Back in the Day

The yard and showbarn from under the upper pergola-fall, flowers fading

It’s been snowing a lot lately, and quite cold and that has caused me some issues with my health, so I’ve been spending far more time than I would like, stuck in the house doing…well, pretty much nothing. So, of course a lot of daydreaming goes on.

Most recently I have been looking back at the past, at the things I loved and miss. My home, my job, my kids, my gardens. I do miss those simple, productive, wonderful days.

Like now, I spent most of my time alone, but it didn’t bother me because I always had something to do. We had a beautiful home in the Tehachapi Mtns. I had spent over 20 years landscaping it and making it as low maintenance as possible. We had a large patio with a pergola, from which gorgeous, delicate and fragrant purple wisteria blooms hung below, leaving inches of fallen petals on the ground each night and large black bumblebees who buzzed overhead, drunk on the fragrance each morning. Sadly, it only blooms one month out of the year, but the show was worth it, and the fast growing vines would quickly cover the pergola giving us deep shade in the summer, and allowing the warmth of the sun through in the winter when it was dormant.

Two large whiskey barrels stood as sentinels on either side of the back kitchen door with Jasmine growing up a stake and colorful flowers gathered at their base. I had a dutch door that the top would open so I could enjoy the fragrance of the Jasmine throughout the house if I wanted. There was a whiskey barrel waterfall with 3 tiers that made it a calming and peaceful place for me, when a respite was needed. At the far end and sunny part of the patio, was an archway made of 4x4’s covered with trumpet vine. It was covered with large vermilion flowers that were a magnet for the many hummingbirds that lived in our yard. Another trumpet vine wound up a column at the end of the shaded patio, and grew along the roof line so we could see a hummingbird show from the living room as well. A small walkway with thyme filling in around  stepping stones led to some railroad tie steps ascending to the upper garden where there was a large Sycamore tree, and an Alder providing shade, as well as a smaller pergola that my son had built me when he was just 13. It was a hidden place almost like my own Secret Garden. There was just enough room for 2 comfy papasan chairs and a small table and the garden was filled with Roses, Daisies, Lavender, Rudbeckias, Coneflowers, and many other colorful, seasonal flowers as well as low growing evergreen shrubs to maintain a pleasant view in the winter. There were seasonal changes and in the summer I loved to sit with a glass of lemonade or wine, and watch the many butterflies, huge Yellow and Black Tiger Swallowtails  and bright orange and black Monarchs flit from red and blue Penstomens and other flowers and floating on the air currents. It was a blessing, a home and a paradise for me.

We had a small barbecue area out back surrounded by white rail fence and a large entrance with colorful Paprika Climbing Rose growing up and over the top. Many cookouts were enjoyed there with our kids and grandkids and I can still remember the laughter, the love and the warmth I felt having everyone near.

Flowers were integrated into that area as well, with Sunflowers, Hollyhocks, Clematis and many other children’s favorites as well as my own.

Everything was on a drip system that was put on automatic timers. It was densely planted and heavily mulched to discourage the growth of weeds so even though it was large and complex, it was a very low maintenance garden, the work consisting mostly of cutting back the dead flowers in the spring before new growth began.

My typical days began early mornings, sometimes before the kids headed off to school, sometimes after, heading down to the barn to feed both our own horses and the horses I had in training. This could be anywhere from 7 to 20 horses. After filling waters, I’d head back to the house for a cup of coffee and time on the patio while they ate. An hour or so later, I’d saddle the horses I would be riding first and let them settle while I cleaned the barn stalls and the mare motel. I had a set of cross ties in my breezeway barn and a great saddle rack that TheMan custom made for me that hung on the wall and held all of my saddles, my jumping saddle, roping saddle and stock saddle. Other saddles I used for lessons or for occasional bitting were hung in the tackroom. The stall at the very back of the barn held all the rest of my tack and training equipment, such as several different kinds of snaffles, sizes of bosals, lunge ropes, stock whips, spurs, saddle pads, first aid kits, grooming equipment, blankets, shipping bandages, buckets and the like. Next to that was a 12 x 16 stall with a closed circuit camera I used for foaling mares, and at the end was the cement wash rack. The other side of the barn had (3) 12x12 box stalls.

