At the end of April, Tinky Winky and I made our annual pilgramage to the AJRA rodeo here in our county. I love watching young people rodeo, and our local park is such a nice place to go. I hear it's their favorite venue.

Widdle cowpunk waiting to go in

This is Meagan, the daughter of cowboy roper well known local, Tommy-Mac B. This is her proud grandpa, George,who is the retired president of our bank. George's daughter is Meagan's mother.

Hanging out on the other end of the arena, watching the cowpunks, I don't doubt.

A young champion.

She said, "But this isn't my doggy." That's ok because you are so cute together.

I think some of the older boys must have ridden these guys. Ugh. Too dangerous.

This young man had a proud Daddy. He also had a string of horses! This is his barrel horse. His daddy liked it that I took a photo of him. The nice thing about digital, is the instant result. Anytime any child posed, I showed him the picture. You know, these kids have got so much self confidence.

I think he must have used this little horse for goat tying, too, and he was practing here.

Coming home.

Here's Thane, a local EMS person. He also goes to my little church. He's a wonderful young man. His hero father is one of the local volunteer fire fighters.

I can always count on seeing my friend, Kathy, managing the can chasing. You can see my pictures of her daughter in my last year's photos of this rodeo.

Smile for the camera, Kathy. I just love that gal.

I have a friend in England who always enjoys seeing pictures of Tommy-Mac B., who lives in our county. Years ago, Tommy Mac was my farrier too. He's got a young family, and despite his young age, I consider him a Texas True. His oldest daughter, Meagan, can ride the hide off a gorilla. His youngest son is now roping. Merry, in England, these photos are for you!

He's always a steady fixture at these rodeos. His children are much involved.

Tommy Mac making sure his son's hat is right.

Off the little guy goes with Daddy's send off.

These kids learn to focus before their rides. Miss Pretty in Pink.

Practicing. The hat has already fallen off.

I always enjoy looking at the cowgirl bling.

Bling.

I have no idea what this stood for.

What a wonderful little vehicle.The next time I saw here, she was fast asleep.

Can you believe it? What a lovely little pony. But for those of us familiar with ponies, approach with caution. A little boy came along and asked the owner about a ride, and she said something to the affect of, "Do you really want to get bucked off?" Some people have a different spelling for Shetland.

So here's the brave one who doesn't worry about getting bucked off. The pony has met his match.

Exercise time. Good for his soul.

Backside.

Cowgirl bling.

Helping the calves a long. This young man is also a bull rider. I don't like bull riding, except maybe on the tv, and even then it's hard to watch. I had a farrier who was once a bronc rider. He's kinda held together in pieces now.

Beautiful rope boxes. Surely a young cowgirls. Cowgirls do get to put on the bling.

When I first arrived, this was the first horse I met. His name is Wrangler. I figured from his build that he was a stud, and he was. His owner, a rancher, told me he was only 5 years old. He was so quiet. The owner said he'd always been like that. He'd been used in some ranch horse competitions and of course, roping. God, Wrangler was a beautiful hunk of horsecake. I fell in love instantly. Of course, this is a young people's rodeo, so the man's grand son would be riding him.

Here they are getting ready to do break away. Five years old. This stud is five years old with an 8 or 9 year old child on his back. There are pissy mares around, and he's not taking notice. This is what good horse management can produce--a good work ethic in a horse. But then the owner said, "He's always been like this." Yes, but this rancher has managed this horse well.

Fixing the string and the dally. Grandpa is so proud of his horse and his grand son. Who can balme him?

He's practicing his swing. God, I love this horse. I can't quit saying that. I have a weakness for good looking horses. This stud is wonderful!

In he goes.

You can't see it here, but this horse had beautiful butts. They shown like an Akal Teke's. I think he missed his calf. Remember: this is break away roping, so the string breaks as soon as the calf hits the end of the rope.

Here is the same father from earlier with his son on his roping horse. I fell in love with this little horse. Uh, no brainer here. See the Ay-rab blood? Looks like a little Egyptian Arabian.

