Always.......... four hooves and a tail

I am totally convinced that I came into this world with a passionate desire to jump on the back of a horse. This equine love -affair first manifested itself when I was about 4 and invoked the W.O.G (wrath of god) - that is, I made my mother angry - because I continually drew beautiful (in my eyes) sketches of horses in the fly leaves of my new kiddy books, These drawings looked something like this


and were the first evidence of my great artistic talent, which would bloom in later years.


I first found my way onto the back of a real honest-to-Jehosephat horse when I was five and my family was visiting paternal relatives in Ontario, Canada. My cousin Trisha also loved horses, and at age 9 she had her own, kept at a local stable. I just couldn't believe that she had one and I didn't!! I don't know who was in charge of this ride, but Trish and I and at least two adults set off on a trail ride. Yeah!! Check out the photo!

OMG!! I would NEVER let a child of mine go off trotting in the woods like this - tiny child, big horse, no reins, can't reach the stirrups!! How did I survive? :>)
There was never any discussion of this incident over the years - it just was part of my introduction to horsieness!

Well, of course, I was hooked, and a riding fanatic from then on. One year I asked my dad to take me riding as a birthday present, and by golly, we went - even tho it was the middle of July and about 95 degrees out.

My dad wouldn't get me my own horse - he believed I wouldn't take care of it (interpret that - "she'll lose interest"). So, I found a friend who had two horses, and I learned to ride on her old cow pony.

Grew up ... got married...had kids...still loved horses .








FINALLY - 1977 - my very own horse. Faffner - a wonderful Morgan gelding.

More stories about him another time...




Today, my story encourages everyone to enjoy himself and do a good turn for others at the same time. I'm talking about volunteering your time and services. You might work in a hospital gift shop, dispense soup at a shelter, or, as I did, help with the horses at a therapeutic riding center. I worked with the folks at Flying Changes in Topsham, Maine. This is an equine facility where physically and mentally challenged young people can develop new strengths, abilities, healthy bodies and self confidence by riding and associating with horses. My many years of experience meant that I knew the routine - I could muck stalls (YUCK), brush horses, comb tails, oil tack and saddle up with the best of 'em

There were a lot of volunteers, and we worked hard to keep the aisles swept and the 16 horses clean and fed.

But the best part of all this was helping the kids with their riding experiences. A 5 year-old with say, Downs Syndrome, has very little balance or ability to stay on a horse by himself. Each ride requires two adults - one to lead the horse (like me) and one to work with the child (a licensed equine therapist)

This picture is NOT a handicapped child -just a young person getting his first horse experience. The aspect of this that I need to tell is this - I am getting older, and I dont do all the exercise that I used to when I was 35. Sooo.... when the person leading the lesson explained that it was
time for the child to learn to TROT- I suddenly realized that I was leading the horse, and OMG - I had to RUN to keep the horse at a trot. Well, I was about wiped out after two circuits of the riding arena. :>)

Yup, this "volunteering" was in many ways the best thing I did for myself in several years.!! Puff, puff - I'll lose weight yet!!

Wet 'n' Wild

GOSHAROONIE!

What I had intended to write and what you actually see here are two totally different things... I couldn't immediately locate some old photos that I thought I had on disc, so............ new idea comin' atcha!

So sorry, buddies, but my featured creatures today aren't soft, fuzzy and cuddly, but rather cold, wet and scaly. Yup!! I'm talking about FISH! And I don't mean pet guppies, either. I mean the wiggly piscean animals that live in our rivers, lakes and oceans and which occasionally can be coaxed into attaching themselves to the end of a line. Here's a not-so-deep-dark secret - I LOVE fly fishing!! If you are shaking your head in bewilderment, I'll explain...

Fly fishing is the attempt by sportsmen to catch fish (most often trout) using hand-made lures that are SUPPOSED to imitate insects.... but are actually made entirely of fur, feathers and thread that are wound and glued onto a fish-hook. Said lure is called a "fly" and is intended to be a very close imitation of an actual insect that a fish would just LOVE to devour. The fisherman (or woman, as the case may be) attempts to cast this little object onto or into the waters before him (or her) in such a manner as to perfectly imitate the actions of the real insect (very often a may fly). The said fly is usuallly very small - maybe half an inch to an inch long, and must be presented very carefully so as not to scare the intended victim, who is probably 30 to 40 feet off in fast-running water. Needless to say, this action is quite difficult.

ALL RIGHT!! Lesson over - you are all probably snoozing by now. Point is, I do this a lot, and have great fun flailing on creeks and ponds with my line and flies. Why, amazingly, I occasionally even catch a fish! and eat it for dinner!

As mentioned above, the most desired species to be tempted and caught are trout, of one sort or another. These guys can be 6-inch long brook trout or 3-foot long lake trout, and they all taste great. Maybe I ought to include my ultra-secret recipe for stuffed trout........ naah, not this time around, 'cause then I'd have to kill you. The accompanying photo is of me and the first trout I caught (circa 1955).

