From: Travelling Clueless Half a World Away: Hey! Who Stole My Friday?

maxresdefaultWe are getting ready for Australia and I am a little daunted at the trip I am about to take. You see I am Canadian and Australia is literally half a world away. Not only is the time zone thing confusing, but apparently I will lose a complete day of my life.  It will be taken from me by the intrepid date line…and I don’t understand where it goes?!! I leave thursday and arrive saturday…so…where did friday go?? Is it replaced later? NO because I leave on a Monday and return here on a Monday. HOW does that work??

Let me explain the little I understand…

I live in Montreal.

I leave Thursday at 5:30pm (mtl) and arrive Vancouver 11:00pm (mtl time) 8:00pm (Vancouver time)

I leave at 11:30pm Vancouver time and fly for 14.5 hours to Sidney where we arrive on Saturday – at 2:30 a.m Australia time. Hunh?

Because of leaving a) late thursday so it’s already friday in AUstralia and b) crossing this “date line”, friday is taken. Gone. poof. Just getting there is the first incredible thing to get over.

I am packed two days before leaving.  If you knew me then you would know how totally and completely out of character this is for me.  But I’m excited.   Something about this is feeling eerily like my beloved Africa.

I researched the animals and wildlife which brought memories of Africa closer.  Except I think Australia is more challenging even.

We forget how lucky we are in Canada.  When I look up “Canadian Wildlife” on google images i get something like this :

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Here, we may have to contend with “a little” cold, but in the summer you can walk barefoot and you can drink water pretty safely, you don’t have to be afraid to put your slippers on in the morning and you don’t check every bite of bread for weevils.  There are some real challenges that we simply don’t face here in North america. Our most dangerous snake being the Rattler or something equally benign compared to the insanely big and venomous Black Skinned Tiger Snake.  Our waters are incredibly safe for swimming in terms of the creatures they house.

When I look up “Australian Wildlife” on google images I get something more like…this:

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What the fuck is that?

In Australia there seem to be many things waiting to kill you everywhere. Spiders and snakes on land, Box Jelly fish with 4 meter long tendrils causing you to die within an hour of asphyxiation if you just touch them a teenie tiny bit. Oh and they’re basically invisible…yeah. how do you fight that?

Australian water life is a hole other topic. People actually dive there…just watching the documentary on ocean life made me want to sell my scuba gear and declare heartily “never again!”. I am a dummy. shark

It’s funny because here in Canada I am extremely comfortable with nature. Snow-white-with-animals-the-forest-animals-28290596-400-275I feel connected to animals and have a very good level of communication with the things that live around me. But uproot me and put me somewhere like Costa Rica and it’s a whole new world to learn. So many different sounds and smells. Even just the “feeling” of a day passing is so different I often would find myself not having any clue what time it is because I think at home we have a natural connection to the placement of the sun, but in a different place, we need to realign ourselves and this takes time.

Vacationers don’t have time to waste.  I am making plans to not make plans. My favourite part of this trip to take so far will be when john and I go “walkabout”. We are renting a car and heading “thatta way” down the Great ocean road off the coast near Melbourne.   I think neither of us wanted to mention that we were a little more nervous about doing this since we watched the documentary together last night, with the teenie-weenie spiders that inject a small glob of venom into your toenail and you die. You just stop breathing and die and never even see it coming.  Maybe we weren’t so comfy with those.

imagesJZPMTI21Or maybe we were both having second thoughts when we learned of the GIGANTIC DINO-LIKE-CROCODILE that can out-run A FRIKKING LAMBORGHINI.

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Maybe it was the big fuzzy ugly gigantic icky spider with shiny horrible black spikes in its mouth that attacks forward so it can pierce your boot.  Kind makes you love a good blizzard eh?

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Or maybe it was the snakes that just lie waiting for you in every single shadowy part of every city or rural area in Australia. Yeah…I have to say that made me think:

“Panic!! We need a guide!!”Aboriginal-Shaman

John and I are celebrating 15 years together with this trip. Our relationship began basically with a trip like this one, but to friendly little Boston in 2000.  Now this trip is our most adventurous and over the years I have learned about my beautiful husband that our likelihood of getting a guide is about as much as him stopping for directions at a garage….

I wonder if you can buy portable anti-venom for long trips?

Airport Culture and The Dalai Lama

imagesED0G4VTXMid winter crazies – and once again a weird thing has crossed my path to break the dismal feeling of this season – this year…Australia. Really? Every  year this seems to happen, where I find myself by some bizarre circumstance in a foreign land.

