Molly in balmy (for another 12 hours or so) Ohio
----- Original Message -----
From: WANETA
To: haflingerfriends@yahoogroups.com
Sent: Monday, December 14, 2009 4:37 PM
Subject: [haflingerfriends] Re: A page from an 87 yr old horsewomen's journal
Reminds me of the poem I keep on my desk at work to remind me of why I work: hay, carrots, apples and some wine!!
When I am an old Horsewoman
When I am an old Horsewoman:
I shall wear Turquoise and Diamonds,
And a straw hat that doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my social security on white wine
And Carrots,
And sit in the alley-way of my barn
And listen to my horses breathe.
I will sneak out in the middle of a summer night
And ride the old bay gelding,
Across the moonstruck meadow
If my old bones wil allow.
And when people come to call, I will smile and nod
As I walk past the gardens to the barn
And show instead of the flowers growing
Inside stalls fresh-lined with straw.
I will shovel and sweat and wear hay in my hair
As if it were a jewel.
And I will be an embarrassment to all,
Who will not yet have found the peace of being free
To have a hose as a best friend,
A friend who waits at midnight hour
With muzzle and nicker and patient eyes
For the kind of woman I will be
When I am old.
I've already shown up for appointments many times with hay in my hair and some horse poo on the shoes, guess I'm already an embarrassment to all!! Does everyone else just LOVE to encourange "the sickness"??
Waneta
in downright balmy 40 degree Connecticut
after a few days of prying the frozen poo out of the paddock!!
p.s. I think this was written or from the same book as "When I am old, I shall wear purple!"
--- In haflingerfriends@yahoogroups.com, Liz Farley <huzzagirl@...> wrote:
>
> Thanks for sharing, Julie - it is a wonderfully written piece that speaks to all of us, especially us women that really "get it"!
> Â
>
>
> --- On Sun, 12/13/09, Julie Wilson <wilsonjz@...> wrote:
>
>
> From: Julie Wilson <wilsonjz@...>
> Subject: Re: [haflingerfriends] A page from an 87 yr old horsewomen's journal
> To: haflingerfriends@yahoogroups.com
> Date: Sunday, December 13, 2009, 7:44 PM
>
>
> Â
>
>
>
> This really banged my bell...It means alot for me as an aging woman - old or young.
> Â
> I love my family - husband and sons...but I sure enjoy being with my 'big dogs'!
> Â
> Julie in se mi
>
> ----- Original Message -----
> From: ohiospacecowgirl
> To: haflingerfriends@ yahoogroups. com
> Sent: Saturday, December 12, 2009 11:37 PM
> Subject: [haflingerfriends] A page from an 87 yr old horsewomen's journal
>
> This is a wonderful email I received, it's wonderful.
>
> A page from an 87 yr old horsewoman's journal
>
> I Ride
>
> I ride. That seems like such a simple statement. However as many women
> who ride know it is really a complicated matter. It has to do with power
> and
> empowerment. Being able to do things you might have once considered
> out of reach or ability. I have considered this as I shovel manure, fill
> water
> barrels in the cold rain, wait for the vet/farrier/ electrician/ hay
> delivery, change
> a tire on a horse trailer by the side of the freeway, or cool a gelding out
> before getting down to the business of drinking a cold beer after a long
> ride.
>
> The time, the money, the effort it takes to ride calls for dedication. At
> least I
> call it dedication. Both my ex-husbands call it 'the sickness'. It's a
> sickness
> I've had since I was a small girl bouncing my model horses and dreaming of
> the day I would ride a real horse. Most of the women I ride with understand
> the meaning of 'the sickness'. It's not a sport. It's not a hobby. It's
> what we
> do and, in some ways, who we are as women and human beings.
>
> I ride. I hook up my trailer and load my gelding. I haul to some trailhead
> somewhere, unload, saddle, whistle up my dog and I ride. I breathe in the
> air,
> watch the sunlight filter through the trees and savor the movement of my
> horse.
> My shoulders relax. A smile rides my sunscreen smeared face. I pull my ball
> cap down and let the real world fade into the tracks my horse leaves in the
> dust.
>
> Time slows. Flying insects buzz loudly, looking like fairies. My gelding
> flicks
> his ears and moves down the trail. I can smell his sweat and it is perfume
> to
> my senses. Time slows. The rhythm of the walk and the movement of the
> leaves become my focus. My saddle creaks and the leather rein in my hand
> softens with the warmth.
>
> I consider the simple statement; I ride. I think of all I do because I
> ride.
> Climb granite slabs, wade into a freezing lake, race a friend through the
> Manzanita all the while laughing and feeling my heart in my chest. Other
> days just the act of mounting and dismounting can be a real accomplishment.
> Still I ride, no matter how tired or how much my seat bones or any of the
> numerous horse related injuries hurt. I ride. And I feel better for doing
> so.
>
> The beauty I've seen because I ride amazes me. I've ridden out to find
> lakes
> that remain for the most part, unseen. Caves, dark and cold beside rivers
> full and rolling are the scenes I see in my dreams. The Granite Stairway
> at
> Echo Summit, bald eagles on the wing and bobcats on the prowl add to the
> empowerment and joy in my heart.
>
> I think of the people, mostly women, I've met. I consider how competent
> they all are. Not a weenie amongst the bunch.. We haul 40ft rigs, we back
> into tight spaces without clipping a tree. We set up camp. Tend the horses.
> We cook and keep safe. We understand and love our companions, the
> horse. We respect each other and those we encounter on the trail. We
> know that if you are out there riding, you also shovel, fill, wait and
> doctor.
> Your hands are a little rough and you travel with out makeup or hair gel.
> You do without to afford the 'sickness' and probably, when you were a
> small girl, you bounced a model horse while you dreamed of riding a real
> one.
>
> "My treasures do not chink or glitter, They gleam in the sun and neigh in
> the night".
>
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