Daddy standing by with a steady hand.

And he's off! I don't think he got his calf.

Wee folk practicing his swing.

This was an awesome dude on an awesome buckskin or line back dun, depending on what you want to call it.

Tinky was anxious to see me again, but I had more thing I wanted to photograph.

I saw 3 little girls playing a game of riding aorund the trees, as if they were practicing their barrels. I thought, how cute! How fun! What good memeories they will have. I had a feeling that the little black horse had some Arabian in it because of the way it moved.

One last photo of round the tree.

Kissable Tinky Winky

Often times when I've been outside riding or doing something out of doors, this is what I come into find on the back of the couch--a sweet, soft and brown little person that I find irrisistable, and she knows it. She loves to be kissed.

I cannot resist her and give her lots and lots of kisses, especially on those soft spots by her ears.

Of course she is in submissive posture.

I finally got her out of the submissive, kissy posture.

Thanksgiving 2008

I love Thanksgiving. I love it when my family comes home. My daughter, Sharilynn, and her family were in Alaska, and we missed them very much. Joel's girl friend, Alia, brought her mother, Lolly, and they were just like family. Alia brought mashed potatoes and a lovely winter roots casserole. This picture of Joel and Jordon was taken the day after. Work day is part of Thanksgiving also. "OK, boys, put on your coats. Let's go build a barn."

Every year, Joel brings me fresh Brussel sprouts for my birthday. This year, he brought me a whole stalk. It was beautiful. Whoever grew these must have been very proud. After the sprouts were removed from the stalk, the boys used it as a weapon. I don't know that sibling rivalry ever goes away.
By the way, Jordon took most of these photos.

Out Jordon's window. Don't let the view fool you. It was a very warm day.

Joel working on the Brussel sprouts in the kitchen. He steamed and sauteed them in olive oil. Umm-mm...green bon-bons. A family tradition.

Jordon working on his camera.

Max and Tinky-Winky waiting. Tinky is always nervous when we have company, but she could also smell all the wonderful smells.

What is left to do?

The giblet gravey is ready as is Joel's spicey sweet potato and apple casserole.

The persimmon pudding is done. Every holiday, Max makes a persimmon pudding.

Can we please sit down?

Ready to eat. Can you tell Alia loves her mother?

Getting ready to say Thank you, Jesus. I'm sorry Jordon wasn't in this.

The aftermath.

Max headed for his workshop. I call it Papa's Frame Factory and Woodblock Printshop.

When it's cold Max builds a fire. I love going in here because it is so my husband.

Some men have a study or library as their retreat. My husband has his workshop.

I had switched clothes frome jeans to shorts. Shorts on Thanksgiving day. I still had my apron on.

We found a piece of snake skin in the yard. They shed their skin in the fall. I added it to my natural collection.

No visit home for the holidays would be complete without some target practice. They brought a bunch of cans this time and built a pyramid. Alia told me the other day she is saving up more cans. I stayed inside. My ears are delicate. They were using big guns, not the 22. They used the deer rifle and Jordon's Mauser. To me, anything bigger than a 22 is a rocket launcher and hard on my ears.

Alia makes a lovely sharp shooter.

Boom! Look at the bullet casing. One of my favorite photos of all times.

Joel taking aim.

These are a wonderful series of photos that Jordon took of Alia. Ready.....

Aim....

Fire! Boom! Look at the effects on her arm muscles.

Gun kicks like a mule.

Final photo surveying her shot.

That evening, Max was in his workshop working on a wood block print. Isn't this a wonderful photo that Jordon took?

The next morning, Max, aka Papa, got up with a job he needed help with. He needed to unload some monster cedar beams from a trailer in the barn as he needed the trailer. These beams are what I call Papa sized. So the guys all put on their gloves, and they headed down to the barn. This is Jordon and Max on one end.

Jordon and Max on their end.

Joel on his end.

Trying to guide the beams into the right area.

Gyp-dog, everyfaithful, watching. Gyee-up!