The last time was Costa Rica. My house was being renovated for months and months and I absolutely had to get out of the chaos or go completely bananas.  My understanding husband (having me around crazy couldnt have been helpful!) helped me figure it out and I  booked a resort.  I hate resorts but it was the only cost reasonable way to do this. I was on my own in the middle of South America and there were serious learning moments, I tell you, when I questioned my own sanity. I was there for only 48 hours when my phone and money were stolen and I was harassed by all forms of man – the worst of them being an angry Canadian (ex girlfriend, done him wrong blah blah…talks too much.)   I kept the conversation short and moved on heading to my resort in a little white taxi with my guiatr and backpack, I looked like a total Canadian hippie.

He found me on the beach the morning after we arrived.  I was sitting in the rising sun playing guitar, and he arrived with his violin.

“This is gonna be fun!” I thought.

Except I was wrong.

He immediately offered to sleep with me if I would share my hotel room with him. Beware of gross men while travelling ladies.

I smiled. “Um no. Not what im here for. I don’t even really want to have conversation with you – never mind sex.  Plus I am happily married…”

I was calm when he told me I should feel privileged to have someone like “him” hitting on me. That I wasn’t exactly “the prettiest woman in the world”.

Oh brother…

He went away and all was well. Costa Rica was a blast. I left the resort and ended up in a magical place with horses, and Canadian and South American musicians whom I have kept in touch with and have since gone back to visit.

I love the unpredictability of travelling…and I love love love going to places that are totally different from what i know. it’s wonderful to see that you can exist in so many different contexts, with other people. You really learn about yourself.

Travelling has given me a certain amount of important knowledge and personal flexibility:images725J2IMY

– I’ll eat just about anything – except chicken in an airport, or sea urchin in China. Blech.

– I’ll talk to anyone willing to listen – even if we don’t speak the same language.

– I can sleep standing up

– I can find ways to entertain myself while sitting on a small 2×2 space for 12 hours in ways that would astound you.

– Junk food in airports tastes better than anywhere else in the world

– You will need a mortgage to afford eat in an airport

– all airport eating areas look like they were decorated by the Jetson’s.

The flight(s) to australia are very very long; definitely the longest I have ever taken in my life.  From Montreal we fly to Vancouver overnight – a six-hour flight.  Then Vancouver to Sidney will be a whopping 14.5 hours on a plane. Airplanes have their own culture.  Really when you think of it, an airport is the most BIZARRE energy to be in. A kabillion different cultures all mixed up into one place – every kind of variety of person you could ever wabnt to see is in an airport. Everyone is sort of together and disconnected all at the same time. harassed, annoyed rushing bag dragging folk from all walks of life, run hither and thither gate to gate – focused on the next leg of their journey.  people have no clue about their personal space in airports.  You get banged and bumped – quick apologetic smiles as people continue on the harried way.onaplane

for someone like me who lives a really quiet farm life – with the occasional extremely public performance nights – being in an airport with all those people and all those bundles of energy is exhausting. Not exactly a place that i feel “spiritually connected” – actually the opposite; airports make me feel totally ungrounded.  I guess that makes sense since we are all a bunch of people trying to get “up in the air”.

When I found out about Australia (only like a week and a half ago) I balked.  I was concerned about leaving the horses and so much heavy farm work in what I see as the worst cold winter in years (I think I say “it’s been the worst winter” every year). I am so grateful for my eldest daughter Meagan who will be coming to care for them. Still, I know how tough this will be for her. Mucking ten stalls every day, hyper horses to turn out, heavy bales of hay to haul.  Craziness.

But I know all this worry will magically go away once I cross those airport doors. It has to do with surrender and weird airport energy. A feeling of surrender and abandon once you pass through he front doors of the airport – because you realize that the next few hours (or days in my case) of your life aren’t your own really.  These people are completely in charge of your existence in every way, from your security, to food to being hauled into a giant piece of metal that will climb into the air 30,000 feet and, miraculously remain suspended for FOURTEEN AND A HALF HOURS.  OK, I am not a nervous flyer, but this to me, is simply unbelievable. So, flying can teach you about surrender.

Airports can also teach you about serenity – because if you can find it there my friend, you can find it ANYWHERE.

