The Year Of The Horse - Part Two

Remember this project?  They're finally finished!  Tim had Claire at Clever with Leather make me a pair of custom chaps :-).

While I picked my colors mostly as a tribute to Handy, the big red horse of my heart, there's a bit more to it.

The main color matches Handy.  The fringe has white mixed in just like his gorgeous tail.

The weaving worked perfectly!

The silver western style buckle is in memory of Aria.

The brown piping is for Hickory.

I love them.

And the chaps, too ;-).

The Year Of The Horse - Part One

While every year as long as I can remember has been "the year of the horse", this year I have something really neat in the works to celebrate some of the horses who have made those years so special. 

I've had several really nice horses.  Horses that taught me so very, very much.  Horses that opened doors for me and took me places I never dreamed I'd go.  I have very little left but memories.  I didn't even own a camera back then.  What I wouldn't give for some pictures of pretty Aria as a young mare.

I remember quickly cutting these locks from Handy's tail as the backhoe lumbered up the driveway that awful morning last year, but I don't remember specifically cutting the different colors.  Maybe I did.  I don't remember cutting that chunk of mane either, but there it is.  And that's all we're going to say about that. 

Several years ago I found a chunk of Handy's tail out in the "pond field".  He was never out there and even if he had been, there was nothing out there that would have snagged his tail and cut it like a knife.  I think he must have caught it on a fence nail and a bird picked it up and tried to carry it away to build a nest.  I saved it.

Tim gave me something for Christmas that including a flat piece of hitched tail hair would be icing on the cake.  I don't know anyone who hitches and didn't want to risk sending Handy's hair off to a stranger so I decided to see if it could be woven.  I did a tiny sample using some of Hickory's tail and felt encouraged enough to give it a try.  I used that tangled bird nest hair...just in case.

Because there was no way I was ever going to be able to separate out each individual hair, I decided to cut it into manageable lengths and work from there.  At first I pulled out random groups of 15 hairs and let the colors fall wherever they ended up.  As I worked further, I decided to try and manipulate it into a pattern. 

I used a simple straight twill threading and the stair stepped picks look remarkably similar to hitched hair.  The strong linen warp I used was slick, so I added a little beeswax to each strand to help it all grab better (not sure if that's going to help or not, but figured it couldn't hurt).  I threw in some sections of wool too because everything's better with wool ;-). 

The white wool is Punkin and the red/brown is some Keebler dyed with walnuts.  Wait!  That's actually Buddy :-D.  See, blogging really does help you remember...or reminds you when you forget ;-).  When I looked for the walnut post to link, there it was - it's Buddy :-). 

And as I was weaving I glanced out the window and saw a snow heart in one of my favorite trees.

Here's a hint for Part Two - coming soon!

And here's a great thing to do with scrap horse hair (and yarn, thread, wool, dog hair...).  Maybe there will be a bird out there this spring who'll be saying "Remember when grandma talked about that big chunk of horse hair that was so big she couldn't carry it home?"

Spring will be here before we know it and I'm going to be looking forward to riding!

"Baked With Love"

A Harrison County Homemaker group came out to visit the farm this past summer and, of course, brought cookies.  As we talked about the sheep, wool, spinning, coming up with the ideas for all the Christmas cards...someone suggested cookies should be part of the design.  Of course they should!  Brilliant :-D.

Getting pencil to paper is sometimes a challenge, but after numerous re-draws in my mind (Does Hank bake the cookies?  Are the sheep stealing the cookies?  Maybe they should be baking for Hank? Thecrazysheeplady setting the kitchen on fire?...), the actual sketch came together pretty quickly. 

Until I drew in T-Bone and Gato.  And Not. Handy.  And not Miss Ewenice this year.  No Marcel...

Wow.

And Maisie?  Should I add her in?  She's just a couple days old and not doing exceptionally great.  Would it jinx her if I put her on?  Should I go with the power of positive thinking?  Am I going to let myself get attached enough to her that I'd be sorry if she wasn't included.  Of course I am.

And she slept at my feet or snuggled on my lap as I painted and thus became truly a part of this year's Christmas card.

Merry Christmas Everyone!

