As it is with car accidents, it takes a while to figure out all the places you hurt when you experience a “sudden dismount.” For example, when I’d just found myself on the ground, my shoulder and head hurt the most. But my rear end and arms are now bruised up, not the shoulder. My headache is mild, but all my core muscles are yelling at me. That’s probably from trying to stay up.
I’m completely innocent.
But let me tell you! Aleve (naproxen) is a miracle drug! I took two around 9 am and I felt ok until around 8 pm. They aren’t kidding with that 12-hour claim. Tomorrow I’ll just take one. I could tell I was sore all day, but I could walk, drive, bend over, and pick up 50-pound bags of horse feed. My bicep did complain at the latter, but the horses had to eat and their bins were empty.
I admit I did spend a little time today just watching these guys. (Hackberry Emperor)
Speaking of horses eating things, I was disappointed that Apache stopped taking his Prascend embedded in Sara’s fancy cookies. But she turned me on to something better, which I think Tarrin mentioned, too: sweet senior feed.
Senior feed with molasses FTW.
I guess it’s horse crack, chocolate brownie, or something. It’s pretty much the exact opposite of what Apache should eat. But he didn’t even notice his pill inside a handful of this stuff. Let’s hope it works, because I have 50 pounds of it and I’m certainly not giving it to the other horses.
You can give me more of that stuff!
I’m glad I’m back to enjoying the horses a bit more. They all seem content. It helps that it didn’t rain for two days so the pens aren’t solid mud. Of course, rain is coming tomorrow.
We will eat anything, including coconut.
I had a nice dinner with my son and his partner tonight. They were pretty chipper for people who had just returned from a challenging family trip. They figured out how to make the best of it, which ain’t easy. Those two are really thriving right now, and that makes me quite pleased.
Like this American Snout, they have good perspective (look at its little curled proboscis!)
I guess we are all looking at the positive side of our challenges right now. I hope it’s contagious!
I fell really well, I hear. Oddly, I feel more confident about Drew after getting bucked off in my first attempt at cantering than I did earlier today. Who’d have guessed?
But look how cute he is with his graying mane and tousled effect (he had just stumbled hard).
Since my last lesson with Drew, I’d been really cautious with him. I admit I mainly took him out and exercised him, avoiding grooming, because I was having trouble keeping him from trying to bite or kick me, even with a riding crop to make my bubble larger. I needed help.
What don’t I need help with? Befriending bunnies. These young cottontails no longer pay me any notice.
But I had an ego boost today that buoyed me up. I felt irrationally good about myself because at the conference sponsored by my previous employer I was called out for an award as someone who is helpful to their users. This was given by the director of the group that tried so hard to get me to leave, and I was nominated by former colleagues. That felt good, because Dell can’t give contractors awards or bonuses. I’m happy that the hard work I do is noticed!
I’m as cheerful as the color of this Gulf fritillary.
So, I was more confident when I went to get Drew for his lesson. He was so good, coming up to me to be haltered and being friendly as heck until I tried to groom him. He even bit my riding crop in two. But I got it done. That pleased me.
When we got to Tarrin’s he was sweet as pie and let me get all the little burs out of his mane. I felt better already. I just had to figure out the grooming thing.
Oh it’s figured out now. Tarrin gave me the Tough Love speech about how I had to stop moving away from him and rewarding his behavior or I’d have to sell Droodles. I felt really bad about being scared after being kicked but it’s a human reaction. I just had to get past it.
After that unpleasantness, she showed me a great technique for encouraging him to keep his teeth and hooves to himself. I managed to finish grooming and even get his mane and tail done. He is not fond of the bamboo stick I was semi-competently wielding to bop him. He was quite the gentleman thereafter. He even took the bit politely!
In fact, other than one stumble while we were nicely trotting, he was perfect during the lesson. I think we both were having fun together. He was doing so well that Tarrin thought we might be able to try a canter (have I mentioned before that I’d never cantered on a horse? Never got that far in lessons with Apache because he has canter “issues” having nothing to do with my skill set).
Just some nettle leaf noseburn to break up the tension.
She set it up so that she had him on the lead rope and I was in the saddle holding the reins in one hand and the saddle in the other. It all went fine. He started to canter but something happened that made him buck me right off. We were all surprised.
There was NO WAY I was going to fall in such a way that my cesarean scar would get re-injured like it did on my old hybrid saddle with Apache. So I went off to the correct side to not be trampled and somehow successfully rolled like I was doing judo or whatever. It went butt, back, head in such a way that I’m only bruised and have a headache.