I wonder what H.H. the Dalai Lama does? He flies everywhere all over the world, and he is like 73 years old.  Makes me feel a little wimpy worrying about how my back is going to handle 14 and a half hours of sitting with intermittent spastic stretching in front of three hundred people who are doing their best to try to ignore each other. Have you ever tried stretching in the bathroom. Impossible I tell you.

If you travel enough you get to know certain things about certain airports:

– the six kilometer walk from the terminal to security and customs is TOO LONG everywhere – especially if you arrive late and are irritable and tired.

– Traditionally religious people often travel together usually in large groups with many small children. You see more single white male travellers than any other.  Japanese travellers usually have really nice luggage.  Just sayin.

– Airports in small countries have no real runways and landing is always terrifying

– The air in all airports feels strange.

– Airport bathrooms are always horrible

– Airport chicken will give you salmonella. Ok. Maybe not all the time – but if you don’t want to find yourself projectile vomiting all alone in +40 heat in a unwalled airport in costa Rica, passed out on the floor while people step over your prostrate body – then don’t eat chicken in airports.

– All airports are (now) filled with hordes of people who are not looking where they are going because they are all very very busy making last-minute contact to the outside world on their I-Phones to be in any way aware of their physical surroundings.  It seems like the Minute one enters an airport they are trying to find a way to be in some other reality. really, who would blame them? ( I wonder if H.H. Dalai Lama tries to meditate his way out of is body so he can tolerate the experience? )

baby_airplane_350w_263h3 Listen, anyone who has flown has had the crying baby experience, spoiled kid, dude who talks to much experience, the too much perfume lady, the sleeping on your shoulder drooling guy (ok maybe that was just me). Then there’s that crammed, crowded claustrophobic get-me-the-hell-off-this-plane feeling – but that only happens towards the end, because until then, you know you have no choice, so you surrender. you surrender tot he bevy of smells that assault you as you walk down the aisle. then in a few minutes when the artificial air is turned on, you wonder even more about where the smells went, and a new sort of vapid air replaces fresh clean earth air.  It begins to compress as the plane readied for take off, and a sort of insulated feeling comes over you, making you sit heavier in your seat.

Take off is my favourite. commercial-airplane-taking-off-and-high-resolution_227318

I know that statistics say that it’s the most dangerous part of the flight because if one little thing goes wrong in a certain 6 second window, poof – it’s all over. But really, that’s out of your hands once you have bucked that seat belt. Being nervous would be a waste of time.

instead you can enjoy the feeling in the pit of your stomach as the huge piece of metal curves upwards for the first time making it feel as though even your skin is being pulled downwards. Gravity falls on you like a comfortable blanket. And even at 48 I am like a little kid and always want the window seat.  Watching the world fall away beneath me is spectacular, especially if the plane tilts the direction I am looking and suddenly it feels as though we are being pulled up and down all at the same time.

The world is so incredibly beautiful from the air. Before you pass the cloud line you see where you live in a whole new way. So small, and part of some bigger piece of land always in some way.  Everything looks perfectly connected from the air – like we planned it like that or something.  But we didn’t. It just all ended up looking perfect. even the lands that aren’t touched by us, but by some unseen force that relegates the direction of things, it all seems to just fit perfectly.

I need to share these pictures with you…

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Flying over mountains is the highlight of any flight.  I flew over the Alps once in my life and I will never forget it.  They are  majestic and indescribable.  They are so high, that when you first see them you are sure they are part fo the clouds, rising often above like I suspect Mount Olympus would look, big enough to hold Zeus himself.  The white snow on top of the Alps is so white, it looks like it is made out of light itself, just shining like diamonds in the sun. The hard rock of the mountain so dense it held a bluish grey tint, not like mountains I had seen before that were more grey and dull, these looked like they had been painted stunning hues of deep midnight blues, I suppose because of the freezing of the ice at the awesome heights.alps

I didn’t get any time in Zürich, we had to transfer but made sure to stop at a stand to buy some freshly made chocolate.  I could see the mountains from the airport window.  They made me feel incredibly small but big all at once.

I’ve always wanted to try to pinpoint the strange experience flying to foreign places encompasses.  I know I am very lucky to have had these chance, and everywhere I go, I try to learn as much as i can about important things so I don’t lose the experience.