2012 Hug A Sheep Day

It was chilly, but the wind and rain held off and over 60 people came out to hug some sheep yesterday, including a neighbor who'd recently moved back "home" and told about when she was a little girl, driving sheep (on her pony) from her daddy's farm on the next road over to her uncle's farm (ours)!

We set the hugging pen up inside the barn and I stayed in there most of the time answering questions and trying to monitor cookie consumption. Much of the time though it mostly resembled the zombie apocalypse "Must have cookies.  Feed cookies.  Feed cookies now.  No cookies?  Moving on to next person."  

Luckily Amy brought her camera and got some great shots. 

I love this picture of Buddy.

Hank, watchful.

Gorgeous sweater!  Yes, the amazing Aaron.  And B. Willard.

"What, you are out of cookies?  Need more cookies.  Must have cookies."  Petunia

Double fisting it.

In the beginning Blossom tried to push her way behind my legs to hide, but it didn't take long before she was right in the middle of Feed A Sheep A Cookie Day.

The barn swing.  Always a popular spot.

And Graham Lamb, hugging and kissing his way through the day.

Surrounded.

By the cookie apocalypse.

 

Not only does Amy take beautiful photographs, but she's an amazing harpist too.  She played in the Wool House most of the afternoon and folks that stepped in to warm up didn't come back out for a long time.  I hope this link will work, but if not, definitely check back.  She wrote a song for Handy.  

Everyone here enjoyed Hug a Sheep Day and we're all looking forward to the next one...aka as every day!  Hope you enjoyed your day as well :-).

Treasures

So, this started out as a Hey, not to worry, Hug a Sheep Day is still a go even though the weather is looking cruddy sort of post, but I ended up typing War and Peace.  So, I'll do a more thorough and fun Hug a Sheep Day post tomorrow and let this roll today because it says a few things (well, probably more than a few ;-) that apparently want to be said.  My pictures weren't very inspiring anyway.  

____________________________________________________________________________

I met Handy about 25 years ago.  He'd flunked out of a big show barn down south (as a two year old) and they sent him up here to donate him to the college I was attending.  When they found out that because they'd bred him, they could not get a tax right off for his donation, they said he was not worth the freight home (when gas was still cheap) and to "stockyard" him.   

Standing in the stall, high headed and big eyed, he was a beautiful colt.  He had a royal pedigree with a full brother who won a blue ribbon at the World Championship Horse Show.  He was... "a silly SOB who's going to hurt someone."  I knew the trainer, the assistant trainer, good friends of the owner and trainers.  They all said "You don't want to mess with him."  I was young (and cocky).  He was cheap (killer price). I took him home.  Their only other words of advice were "Don't ever take the halter off him.  Even in a stall you'll never catch him again."

I remember the guy I was dating at the time not wanting me to be there by myself when the farrier came to pull his show shoes.  He was late getting there to meet us though and the farrier and I went on without him.  Afterwards I led  him to the round pen, threw a saddle on him, messed with him a little, felt good about him and climbed on.  We walked around a bit and then went out to the open arena.  We walked around a bit more and headed out to the back 40.  We were just riding back down the lane when the boyfriend drove up. I gave the colt a name to grow into - Handy.

He was a big, gangly young horse.  And while he never, ever did anything dangerous or even remotely stupid, he was kind of a hard ride.  He trotted okay, but cantering was a disorganized disaster that frequently resembled a cartoon ride.  It was suggested that maybe if I drove him for while he'd strengthen up.  I ground drove him a time or two, hooked him to a jog cart (you really need to do more prep work than that - be safe!) and never looked back.  Handy had found his job.  

I worked at an office at the Kentucky Horse Park at the time.  They were hosting a big Combined Driving Event and I walked over at lunchtime to see what that was about.  I met the neatest lady from Michigan driving a cute Morgan mare and she let me ask her a million questions and ended up taking me under her wing all weekend and became a trusted mentor.   The following year Handy and I were competing in that event.  Our first driving show.

I didn't have money for a trainer but I'd joined the local driving club and taken a couple lessons.  I'd navigated for Marlene a couple times so wasn't completely in the dark.  Handy, on the other hand, was.  Our first day of competition was "an easy day" though - dressage.  He did everything I asked for and at the end of the day I walked over to check the scores.  Our score was way different then all the others in my class.  What did I do wrong? 

