It has been a long time since I've taken the time to write and that is for several reasons. First of all I am very convicted that I want to be a "present" mom to my son, so I keep electronic time to a minimum. The last thing I want to see is him mimicking me typing on a laptop or a phone. Secondly, I now help take care of 3 other children full time...that's 24 hour mom full-time, not 8-5 regular job full-time. Lets just leave it at that. Thirdly, I started my Masters. I know, cause I didn't have much else to do. And lastly, we've moved! In the fullness of all this it is a luxury to get to sit. and write. and think. think my own thoughts. So here they are.
We've moved onto an 18 acre farm circa 1911. Around the perimeter it's 3 board black, or once black, wooden fencing with cross-fencing and the back portion in wood and American wire or t-posts and American wire with electric across the top (kind of). I'm realizing that a mark of a horse-person is that they begin telling you about the pasture and fencing, not the house. The pastures could be beautiful, but they've either been neglected and are scattered with weeds and briers or they were over-used with grass barely noticeable and manure being the dominant ground covering. Lets just say that the last person who lived here either had poor husbandry/management skills or they just didn't love this place the way that I already do. There are several outbuildings and barns, the older ones making more sense in practicality and building techniques. The more recent ones seem pathetic to me standing next to the faded grandeur of the old barns, which were clearly made by skilled craftsmen that took pride in their craft. "Jimmy-rigged" is how I'd describe the newer ones. We've actually termed one of them the "Crap Shack". That was as nice as we could be, partially because there use to be pigs kept in it and the flooring is about 5 inches deep in frozen pig poo and the walls are splattered up to my waist in it. Can't wait till the warmth of summer. They also put insulation in the walls which the birds and mice have found quite agreeable. I've realized even more how our choices can affect others. Even now I'm reaping the benefits and repercussions of another person's good and poor choices, even though some of those choices were made over 100 years ago. I look at this farm with its beautifully restored 1900 farmhouse and it's fields and barns in need of love and a wonder what kind of impact will I have on it. What will the people who live here 50, 100 years from now think about the choices I made? Will they bring them grief or joy?
I've probably wanted to move back onto a farm since I left one at 18. There's nothing like stepping out in the morning sunrise and hearing your horse(s) whinny at your arrival while your dogs quickly burst at the chance to run in the crisp air. I love the smell of hay, grain and grass. I love how it feels to accomplish all your chores, to sweat, to get dirty, to be tired at the end of the day, when sinking into a chair with a cool drink is well-earned. Hence why suburbia just about drove me nuts. No matter how good of a boarding situation I was in, I always found myself longing for this. Not only because I'm "meticulous" in how I want my horses cared for, but I'd plainly just rather do it myself...an attitude which has sustained me when I've needed it too and has frustrated me beyond belief when I've needed to ask for help. Like when I got my truck and trailer stuck not a week into living here. A slice of humble pie. Then there's having to rely on using someone else's trailer. I've been in so many tight spots because of this and I'm so over it, but trailers are expensive so I'll just have to keep putting up with it.
With all of these nostalgic emotions come the nightmares of my past; the preventable tragic death of my beloved 2 year-old filly, the looming loss of her mother, my first horse love. What if I screw this up too? I could barely sleep the first few nights after I moved Gabe here because of these very thoughts and memories. It's amazing how the past can haunt you if you let it.
Within these fields I have the opportunity to let the past overrun me. I also have the opportunity to live out some of my dreams and restore parts of my heart that have long sat dormant. I can slowly feel the fear of failure being replaced with the desire to try, with thoughts of training, jump building, and fence mending. It's like I'm breathing for the first time in years. I've been completely functional this whole time, just not fully myself. I'm ready for this, at least I'm ready to try.