THIS is why you wear a helmet when riding a horse. It protected me. In fact, I was wearing the helmet I had to buy after Apache bucked me off (which led to me starting lessons with Tarrin.)
Apparently after I landed and had the wind knocked out of me, I said, “I think I’m dead.” Tarrin, being pretty smart, figured out if I was talking I was alive. She and Drew came to see if I was all right. He was quite concerned that I was on the ground, as horses tend to be.
Once I was up, Tarrin got on Drew to firmly remind him how to behave in canter.
He was not thrilled at first.
After a little squabbling, he was fine. We went back and practiced grooming his sweaty little self. Lee came up and Tarrin said I got an A+ and Drew got an F. That’s a great reward! She is not pleased that this little hiccup occurred, because she considers it her job to keep her students safe. But I think, in the end, everything worked out fine.
He settled down. Yes I took pictures. I was a little nauseated but sitting down to recover.
Honestly, I’m proud of myself for how I handled the events of the lesson. Getting thrown from a horse was a concern for me, since older people don’t bounce as well as young ones. But I coped well and mainly feel sad to have caused Tarrin concern. I feel good about Drew, the best I have since he got hurt. We are on the road back to a good relationship.
My wrinkles and I are intent on telling you I’m fine. I have perky pajamas and strong drugs.
Tomorrow won’t be fun. I guess checking out my bruises will be interesting. My back is a bit tweaked so I’ll do stretches and hope I don’t need a chiropractor. But yes, I have appropriate medications, analgesics, and medical professionals to contact if I get any concussion symptoms. Honest. No need to post medical advice!
Enjoy my best question mark photo yet.
Maybe I’ll ride Apache tomorrow. Hee hee. He looked bummed that he didn’t get to go to lessons.
I owe y’all a more cheerful post, so I’m glad this dreary day produced some happy thoughts.
Look at these tiny margined calligrapher wasps!
The day started out looking like a tornado was going to hit. Long after the sun theoretically rose (couldn’t see it for the clouds), it suddenly got pitch black dark outside, like it was night. Then it turned that scary pre-tornado green.
Ominous skies
Luckily all we got was some wind, heavy rain, and brief power outages.
Goldie and Carlton curled up with me.
It stayed drizzly all day, but I figured out ways to be outside with the animals and nature as much as I could. In the early afternoon I took a walk to the creek, where I heard a sound. I looked down at my phone and, YES! It was a bobwhite quail. Wow! That brought childhood memories back.
Deer were enjoying the rain.
When I was a girl in the 60s, I lived in Gainesville, Florida. It was a town of 25,000 surrounded by beautiful farms, cattle ranches, and lakes. Everyone my parents knew had little lake shacks or hunting cabins (not fancy) or had family out in the country. Hunting and fishing happened most weekends (except for us – dad played fast-pitch softball on weekends).
A thing that happened I guess fairly often was that guys would get together during the appropriate season and hunt quail. They wouldn’t go get a few. No. They would bring bags and bags of them home, at which point women-folk would clean them. Then they’d invite all their friends over and eat quail (I think other people brought side dishes).
My memory is dim, but I remember the bags of quail and the deep fryer they cooked them in. It was huge. You’d go get a couple of tiny birds, carefully eat them to avoid shot, then get more.
I assume beer was also involved. In any case, the couple of times we were invited were quite unusual to me and my brother, who weren’t exactly country folk (one generation removed).
Now quail are no longer even there to hunt. That’s why hearing one got me so excited. I kept hoping some of our woods edges and the pond hill might be good for quail (they need a specific habitat, which the northern Florida scrub fit). Yay, right?
About bobwhites
The other thing that took me back to childhood came later, when I went out walking at dusk, hoping to hear a nighthawk, my second-favorite nightjar. I did hear and see them, plus heard another bobwhite, so I know I wasn’t imagining it.
I also saw my cottontail friend again.
But also, I saw some fireflies! I’d lamented to Anita that I hadn’t seen any out here at the ranch, though I had in Cameron. But, there they were on the side of the road by our house. They are another childhood sight I miss.
When I was a girl in the 60s (same as above), we didn’t have fireflies at home. That meant I really looked forward to our yearly visit to my grandmother’s house in Chattanooga, because each summer her yard filled with fireflies.
My brother, my cousins, and I must have spent hours and hours chasing fireflies to put in jars, which we hoped would act as lanterns. I learned later than after we went to bed Dad let the poor creatures out. Aww. I guess that was better than cleaning up dead bugs.