After the beams were unloaded, the guys climbed aboard for a ride back up to the house.

I know the sibling rivalry in their heads was hoping the other would fall.

Heading back up to the house.

The guys dug up some weeds in the yard, brought up an old iron pot from the barn, and had a burn party in the yard. Jordon took most of these pictures because I can't handle smoke. Joel had a smile on his face the whole time.

My view from inside, away from the smoke.

Lastly, the fire. Good image, Jordon.

Was this a murder scene?

While feeding my horses one morning, I looked down to see this. What was that sticking out of a lizard den? The Mexican whip tail lizards dig holes for dens in the soft sandy soil. I pulled it, broke the connection, so I put it back like this to take the picture. I knew my children would be interested in my latest specimen finding.

When I pulled the rest out of the lizard den, this is what appeared: a lizard skeleton! I thought of it as a murder scene. Who had done this deed? Are lizards eaters of other lizards? Had the lizard been injured, sought shelter, and the ants cleaned the carcass? I took the carcass and poured vinegar on it to try and clean it up for my specimen colletion, but it kind melted. I do still have the little tail bones though. I love bones. I wish I could look at it with a microscope.

Back at the beginning of the summer in June, a friend called me to ask if I'd heard about the rescue horses here in our town. I said no, but was curious. My friend didn't know much, but she said she'd heard there was an Arabian in the bunch. I have an Arabian, so this made me very curious. I did some more calling around and learned that it was actually a herd of Spanish mustangs that a local lady had, about 27 in all I think. They weren't all Spanish mustangs, but the majority were. In fact, she didn't live but a few miles from us, and we often passed her place going into town. As it turned out, she was not a mentally well person, didn't feed the horses enough, the water was broken, and the horses often went days without water. Our local animal control officer, a real hero, after trying to work with the lady to take care of her horses, finally organized a legal rescue. It was quite an effort. From what I understand, the owner had bought a herd dispersal, never had the stud cut, and he ran with the mares. It was very hard getting him loaded into the trailer. Most of the horses weren't used to being handled. I learned where the horses were being kept after the rescue and decided to go take a look. This mare was close to the fence by the highway. She was obviously beat up. The pen they were in wasn't that big, but it was the only place available to keep the mamas with new babies. The other horses were in other pens. My heart went out to her. I came back a few days later and went into the pen and offered her some hay pellets by hand. Baby was about a week old. I came back again with my husband. The mare remembered me. She allowed me to halter her, she lead a little, let me pick up her feet. I volunteered to adopt her. It was not until 3 months that the litigation was over and I was allowed to bring her home. I decided to name her Dover for her white eyelashes. I took her because I thought I could make her a part of my herd, that she wouldn't be a mean dominant, pissy mare. Dove is about 5 years old. I named her colt foal Max, after my husband. I like to say his name, Max.

Her hide was all bitten by the more agressive mares.

This was as close as we could get to the baby.

This is the next morning, day one, at my place, 3 months later on Sept. 11, the day before the hurricane Ike hit the Tx. coast, after I brought them home. I brought them up into the yard to graze for a little while. Her skin looked dehydrated. Although getting food where she was after the rescue, she was lowest on the herd pole and stressed. Her coat was rough. She'd been wormed twice. She loaded and unloaded just fine getting her to my place. I have been keeping her in a large corral that I have so I can do some work with her and gentle baby down. He was very shy. You can imagine what a new adventure this was for him, having been born at the livestock yard and then kept in a pen with 6 other mares with young babies--no room to run and play, pissy mamas biting his mama. Isn't he cute? I have to remind myself each time I go into the corral to assume calm, assertive energy to work with him. It is so satisfying now to be able to handle him, thanks to the feed bucket. I started out holding his own little bucket by mama, touching his muzzle with one finger. If he wanted to eat, he had to submit to being touched. What a mile stone when my husband started touching him with his whole hand. He gentled down quickly. Still a little shy, but that's ok. He's not been here even 3 weeks yet.