There was a doctoring chute outside next to the washrack, also made by TheMan, where a horse could be confined closely on all sides and safely worked on treating injuries, insemination or breeding exams. Allowing for a 16’ driveway to take the tractor up to the arena, there were then 2 covered mare motels for both extra horses and foaling mares, one being used as a feed room with a heavy sliding door so no horses could break into the feedbags and founder or colic themselves or worse. At the very end of the Northeastern-most stall was a small down hill surrounding a large oak tree that was dandy for either finishing steers to put in the freezer, or keep my milk goats and sheep.

After a cup or two of coffee and having gone over my plans for the day of which horses needed working, which needed a day off, etc. I went back down and started riding colts. Each horse got hosed off after working and put on the hot walker which was on the east side of the showbarn. It made a handy babysitter for our two little girls, as well, with a couple of cinches put together to make a swing we could hang off one of the arms.

It’s been too many years, but I still remember how amazing it felt, to be riding different horses throughout the day, working with each different personality to help them understand what I was asking of them in the most comfortable way for them. Refining form and gaits was especially  gratifying, as I could lope one off with the lightest press of my calf or lift of a hip, listening to the hoof beats as the breeze from the movement whispered through my hair and the horse softly rocked beneath me. A 1000+ lb of pure muscle and power, working with me as a team, respect and affection that was equal between us. When they had achieved my desired amount of proficiency in their lesson for the day or in the event of an off day, just ending on a positive note, we’d side step over to the gate, I’d lift the latch, swing my mount’s haunches around and sidepass the other way to close it, then amble down the hill to the barn to unsaddle and hose off. I’d usually ride 5 of 6 horses each day like this, letting the others either work in the round pen, or have a day out in the pasture.

JR WESTERN PL. FUTURITY- IMPRESSIVE RONNIE, APHA GELDING OWNED BY KIEFFES

Once they were all done, I’d set up whatever courses I had to use for the afternoon students, either trail obstacles, jumps or markers and rest-up until they showed up after school. We’d work on lessons until feed time then put the horses and tack away, pick out stalls and feed for the night.
Throughout all of this, my sons were often key assistance in getting everything done, from cleaning stalls, to assisting me with a dystocia, or abnormal presentation on a foaling mare, and helping to deliver the foal safely.

 JR TRAIL-  QUEST FOR FREEDOM- ApHC GELDING OWNED BY HILDRETHS

Then it was time to head back up to the house, fix dinner, finish laundry and whatever other quick housekeeping chores needed doing and spend time with the family. Even back then, I rarely left the house except to go to the store or to horseshows, where it could be a little overwhelming with the number of people around, dealing with owners, horses, students and getting the horses I was campaigning for them warmed up and ready for their open classes. Pretty much the only folks I knew were the vet, the horseshoer, my clients, and one or two of my neighbors. Although I had a good relationship with most of my clients, I didn’t have much in the way of actual “friends”. You know, the kind you could share intimate thoughts with, or go have a fun weekend together, or just count on one another to be silly. Someone you would just feel you had to sit down and give a call to, or drop in with some donuts to share over a cup of coffee and small talk. I didn’t actually realize it, as I had been the same way as a kid going to school, just tolerating the time spent in class then jetting off to see my horse, getting home usually just before dinner. I loved every minute I got to spend with my boys, and I loved my life, reaching out to the horses and working with them everyday. It is a life I sorely miss and I still struggle with accepting it is my past, and will never again be in my future. And I am beginning to appreciate the awareness that I not only lack close friends and social skills, but have found I have a great deal of anxiety when around many people, even if they are people that I know.