I’d eat them for you, offers Henley.
My kids enjoyed them when they were little, too. I’m glad the pesticides haven’t killed them all yet.
It’s nice to see biodiversity trying to come back. I feel like I live in a hotbed of it here. Maybe there’s hope! After all, I saw or heard 48 different bird species yesterday and 44 today. I’m trying to keep as many native plants happy and healthy here as I can. And I want the fish, frogs, turtles, snakes, and mammals to have their own niches. That’s a positive goal!
I just finished reading Knife, by Salman Rushdie. In case you never heard of him, he’s a novelist who dared poke fun at a religious figurehead and had a fatwah put out in him. That means someone pretty humorless wanted him dead.
Knife, and some future reading material.
Regardless of the merits of his writing or his attempts at humor or anything like that, it had to be hard living with bodyguards 24/7 and always wondering when the assassin would show up. That’s the opposite of freedom to me, maybe worse than being imprisoned. In prison you know where all the murderers are.
Tiny Calf says she’s gonna hide in the grass.
He eventually got to where he didn’t worry about being attacked anymore, but then he was. The book is his way of getting his processing done. I guess since he gets paid to write, he decided to publish his memories and their effects on him rather than writing in a journal, or blogging like us other self-absorbed people.
By the end, though, I think Rushdie comes out free. He’s free to live the rest of his life without dwelling on what happened, his attacker’s motivation, or looking over his shoulder constantly. He’s faced death and knows what it’s like.
It’s probably not true, but birds always seem free.
That’s freedom: being able to live without worrying that someone or some institution is out to kill you, confine you, or strip you of your rights. In this case, I’m not free anymore. I’m no longer confident that women can be free in this country.
I digress as usual. As for the book, it was okay. There were some genuinely funny parts, and I give Rushdie credit for doing his best to be introspective, but he comes across (to me) as someone who has a great need to prove how smart he is. He extensively quotes from world literature when I swear he could just say what he meant rather than forcing the reader to remember every book they ever read (IF they happened to be literature majors) and draw the proper inferences from it.
Parts of the book bugged me.
I felt like there was going to be an essay test at the end.
He also quotes himself, or his novels, repeatedly. Is he trying to sell books? I didn’t end up dying to read any of them, which is good, since I have some good ones queued up already, thanks in part to kind people who keep handing me books.
I don’t use enough polysyllabic words or quote enough European fiction to even want to quote myself.
Now, I do feel for the guy. He went through a lot, lost vision in one eye, and has a permanent droopy mouth. He does seem pretty chipper for someone less than two years after nearly dying. He sure made Jon Stewart laugh when he interviewed him.
So, freedom is not a buzzword for me. It’s the ability to live in your society with a reasonable about of agency and feeling safe among your community members.
I always disagreed that butterflies were free. They are little mating and egg-laying instinct-driven beings. Pretty, though.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll be less dour. But here’s an example of why I’m that way: I didn’t share the link to yesterday’s blog about what public figure I dislike most on Facebook out of concern that it might put a target on my back. So, freedom? Not so much.
You may be surprised, but my answer to this is the Governor of Texas. While he isn’t a pathological liar like my second choice, he seems to be on a deliberate course to disenfranchise every resident of this state who isn’t a wealthy white man. Shudder.
I’m sort of past the career planning phase. I am pleased with what I eventually accomplished in my rambling career path. I helped lots of people learn various things and succeed with their research, parenting, or business goals. I parented two people who grew to adulthood and are contributing to society. And l learned a lot!
I guess I went through all those stages, and became a butterfly whose mission is fulfilled but still wants to fly around some.
Now, as I approach the traditional retirement age, I have no desire to stop helping others or learning. I really have no desire to stop doing my current paid job, but if it ends, I’ve got plenty to do and ideas for more nature education activities.
I’ll just take off and do…something.
So, no plan. Just possibilities. As a pretty healthy person in early old age with enough income to support myself, I have the luxury to wait and see what’s next.
Time to be strong as I can and fly, like a tiger bee fly.
What shall this privileged person do to improve her world? We will see. I just need to stay positive and open to possibilities.
Right? No good deed goes unpunished! I experienced one of those times today. I’m not upset at all, but shaking my head. There are just so many ways to look at things!
It’s like a scene viewed through different lenses. I’m standing in the same spot, just using different camera settings. Things seem different, too.