At first baby Max stuck like glue to Mama, but the feed bucket would soon tame him down. I can now put a halter on him, and with the help of the feed bucket, he is learning to lead, back, move sideways. So far, so good. I do keep a close eye on that hiney. I do not trust foal hineys. Do you?

Dove relishing her own bucket. No competition. So far, she's been gentle at feed time. Even though Max gets a small amount, it takes him a while to eat, so she usually finishes before he does. But if I push her away, she respects it and doesn't get pushy. I appreciate this about Dove. She may change over time, but I hope she stays gentle. She's ignorant, but I think that will improve with time. I had a new farrier out to do her feet on day 10, and it was bit of a rodeo. He was firm but patient, and she ended up submitting to having her feet done. Her feet could be a lot worse.

On the other side of Dove is my friend, Erica, a refugee from Hurricane Ike. She called from Houston the morning of Sept. 12 to say she was coming to stay with me after deciding not to ride out the hurricane. She loaded up her Prius with important stuff, including her 18 year old cat, Hecate, and she came to the TX hill country to stay with me for 5 days. It was wonderful seeing her after so many years (my college room mate) and sharing the new horses with her.

One day we went to town in Erica's Prius. When she went back to Houston, she didn't use the air conditioning, and she said she used under $10 worth of gas. Now, if they could just transfer that to a truck, wouldn't that be great?

Tinky with her yum-yum getting ready to go to town with us. Tinky's favorite place to eat is in my truck going somewhere. A Prius will do in place of a truck.

Here come Erica and Gyp up from feeding the rescues.

I had this one set on my desk top last week.

This is why I named her Dove, for her white eyelashes.

He stays close to mama, but that is where the feed bucket is also.

As you can see, little Max is gaining confidence.

Mama Dove still looking scrawny but improved. Those spots used to be dimmer, and she had little coloring on her face.

Hey, wait a minute!

Good-bye. Do you have to leave? Are you sure there isn't more yummy?

Spring 2008 AJRA Rodeo

This last weekend was one of my favorite events of the year, the AJRA (American Junior Rodeo Association) rodeo. I absolutely love this event. I love watching young people ride. The girls are so confident. This is a world where they can hold their own. I never cease to marvel at the riding abilities of those kids. I never cease to marvle at what troupers the horses are. I wandered around until lunch time, and then my ever demanding stomach insisted that my body be fed. My husband and I returned later on for the evening rodeo. I could have stayed all day.

I like the way the little cowboy in the pink shirt is leaning over and talking to the other little cowboy. I'm sure they've seen their daddies do the same thing.

I asked this girl to pose so I could take her picture as she was so lovely. She said,

"If I can get my mare to stand still." Unfortunately, later on when her horse ran the barrels, it went stark, raving, psycho.

This teeny tiny was awaiting her turn to run the barrels.

Oh how I wish the camera strap hadn't ruined this cute picture.

Here she is running the barrels. She could really ride!

I told this lady I liked her braids and I wanted to take a picture of her. She asked, "What do I do?" I replied, "Just stand there and look purty."

Kathy is a friend of mine who has appeared on this blog in the past. She was monitoring the barrel race. I adore Kathy. She is a Texas True. I love to hear her talk horse. She uses a different lingo than I do since she is a western rider, but I still love to hear her talk horse. She is a barrel racer, and her daddy, who is now 85, taught her a lot of what she knows about horses. We got our border collie cross, Gyp, from her as a pup. Gyp is the same age as Kathy's daughter, Katlin, who is 12. Kathy told me how Gyp's mother still helps Kathy's daddy round up cattle in a 300 acre pasture. Kathy is a strong Christian, and she and her husband, Rusty, have done ministry on the rodeo circuit.

This is her lovely daughter, Katlin. Katlin has two older brothers, Caleb and Kahan. My daughter babysat for Katlin 12 years ago after she was born. It is hard to imagine she has grown up so much. Take my word for it: she is come kind of cowgirl. Unfortunately, I missed her barrel ride that night. However, her mom, Kathy, told me about her new outfit, and I told her I looked forward to taking a picture of her that evening. They appear later on in these posts.

