Thursday, April 7, 2011


It feels like it took forever, but Winter seems to have loosened its icy grip. The weather is not yet perfect, there are still rainclouds and brisk wind, however the sun is bright.

What have I done with this bounty of lovely weather?

The garden is roto-tilled. The peas, lettuce, and radish seeds are set in the freshly turned earth.

My office in the barn is finished, the floor is re-stained, the desk is in place, the new rug warms the floor, my horse books line the bookshelves, and the pictures are hung on the wall. All it needs is my laptop and me, sitting in my chair, churning out all the new stories churning in my imagination.

Tucker has new shoes. After his bought of lameness, I called the farrier, who suspeted a stone bruise. We soaked an packed his feet and today, he stopped favoring the foot. And the sun continued to shine.

For the first time this year, I tacked up. Though, for me, caution is the better part of valor. I am not brave enough to hop on a rambunctious Thoroughbred after a three month vacation. So I let Tucker run around on the lunge line. He was obedient and relatively quiet- he threw one good buck then settled back down. I finally mounted and walked around a bit. I would have ridden longer, but I had chosen to use my dressage saddle instead of my jumping saddle. Bad choice. The saddle looks like it fits Tucker's back, but once I settled into the seat, it became clear it isn't very comfortable for either of us.Hmmm.... Could that mean I need a new saddle? That would be unfortunate.

Everyone knows how I dread shopping for tack.

I even lunged Gil, who stood like a champ as I tightened the surcingle, did none of his funky dances when we walked out to the riding area, and even-gasp!- walked over a pole on the ground.

I am determined to find someone to work with him and give him another chance. I love the underdog.

Hopefully, the weather holds, because I am raring to go. I want to ride, I want to plant, and I want to write. Everything is in place. It's time. Finally.

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