Today I finally got around to do something about the bees who decided our propane tank access hole was a good place to start a hive.
The bees
They had moved under the piece of insulation we put over the pipes rather than leaving when all the rain came. It turns out bees like rain, according to Heath, the bee removal guy we called.
Inspecting the bees.
Thank goodness Jeremy from the Bling Box remembered this company had posted ad ad on Facebook and gave me their number. They showed up after work, having driven from Temple.
It took little time for our docile bees to get gently vacuumed up into the special bee vac (really a small shop vac with modifications). Heath got the queen and most of the workers, though a few were probably out foraging. I feel bad for them coming home to no sisterhood.
Safely sucked up. Glad my bees weren’t Africanized.
I felt good that I’d not killed them just because they inconvenienced me, and that we helped a small business.
That is, until I responded to a post in a FB group about bees dying from visiting poisoned dandelions and said I’d tried to help some honeybees. I promptly got a response lecturing me on how honeybees aren’t native and that they’re hurting native bees and that any good biologist (such as the man (of course) writing the response) knows they should be eliminated!
Even the dogs won’t look at me. Tsk tsk.
I said, “Okay, thanks.”
In my view I was helping insects who live near me. In his view I was hurting others. We both have good intentions.
Where are we going with this?
Thinking about native versus nonnative can get you deep into rabbit holes. Many common living things here at the Hermits’ Rest aren’t native, like those chirping fools the house sparrows, or those mega-swarming starlings. One type of dove I hear daily is an Eurasian Collared Dove. Must be Eurasian. The wildflowers have many introduced species in their mix, too. Even the common dandelion isn’t native.
At least you aren’t going down MY rabbit hole.
What to do? Eliminate them all? Or are some so well adapted they are okay now?
Should we build a cactus border wall to keep out non natives? Oh wait. Plants can’t read maps.
I don’t t know. Maybe I’ll ask in Master Naturalists tomorrow. I want to be a good steward of my land, but I’m not sure I have the strength to scorch the earth.
Otherwise, all is well. I sure appreciate the nice feedback on yesterday’s blog entry. Having supportive folks around makes it easy to have a good life.
I used to try my best to be involved in the community near which I live. (Is that English?) I discovered that it can be difficult to do good where you’re new and different. So in the end, I’ve devolved to doing one community outreach activity and participating in two groups of people with similar interests. That’s plenty, and at least so far, I’m still welcome in these groups.
If I can’t make friends, I can always rent them.
Obviously, I enjoy being a Texas Master Naturalist, though being President during COVID wasn’t fun. I love being able to talk to folks about our shared interests, learn about nature, and teach others. While it has its bureaucratic aspects, as organizations do, it hasn’t turn into a mean girls cult like the nonprofit I used to be involved in, and it’s not so “woke” that it turns into bullying, like the denomination I was once a member of. So far, so scientific.
I learn about flowers, too.
The horse community I’m a part of now is another way I’m involved. We are supportive of each other and get along well, in spite of differences. I especially love how young people and elders are both respected and valued here. It’s a small but mighty community free of elitism and rampant competition. We all want to learn!
Poor Apache had sweat bubbles in his butt after his lesson. He’s getting back in shape!
Other community things I do include hanging out with mostly like-minded friends once a week and patronizing local businesses. It feels good to help keep shops and restaurants going in a small town!
Watching improvements happen is encouraging, even from a distance.
The bad experiences I had with a couple local groups were disappointing at the time, but you can’t force people to like you or want to work with you. It reminds me of a Facebook post I saw today where someone points out that you can’t control your reputation – it’s someone else’s view of you. But you can control your character – it’s who you really are. With my odd personality, I’m a hard person to like, but I try hard to be a good person.
The bad experiences I’ve had when I tried to fit in shouldn’t have surprised me but they did. Hmm.
At first, when I found out how I was viewed by some folks in the community and was asked not to represent a business I thought I was part of, I was hurt. When I was bypassed after offering my services to a community group, it stung. And when a fellow board member verbally attacked me and tried to harm family member’s reputations, but no one on the board defended me or tried to keep me from resigning, I was shocked. But these were good lessons to learn. To reiterate: you can’t make anyone like you. And it’s fine.
Now that I pick my involvement more carefully and don’t attach my self worth into belonging to anything, I feel more free to give what I can. Devolvement did me a lot of good.
(My mental health has been better than it is right now, so pardon the negativity I’m spewing. I blame all the rain.)
What’s a job you would like to do for just one day?