Next, the cowpunks started warming up for the break away calf roping. In break away, as soon as calf is roped, the rope is let go of.

Riding aside. I fell in love with this little horse. I wanted to take him home. I saw little girls riding him for the goat tying, also later on when a group of little girls were riding bareback in the park.

The bucking stock. Don't ask me about their feet.

Yes, boys ride these creatures, and it isn't pretty. We watched some of the young bull riding on Saturday night, and we saw boys (I think there is an age limit) get trampled. Even the clown got trampled by one particularly mean bull. The younger boys ride calves, but they still get stepped on. They do wear protective vests and helmets, but still.....

You don't see a lot of boys in barrels. Look how his shirt is blown up with the speed of it all.

Here he is, TommyMac. He's a bit of a legend around here. He's a well known roper in these parts. He also puts on this shin dig every year. I told him I was going to take his picture. I wanted to sneek up on him, but he saw me. He acted shy and said, "I hate them things," meaning the camera. I told him I would publish this on my blog and he'd be famous. My husband loves to watch TommyMac ride because he's such a good rider. If ever there were a Texas True Cowboy, it's TommyMac.

This kind of rig is common now. How do they afford it? HOW DO THEY AFFORD IT?!

Widdle bitty pink cow girl boots.

I heard a woman exclaim, "That calf's as big as that horse!"

The announcer's box on the other end of the arena. Yes, the country music was blaring.

Tinky Winky, my Chihuahua, is quite a trooper at these things. As long as she is with me, she is happy. She is not afraid of horses. She lets them know who is boss.

Down on the other end of the arena, by the announcer's box, the young riders are waiting for the break away roping to start.

Apparently this rope boxes can be quite a fashion statement. I also saw one with the girl's name,

Dakota, on it.

A wonderful little ropin' pony.

The rider, a very confident little cowgirl.

Preparing her rope before she postitions her horse.

Daddy helping her get set up.

There goes the hat.

Lovely big grey.

Tommy Mac and the men standing at the chute. Gotta love that cowboy pose.

I enjoy hanging out by the chute.

Nice big buck skin.

This little girl held my chihuahua, Tinky. She said she had a barrel horse, a ropin' horse, but was looking for a pole horse.

Gotta love those polka dot bell boots.

This is the ugly side of rodeo when people mistreat their horses. When this girl first tried to back her horse up into the corner, he reared up. Her mama said, "Take him out and canter him." The girl took him out and beat him with her rope. Woopee, how fun, you go into the corner and you get beaten. This pattern was repeated. When he refused to back into the corner, she took him out and beat him. I wondered if this was how her father treated her and she was passing it forward. No, I could not say anything. I don't think she could have heard me anyway.

His head is up and he's scared.

The horse reared up and came down on the other side of the barrier rope. Do you see how her armed is raised to strike her horse with that rope? Anytime you get into a fight with a horse, you loose.

And up we go. That man standing there managed to calm the horse down. She missed her calf. I noticed when she pulled the horse up that he stopped very abruptly. I wondered how many lessions he had in his mouth, what kind of horrible bit was in there that made him rear up to evade the pain. He was a pretty horse. Poor thing.

I just had to get a picture in of Morgan, the girl starting out of the chute here. I have more pictures, but thought she would be best represented in action. I've watched her grow up from a little girl to a 19 year old young lady.

I found this guy on the road on his back. If he'd been dead, I would have happily taken him home and added him to my specimen collection. However, once turned over, he started wiggling, so I turned him loose on a tree.

Amazing colors on this guy.

This is something I enjoy seeing a lot, small children and their small horses. I saw them as I was leaving, all riding bareback, some doubled up, in another part of the park. What wonderful memories they will have.

This was the last picture I took that morning of a little cowgirl and her Welsh Corgi, Gizmo.

