On A Christmas Eve...

Christmas Eve night - it's bitterly cold.  And it's clear. The night is lit by thousands of shimmering stars and my path to the barn is illuminated.  No need for a flashlight.  Darkness doesn't exist in this starlit sky.

Oh, it's cold.  So frozen the boards to the deck crack under my weight.  The snapping of the boards make me think of all the children with their faces pressed to frosted windowpanes hoping for a glimpse of Santa and his sleigh while harried parents busily wrap presents and assemble toys.

Days of anticipation for so many culminating in this one frigid night.

In the barn, the horses are resting in their stalls.  I can hear them munching on hay and for a while, I get lost in the sound of them chewing.  It's a relaxing sound; rhythmic, pleasing, soothing. I could sit for hours just listening to them chew hay.

Reluctantly, I switch on the lights and the atmosphere changes.  Nickers from all around me.  Anticipation of what is to come.

I switch on the radio to my favorite Christmas carol channel.  Not the new ones that are so sanitized but a station playing the older favorites.  I sing along "Joy to The World The Lord Is Come" and my spirits soar.  Earth preparing to receive The King.

I start to fill small feed buckets with warm water and begin to mix in their special mash.  Soon the aroma of peppermints fills the air.  I go from stall to stall lingering with each horse, talking to them, petting them and feeding them their mash.  My heart is soothed from the friendship I share with my horses.  They ask nothing from me yet they give me so much in return.

I turn off the lights, let the music continue playing.  The barn is awash in starlight.  Contented horses sigh.

I have nothing philosophical to share.  No witty analogies.

I can only tell you that on a Christmas Eve, oh so cold, where stars magically light up the sky, darkness doesn't exist.

Merry Christmas to you.  May you find joy in the simple pleasures in life and may faith always guide you on your darkest nights.

Starting Again

Fall surely was fleeting this year and winter arrived early.  Temperatures have been below zero nightly and snow surrounds us.

Lots of things have been happening on the farm.  Another foal was born; a beautiful cremello filly with sparkling blue eyes.  Born in October, I've named her Bewitched by Autumn Mist.

And I've started hiking with the pigs.  Yes, pigs.  I've found they like to travel at a slower pace which suits me just fine at the moment.  But when they know we're headed back home, they make a beeline for their dinner dishes.

I've enjoyed watching the foals turn into young fillies and I'm always photographing them.

One day, my teeny, tiny little girl found a dog door and a new game was discovered.

Dawn has been particularly lovely these frozen days.

And while the scenery is enchanting and the animals are delightful, I have been struggling.  And when every task seems insurmountable, it's easier to become more depressed so I started making lists to get myself moving again and at the top of my list is:  Give Thanks.  And for a while, I only managed to succeed at doing that one thing on my to do list but that one thing for me was critical.  It's changed my perspective and helped me find focus again.  Prayerful thanks at the beginning of each morning.

On my list has been to start writing again.  Weeks have passed and that item still remains so today I'm picking up my blog again and going to start writing.  I'm out of practice and the words don't come easily.  I have no idea yet the direction I'll take or where my words will lead me.  I only know it's something I need to do.

So until the words flow freely, I shall share with you pictures of this frozen paradise I call home.

I hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving and I'm so glad to have you here!

On A Quintessential Vermont Fall Day...

It's fall; a brilliant day, a brisk wind blowing.  Temperatures are dropping tonight and a chilling rain is expected tomorrow.  A quintessential Vermont fall day where the trees are bathed in light for one glorious moment in time.  All of us who live here know change is on the way.  Our mittens are ready, hot chocolate in the cupboard and wood stocked in piles for the long winter ahead.  But not yet.

And on this brilliant day, I sit inside; making lists, trying to make decisions, making one decision and then immediately changing my mind and making another.  And just as the leaves are falling past my window signaling change is upon us so I know change is coming to my life.  What that change will be exactly I still don't know.

I struggle.

The phone rings.  My brother is calling.  "Sounds as though you have a lot of drama in your life." he says.

"Yes, drama, that's correct." I say, I who am adverse to conflict and change of any kind.

"I feel sorry for you." he says.

"Thank you.  I feel sorry for myself." and I feel the tears which are always present now start to fall again.  My face is lined and weary from the tears that fall these days.

"You could leave but the horses keep you stuck." he says.

"Yes, they do.  They keep me stuck.  But they make me happy." And they do.

"You're paying a high price for them."

