Dear All,
I changed my blog's web address.
About the Blog below this posting:
Please Note:Don't Drink and Blog.....
Oh Wait I forgot to drink. So what's the excuse for my literary errors below?
Okay so new rules: don't blog with haste. don't blog after 10. Too bad you can't unblog and reblog.
The last stanza of the blog's (below) opening poem should read:
Nose to nose I greet my gracious steed
His exhale my inhale
A suspension in eternity
Then it is all down hill ...........from there.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Stable Tales: No need to be a fly on the wall, just live in a barn
By night, Paradise:
Rain tapping the metal roof.
Time demurs, mingling in
the constant chewing.
The day's dust has settled in.
Dry grasses linger in the dim.
Wet hair stripe long lowered necks.
An occasional clearing air blow
suspends churning jaws
and stirs the stall dust.
Warm nostrils breathe puffs
that play on the back of my neck
and leave a mist veneer
Nose to nose I great my gracious stead
His exhale my inhale
A suspension in eternity
By day, not always so sublime:
I do relish the quiet of the barn at night. It lures me in with its steady stillness, but this tune I shall switch, and be candid, honest, even a gossip.
Reality: It takes a variety of people to make a world, and it takes a variety of horse owners to make a barn.
I have always been horseless, this is true and this is good. I cried a couple times growing up when told "no" when my riding teacher had a prospect. I used to look at all the available horses for sale in the classifieds and my Horse Illustrated magazines.
But now I am mature enough to look at the whole picture. It is as clear as day that horse's come with baggage, skeletons, histories, and a price tag (that you can not write off as depreciation) which they can not discuss with you to be honest and build trust.
Horses have no choice, their entire lives, on what human shows up and makes their claim. They can be passed about from owner to owner, though some get lucky. We have quite a few lucky horses here, with responsible and attentive owners. But then there is Ali.
Ali is a doll baby. His owner, Pattie, a woman meant for that MAD tv show or Saturday night live. If I could only record her talking. Brash, hollering in horse's ear, sputtering, and laughing. She calls me "sweet one" and "love," sweet talking me into accepting whatever lie comes flying out of her loud mouth next. If I only could bottle up the scent of her alcohol breath, masked with listerine. If I could just unroll her sleeves and let all the future tricks and past untolds fall clumsily to the ground. We could all take a turn at squishing all the potential with our muck boots.
Ali has a 21 or so year old girl, who has eyes only for him. Her eyes don't quite see the sleeves full of tricks. Pattie has the expense and care of this kind horse spread thin. Another woman pays for hay, and stall shavings, while the girl carries some of the work load, and helps foot the stall cost. And then there is me, who takes him out to pasture, and brings him in at night. Yes, i am a sucker too, with my sympathy for the horse, and current availability.
Now, all of this, or life itself is wearing on Ali's nerves. He in the last two days has displayed most of the symptoms of a certain neurological disorder, on top of needing his teeth filed. He is very uncomfortable all over his body. His muscles seemed to be locked, his legs hyper extend often, and his body cracks constantly. Two days ago he was opening his mouth as wide as it could possibly stretch it, and moving his lower jaw back and forth, with his tongue stuck out the side. I couldn't help from laughing, since I never witnessed a horse do that. Today when eating his hay, he seems to wait till I come in front of his stall then grinds his teeth up and down the metal bars. I ask him if his teeth are bothering him and he thrusts a minute long nod.
Yesterday he was Pattie's lesson horse, the last two days my worry, and today my patient. Maybe because she is "yup, I'd say three sheets to the wind." We have sent her numerous emails concerning the horses health with no response. When the horse's food supply trickled down to "nada" this evening another email was sent with this response at 6:32 "emly poss to be brining some today,let me know, ,my guy suposs to gethay in thursday. pattie"
Not much surprises me with her. Not even that she was "lit" by 6:30. I wasn't surprised when she told me the ATM broke at the bank. Not even surprised that she keeps asking about the grey horse, who is my favorite playmate, barn mate and soul friend.