A couple of the judges were standing nearby and finally one (an older east coast judge) asked me if I needed some help.  I explained this was my first event and wasn't sure how to read the board.  "Okay, which number are you?"  I pointed.  "Oh, the big red horse?"  "Yes, ma'am."  "Your score is that low because you are in first place.  That was the nicest training level test I've ever judged."  

As I shakily walked away from the office, several of my friends from the local driving club saw me and came over and started doing this silly bowing down thing saying "We're not worthy.  We're not worthy." ;-) 

Then next day was "Marathon" day - cross country.  Each obstacle is completely different, resembling the big solid jumps the riding eventers compete over.  We go through.  My navigator and I had planned our routes through each one, but Handy had never seen one in real life.  As we approached the first one, he put on the brakes, no, go on, what?!?, trust me, huh?!?, go on, okay, and we finally skittered through.  The second obstacle he barely questioned and by the third he'd figured out that it was all a "game" and fellow competitors and spectators started following us around the course whooping and hollering, cheering us on.  

The final day - cones - was, well, honestly I don't even really remember it.  But at the end of the weekend, Handy had won the training level single horse class, the training level division (singles, pairs, four-in-hand) dressage championship and the training level division overall championship.  I still seldom took his halter off though ;-).

For many years Handy took me as far around the country as I could afford to go.  Most shows, unless I screwed something up, he was at very least reserve show champion.  We went to combined driving events, pleasure shows, pleasure drives, exhibitions, parades.  He did all the work.  He was fearless and smart.  He was kind, honest and safe.  I wrecked my cart in a hazard once and he froze, standing to let us step down and untangle him while two other wrecks the same day sent their drivers to the ER.  I trusted him with my life. 

I loved having people come out to the farm and take a drive.  He'd let everyone take a turn driving him if they wanted. Once we hosted two executives from the US Pony Clubs.  The first lady climbed onto the carriage and when I asked Handy to trot off, he did the slowest, softest, collected trot ever.  It wasn't our normal warm up, but I trusted him completely and went along with it.  At the end of the ride, my passenger admitted being very scared in the beginning, but "What a nice horse.  I had a great time."  The next lady climbed on and Handy marched off like normal, happy to show her the difference between "come left" and "hard left" at top speed.  He knew.  He always knew. 

So, if you've made it to the bottom of this epistle, I think, other than just wanting to explain the earlier blog title and share a couple (out of hundreds) of stories, what I think Handy would probably encourage us to walk away with is don't ever let anyone pigeon hole you, telling you who you are or who you'll never be.  There is a spot for everyone.  Sometimes you have to go out and look for your spot and sometimes it finds you and you just need to raise your hoof and say so. 

And those rare horses, dogs, people...that you can honestly and completely trust your life to?  Treasure them.  And be grateful.  And thank them for their gifts, large and small.  For their encouragement, shared knowledge...and so many kind words when you are hurting and lost.

Thank you.

When You Can't Think Of Anything To Say...

Post a picture of your [sheep].  

I'd like to say I'm okay.  But I'm not.  But I am I guess, really.  See?  Friends shouldn't let friends blog incoherently, so I'm just going to stick to posting a picture of Blossom and try hitting my "re-set" button one more time.  

Stupid button.  

Why don't these things ever work.

[I'm] Not Worthy

There's a funny (but accurate) story behind the title, but I'm afraid I'll electrocute myself on this stupid computer if I try to tell it.  Or any of the great stories about the big red horse.

I took pictures of his halter because I haven't decided what to do with it.  Part of me thinks it should be buried with him in the morning...and part of me wants to hang on to it so tight they'll have to bury it with me.  

My heart and soul.

Leaves For Leontien

An Autumn event to show our support for fellow blogger and farm gal, Leontien, who is battling cancer. 

Another Interesting Development

I don't remember a hotter summer ever.

And I don't remember a frost this early either.  Handy and Hickory from the back porch this morning.

