridiculous games and matching wills made one bit of difference; Patch moves when Patch wants to move. He loves me so he cooperates 99% of the time, the other 1% he relents as if to remind me that the general awesomeness that is Patch is not a given but a result of that love.

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Let's mix it up

Normally right around 5pm or so everyone comes in for dinner. Lately whether we're coming in from the pasture or the yard, everyone goes to their respective stalls, where hay is waiting, with little to no mishap. They usually see me getting hay ready and putting it in the stalls. If they are in the yard Katie is almost always the first to notice and head in, Amber typically follows then Tex. Patch kinda hangs out watching until we go up to his stall. If they are in the pasture it's Texas, Katie, Patch then Amber (because Patch tries to follow Amber out).

Everyone knows where their stalls are and generally they go to the right one, if there is anyone that goes in the wrong stall it is Texas. He does not do this because he is confused about where his stall is, he does this because there might just be the chance of a better place to hang out and eat.

He did this once in the shelter, he loves the shelter, so long as he is in it and everyone else is standing outside looking in or just generally hanging out right beside the window and or the doorway. One evening he decided that he'd stay in there even though he knew it was time to go in so I went ahead and let him. He was completely fine until he noticed that everyone else was not standing vigil, they were going into the barn.

I gotta admit it makes me chuckle, Texas rarely has any reason to be even remotely close to upset. He was none too pleased with how kicking everyone out of the shelter and insisting on eating in there actually turned out.

Tonight he went into Amber's stall and I went ahead and let him stay there. He was perfectly fine with that outcome. His stall and Ambers are on either end of the barn with Katie's stall in the middle. The two end stalls are rather large, so really Tex didn't care. Different view, convenient window, and an opportunity to poop in a newly filled water bucket! I walked toward his stall this evening, saw his water as I got closer and honestly all I could say was "really Texas?". He perked up and sorta sidelong glanced at me as if to question why I was surprised that he had christened the water bucket, it was after all a different stall.

Amber was a little confused at first, that lady does not like change. She saw Texas in her stall this evening and looked right at me. If I were to put it to words I'd say she was asking me why the hell anyone puts up with this handsome lug that thinks he can go nearly anywhere!

We ended the evening by playing mix and match blankets! I had hung Patch's blanket on the front of Amber's stall when I took them off this morning. This also happens to be right underneath a gutter that well, has twine holding it together in places. Patch's blanket was wet. Patch can't have a wet blanket, I'd lose sleep over it. I went back to the barn and grabbed Katie's blanket, no one was using it, Patch is like a woolly monster, the blanket is mid-weight, perfect.

I went to put Katie's blanket on, she's been wearing Texas's green one which looks smashing on her and is nice and toasty, it was flippin was wet! The entire front and that wouldn't work. So we grabbed the blue stable blanket she was wearing when she came home from Sarah's.

Amber, in a different stall, has her normal jammas on. Hers were hanging in her stall and for about 10 seconds I thought about putting them on Tex just so I didn't have to drag blankets back and forth! I couldn't do it though, Amber's jammas have pink stitching and I just couldn't do that to Tex.

Tex, in a different stall, with newly replaced water, has his normal jammas on and seemed quite pleased with himself at lights out; he has better access to Katie in Amber's stall and was taking complete advantage of that as I left the barn.

Every once in awhile it's not bad to mix it up, even if that mixing is not your idea.

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Out on the ledge

As it happens I have done something I never really believed I would do.

I have loved words for as long as I can remember, even in music I hear the lyrics first, music second.

I have loved writing for as long as I can remember. I especially love poetry. In poetry I find all the voices that under normal circumstances are kept quiet for one reason or the next.

In my poetry, rather in others reading my poetry, I become embarrassed. I have to squash the desire to say "yes the poem talks about standing naked and upside down in a corn field somewhere deep in Iowa but no I've never been there and rarely do I stand upside down and naked at the same time." It's a different voice that can relate rocks in Utah to Mormon marriages and talk about standing upside down in a make believe corn field.

I've had people read a poem and believe it to be some window into my thoughts, soul, life, past, present; some sort of clue leading to what is really going on. This could not be further from the truth. It's actually insulting and has found me keeping it to myself completely on more than one occasion.

I've played with publishing once or twice and did in fact get published a couple times. Looking back it was pretty immature work, nonetheless someone out there liked it. Mostly I've kept my writing to myself with the occasional sharing with a friend or on Facebook if I am feeling particularly brave.

Recently, very recently, I put together a Kindle Book of poems that is now for sale on Amazon. Pretty cool really, 53 of what I consider readable poems. The problem really is in my motivation to utilize the resources I have available to me to get it out there, so to speak.

I am as afraid of people finding it, being interested in it and purchasing it as I am the opposite. It's revealing work, there is no doubt of that. It's not autobiographical in content but in feelings behind them it surely holds pieces of me. To sell that, which is the thing I never really thought I'd do, seems wrong in a 'starving artist, I write for myself' kinda way and scary in a 'holy shit people are going to think you are absolutely certifiable' kinda way.