2008 AJRA Rodeo,Evening

That evening, Max went back with me. When I saw this little girl, not only was I impressed by her pink color coordination but especially by her helmet--something you rarely see at a western event. I could tell she was focusing before her ride, practicing and thinking about her ride.

Miss Pink finishing her run and comin' home. "Bring her home, Baby! Bring her home!"

Relaxing before chasin' the cans. I started to write "chasing the cans," but it didn't sound the same. Barrels racers are called can chasers.

I think the award for the loveliest outfit goes to this young lady. She said everyone is always talking about how pretty her horse is, which it is, but I told her she is part of the package. And I added, after all, the outfits are half the fun, to which she agreed. The bell boots on the front had flowers on them. Gotta love it!

Off she goes.

...And putting on the brakes. Don't you just love those colors?

The wee ones warming up before the calf break away.

Here is Katlin, my friend, Kathy's, daughter, with her new outfit on, her own personally designed green outfit. She was very proud of it. I told her she was lovely. I still can't believe she's grown up so much. She is so confident, a common trait of cowgirls. Who wouldn't be living like that?

Here is Katlin, practicing (I always want to say practicin', because that's how I say it in my head) her roping (ropin') skills before the break away competition. The horse's name is General. Kathy and her husband, Rusty, like the red roans.

Practicing the release.

Her mama, Kathy, coming to check the rigging. What an amazing life her kids have had. They are so blessed to have such awesome parents.

Mama tightening things up before Katlin goes into the arena. She even tightened that back cinch, important for keeping the saddle stable as the rider leans so far forward.

Off she goes. She didn't get her calf. After this, I didn't try to get any more photos because there were dark clouds, and the sun was setting. We took our seats with my friend, Julie, and enjoyed the evening. When we did decide to leave later on, we stopped to say good-bye to a pick-up horse tied to the fence. I wish I could have gotten a picture. A pick up horse is a horse that a rider uses to pick riders up off of bucking broncs. Pick up horses are my heroes. They have to have very solid brains because nobody wants to go up next to a bucking horse and risk getting kicked. The rider's pick-up chaps were draped across the back of the saddle. My husband had seen this horse earlier and enjoyed scratching on it. Then an older man on horseback who my husband had seen in the arena came over to talk about the horse, which was his. Turned out the man was Tommy Owens, who had recently been inducted into a hall of fame. He owns the Circle T Rodeo Company our of Rankin, TX. He supplies the bucking stock to the AJRA. He is a wonderful man, and my husband much enjoyed talking to him. I was hoping we could go back to the rodeo the next morning, but we had a bad storm, so the rodeo on Sunday was canceled. I hope sometime to get a picture of my husband and Tommy Owens, a wonderful Texas true. And I can hardly wait until the next AJRA rodeo here in Mason, next year!

Cool Reliable Horse

I have a dear friend from high school, one of the few with which I keep in contact. She sent a picture of herself on a horse she got to ride at times when they spent their summers in Colorado. She and I bemoaned the fact that it is hard to find horses like this anymore, cool, reliable horses. This is what she said about the horse:

This was Stormy, a horse we used to borrow for a week or two at a time when I was a kid in Silverton. He was parade trained, so he would rear back when you signaled him. I was ten when this was taken in Silverton - I would ride him downtown to meet the train and have him walk on his hind legs alongside the train, and all the tourists would take pics!! I was actually quite shy, but not when I got on a horse!!

Miriam's Return

When Miriam came back to Texas after her visit to Florida, of course she wanted to get back in the saddle. The weather was hot, humid, miserable, full of pollen, miserable, hot, miserable, hot. The horses were troopers to put up with all this, as was Miriam. With this visit, my husband, Max, aka Pawpaw, was here to take some pictures. Miriam is turning into a wonderful little rider. She has a wonderful seat, doesn't bounce, and has confidence. She seems to take instruction well. I read her a quote that another blogger had on their blog. I really like it. Here it is:
Doubt is the enemy of good riding. Good riding comes from believing in yourself and sitting your ass down and RIDING.