SENIOR HUS -MR IMPRESSIVE II-OWNED BY HILDRETHS

Even so, if I close my eyes and concentrate hard enough, I can still smell the pine shavings, the horse’ sweat and hear the creak of leather and occasional jingle of a spur, along with an equine sneeze as one settles down and prepares to eat its morning hay and grain. I can feel the sleek coat under my hand and the dents and bulges of powerful muscles as I run my hand down their body. I feel myself reach for a hind foot just as a tail swish catches me across the face and I chuckle. The horses usually willingly lift their hoof to my hand so I might clean it out and check for debris  or fungus. I feel their hot breath against my ear as one of them, usually Mister, blows on the top of my head while listening to my heartaches as I curl up in the corner of his stall, tears run down my cheek  unchecked, because he is a safe and willing listener. And I once again, feel my heart swell with gratitude when I throw my arms around one of their long, powerful necks for a mighty hug, amazed that I fought for and got to live the life I had longed for since I was a child. Yeah, these are the memories I cherish and hope no matter how old I become, I never forget.

1ST YR GREEN HUNTER OVER FENCES-BEARPAW'S ROSE-OWNED BY SWEETWATER RANCH

A Raw Deal

Lately I haven’t been doing much. The title of this blog was originally Range to Range, because I was sick and spending less time out on the ranch riding and helping move cattle to being instead in the kitchen, cooking meals.

homemade fettucini pasta

homegrown chicken

canning

from the garden

homemade pepper jack cheese

butter pats

fresh eggs

fresh milk with heavy cream

ghee

homemade sour cream and butter

making cream cheese

making mozzarella

That went pretty well for a long time as I learned many, many, many new dishes, acquired some wonderful gadgets that made it all worthwhile and thoroughly enjoyed making bread, homemade dairy and cheese, and processing our own meats. I have always missed riding though, I guess that will never go away.

Anyway, as things have progressed, I am now doing less cooking as well. Not to say we have given up completely…I am still hoping and praying for deliverance from this condition, even if it is only in the form of some much needed assistance.
Hopefully, from some folks in particular.

Meanwhile, the biggest change we have gone through lately has been changing Heath (and the other dogs as I am able) over from store bought kibble (which often has recalls and deaths due to bad ingredients usually from China) to raw food. Raising extra chickens, rabbits and an occasional lamb, deer or whatever may become available makes it possible. Heath however is a bit of a critic. (His breeder calls him “the Prince” bahaha) We’ve had to suffer a few fasts until he decided that eating chicken is not beneath him…or duck. Now that he is enjoying his meals with gusto (which he never, ever did on any kind of kibble) I am making his treats as well.

Because originally feeding him chicken parts, such as a drumstick or thigh, he would actually remove the meat and eat only the bones (raw bones are ok for dogs to eat, but never, ever, ever bones that have been cooked or smoked as they will splinter and damage their intestines) we had to buy a heavy duty meat grinder and feed him ground meat, with the bone ground in as well. Rule of thumb, as I understand it, is a raw fed dog needs percentages of meat, bone and organ in order to eat a balanced diet. There is a lot of information on the internet if you need more detail.

The grinder easily grinds up all the chicken, duck and rabbit meat with bones so that problem is solved. Heath doesn’t like liver though. So making use of the food processor and dehydrator, we solved that problem. He loves dried liver treats!! I also dehydrated some of his duck to make treats, so now instead of ordering expensive dog food rolls to cut up and use for training, I can use healthy food for him which is much less expensive and has no additives.
I dried some sweet potatoes for him as well, but Heath is not a fan.

Since we have the grinder, and the grinder came with a sausage stuffing attachment, we decided to pull the 18 lb. pork shoulder out of the freezer and make some sausage. With a “kit” that had all the spices and casings, we made 5 lb of Italian, 5 lb of cheddar bratwurst and 5 lb of brat. It was a little bit of a learning process to stuff the casings, but we nailed it and it all came out pretty well. So well, in fact, that we just purchased a large bucket of casings and plan to make some other sausages from scratch, saving more money and having more flavor. It ought to be fun.

IN between, I keep trying to get stronger, Heath keeps trying to keep me going. He wakes me up daily between 6:30 and 7, by first gently touching his nose to my face, then softly placing a paw on my arm. He waits patiently until I either get up, or turn away from him. He knows if I turn away, I absolutely, positively need more rest and he gives me another hour or so. On the days I am very poor, he stays close enough to always be touching me, sleeping against my legs or alongside me. Other days, he engages me with play, bringing me toys to throw, or tug for him. If that isn't enough, he brings me his treat bucket for either a free treat or a game of “click”.