I suppose if you are going to look at it honestly, I've only done half of the thing because I've not utilized resources to put it out there. I am, in a 'see I am brave enough to self publish' kinda way, hiding behind the scores of other books available on Kindle.

This weeks 'action item' is to gather a bit of courage and let it be known that the thing is actually out there for purchase.

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At least the rain is consistent

I have had a hard time blogging with any consistency these last few weeks. It is however another rainy day and I thought I'd take a minute and try to write something readable!

There hasn't been a lot of horsey activity in the last few days, everyone is pretty on schedule and enjoying the smattering of sunshine we've had recently. I'm pretty happy with Amber's weight, her weight always concerns me. She is a worrier and it seems the minute she worries off come the pounds. She is however finally leveling out. She is a lot more relaxed these days and it's starting to show which makes me happy.

It's strange to me that people (wide generalization here) discount, if not completely disregard, the range of feelings animals have. We have no problem understanding an angry dog, for example. Why do you suppose it's hard for us to grasp that they also feel other emotions? Everything from fear to friendship to jealousy to boredom to worry or anxiety.

It's really easy to discount them with an off the cuff "he's just a dog.." "they are only horses..." etc etc... I think partially because they don't talk. They don't express themselves as we do and as a result they must be lesser than us, perhaps even too dense to grasp feelings.

Having spent the better part of the last two and a half months sequestered on the farm surrounded primarily by beings that don't speak, there have been more than a few times when I've found myself surprised at the range of feelings they display when you pay attention.

Saturday it rained, pretty much all day. The horses were in their stalls, Leo was in the house with me and no one really got to do much of anything. Talk about communication among the troops! Every single last one of them, including Leo, thought that staying inside all day was utter bullshit and every single last one of them told me so.

In little ways every day they will tell you how they feel, to discount those feelings as simple because they can not express them as we do really is the height of conceit.

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Hanging out with the horses

I haven't written much in the last week or so; I've been "busy", mentally busy.

I've spent a lot of time hanging out with the horses, I've spent hours pouring over poetry, I've tried to get up early every day, and examined every skill I have trying to figure out what to do with this life that is now sitting at my feet looking up at me like Leo does when I am holding a hot dog! I still haven't quite figured it out.

So I hang out with the horses and think. I shovel wheelbarrows full of poop, make up exercises, and pretend my 40 something back isn't killing me! I talk to Texas as if he understands me and look to Patch for the sage advice I know only he is capable of. I watch Katie run and dream. I cuddle with Amber and hope she doesn't mind. I drag poor Leo everywhere with me, tell him things no dog should have to listen to, and think a bit more.

It's a very odd place to be. I can't say it's uncomfortable, I can say that right now it is a bit too fragile for most human hands. So I hang out with the horses and hope they don't mind.

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Poetry, Ponies, and a good case of writers block

I've spent the last few days crawling through my poetry convinced that it was about time I did something with it. I have found some interesting work, and some really sucky work (nice language no?).

I was, at one time, very disciplined in my poetry. I found one today that brought the recent lack of discipline home; it's a Sestina. Rather, it was a Sestina before I saved it into a text file and lost every, very important, line break. Today I tried to fix the lines however I managed only to dump the form and create new line breaks.

----

Morning

It has stopped taking me back, my creating you.
Though I do wonder how the truth would hold you,
against a winter morning struck in Technicolor,
with ferries to deliver yesterday's shore
the wake to turn,grain for grain, a lover,
grateful the existence found together, alone.

Only once does life deliver excellence without fail;
here I find you, my truth, laid among driftwood,
telling of this existence, loving loose as gulls float in turn.
Silver flashes through a pacific morning sky,
no further the truth,no nearer to creating you,
could I be, here with the morning, alone,
together with the mist to bathe in
creating you and I,beautiful in simple existence.

How would you hold this awesome truth,
could you adore it as the gull that delivers his due,
making love to the clouds?

Turn your face, hear daybreak deliver our song from mountain's edge,
truth as you'll never feel it bounce off morning's new light,
silver-blue to shine with your existence.

Astonishing in it's simplicity, you and I creating together, alone,
perfect as the morning giving way to day, as a lover might
deliver the first kiss, quiet before morning's rush;
there I feel you most often.

A turn of my head and your voice finds me creating the peace,
of you, of me, the one truth I count on, loving you
in this strange existence where days pass
before the night's turn falls into rights,
lost among man's little truth which lands
too close to lying to create anything less
than denied existence.

Here, now, together, and still, alone in the morning I turn,
a small boy searches rock for rock to deliver perfection
to a collection he'll turn, examine; create a world
where morning delivers truth nearer to love
than any existence he or I, or you, could imagine.

----

I still don't know what to make of it. I know the form, I want to put it back together as it once was however I don't know that I can.

Once again I've let the post sit overnight. My mind is seemingly a dangerous place to live when worried. I think I will put down the pen (figuratively speaking) for a few days. Spend today with the ponies, tomorrow with Rosemary and hope for a bit of sleep in the future...

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