I’m very lucky. I think I have a karma that require seeing many may things. Since I have been very young, I have had chances to see most of the world – china, africa, europe, most of north america – even Alaska.  The two places “on my bucket list” which have yet to materialize are india and Italy. we’re working our way to the “I’s” 🙂 We will be greeted by +37 degree weather according to predictions upon our arrival. I fully suspect my skin to just simply fall off and I will molt like a snake under the vapid heat.

Australia is a new idea for me and i’ll let you know how it goes )

peace

Fleetwood Mac – Hurray for the Old School Girls!

Middle of february, the cold has abated for a few hours and my husband and partner of 15 years and I are finishing dinner and going to see Fleetwood Mac.The food is delicious – we are so happy we give the waitress a $20.00 tip for a 50.00 bill; she had pink hair and a nice smile and we agreed that something cool should happen to her that night.  She had been so kind and happy for us when she found out we were going to Fleetwood mac.

But I knew she was too young to really understand why going to this concert is so cool for so many of us.  Bands like Fleetwood Mac help you remember yourself.

Remember 1979?download (2)

I do. I wasn’t very old – only about 12, but I was beginning the greatest adventure of my life aboard a plane heading towards west Africa.  Ironically and strangely coincidentally, I had been reading the book Roots, by Alex Haley on my way. I had picked it up randomly at the airport, deeply concerned about getting bored on the 12 hour flight buying the fattest book I could find.  It was 1979 and things were very different. You could smoke on planes, there were definitely no tv’s or videos and flight attendants had to actually do the safety thing without help of a video or recorded audio.

I began reading Roots when our plane took off from New York city, and ended it exactly 30 minutes before we touched down in Dakar, having switched planes in Conakry to board the small Twin Otter plane crammed with people from every nation – and a chicken or two.  Roots actually begins not very far from where we were landed and so when I looked out of my window to the startlingly red earth below, it felt like I was walking into history.conakry

The doors opened and my fellow weary passengers got up.  Some african some European american and Canadian.  It was a mix of people so different I remember remarking that we all smelled very differently. Not in a bad way, just in a different way. For example, I came to learn that to me, West African people often smell like oranges because of their diet of so many fruits.

The plane was very small – Air Guinea they called it. The metal on the sides had been rattling the entire time and I was incredibly grateful that we had landed alive. The ceiling was so low that the woman behind me with the beautifully wrapped headscarf could barely stand up properly without tipping her head to one side or down.

When the doors of the plane opened and that first rush of heat had been absorbed I heard a guitar just close enough so I could hear it.  We began to step down the plane and to my right was a long funny looking “building”. One side was closed and seemed to contain some version of rooms, but most of the “airport” was just four sticks and a roof.  And there, under the entrance way, sitting on the stairs was a group of young people, my age or a little older – like a miraculous greeting committee. In the center of them sat who I would come to know as Mitch Djebullion, and beside him his brother Bull. Nathalie from Connecticut also there. She would become my best friend and we would play Jackson Browne’s The Load Out four million times before we would have to part.  And Emmanuel from Ethiopia – the blackest human being I had ever seen, shot me a bright flash of teeth.  He would be my partner in crime for all the amazing adventures we would have.

The song they were all playing and singing was ‘Second Hands News” by Fleetwood Mac.  I realize now how “new” the album was, and for them to even know the song was miraculous because music often only hit Africa a half a year after the rest of the world had already memorized the lyrics.

So, last night, when Fleetwood Mac played that song, live, in front of me – ok far away – but we were in the same room – I was transported to that place in a split second. I could feel the hot earth and the absolute certainty that this was where I belonged and those were my people. We met like old friends and shared many wonderful adventures in the months I stayed in Africa.

The music of JOY! That’s what Fleetwood Mac brought to us.

The Gazette writer had it right when she said that they brought a contemporary edge to the music.  It wasnt;t all just about memories – it was fresh too.  I guess as a singer I watch the band a little differently. i watch how they talk to each other, how rehearsed or spontaneous they sound, how comfortable they are with their instruments. Who is leading. That kind of stuff. I find it interesting. But last night, when Stevie Nicks began singing, I actually had a moment of concern, because she wasnt hitting the signature upper ranger in songs like The Chain.  She was really keeping it quiet, and I thought

“oh NO! Stevie nicks has gotten old and can’t hit the highs anymore and the same thing is going to happen to me!”

The fear of every middle-aged singer I suppose, is that one day we wont be able to do the thing we love so much.  But, I become inspired by singers like Joni Mitchell and Stevie nicks, who just seem to develop richer and more beautiful interpretations of their songs as they age.

