The Wrangler Rides Again

This weekend the Wrangler decided to get in on the horse action and took a lesson at a nearby barn. It's sort of a long story, but the crux is that he rode a Peruvian Paso, which is a horse known for its exceptionally smooth ride. It has a four-beat, lateral gait instead of a trot and is usually ridden in a western saddle. The ride is so smooth that there are competitions in which riders carry glasses of champagne without spilling a drop. Since the rider doesn't bounce up and down, the Peruvian Paso has become a favorite for older riders with back problems.

Of course, while this all sounds pretty good to me (and my bad back), this makes the Wrangler a little uneasy. He's seeking manly cowboy adventures on a rugged trail, not champagne-glass-balancing exploits with arthritic and geriatric ladies in an arena. As I mentioned, how the lesson came about in the first place is sort of a long story, but the Wrangler was a good sport and seemed to enjoy it. I observed the lesson, and it was striking to see how the rider really does not move an inch up or down or front to back. It's almost as if the rider is floating atop the horse.

Other riders at the barn commented that the Wrangler looked like a natural on Junior, a beautiful Peruvian Paso who will be featured on the reality show America's Favorite Trail Horse. Hmm, is there a new reality TV star in the making?

Hitting the Books

Maybe it's because I'm old-fashioned and don't like reading things on a computer screen, but when it comes to researching a new project or idea, I start by buying a book on the subject...or, rather, every book on the subject. I probably own every single book currently in print on lavender; raising chickens, goats, donkeys, and sheep; keeping bees; harvesting maple syrup; growing pumpkins; and urban farming. Overkill? I think not. One of these years I'll get around to tapping some maple trees and will be oh-so-glad to have plenty of informative books on hand. (I absolutely love libraries but, oddly enough, I rarely can find the latest books on such topics as creating lavender labyrinths and starting a sugarbush.)

But after I tore into the box of books on paper making that arrived today, I realized that I need get with the now and start with free research online. I can't entertain every whim by ordering a shipment of instructional books right off the bat. I read just one chapter on paper making before deciding that paper making is for the birds. Turns out, it is fairly complex and involves special equipment, techniques, and processes. There even was a chapter on lye, a substance that reduces me to a shaking, shivering mess.

Eghh. Now I'm stuck with five books on paper making. They'll find their place right next to my books on artisan chocolates. A quick google search would have informed me that making chocolates is a sophisticated exercise in chemistry (I had pictured merely pouring some batter into molds). A quick google search would have revealed that making lovely stationery is not as simple as whipping up a paste and spreading it out to dry.

On second thought, I'll donate these books to the library. While I'm there, I'll check the shelves to see if another donor learned a similar lesson on creating lavender labyrinths and starting a sugarbush.

Horse Poor

There are people who are "house poor." They spend all their money on their house. And there are people who are "horse poor." They spend all their money on their horse. Our realtor pointed this out to me as she tried to explain why so many horse properties around here have amazing equestrian facilities but not-so-amazing houses.

Well, folks, I think I'm headed down the horse poor path. Moto just had his 60-day check-up for his bowed tendon. (For at least the next six months, he will get a check-up and a diagnostic ultrasound every 60 days.) Thankfully, the healing process is underway, and the vet is pleased with his recovery so far. She recommended daily therapeutic ultrasound treatments, which can shorten the recovery period. If I rent the device, the vet will show me how to administer the treatment myself.

Guess what? Renting medical equipment is not exactly cheap. Moto is expected to make a full recovery regardless of whether he receives daily ultrasound therapy, so it's not like the treatment is absolutely necessary. I've been a horse owner for just two weeks, and I have to decide if I'm going to be the kind of owner who (a) leaves well enough alone or (b) goes the extra mile. I want to go the extra mile.

When it comes to my own health, though, I usually leave well enough alone. I dismissed ultrasound treatment for my own injuries last year as a charlatanish, pseudo-medical therapy--the rich man's Vicks Vapor Rub. Did it really help me heal? I was skeptical.

My lower back still gives me trouble. Quackery or not, ultrasound therapy might be worth another try. I'll have the equipment at my disposal for a couple months. I think you can see where I'm going with this. "Scoot over, Moto, it's my turn now...."

