THE QUALITY OF LIGHT

There is a quality of light on these late fall afternoons that is like no other. It slants in from the river and casts a golden glow on everything it touches. The last fall leaves are lit from within. Furry winter coats and whiskered muzzles wear a halo of light. I am cherishing the magic in these waning days and remembering them with my camera.

Fitz.

Mathilda

Abby.

A little love note from Mother Nature.

I am at home with my camera, instead of finishing my errands in town, because my 89 year old father called, while I was shopping. "I thought I might drive up your way," he said. "I want to bring your Christmas present, it won't work until after dark." Having seen those "Star Shower" Christmas lights on TV, he bought a set for himself and two for me. Mike could have picked them up next week, but he was excited. And he is lonely, so he drove up and I came home and gathered pine cones and took pictures, while I waited for him to arrive.
Then we plugged in the lights and waited for the magic.

I am so grateful that my dad has found the strength to stay positive after the loss of my mother, to find joy in small things, to reach out when he is feeling lonely, and to focus on the light.
Wishing you golden fall days wherever you are...XO.

HAPPY 4TH OF JULY

Happy 4th of July! 

I had the idea that Nigel and Scout would look adorable in patriotic tank tops. I didn't factor in their lack of shoulders. There were lots of out-takes.

That's actually a yawn and not her Shark Week audition.

As the weather is very iffy, we decided to do a little road trip today. Drove over to Greenwood, Delaware for barbecued chicken at the fire house...truly some of the best on the shore. We were planning a trip to Chick's in Harrington to buy horsey things after, but had not reckoned they'd be closed for the 4th, so we wandered home through country roads. Stopped for fresh produce, browsed an antique mall, running into an old friend and neighbor and wandered home to play with the horses before the rain set in. Again.

Always been curious about this little no-name church.

This small windmill is on the way to Timber Grove Farm. I've wanted to stop and take a pic for weeks. The farmhouse burned down a few years ago, but it is still a working farm. The next time I see someone there, I will stop and ask if the windmill is for sale.

No words. Only the large print is visible from the road.

Guineas on a country road.

So tempted by this. It works!!

Glad that Mike is home from the father-son, road trip to LA. Our first born is happily moved into his LA apartment and anxious to start work at USC. Mike was away for eight nights, our longest separation in thirty-five years. Happy to spend this holiday weekend puttering with him. Tomorrow is our best chance for decent weather, so we plan to get the kayaks out.
In other news, now that Mike is home, I've brought my new horse, Bates home. I had planned to leave him at Timber Grove Farm for a month of training but that turned into two months and has eaten up an enormous amount of time. Abby has fallen instantly in love with him. It doesn't help that she is in season, and kicks and hollers when I take him out of the barn.

Ashley Hopkins of Timber Grove Farm, delivering our new guy home.

Now the task is to let him adjust to his new surroundings, and start riding him here at home. Without all the travel time to and from the other farm, life should get back to normal and I can get back on schedule with BarnBugStudio.
We are trying to decide whether to hop on our bikes and ride down to the river to watch the fireworks (it just stopped raining) or nestle in here at home. The thought of soggy ground and epic numbers of mosquitoes has us leaning toward the former.
Happy 4th of July, blog friends!! XO

THUMP: THE POST-CHRISTMAS SLUMP

That thump you hear is me coming back down to earth after drifting along in a cookie fueled, largely unscheduled, haze for the past ten days. The last child left on Sunday, extra cat and dog in tow. It is incredibly quiet. Eight extra paws creates a lot of extra noise and activity. I miss it.
I was hoping to have something really exciting to tell you. Mike surprised me with the news that I was getting a horse for Christmas. So in that frantic week before Christmas I made the time to drive up to Church Hill with a friend and take a look at Jack. I brought him home for a ten day trial and vetting.

In the end, I decided he was not what I was looking for and sent him back, but still, how lucky am I, to be married to a man who after thirty-four years is still trying to make my dreams come true? This isn't the end of the story, I am now seriously looking for the right horse. Abby is anxious to have a new barn buddy and I am hoping that come spring, I will be hitting the trails on my own horse, because some dreams never die and horse crazy little girls grow up to be horse crazy middle-aged ladies. It's a fact.

Santa also brought the fever/aching/coughing flu, and I spent the day after Christmas in bed, and the next day running around disinfecting doorknobs and light switches, hoping no one else would catch it. They didn't. The weather was mostly dismal throughout the holiday but we did manage a couple of quick trips to Blackwater. The bald eagles were out in abundance.

On Saturday,  despite the miserable weather, my daughter and I grabbed our cameras and headed to Old Trinity, hoping to take some photos of that lovely old graveyard in the mist. We left Mike and Kelly's boyfriend holding down the fort. We were barely out of the car, when they called to say there were three stray horses in the yard, and what should they do. We determined pretty quickly where they belonged and told them to call a horse savvy neighbor for help. The trio had managed to break a hinge and knock down a pasture gate while their owners were away. By the time we got back they were rounded up and restored to their pasture, though not before leading Mike and Sean on a merry chase around the neighborhood. Luckily they ran toward the river and not the highway. Really sorry not to have gotten pictures of that.
There was even more four-legged excitement the next day when a neighbor from across the highway knocked on our door. "Are you missing a pair of beagles?" he asked. I wish. I told him they didn't belong to us or anyone in our neighborhood. He asked if I wanted to hold on to them, as he was taking them to the humane society the next day. They had been chasing deer on his property for three days, before he caught them. Well no, I didn't want to hold on to them, but I certainly wanted to take a peek. Mistake. I peered into the back of his truck. I picked one up. I was lost. Husband and daughter came out. They were lost. Long story short, I would keep them in my barn, and take them to Talbot Humane on Monday. 