He is there for me daily, handing me things I drop, or cannot reach on the ground, putting away his own toys, helping with laundry, opening the back door, dragging me a blanket or pillow and various other little things I used to take for granted. He is my only company and companion each long day while TheMan is at work, 7 days a week. I’m not sure I could do without him. We’ve been working lately on getting him to accept riding on the 4 wheeler. Being trapped in a house all the time starts to feel pretty awful, especially when there is so much beauty outside here. Being able to take the 4 wheeler on my better days would be a huge relief but Heath has to agree to ride with me, as he can’t run all the way or we’d never get anywhere. He’s getting there slowly, but surely.

And we keep on….

Growing Stronger

Heath is growing and I am slowly getting stronger. There are always a few setbacks but I think I am making good progress. I've gotten a bit of yardwork done, with much more to do, but having done a shout out to some folks nearby, I'm bartering assistance for teaching how to make soap, do canning, work with sourdough, breadmaking, and various other skills I have picked up along the way. We had a delightful two days this past week with a lady and her son who helped clean off the back porch and the brooder in the milkroom. We made cheese (which I made a mistake with, by forgetting to turn off the heat at a couple of points along the way) candles and body butter. We also got up early to go watch them branding some calves down below our pasture, and take some pictures.

A neighbor pulls calf behind him, waiting for a heeler

One of the ranch cowboys is set up for the heel shot

2 pair of buckaroos keep the ropes tight while the branding crew does the ground work

Big smiles are always a treasure from this girl, as she recoils her rope and gets ready to bring another one in

Neighbor and her nice horse digging in and starting towards the branding crew

Getting the job done

 It's always a good time, watching the cowboys and horses working together and making sure to cause the calves the least possible amount of stress. In spite of what the process entails, the calves resent being held down more than being worked on, and once they are finished, they jump up and go eat. Cattle are amazingly tough animals with a fairly low functioning central nervous system which allows them to feel very little pain. They are well suited for the rugged life provided on the range.

Meanwhile, Heath has gotten bigger. He's managed to get himself up on the papasan chair, has learned to pick up his toys and put them away (although apparently bones and chewy hooves don't belong there) and has had a great time using his almost boundless energy chasing bugs and things. He brought me a mouse he had dispatched (Good Boy Heath!!) has killed several bugs that were stalking me, and unfortunately responded to my ebullient praise by bringing me a potato bug! Ick!

He caught me watching him one morning...and totally made my day by happily running into my arms with all the love a puppy can fit!

It's been a great month so far. God bless you all, and have a wonderful Independence weekend!

A Little Sunshine

The weather is unstable, the barometer rises and falls. I slumber in the reclining chair because it’s too uncomfortable to lay down still. I hear the jingling of bells hung on the door, that will someday aid my new puppy in alerting me he needs to go outside, as TheMan comes in from feeding and caring for the animals, as I am still unable to do it myself. He throws hay and checks waterers for my old horse, Mister, the little band of hair sheep and their lambs, gives SushiMoo, my last milk cow her grain, feeds the chickens and ducks and takes care of the band of leppie calves in the corral beyond the high rock wall. I hear the cornflakes bounce off the sides of his bowl as he prepares himself some breakfast, then gives me a kiss goodbye and he and his faithful Scottie head off to work on whatever the ranch needs him to do today. He works 7 days a week because that is ranch life. There is always something that needs doing and cows don’t take weekends off. It’s hard work but it’s a good life. He’ll come back for lunch and then for dinner and if I am not able, he fixes that and does the dishes as well. It wasn’t always like this, I remember working 3 jobs and trying to take care of my family. A few hours a day as a bookkeeper, returning home to ride colts and give lessons, then do his paperwork at night for the small company we started making livestock panels and kennels. Housecleaning, laundry, dinner and dishes were always needing attention with four kids in the house. He always pitched in to help where he could. Now things are different. I have so much I want to do, but cannot. One of the hard things about this disease is not knowing from one day to the next if I will be able to function. I’m grateful for my new knee and contemplate the love my family showed me the many weeks I was in their care while recovering as they selflessly fit me into their schedules at doctors, hospitals, home while they all still had to work their full time  jobs and take care of their own children and homes. It is the flip-side of this disease, that I would never wish to be disabled or reliant on my kids, not be a burden, but because I often am, I’ve no doubt of their love. Through my travails they standby and lift me up and rather than bitter because of my pain, my heart is full. 

