Category Archives: Barn Culture

Carrot Cake For Everyone!

Happy Birthday, Hudson!

Best. Carrot. Cake. EVer.

I want to grow frosting carrots. My kind of vegetable. You can make this carrot cake! Instructions and drool-worthy blog, here.

Hudson got a cell phone for his birthday.  After our Colic Camping episode, I wanted him to be able to get ahold of me immediately.  This is how parents end up giving iPhones to a kindergartener, isn’t it?

He hasn’t come to terms with the fact he already HAS his present.

STAFF?!?

spirit killer

 

Hudson on the road

Happy 25th birthday, Hudson.

love,

Jane

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I Am a Hero. Obviously.

Heroic Act #1:

A body was sprawled out in the grassy lanes between the paddocks, a large hat knocked off to one side. I recognize the hat. It’s John’s. He’s not moving.

If I had not been leading a very excited horse down this hill, I wouldn’t have had the vantage point to see him in the tall grass at the bottom.

He was waaaaay down by the tree in the middle.

He was waaaaay down by the tree in the middle.

I call out his name. No answer. Horse feels my nerves and begins to try the whole “I am a Dervish” thing, on the line, ensuring I can’t run straight down, or John will get trampled. I yell for trainer and co-worker, shouting “John is down! I think he’s hurt, HELP! Paddocks!!”

They run out of the barn, closer to him than I am, and like good horse people, instantly read my body language, following my line of sight, know where he is before I say a word.  I whip out my phone and start to punch in 911.

This is how John was rescued from a nice nap in the sun, in the grass, near his beloved horses.

I am a hero.

We’re calling it a safety drill, FYI.

Heroic Act #2:

Last night, in my dream, I finished bagging Hudson’s Happy Meals for the week. (Okay, aside: who the heck dreams about bagging grain?) I was suddenly, in the way of dreams, standing on my front porch: halter to clean in one hand, turning the key in the lock with the other. I open the door and am faced with a very large mountain lion. One pacing and eyeballing Husdon’s good leather halter in my hand. It smells like horse. The lion wants the halter.

Just throw the halter to one side...

Just throw the halter to one side…don’t clean it

But. But. It’s Hudson’s good halter…(horse people are unbelievably stubborn)

lt still takes a slight amount of stalking behavior from the mountain lion in my kitchen, to convince me I probably should hand over the halter if I want to live.

I do. Resentfully.

The dream should end here.  Smart people’s dreams end here. (The horse person lives, buys a new halter, the mountain lion has a light nosh on sweaty leather. Win win.  Right?)

Instead, I follow the lion as it stalks out of the house, halter in  mouth. Somewhat safety conscious, I stay back at least six whole feet. The lion doesn’t think six feet is enough.  We stare at each other.

I am not a brave person. But dang it. It’s Hudson’s good halter. Why didn’t I grab a can of tuna? Bait and switch. Too late.

What do I do? Dart forward and snatch the halter from the lion’s mouth.

The lion flattens his ears and hisses, begins to whip his tail. I immediately come to my senses and hurl the halter back at him. He picks it up, and turns to walk away.

Unbelievable! I run up and snatch it away again. I am highly aware this is a very very bad idea.

So I throw it back again.

I woke up on the third mad dash to steal the halter back.

Can we say: “Jane has problems letting go?

I could understand this dream if the lion wanted Hudson. I can see becoming uncharacteristically brave if I were trying to rescue my beloved horse. But…a halter…?

Since I was uncharacteristically brave in the face of a mountain lion (over a stupid halter), I’m sticking to “I am a Hero”.

Obviously.

What Does Your Horse Want for Christmas…?

Daisy sent me a dad’s response to his 7 year old’s outrageous Christmas list.

Yeah, I don’t think I’d give a seven-year-old $1,00 bucks either.

But it did remind me of Hudson’s last outrageous Christmas List. This year’s plan: don’t ask.

I repeat, Hudson: I AM NOT BUYING YOU A STEER.

So let’s here from all the horses out there! What would you like your human’s to get you for Christmas, Chanukah, Kwanza, Yule festival, Solstice…or just BECAUSE?

If your horse writes you a paper letter, email a photo to theliteraryhorse@yahoo.com, and we’ll post ’em. OOoo…send a photo of your horse too!

Too late, Jane. I WIN.

Too late, Jane. I WIN. It pays to bribe the cat to type. FYI, I promised her you’d bring a can of tuna.  Please pick some up. Also, pencils taste terrible. Why do humans like them?

Alice Takes a Tour Through…Is That an Orc…?

Alice went down the rabbit hole, and missed the bottle marked “Drink Me”.

Maybe it's a good thing Alice didin't Drink Me. She might have come back with a catapillar

Maybe it’s a good thing Alice didn’t Drink Me. She might have come back with a giant caterpillar. (FYI, this would not have stopped us from bedazzling and riding said caterpillar.)

Unable to go through the small door, she took a left somewhere in the tunnel and got lost. Presumably she wandered through Lórien, had a chat with Gandalf, spent a little time in The Shire…

eiss-visiting_sh
Who cares about one ring to rule them all? SHADOWFAX.  How we know this was meant to be? Look, there’s a buckskin right next to him. 

Alice popped back out of the rabbit hole with a Friesian.

(And possibly an elfin archer. I figure she stashed the archer somewhere.)

Straight out of Lord of the Rings, if we pretend he will gray out:

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We think the White Rabbit stole her flip-flops.

We all call him “Shadowfax”. No one will ever know his real name, because none of us care.  Shadowfax is AWESOME.

IMG_3848

Hudson is modeling stellar trail behavior. Shadowfax is going to be a trail Friesian. Hudson’s left ear: “Dude. Turkeys. Fun to chase”. Hudson’s right ear: “Jane, stop eavesdropping, so impolite.”

Shadowfax has spent his life as an Arena Flower. Going outside the giant sand box was new and scary. Alice rode him in a bridle, and wore footwear for the first few, “getting to know your newly leased horse”, rides.

After hanging with Hudson and the rope-horse crowd that warm up on the access road, Shadowfax settled down, and Alice went back to the back to the hippie-chick self we all know and love.

Bareback in a halter.

Ready to get down in The Shire.

It was weird to ride with a horse that towered over Hudson. He’s usually the biggest guy there. Alice said “I think they’re the same height.  Look at their withers.”

Hey, look at that. They are.  But Shadowfax’s NECK and HEAD are up in the stratosphere.

“Is it strange to have NECK in front of you?” I ask.

It makes my teeth ache, that tall neck, right there, ready to up and smack you in the face at first spook.

“Yeah”, Alice says, “It’s a little hard to get used to.  I feel like I can’t SEE.”

She holds up the reins, mimicking a little old lady peering over the steering wheel.

Carlos has teased the crap out of Alice. In addition to the unseen stashed archer, she’s come home to ‘anonymous’ gifts.  Gifts with which she may appropriately ride into Middle-Earth: glow in the dark sword, plastic bow and arrows, a lovely shield, a slighty dented tiara…

Oh. And us!