Not surprisingly I remembered to cover my flowers last night...but never gave a thought to the tomatoes. Sigh. Well, I might have eventually thought about them...but at that point couldn't bring myself to crawl out of my warm bed to do the right thing.  Not all were lost, but I should still probably have my gardening license revoked.

Names Changed To Protect The Innocent

Well, except Graham Lamb because we all know he's never innocent ;-).

I've taken some heat over the years for "being a little too hard on the boy." Graham's "just misunderstood." "Oh, he's not that bad."

In scrolling back through all the blog posts trying to pick the best one to illustrate Graham's "special skills" I could not decide on just one. I could pick any number of shearing posts. The Grahaminator 2000 is always a good choice. Maybe that time he tried to eat a $60,000 camera. Or steal a sharp knife. Or knock over Saint Tim's ladder (boy there are some cute Sherman and Willard pics on that one :-). What about the night he got his face painted? I could go on, but without further ado...

We frequently welcome guests on the farm (always with appointments of course ;-). This morning a good friend brought a family of young children out to meet the sheep. Another mutual friend joined the group with her two small boys. After many sheep were petted and cookies consumed, we headed around front to meet the horses.

The sheep all had full tummies and quickly settled in for their mid morning naps...except Graham. As we visited with Handy and fed Hickory some cookies (that boy will eat anything), Graham nonchalantly wandered out from around the back end of the barn.

"Oh look, isn't he cute. He wants another cookie!"

I was in Handy's stall, letting a couple kids pet him, with my back to Graham. I heard a scream, quickly glanced over to see him jumping on my friend with the cookies. She's been around here enough so I think she's okay, just startled...but then I see it. Her skirt.

In jumping up, Graham catches the bottom edge of her skirt with his hoof...and pulls it to the ground. Yes, all the way to the ground. The mother and I quickly avert our eyes to give our friend a second to put herself back together.

I glance back and the skirt is still on the ground. She's obviously trying to pull it up... The mother and I again avert our eyes and stay focused on the kids and horse. What else are you going to do in a situation like that?

Oh, you could do like the other friend, one of the cookie friend's best friends. She comes around the front of the barn upon hearing all the commotion, takes one look at cookie friend with a huge sheep STANDING ON HER SHORT RUNNING SKIRT and screams in laughter. I'd been dying to do the same and cut loose. The mother? She was more worried cookie friend might be hurt. She's obviously new around here ;-).

Sadly no one thought to grab a camera, but we will never again have to struggle to pick the very best Bad Graham story ever.

Wait.

I should probably never say never in regards to Graham.

The Wood Working Olympics

This may not be of any interest to anyone but me, but as someone who's spent almost all of her horse life living out of her horse trailer or beat up tack trunks in front of rented stalls, this is a highlight.

We knew when we moved here that the workshop/tack room had potential, but like things happen, it fell pretty far down the list of priorities...and nine years later... I wish I'd taken some pictures of "the hole" before we started.

It did have a concrete floor. Sort of. The concrete had been poured by hand years ago and was rough and sloped as this part of the barn was then used for hogs. It fell below grade, water ran through it, tack molded. If you left the doors open to ventilate, the stupid Adventure Chickens came in and threw wild parties. The ceiling sagged, the lights didn't work, you get the picture.



New concrete. New ceiling. New/checked wiring. New insulation. New lights. New paneling. Saint Tim did all that with some help from 20's Uncle John. I did some of the trim work, stained, varnished, complained about the heat, sweating, being thirsty... ;-)



I also designed and built two free standing saddle racks and a whip holder.



Four wall mounted saddle racks.



I had to be talked into this bareback pad and Miss G was right - it's awesome :-).



A bridle rack.



Got carried away and built a rolling tack cleaning cabinet thingy.



These tack hooks have been with me for years. Two work well for cleaning harness.



And finished off (for now ;-) with a cooler/blanket rack. That's supposed to be Handy on this end and Hickory is on the other.



The Trunk Fantastic. This was a neat project. John designed it from looking at several examples on the internet and some input from me. As best I could tell, he did it all in his head. Even the maths. With fractions. He let me hang out and "help" and taught me all sorts of neat wood working tricks that I wished I'd known before I hacked my way through the above projects.



Regardless, I love my tack room :-D.