The Stevie took me to school. I watched as she ​gradually​ increased her energy input into the songs. She slowly brought herself to stronger notes. Even John said it

“Oh God – She’s just warming up…”imagesATF5GBB4

And that was it. I learned that holding back a little can make for an amazing presence by the end she had sort of fully let out her energy and the whole thing exploded when she did “Gold dust Woman”. It was extraordinary and subtle showmanship and I am so grateful for having seen it.

On the other side of the serious aspects of the show, was the fun of sitting up in the nosebleeds for the first time in our lives. Just getting to our seats was a whole adventure…

The parking garage has a huge line-up – it’s 25.00 to park! holy shit. but our kids bought us the tickets so that’s our cost for this show and getting into a warm car at the end – totally worth it.

We enter the garage and are about to find out how different concerts are in 2015 compared to 1977 when I hopped into a VW bug with a girl named Judy and 6 of her closest friends, all bedecked in hippie attire to go the Forum in Montreal to see YES.  In those years, they didn’t check your trunk for bombs or frisk you with magical wands to see if you are packing.

In those years you could smoke anything during the concert. I can;t imagine now how we didnt’t all light ourselves on fire.  people would get insanely wasted.  I didn’t even have to smoke during the YES concert, I was so vicariously high I was practically hallucinating by the intermission.

The place is PACKED. Everyone is outside smoking weed, trying to ignore the tee-shirt vendors. We are being relagated like cattle and I am suddenly aware of being surrounded by SO many people.  As someone who live sona  a farm, my subjection to humans is limited to gigs.  This was HUGE. Then i felt it – all these people were happy. it was like being in a soup of happy people. I heard the laughing and everyone sharing memoreis. I noticed that at least half the audience is made up of young people.  The couple sirtting meside me are spanish and a huge group of Inu people pass me on the stairs. The appeal of this band seems to cross all boundaires.

They took it back to basics; no fancy light show, a couple of overhead screens for imaging and background but that was it.  They were able to rely on their music, unlike the Katy Perry’s of this day who couldn’t sing without a technical pitch adjuster if their lives depended on it.  You know, I have to say as a traditional singer, I felt a small victory for the “old school girls” like Stevie and Joni and me and all the others who try to uphold the sanctity of the music.

Fleetwood Mac absolutely lifted my heart and spirits.  Thank you for keepin on keepin on!a92e1fee

Peace!

Fleetwood Mac in Montreal; Time Stands Still …

beautifully described Rick.

Rick Keene Music Scene

Fleetwood Mac are one of the biggest selling groups of all time. Over 100 million albums sold. Not so bad.

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Thursday, February 5th 2015 at the Bell Center in Montreal, they showed why. And then some …

Christine McVie is on board for the first time in sixteen years. Sixteen is sweet. Sixteen is an even number and now – Fleetwood Mac are even once more.

During the almost three hour, no intermission, no opening act show, Mick Fleetwood, Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham displayed their pleasure of having the ‘prodigal girl’ return. ‘Complete’ was the word  Fleetwood used …

Seldom does a group come along which places all the elements of the music universe in one tight package. Vocals as harmonic as Angels singing in heaven. A battery section void of any miscues. Songwriting as diverse as music itself. Lyrics as poetic as a romantic dinner by candlelight. Guitar…

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So You Think You Want A Horse?

899ab920198325f8567d8b22b7d85614I totally understand the desire to want a horse. As a young girl I was born obsessed with horses.  I had pictures, statues, books, tee-shirts – all things horse were good with me.  I even kept little pieces of hay in my pocket to remind me after I had visited a farm or something.  Some of us are just born horse nuts.

After many many years (decades) of training, schooling and living on a variety of farms through the summer, I ​got my own farm.  The old farmer where I had been keeping my horses said to me the day I told him i was moving to my own place

“nothing can ruin your riding more than getting your own farm”.  I protested vehemently. Not me!  I was a rider! No one would mess with that.

Except that he couldn’t have been more right.  Not in a bad way though – my relationship and understand of horses has so exponentially grown that I don’t have the same need to ride.

I love horse work. Its hard. Frikking hard in the winter – tolerably hard in the summer. But I was lucky. I started with my own horse when I was 19 and sort of just grew up in boarding stables. Really  except for a few “bleak horseless years’, where I was busy procreating and raising the results of that – I have always had the responsibility of a horse.  It keeps me grounded.