I marvel at the faithfulness of God and my family to one so unworthy...because I do feel unworthy, unable to do my part anymore, unable to help out, instead always needing. It’s not a comfortable place for me and I don’t do it with the grace of someone like Joni Tada or others whose struggles are greater and more insurmountable than my own. But I am grateful, that He has shown me I don’t have to be worthy to be loved. He promises that over and over, in His book to me, and His work on my behalf, and it is illustrated to me through my family and I am awed, all at once both humbled and grateful.

The sun is out this morning and with some difficulty, I step out on the back porch and hear the call of the mourning doves and the chirping of the smaller birds as they fill their little chests and hearts with the fresh spring air. The ducks watch me covertly (they think...but I can see them there on the lawn, still as statues). 

The warmth of morning shines down from the East and I can see the garden slowly coming back to life, with all His promise to me that “Weeping is for a night but joy comes in the morning” 

(Psalm 30:5). The green swordlike blades of the iris have pressed through the rocky soil and will soon bear flowers with falls of bright yellow, purple and one sky blue. The long canes of climbing rosebushes are already covered with small, shiny green leaves as they hide under the tumbleweeds and mustard that always ends up in our yard along the wall after the harsh winter winds. The lawn is greening up again, the fruit trees have flowered and promise sweet juicy apricots, apples and peaches later in the year. I notice a small nest in the big tree by the house,  probably from last year. Amazing how something as small and delicate as a bird can create a nest durable enough to get through one of our winters. Another small miracle. Blue and purple pansies have burst forth in the half barrel by the door from the seeds their parent plants dropped last year and the perennial plants and flowers peek their heads out of the soil, pregnant with promise. 

It's still chilly out so I step back inside and my eye is captured by the few houseplants that helped carry me through a long winter indoors. Even those have been a gift beyond measure, evidence that there is life all around me and it's not all about me.

I peruse the living room, plotting a plan of attack, should my body allow it. The dust lies thick on the furniture, both a result of neglect and living on a ranch in a 100 yr old house with windows and doors that, while still closed, will generously allow the wind in to blow my hair in my face. One of the perks of ranch life is that you never lack something to do. There is always housework, no matter how much of it you may have done the day before, and in the unlikely event it should stay done for a day, there are always the cabins and employee housing the boss’ wife needs help with, since people are in and out of here all the time. But I am tethered to our little old rock and concrete house, at least for the moment. I eye the new dog crate that stands by the sofa and simultaneously feel a stab of sorrow over the loss of my wonderful old friend Cider and a flush of hope over the new puppy that will be coming home with me this spring. I imagine him as he might be, looking forward to teaching him all that I taught Cider and then some, consider the laughter he will undoubtedly bring back into my life and the companionship that will come with it. Soon the hummingbirds will be back and the butterflies. 

Until then, I will rely on my short and infrequent visits from the Maremmas, who warmly give me nose bumps and tiny doggie kisses, moan to show their appreciation as I rub their ears then, quickly satisfied, lay by the door anxious for someone to let them back out with their sheep. 

I opt to fight some of the mats on Mr Potamus in lieu of cleaning house. He always manages to pick up the worst kind of burrs and stickers to wind up in his long fur and become impossibly tangled. It's difficult to attack them with just one hand, but I manage to get most of it done and he lays all nice and fluffy again on the floor which is now messier than before. Better done before the big cleaning than after.

There is much to look forward to, and while waiting, I dance, if only in my mind. Life is good. God is good.