Showing posts from August, 2009

In which I come home, and it's beginning to look a lot like Harvest!

Hana was very happy to see the truck and trailer pull down the driveway! She was dancing and hollering out in the field, telling Fiddle to unload herself and get back in the pasture where she belongs. Fee was very quiet until she was off the trailer and walking to the gate. Then she let loose with a very loud whinny. Ow. Remind me to move my head further away next time. Dobbie and Lupin were also hopping around, flapping those gigantic ears and maaa-ing like crazy, which just confused Fiddle--the goats had only been in the pasture with the horses for a day when I loaded up my mare and took off to Oregon. I don't think she remembered them. In the days following my homecoming, I've been busy catching up with all the stuff that hadn't been done for a taking pictures of stuff around the farm! Tomatoes are starting to get ripe. If you don't already know Guy Clark's "Homegrown Tomatoes" song, I guarantee that you will learn it and sing alon

In which the Annual Adventure comes to a peaceful conclusion

We did one more day-trip before packing up to head back to our trailer: up from Linton Meadow to the Pacific Crest Trail , and then down again towards our camp. The ride was short--7 miles, maybe 8 miles--and we travelled at a slow and leisurely pace, still trying to convince Cricket to relax. Unlike any of the trails we'd travelled thus far on the trip, the PCT is--while scrupulously cleared and maintained by hordes of volunteers and parks service employees--a historic trail, and thus is often not re-engineered or re-routed, even when the historic route is clearly unstable or frequently blocked by blowdown. As a result, I saw some of the skinniest, squirreliest, worrisomest trail of our entire journey while on a very short stretch of the PCT. Of course I don't have photos of the squirrely bits of the trail, since I was too busy staying steel-side-down to bring out the camera. Fiddle believes firmly that she can travel quickly OR in a bent frame (bent =more stable on a s

In which I shut up (mostly) and share poetry and some photographs

It usually happens, on day two or three of a trip into the mountains, that I start talking a little less, and spend even more time than usual with my camera. Sometimes that means getting up earlier in the morning, or going off to forage for blueberries, or whatever tactful excuse I need to go away from people I like in order to be quiet for a while and look around. Sky is an especially good travelling companion, as she, too, enjoys going off to a quiet spot to write or read or sketch. In that spirit, I want to fill this post with mostly photos. I hope you enjoy seeing them as much as I enjoyed taking them. The sky always looks perfect if I am looking at it through horse ears. This stream could give me much-needed lessons in the art of "meander" Blueberries in Heaven probably taste just like these: tangy blue apples. Look at the lake--see? look closer, and closer still: It's full of princes!

In which I describe further adventures in the backcountry, part 3

Part Three: A few minor mishaps Years ago I attended an endurance ride, and on the way home I stopped for a break and called my mom. "How did your ride go?" she asked me. "Oh, it was good," said I. Then there was a long pause. "That's all? No flat tires? No missing shoes? No falling off of bridges or getting lost? No sunburn or lightning strikes or bee stings?" I guess I hadn't realized how common adventures are when travelling with horses, until I finally took a trip and didn't have any adventures at all. In fact, that trip was so routine that the only thing I remember about it is my mom's astonishment that nothing went wrong. (Hmmm. That might be wisdom there....) I'm happy to report that Sky and Cricket and Fiddle and I had a only few of the small type of adventures, not the "nasty disturbing uncomfortable things" loathed by Bilbo Baggins and other sensible hobbits. The second day in the high country