Allot of people tell me they want a farm, with horses.  And I have to tell you that secretly in the back of my mind I think

​nooo..you really don’t. what you want is a movie and a horse in your yard for like um…a week or something”.

They tell me how lucky I am and they tell me how they would “do anything ” to have the life I live.

Really?

I dont think so.

Journal entries.Flashback to….

2am January 2: It’s -42 outside, my arm is up Sebastiana’s ass to my shoulder because she is dying of colic and I need to get her to shit.

flashback to….

March 17 2007 …KABOOM!

Our arena falls under heavy snow.

3 am – 14 horses are panicking running everywhere. The barn is flooded up to my knees.

March 18, 19, 20, 23

2am calls to the barn to muck stalls. We muck 3x a day – heavy wheelbarrows full of flooding water. The horses are depressed.  I can’t feel my legs.

more?

July 14 – Lily arrives – broken leg.

First rescue off the truck limping.  Have to put her leg in a bucket of water four times a day for 20 minutes. have you ever tried to get an 18 month old horse to stand in a bucket of water?

I have to admit – in all my years I have seen and done things that have elevated me in a big big way.  I have managed to get through things that if you would have asked me, I would have said NO WAY.

UNBELIEVABLE.

But, Do I think most people are up for this? Nope.

WHAT WE THINK IT WILL BE LIKE….

fairytale girl and horse

WHAT IT’S REALLY LIKE…

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I am inordinately lucky to have a life, a community and partner that fully understands what is required here and supports this adventure.  This is not something one does alone. I must admit that even in the worst floods, amid broken legs, crazy horses running me over, broken toes, frost-bitten hands and feet, I have never thought “Oh god I wish I wasn’t doing this”. Never. Its my happy place. So, I don’t mean to denigrate my beautiful life, but I know the reality of it – and I guarantee you that 90% of the Black Beauty reading horsie nut childhood  obsessed adults I know would be shocked at how much consistent effort and heartfelt dedication is required to develop a good relationship with your horse.

But most horse loving folk will find themselves somewhere in between, wanting a horse and not able to get a farm, so they board at places like mine.

OWNERS BEWARE – everyone be realistic!

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Problems occur when adults enter into horse partnerships without knowing exactly what they are getting themselves into.  I can relate to the love of horses – but I can also tell you that i have loved farm work and all of the labour that is involved in the care of horses for as long as I can remember. Whether you are boarding or have your own place or especially if  you are a prospective first time horse owner – here’s what I have learned.

FOR THE PROSPECTIVE FIRST TIME OWNER:

1- Getting a horse is not expensive. Keeping one is. Consider your budget for vet, blacksmith, feed = average 500/month in eastern Canada.

2- Your time is no longer yours.  If you have free time – it belongs to your horse.  You cannot put your “dream come true” into boarding and visit it once a week. The stable’s job is to feed and house your horse – not train or rehabilitate physically or emotionally –  that’s yours. Consider in your schedule you will need at the very least 10 hours for the barn every week.

3- Forget Black Beauty and all those books you read.  Horses do NOT think like humans. Their bar is MUCH higher.  Horses speak clearly all the time because they don’t have an ego.  Before you learn to ride your horse – learn to understand what she is saying.

4- It is your FIRST responsibility to ensure that your horse can be easily handled by anyone – blacksmith, vet, barn owner.  Ground manners are 100% priority.1962-thelwell-print_700_600_3TNQB

5- Do not let anyone handle your horse for vet or blacksmith but YOU.  It’s part of the development of your relationship and is important for the accurate dissemination of information regarding your horse from whatever professional is working with them.  In other words – it’s not the barn owners job to hold your horse for shoeing or vaccinations.

Another option for those of you considering a horse is called a “half lease” – where you can be part owner of a horse – to try and see how it fits into your life BEFORE you make a 25 year commitment to a living breathing being.  half leases can be very inexpensive (from $150.00 a month up to lots more) and can include blacksmith and vet or not. Make sure to talk to the horse owner about those details.

The bottom line here is that the care of anything alive happens on many levels – but horses most especially are not animals to be left at a barn like a long term daycare for errant children. Become part of your barns environment and decide on a schedule that works to dedicate a good portion of your time to your equine companion. Trying to find a balance in our relationships with the horses and the barns where they are kept takes effort and commitment.

Thanks for taking good care of your equine companion. Happy trails 🙂 jo n otis

peace.