Rainy Day

It was a wonderful, refreshing, cozy rainy day here on the farm. This kind of weather makes me forget New England for a moment. The drizzle let up by early evening, so I met my riding instructor at the nearby barn where she keeps her own two horses. She splits her time teaching riding lessons at Moto's barn in Orange County and working for her family's nursery. She also tends to her horses for an hour or two every single day.

I'm trying to learn everything and anything about horse care, so I tagged along as she turned out and fed her horses. I was like a four-year-old kid who asks too many questions: "Why...?" "How...?" "What...?" My nonstop chatter disrupted the otherwise tranquil twilight, but my saintly instructor's patience never wore thin.

It was raining again by the time I got home. It would have been a perfect night for chili or stew, but I was so engrossed in horsey stuff that I forgot to pick up ingredients for dinner. I did stir up a batch of my homemade granola, so the house smells delightful if nothing else.

As I write this I hear raindrops on the roof, soft sighs from the pets, and the Wrangler's guitar. Life is good when it rains.

The Foster Farms

I spent part of the weekend traveling from barn to barn to check on my animals at their respective "foster farms." My first stop on Saturday was Moto's barn up in Orange County. It seems like everyone I know has asked me when Moto is coming to live with us on the farm. While I'd love to reply, "today," it's probably going to take years. Folks, I know next to nothing about caring for a horse! I can groom him and sort of ride him (I'm not going to be auditioning for the National Velvet remake anytime soon). I know what he eats each day: one flake of grass and 1/2 flake of alfalfa for breakfast and dinner, a bran mash with supplements for lunch, and about 10-20 gallons of water. (Don't ask me how much hay is in a flake, though.) I know that he needs new shoes every six weeks. And that's about the extent of my knowledge. So you can see why, despite the somewhat alarming bill for his room, board, and training, I'm quite happy keeping him at his show barn where we are surrounded by experts--horse trainers, grooms, riding instructors, veterinarians, farriers, and knowledgable friends. It's nice to have people around to answer my questions, and Moto enjoys being around his horse buddies too. Each day the barn staff ensures that Moto is blanketed, exercised, fed, and watered; his health is monitored; and his stall is cleaned. Someone magically produces the aforementioned flakes of hay and equally magically disposes of the 50+ lbs. of manure that Moto produces daily. I do want to be a hands-on horse mom, but I've got to know how to manage my new 1400-pound family member.

The Wrangler and I also dropped in on the goat girl to check on Elmo and Oscar. Nearly a week old, they are starting to get spunky. The kids hopped around, hid under chairs, jumped onto the playset, butted heads with the other babies, climbed into the hay feeder, followed their moms, nursed, and crashed in a heap under the heat lamp. It wasn't chaotic or crazy, though. It was more like a funny episode of goat TV.

We're close to adding yet another foster farm to our route. The Wrangler is working out the miniature donkey details. Our plan is to pay for their room and board at the breeder's farm until we're ready to bring them home.

And so our hobby farm dreams are coming along. We've certainly got the hobby part down. Now we just need the farm.

Elmo and Oscar

Two days old!

Kids on the Way!

I got the call! Tomorrow I will go to see our "goat girl" and pick out our two new pygmy goat babies! I have to get there bright and early; all of the other expectant parents are selecting their goats tomorrow too. Of course, the kids are too little to come home yet. They'll be ready in seven weeks. Don't you worry--I will be taking lots of pictures.

The Farmer's Plight

This:

Not that:

Our search for a farm is not going well. We've seen about 15 prospects, but I haven't fallen in love with anything. In fact, I haven't even fallen in like with anything. I know I'll have to make some concessions; most buyers won't find everything on their wish list. But come moving day, I'd like to be at least a little excited. After touring seven properties this weekend, I realized the problem: I'm looking for a New England farmhouse in Southern California. So...I'm not sure where this leaves us.

Martha Knows Best

Even Martha Stewart thinks that owning three adorable miniature donkeys is a good idea.

Who Knew?

I was just re-reading my recent blog posts, and I had to laugh about my earnest heads-up on alpaca and llama pyramid schemes. I mean, what the...? As I started down this path of urban farms and hobby ranches, I never would have guessed that I'd be talking to insiders about the seedy underworld of...multi-level fiber marketing. Apparently, the "home party" sell to-and-recruit-your-friends business model is not limited to cosmetics and kitchen gadgets. So, folks, you heard it here first: proceed with caution if you get asked to attend an alpaca party.