Saddling up. Please wait whilst I get Khanuckle's bridle on.

We headed to the corral to warm up. Warm up? In this weather? Are you kidding? Gyp, ever faithful....

Much to our surprise, she took off trotting.

She beat us there. You can see how I need to lower her stirrups. I think the way she stayed balanced with short stirrups means maybe eventually she can make the transition to an English saddle.

Miriam trotted right over to the barrels and went around.

She stirred up a jack rabbit.

We played follow the leader. It can take the class room atmosphere out of learning to ride.

I always did enjoy the backside view.

Practicing the trot.

Miriam is really focused and enjoying what she is doing, and look at Jim Bob's perky ears.

Hot, sweaty, lovely little rider.

Sit up, dear!

It's hard to see in the tall grass, but we are practicing trotting a cavelleti.

Here I am with a sunny face!

I told Miriam that it was important to learn to duck under limbs.

Riding up to the house. Sometimes we would trot up the hill. Miriam was good at cantering Jim Bob. She remarked that it was like a "flying trot!"

Coming around the corner of the house and the tractor shed,

See Gyp leading the way in the lower left hand corner?

Moving along,

And out of the yard.

Riding up to the yard,

Into the yard.

One more time around the house.

Back into the yard and Jim's favorite place, the hitching post.

End of the ride. You can tell the little thing is hot and tired, but she is a real trooper.

Dismounting. Miriam got off before Pawpaw could assist her. It's a bit of a jump, and she decided next time to wait for help.

Most young people love hosing the horses off, and Miriam is no exception.

Be sure and get the top parts. Jim loves it.

Next came bathing Gyp.

I love the look of concerned care in her face.

After all that hard, hot work, playing in the hose is the best way to cool off. I did also.

Of course, playing in the puddle is always fun.

Butterfly

While down by the horses' run-in sheds, Miriam and I found this lovely butterfly on the ground. Perched on a finger,we took it up to the house to take a picture of it. We think because of the soft fresh look it's wings had that it must be newly hatched out of it's cocoon. I need a butterfly book to identify.

New Friend

This is my new friend, Jordan. She is the grand daughter of a friend of mine, and she came to ride my old horse, Jim Bob. We had a great time. I enjoyed her company. She is a lovely, smart, level headed young lady, the kind of daughter any mama would be proud of. Hi, Jordan!

Barrel Race Weekend

Recently, I went to a barrel race at our local arena. My horse isn't a barrel horse, he is a dressage horse who does a little jumping. However, I like him to be versatile, and we do barrels in our own, classical way. I'd practiced cantering barrels and bending around cones at home. It had been a year since Khanalee and I had been anywhere. When I first got to the park, Khanalee was on edge. I tacked up, went over to an area where I could warm him up some, as the DEMON TRACTOR was dragging the arena. He's been to this park many times over the 10 years I've had him. However, he was very uptight, and although going through our normal routine of walk-trot, trot-trot, transitions, he felt ready to blow. An ADDB went off in his head--Arabian Deficit Disorder Bomb. He started backing up, ignoring my leg, fixating on some small children who he thought were DEMONS FROM HELL. Then my husband, Max, drove up. We talked a little, and I told him I'd meet him at the trailer as I needed to sign up. I made Khanalee work a little more, but there was no way I was going to ask for a canter.

Now, this young lady is my new friend, Bailey, on her horse, Junior. Their trailer was parked by mine. We became friends, and I talked to her a little about dressage. I am always ready to spread the gospel of dressage. Bailey was a good rider. I enjoyed her company very much.

Before this, Bailey and I had taken our horses into the arena to warm them up. Sounds like a bad thing in that weather. I wondered if Khanalee would be herd bound to her horse, because she and I walked around and chatted as riders do. He's very insecure. However, when I asked him to trot and canter away from her, he complied with no ear pinning or bucks. Good boy! He relaxed after he got in the arena. He knows that arena well. I was so proud of him.

Waiting our turn and trying to ignore the heat, wondering if my horse was going to blow a gasket when he had to go into the arena by himself. He didn't. He was very good.