Next photo, flash forward 20 years or so. I learned to cast a fly, and my goodness, look what I caught! This was in the St. Lawrence River, among the Thousand Islands. Tee hee - I really didnt want to go near the slashing teeth of this bad boy pike, and husband Ted removed the hook from the jaws for me - suffering no ill effects. The fish, alas, gave his all to the frying pan.

Then the many glorious days spent casting to swift riffles on the seemingly endless sparkling streams of western Pennsylvania. Slate Run, Cedar Run, Pine Creek, the Oswayo, all yielded their share of beautiful fish. The Slate runs through a deep gorge with only occasional access points, and one has to really WANT to fish it. The Pine is another gorge that paddlers can pretend to be lost in.... Dreamy days to recollect...

Moving on to New England - I switched to fishing for bass in the ponds of Rhode Island. Not as exciting as fast running rivers in mountain gorges, but a pleasant way to spend a day. And my goodness... I am, after all, getting OLDER!! (we don't want to admit that too often) One of these days I'll have to admit to being a crotchety old broad who sits in a rocker and reminisces about the G.O.D's. (good ol'days, if you are a bit slow on the uptake) That's me in shorts standing in a pond with a smallish bass on the hook.....

And just to show that I am still having adventures now and then, here is my story for today....

I went on vacation to steamy Belize (teeny country just south of Mexico, next to Guatemala) a couple of years ago, and me and my son and family stayed in a jungle resort for a few days and an island resort for a few days. We were out for ADVENTURE! :>) Horseback riding, exploring jungle trails (never did see that jaguar), tubing through caves, watching iguanas in trees, and then....... snorkeling and watching fish We spotted skip jacks and angel fish and others, and then we moved to another section of the reef, where the animals we jumped in amongst were considerably LARGER!

Yup, that is me there with the rubber fins and mask. And, gulp, I REALLY took

that photo of the fish that I was swimming around with - another YUP! Those are REALLY SHARKS! Arent you proud of me? I survived to tell the tale! A BIG fish story (a whale of a tale to tell you, lads... a whale of a tale and true... think Kirk Douglas, on the Nautilus, I believe - oh,

you all are just too young!!) all true, and this is meant to let you know that I ain't no WUSS!! Our guide (who wisely stayed in the boat) assured us that these were a SAFE species of shark, and we all believed him and jumped giddily in amongst them. There were big rays, too - 5 or 6 feet across. But I dont have a photo of those handy.

and that calls for a couple of martinis! :>)

Masters of the House

I have to admit that my initial posting was NOT the jaws-a-dropping example of splendiferousness that I had hoped. I got so caught up in trying to figure out how to edit the layout and put pictures where I wanted them that I ran out of steam before I got the whole mess just right. If there is such a thing as "right." 'SNORK'

I even neglected to get the picture of my kitties on the page at all! So, see the above - the adult kitties, and also a shot when they were only 10 weeks old. If the boys were aware of my neglect, I am sure there would be claw marks in my silk shirts right about now ( caught ya, didnt I - I dont have any silk shirts!! :>) So, in penance for my "forgot the cats" sin, I will devote this post to Siggi and Roy.

Here they are in a typical spot when they were

itsy bittsies - in a BOX! Which apparently led to a habit that started later in life. :>)

The boys are twins, now 3 years old and weigh about 20 lbs each (yes, yes, a tad bit overweight - but not really FAT!) I know they MUST have some Maine Coon blood in them somewhere to account for their humongousness, but really, they are just a couple of mutts. Beautiful mutts, but nonetheless - far from pedigreed.

They never growl, dont meow much and mostly talk to me in little murdles and morts. They chase each other around the house, up and down the stairs, and rough-house on their old red oriental rug which lies next to my bed. Let me tell you - if they really get into it there can be a very heavy grayish cast to the whole urg, even ONE DAY after I thoroughly vacuumed it. Yup, the fur can fly - but they never actually hurt each other.

Anyhow - one kitty pastime is chewing up cardboard

boxes. Maybe that's why they don't growl - they take out all their adolescent aggression on a 2-foot square box. The dust pan gets a workout regularly, sweeping up bits of cardboard spit out by Roy in the heat of one of his box-attacks. I have never before seen a cat who methodically destroys boxes. Perhaps I should enter him in the X-games!

So that's a quick peek at the boys. They do lots of other things to keep me on my toes - see the pic of young Roy playing with the water in the sink. He

recently re-enacted this idiocy when there was a

slight flood in the basement - he sat down in an

inch of water, getting soaked in the process, and played chase with a piece of yarn floating in front of him!

Before I sign off for today I'll include another one of my cat drawings. This one is of a long-haired beauty named Whiskey. Such a whistful look, I couldnt resist drawing him. I think he would make a great greeting card of some kind.

Please let me know if you like my drawings.