The first thing I thought of on this topic is something I’d probably do for many, many days. I’d like to work at a State Park as a nature interpreter and do guided hikes to help people see what they don’t realize is all around them.
Look! A baby ladybug!
I have to admit it. Most of this blog is me doing just that.
Look, a sad ground crab spider, purportedly!
Well, it’s my blog, so I might as well do what I enjoy. I’m sure you’d rather read about birds and butterflies than about my self confidence issues and internal struggles, of which there are many right now. Zzzzz.
Look! An ugly mushroom!
The best Nature news today is that it didn’t rain much. Maybe some of the water can head down to the aquifer. After removing much mud and hair, I tried to walk Apache some today, but everywhere we went had standing water. But, hey, we walked briskly and he was fine with it! He’s better at last!
No horse picture, so look! A green heron!
Same deal with Drew, sans grooming, but we at least spent time together and bonded. He bonked his head on mine in an unfortunate gate/wind incident, but we both handled it well. He did get Fiona’s leftovers out of the deal. She didn’t eat because I’d wormed her. Everyone else took the wormer just fine.
Look! Something shaped like a worm! It’s a checkered white caterpillar. Those guys have been busy.
I thought I’d share with you what I encountered after getting the mail today. Dozens of snout butterflies. The soundtrack is dickcissels.
A few butterflies
And that’s it for today. I hope we all get to do our dream job, at least for a day.
I think people get too attached to brands, especially when they are trying to use them to impress others. I should know. I bought a Prada purse once. It was the best buying experience I ever had. Wow, rich people get treated nicely in stores. And it was/is a great purse. It will last forever.
Purse is at right. The left one is Coach. Used them when I worked in an office. Dog is another story.
But, my brief period of trying to keep up with the Jones’s is over. I now focus any brand loyalty I develop on quality or aesthetics. Things don’t have to be “on trend” to be of good quality or pleasing to my eye. Upon reflection, I find that many of my brand loyalties are focused on comfort, ergonomics, and texture. Examples.
Current frequently worn shoes.
I love Skechers shoes. They do come in some fun colors, but mainly they are very comfortable and keep my feet happy. As someone who has a “thing” for shoes, this switch to a more practical style is a big deal.
I also love cowboy boots, especially Lucchese. Those are a texture thing. I love the feel of quality leather. Plus they are beautiful yet useful. Good ones are very comfortable, too.
I really love a well designed automobile with comfort and style. I’ve loved every Jaguar car Ive owned. My current one is a compromise, because Lee can’t get into a sedan or sports car anymore, so I list the British Racing Green one with saddle tan leather interior. But the one I drive now has red leather seats and every safety and convenience feature I wanted. I could live in this car. It’s so easy and intuitive to use. And it goes vroom when necessary
I’m loyal to my Color Street nail strips. Yes, I know there are less expensive brands. I also find them rubbery and of lower quality. Since they’re still way less than salon nail treatments, I’m happy.
I like Apple watches and phones. Less of a learning curve. I stick with Dell computers. That’s based on familiarity and reliability.
I stick with AT&T cell service. No clue why except my dad worked for them via various mergers and name changes. That’s not a great reason.
I like H-E-B and Publix grocery stores. They are clean and have options. I can’t remember what I liked in Illinois, which had neither chain.
Let’s see, what else? Crest toothpaste, meUndies socks and underwear, Bluebell ice cream, Kerrygold butter, Church’s fried chicken, Dawn dishwashing liquid, Tide detergent, Diet Coke Zero (my primary vice), Folger’s coffee (I just like it), Hilton hotels (because that’s where my points live).
That’s enough of that. Most things I’m brand neutral on or prefer hand-made.
Flooding continues around here. It’s worse in other parts of Texas but pretty bad here. Plants and ducks love it.
Where the cattle were yesterday. Looking north up Walkers Creek. You can barely see a fence top. Walkers Creek headed south The other side of the trees in the previous photo. That’s usually a field. Wood ducks irritated at my presence
Horses aren’t pleased. At least Apache is finally shedding out. I can pull clumps of hair off him. I’d planned to groom him twice today and at least walk Drew around, but there was only one good break in the rain. When I went to feed and medicate, he was too wet to brush.
I am a Lutheran woman, wife, and mother. I enjoy fiber and textile arts such as knitting, crochet, yarn dyeing, cross stitch, embroidery, sewing. I read a lot while working on different projects. I love baking, and cooking for my family.
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The Hermits' Rest 