Hay making

With what content and merriment,

their days are spent, who's minds are bent

to follow the useful plow.

-Unknown-

Here it is July 31st already. Three more weeks before school begins anew; six more weeks until the first frost, is the reckoning. Where has summer gone?

Crows are gathered in bunches of twos and fours, being beaten about by smaller protective bird parents. Going for a walk down the road they caw and cackle at you from the trees, noisy and rude-like.

The days are long, but never quite long enough to get everything you want done. Up with the sun and out to the animals, a bucket of corn for the chickens and a pile of hay for the horses. And of course what ever is dropped for Hammie.

 Hay making was begun a few weeks ago when we cut the grass to dry. It didn't take long, for the thermometer may say only 85, but the direct sun is positively blistering and makes it feel more like 95 with the humidity.

 After only a day or two, our sort-of neighbor {if you call someone living within ten miles a neighbor} raked and baled it all up with his machines, packing fifteen square acres of grass into 104 neat round bales. That's three less than last year, but hey. Or should that be hay? I'm confused.

There is just something supremely satisfying about looking at a freshly mown field. Its all so crisp and has the look of a 4-H heifer -- well taken care of.

Especially when you compare it with the tall tangle of jungle that it was until just days ago. Now it's the perfect riding spot with no holes whatsoever to worry about. The perfect racetrack for me and Little Brother and our magnificent{ly fat} steeds. Charge on!

The original height: Up to ma' ears, as you can see, and I'm five foot five. Oh, and ignore those rainy-looking clouds -- they're bluffing. They're always bluffing.

I've been away from the Internet a lot lately, so I have much to catch up -- mostly in the the photo editing department. I think I have about ninety to do. So I'll be getting to that now, and perhaps scheduling some posts for the coming week since it will be much the same -- outdoors working 24/7 it seems. But it's great. Roanie's a little less round.

-Gwyn

The Rider

You know those moments in good movies
 when the hero races up a hill on his magnificent steed
 and then pauses at the top to look at the camera,
 all heroic and awesome;
 the horse arches its neck and holds its tail like a banner?

Yeah. I had one of those. On my beautiful roan. Life is good.

July in pictures

Here July is already half over and not a word from me besides my brief little horse story. Thank you all who commented on it, on the by. It was lovely to hear from each of you - your encouragement, your stories, your wishes, and your complements. You gals are some cool beans. I'm sorry I can't answer you individually at the mo., for the reason you've heard very little from me is because my Da has restricted the Interwebs time to the crack of dawn and after the sun sets for the night. This leaves little time for me, and I usually spend it writing the next part of Bristé {almost ready!} if able to use it at all. So. Now for the pictures....

The Fourth was awesome. Our little town's parade is the best -- read: Almost all horses and carriages and old cars. I got to spend half the day with my dearest-friend-who-I-never-get-to-see-because-she-lives-in-Ukraine. So it was a very happy Independence Day.

The summer skies have been magnificent too. Simply stunning every evening.
All my relatives have gone home now, and life has returned to the norm. Mum did get to travel for five days to visit my sister on the East coast... or would it be more South? I don't know. Anyway, she got to go to the beach and bring me back some shells :) I was sure glad when she got back, though. Living with just boys for five days and fixing them supper most nights is not my idea of a good time. Da said it was good 'bonding time'. I bonded a lot in my room with several new library books. Speaking of....

This is my stack that I'm currently reading. Though now I've finished two today, The Twelfth Prophecy, and The Seamstress. On hot days after spending the morning in the garden{which is starting to produce!} it's the best to come into the air conditioned house, grab a glass of ice tea and a new book.

Some super exciting news is that I got a new violin! For my very own! Never used before; made just last year, and hand made in Romania from wood from the Carpathian mountains. Oh yes, and her name is Dido {You have to say it with an accent}, after the tragedy in which Dido throws herself off a cliff. The drama and melancholy matches my violin's tone. I love sad music.

  As of yet I have not taken any photos of my gorgeous instrument {excuse the bragging. I've waited a long time for a professional violin.} but I assure you that they will be forthcoming.

I must end now; my time is already up. But I will try and post again soon about the other interesting things that are happening -- not the least of which my adventures in picking up oil painting again, and more horse tales. Pun intended. 

-Gwyn

I like leadmares

I'm not gonna lie. I'd much rather ride a leadmare than a follower. Tonight cinched it.

I've been having a rough time with Roanie lately, I'm not going to lie about that either. She's been... oh I don't know, teenager-ish. You know, the typical rebellious, my-way-or-the-highway business, which is weird because she's eight. years. old. Supposedly a mature adult. But then again she's always been a bit of a filly.
 I'm getting a little frustrated, which is probably why I'm writing this at ten o'clock at night. The thing that gets me is that she's behaving worse than last year. Last summer we really turned a corner; we were getting over being skittish 24/7, our leadership skills improved... And now all she wants is her way. I feel like a parent who wishes they could give their kid a good spankin'.
 I hope this is just a faze.

Tonight I decided to mix it up a bit and left Roanie Fat Pony {It's ridiculous. She's looks like she swallowed a barrel.} in the pen and grabbed Shyanne out for a good ride in our neighbor's big pasture. What a wonderful feeling not to have to anticipate what might make your horse blow up! It was so nice to ride for pleasure and not bother with circles and exercises. And aside from one instance where she tried to buck me off, Shyanne was fantastic. I think she must be mellowing in her old age :)
  Shybaby {my pet name for her when she's sweet. If she's mean I call her Cow.} is also a leadmare so I got blaze on ahead. She warn't afraid o' no boogies. Leadmares have that nice quality, whereas followers tend to get stressed and jumpy when forced to lead or be alone.

 So all in all, a lovely evening. Oh, tomorrow I'll get on ol Roanie again when the flies aren't so bad, and we'll see if we can get things worked out. But for now, all I can say is: Thank God for horses and sanity. It's just too bad they don't always stick together ;)

-Gwyn