Hay in Her Pockets

Here’s the thing about HorseGirls: they’re tough. They ride in the rain. They come out to the barn when it’s muddy. When there’s frost. When it’s 100 degrees and there’s flies and dust. HorseGirls pick ticks off the horses they love (and sometimes themselves). They pick scabs and scrub proud flesh until it bleeds because [...]

The date upon which I have decided to finally sit on Lindy’s back is rapidly approaching.  As in, it’s only two weeks away.  Accordingly, I’ve been working with Lindy more often and checking to make sure all systems are go.  This week, the test I decided on was throwing my leg over Lindy’s back to [...]

beforethe rustle became a roar,there were 4 feet firmly planted.The horse statuesque,coiled to spring,Panic fluttering like careless leaves. the spring unleashesenergy roaring through muscle.grey whirling dervish dancing,edging along the ridgeof sanity,firm ground becomes firmament. 2 feet firmly plantas 4 go flyingand the body leaves the mindbehind

One of the worst things about horses (aside from snot on every clean shirt you ever owned, innumerable bruises you don’t remember having gotten, and scabs you’re obligated to pick whether you want to or not because if you don’t they’ll turn into proud flesh [my husband does not believe this. He thinks I just [...]