He has a blood clotting disorder. This she knows! Did I hear a reference to a lesson horse? "He is such a nice horse." "I saw his father in the paper for stud in Texas." Did she ever hear anyone mention he was brought from Holland? On her map Texas is the state of Holland. Of course she wants to help me find a job with her restaurant "connections," her whole family, though the word restaurant slipped her mind, along with calling the vet and the horse dentist.
Rain tapping the metal roof.
Time demurs, mingling in
the constant chewing.
The day's dust has settled in.
Dry grasses linger in the dim.
Wet hair stripe long lowered necks.
An occasional clearing air blow
suspends churning jaws
and stirs the stall dust.
Warm nostrils breathe puffs
that play on the back of my neck
and leave a mist veneer
Nose to nose I great my gracious stead
His exhale my inhale
A suspension in eternity
By day, not always so sublime:
I do relish the quiet of the barn at night. It lures me in with its steady stillness, but this tune I shall switch, and be candid, honest, even a gossip.
Reality: It takes a variety of people to make a world, and it takes a variety of horse owners to make a barn.
I have always been horseless, this is true and this is good. I cried a couple times growing up when told "no" when my riding teacher had a prospect. I used to look at all the available horses for sale in the classifieds and my Horse Illustrated magazines.
But now I am mature enough to look at the whole picture. It is as clear as day that horse's come with baggage, skeletons, histories, and a price tag (that you can not write off as depreciation) which they can not discuss with you to be honest and build trust.
Horses have no choice, their entire lives, on what human shows up and makes their claim. They can be passed about from owner to owner, though some get lucky. We have quite a few lucky horses here, with responsible and attentive owners. But then there is Ali.
Ali is a doll baby. His owner, Pattie, a woman meant for that MAD tv show or Saturday night live. If I could only record her talking. Brash, hollering in horse's ear, sputtering, and laughing. She calls me "sweet one" and "love," sweet talking me into accepting whatever lie comes flying out of her loud mouth next. If I only could bottle up the scent of her alcohol breath, masked with listerine. If I could just unroll her sleeves and let all the future tricks and past untolds fall clumsily to the ground. We could all take a turn at squishing all the potential with our muck boots.
Ali has a 21 or so year old girl, who has eyes only for him. Her eyes don't quite see the sleeves full of tricks. Pattie has the expense and care of this kind horse spread thin. Another woman pays for hay, and stall shavings, while the girl carries some of the work load, and helps foot the stall cost. And then there is me, who takes him out to pasture, and brings him in at night. Yes, i am a sucker too, with my sympathy for the horse, and current availability.
Now, all of this, or life itself is wearing on Ali's nerves. He in the last two days has displayed most of the symptoms of a certain neurological disorder, on top of needing his teeth filed. He is very uncomfortable all over his body. His muscles seemed to be locked, his legs hyper extend often, and his body cracks constantly. Two days ago he was opening his mouth as wide as it could possibly stretch it, and moving his lower jaw back and forth, with his tongue stuck out the side. I couldn't help from laughing, since I never witnessed a horse do that. Today when eating his hay, he seems to wait till I come in front of his stall then grinds his teeth up and down the metal bars. I ask him if his teeth are bothering him and he thrusts a minute long nod.
Yesterday he was Pattie's lesson horse, the last two days my worry, and today my patient. Maybe because she is "yup, I'd say three sheets to the wind." We have sent her numerous emails concerning the horses health with no response. When the horse's food supply trickled down to "nada" this evening another email was sent with this response at 6:32 "emly poss to be brining some today,let me know, ,my guy suposs to gethay in thursday. pattie"
Not much surprises me with her. Not even that she was "lit" by 6:30. I wasn't surprised when she told me the ATM broke at the bank. Not even surprised that she keeps asking about the grey horse, who is my favorite playmate, barn mate and soul friend.
He has a blood clotting disorder. This she knows! Did I hear a reference to a lesson horse? "He is such a nice horse." "I saw his father in the paper for stud in Texas." Did she ever hear anyone mention he was brought from Holland? On her map Texas is the state of Holland. Of course she wants to help me find a job with her restaurant "connections," her whole family, though the word restaurant slipped her mind, along with calling the vet and the horse dentist.
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