"Yes, I know." and it's true.  Without the horses, I dream I'd be on a Greek Isle or perhaps I'd be in the South Pacific sitting in an azure ocean letting warm water wash my cares away.

Without the horses, I'd be far away and have oh, so different a life.

But... I have the horses.

I hang up the phone and head out to the pasture on this quintessential Vermont fall day.  As soon as they see me, my four legged friends surround me sniffing my pockets, hoping for a treat.  "Nothing right now girls." and I head up to the top of the pasture to survey the world.  They follow behind.  My pack.  My posse.  My BFFs.  These four legged creatures that keep  me stuck and that I adore.

Up at the top of the pasture; orange and gold surround me and a hint of the red that will soon make its presence known.  It's the kind of beauty that is so fleeting and I think about how fortunate I am to live here on this beautiful Vermont farm on this quintessential fall day.

I think back to my childhood as those who are approaching their senior years tend to do.  My first word as a child wasn't Mama or Dada.  It was horse.  And as soon as I could toddle, I was sitting on the back of a horse and I knew I'd found my home.

And almost as quickly as I discovered horses, I discovered Vermont on a family vacation.  To a young horse crazy girl, Vermont was better than the Magic Kingdom.  Everywhere were farms and horses and from that day forward in my young life, when anyone would ask me what my plans were for my future, I'd say "I'm going to grow up and live on a farm in Vermont and have horses."

And my dream, though deferred, finally came true in my 50s.  I found my home on my Vermont farm and the horses soon followed.  My dream had come true.

But what happens when one person changes, when one person no longer wants the life you have and love and wants something more, something different and expects you to follow along?

I can tell you your heart can break with decisions.

I pray a lot these days.  I pray and then make lists and then I pray some more.

In the pasture with my beloved horses, I search for answers.

I'm not ready to leave.

My dream has come true and I'm living on a farm in Vermont on this quintessential fall day and for a moment, the world is ablaze with color.

And I lie on the ground and look up at the glistening blue sky searching for answers and while I cry, the breathing of my horses who are always by my side comforts me.  For a moment, once again, all is well.

A Fall Day

Yesterday, our local headlines blared "Freeze Warning."  The end of warm weather comes early in Northern Vermont.  And as the shadows lengthened and daylight faded, the air took on a definite chill.  While the wood stove blazed, warming the chilly corners of the house, I headed to my storage trunk and unpacked my fleece sheets and winter down comforter.  And when bedtime came, I opened my window and climbed into my cozy bed only to find my whippets already snuggled under the quilts; my very own little bed warmers.

The room was bathed in moonlight from an almost full moon and as I gazed out on the forest around me and listened to the coyotes sing their lonely night time song, the lyrics to "Golden Slumbers" by the Beatles fill my head, "Once there was a way to get back homeward, once there was a way to get back home.  Sleep pretty darling do not cry and I will sing a lullaby."  I fall asleep and don't waken again.

Dawn and the world is a frozen, crystal paradise - so beautiful in it's icy simplicity.  I let the horses out of the barn and watch them frolic energized by the clear air - no bugs to bother them, no fly spray necessary.  Yes, for the first time since last spring, there is ice on the water bucket.  Winter won't be far behind.

But not yet.  It's a beautiful day.  The sun is shining and it's just the day for a hike in the woods.  I decide to take my beloved jennet, Bella, as my companion.  Now I love hiking with the horses but they have a decidedly different energy.  Always curious, anxious to trot, to jump obstacles and always wondering when we are headed back to the barn, my horses are a delight but hiking with a donkey is like hiking with your best friend; no need to hurry, time for relaxation and observation along the way and plenty of time to meander and enjoy each other's company.  Yes, Bella would be my companion.

I've been so sad lately, so ill at ease in my own skin but as I head into the woods with the beginnings of fall encircling me, I can feel my sadness drop away.  There, the leaves are turning.

Here, there are branches newly fallen from a storm the other night.

We stop at an apple tree and we each have a snack.  I listen to Bella crunching her apple.  She licks her lips with her big donkey tongue savoring the tangy juice.  She's content and so am I.

I stop to take pictures.  Bella snacks on grasses.  It's a companionable silence we enjoy.

Time to head home.  We would both like to linger but there are chores waiting.

I marvel at the smallest of things - a forgotten bird's nest in a tree, the way the pasture hill rises to meet the sky, leaves starting to turn crimson.

I let Bella back out in the pasture and right away she starts calling for her friends, loud brays, and they come running.  She's embraced again by her herd.

Fall, in Vermont, a special time, when for a brief moment everything feels possible again.