There are no words to describe how sweet and wiggly and adorable they were. Each time I went into the barn, they were a little less timid and more delighted to see me. It was hound dog heaven. 

Our first married dog was a beagle, also a Christmas present from my sweet husband. The man knows the way to my heart involves four legs and fur. We both have a soft spot for hound dog eyes and silky ears.
We fed them, bedded them down in an empty stall, and took lots of pics, some of which I posted on Facebook and within a couple of hours had over a hundred shares. After four hours, I was on the phone with the owners, and by nine pm they were on their way home. They had escaped from their kennel and their owners had been driving the back roads on the other side of Trappe for three days, never dreaming they would make it down this far. A happy ending and a fun distraction to ease the end of holiday blues.
Last night we had a gorgeous sunset sky and today we are having our first light snowfall. It has given me the urge to make soup and crochet. I am not very skilled at crochet, but I have some gorgeous alpaca wool from Outstanding Dreams Alpaca Farm, which has inspired me to improve.

Hope your New Year is off to a cozy start. I will keep you posted on the horse search. I've already received a couple of tips this week. 
XO,
Mary

CAT TALES

While I frequently talk about horse and dog antics here, I don't believe I've told you much about the cats. A cat is an important player on any property with a barn. We brought our Mathilda (aka Kitty) home as a teeny kitten as soon as we broke ground on the barn. Six and one half years later she is a feline force. Her skills extend far beyond keeping the rodents and birds at bay. And before you get your feathers ruffled, you should know that I love birds as much as the next person, just not inside my barn. They drop poop and feathers all over the tack and just generally wreak havoc.
Anyway, as to skills, last weekend my daughter was working with Abby and giving me a lesson in long lining, which she picked up during her summers at the ranch. Kitty watched for a bit, then decided she'd better help. Surprising, since she generally keeps a safe distance from the horses when they're turned out.

Watching and learning.

Kelly and Abby

Getting closer.

I got this!

Thumbs would be helpful. 

Making her move.

Outta there!

In the end, she decided this was an activity for humans after all, and took off, back to her grassy hiding place.
This morning, she played photographer's assistant, when I popped outside between rain clouds to look for new blooms. As I lay on the sidewalk, trying to get a ground level shot of the dianthus border, she helped by repeatedly banging her head against my lens. Skills!
I did spy the first rose of the season.

This is not the shot of the dianthus that I was going for...

But my helper persisted until Fitz, the cat we share with the barn down the road, came out to distract her.

She also gardens. 

Gotta run and finish the mowing before dinner, and wipe the nose prints off my lens. Mowing, that would be a really useful skill in a barn cat. I'm sure she's capable. If only her little feet could reach the pedals! XO. 

BITTERSWEET GOODBYE

Zoey left yesterday. I knew it would happen eventually, but it has taken a long time to find just the right place, so it was always off in the future. She went to Virginia, to a new career in a kids' camp. It's a job she's well suited for.

Goodbye.

Abby, looking for her buddy.

I've known Zoey for 13 years. She has lived with me, off and on, for the majority of the six and a half years that we've had our own barn. Her mom, Alison, and our daughter have ridden together since they were six years old, but time flies and Al is now out west in grad school, so Zoey, like most first horses when their owners grow up, needed to find a new job. She is with one of Alison's college friends, so that is good, and she is leased, so she could potentially come back if it doesn't work out.
 I am left to console Abby who is more herd-bound than most mares and tends to have a hissy fit whenever her barn mate is out of sight. I had the vet leave a whopping dose of tranquilizer when she was here last, because horses are not known for their analytical skills when they're in a panic. Someday, I'll tell you about the time Abby tried to jump into her stall over the closed bottom half of the door and got caught. A horrifying day for everyone involved, but happy ending, so it's all good and she's fine. I am sure my emotional scars will heal. In time.

We assembled Zoey's extensive wardrobe (this mare has more clothes than I do), pulled her mane, and generally spiffed her up. No one leaves my barn unless they're fat and shiny. I would have liked to ride her one last time but my back is out of whack again, and I'm not very bendy.

Waiting for her ride.

Nesting birds will be thrilled with the pile of hair I pulled from Zoey's mane.

We got off to a rocky start this morning . Abby was more interested in running and calling for her buddy than she was in breakfast, but has settled down now and just looks sad. If I have to, I will borrow a horse or pony to babysit in the short run. Going to try and keep her very busy and tired now that the weather is improving.

Rolling in the mud helps, apparently.

As do kisses and gingersnaps from Dad.

I am weepier than I thought I would be. While Zoey has never technically been mine, I have grown to love her over the years. Mind you, she could be a grumpy old hussy, but we've had a lot of fun together. I will surely miss her and want to thank Alison for letting me keep her for so long. Goodbye and good luck, my Zoe-bug. Bittersweet.