Pole bending requires a horse to canter or lope, through the poles and do a quick change of lead around each pole. I didn't expect Khanalee to be able to do this, so I cantered down to the first end, then I trotted my way back through the poles. I used it as an opportunity to school my horse in the fine art of bending. I would bend around the pole, go straight through the middle of the poles, and then I would ask him to do a change of bend around the next pole. Not perfect, but fun.

Things are going nicely as I reach the end of the first zig-zag through the poles.

I reach the end of the first zig-zag and canter back. Wrong! I was supposed to zig-zag back through the poles. Never mind that I had practiced this at home with cones. Brain fatigue due to heat and all the etc's.

Suddenly, it dawns on me that I've done something wrong. Oops. I said outloud to cover my shame, "I blew the pattern!"

OK, I'm leaving the arena at a trot, knowing that I blew the pattern. The next time, I did it right and cantered out, but Max wasn't around to record it. I'm sure people were wondering about that "English lady."

These are my two cowpunk friends. The one in the white hat came up and asked me if I rode English. He explained that he had tried a few times but got tired of falling off. He told me why he didn't do poles or barrels anymore, and that was because he'd had a few wrecks. I asked if I could take their picture. I asked the one in the brown hat to turn his head so I could get the feather, and I told the other that I wanted to be sure and get his hat band. Imagine my delight when I got this pose. The one in the brown hat was a little in awe at all the attention.

The cowpunk in the brown hat was named Riley. As it turned out, it was Riley's birthday. His friend, whose name unfortunately I forget, had made him an R out of wood. The R was decorated with motifs related to Riley. The cowpunk was very proud of his creation for his friend, Riley, and he wanted me to take a picture of them both with it. I think Riley was still a little overwhelmed at this lady who rode English who wanted to take his picture.

This is a close up of the birthday "R." You can see it says "hoses" (gotta love it!), cowboy, Concho (Riley's dog), RP (Riley's initials), and has barb wire designs painted on it. The first cowpunk was very proud of his creation. I agree. It is great!

This picture is blurry because I wasn't able to prepare to take it. I had to do it in a hurry as they were moving away. The two cowpunks are riding double, and they are on patrol. They are looking for a fellow cowpunk on horse back. The two cowpunks are armed and dangerous with green pecans that they have pulled off of the pecan tree. whilst on the back of their horse. They are looking for their fellow cowpunk so they can bombard him with green pecans. Little boys will make a weapon out of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Soon all the cowpunks came trotting by. While the back one launched green pecans, the other steered the horse. The third cowpunk was at a disadvantage because he had to flee, launch, and steer at the same time. I wanted desperately to get a photo of all that, but the action was too quick and they got out of my range. My friend, Bailey, was watching with me, and she commented in a disgusted way as only an 11 year old girl can in response to boys, that this type of behavior went on all the time. I thoroughly enjoyed the whole show.

This cowpunk was such a ham. I really think he posed like this in hopes I would take his picture. Of course I did. He knew I took it. I liked this cowpunk.

I do like backsides. Here is pawpaw and grandson. I'm not sure what they are looking at, but paw-paw was babysitting whilst sis was riding. Good paw-paw!

This was my last photo. I had my boots off, was sitting in the door of my truck, it was hot and muggy, and I didn't feel like chasing down photos. There's Khanalee's butt on the right. I had saddled up waiting for the exhibition barrels. Khanalee did fine with that.
We would canter around one, do a simple change of lead through the trot for the next barrel, then canter the last barrel. Khanalee liked doing a fast canter towards the in gate. I had one little girl ask me if I was going to "run the barrels." I replied no, I would just canter them. I'm hoping that next time I can have Max there to take pictures. I thought about asking someone else to take photos, but once again, it was so hot and muggy, it was too much effort. However, I had a great time. My little Ay-rab horse came through. I bought some baby carrots on the way home and gave him half a bag. Thank you, Khanalee! Good horse!