Horse Heaven

When you have a horse for seven years and you've taken care of her, from her most intimate needs to scratching fly bites on her chest as she cranes her neck to guide your scratching spots...

When you've gotten out of bed at 2am to trudge out to the barn with a flashlight to see if the sub-zero temps and high winds that knocked out your power have her shivering...

When the barn roof got to the point of its last legs so that metal panels are banging loudly in a vicious pounding rain storm and you know she's run out into the middle of the field to brave it worse there rather than be in a scary loud barn where she could eat her food, and she's gotta be hungry as well as cold and scared, so you've set a clock every hour to suit up in rain gear and run dry hay out to her in the dark...

When you've hugged that horse because you're down, and you've stuck your nose right into her shoulder so you could flood your senses with the incredibly right smell of a horse...

When you've been rudely dumped out of the saddle during a spook, and that horse has run off by instinct, but stops and turns around, ears cocked forward, her expressive eyes showing worry and concern as she looks for you to stand up out of the the tall grass...

But then also when that horse gets scared and is just on the verge of turning to flight when the sound of your voice saying "it's o-kaaaaay, it's o-kaaaay" makes her stand still and her ears relax...

When you take that horse across country and for 3 days each way, and your porta potty in the trailer is within reach of her plopping a glop of gooey half masticated hay on the top of your head as you squat and pee... and then she does it...

And also when you throw down a tarp in a stall neighboring hers at a horse motel en route because it's too late to pitch a tent, and you fall asleep to the sound of each other's breathing...

And finally, when you take that horse into the trails alone and it's just the two of you, and you suddenly feel things change so that you know your imperceivable impressions are being read loud and clear, and you become aware that there is some unexplainable line of silent communication that's come about between you and her...

You get to where you really, really love that horse.

I got this horse, my first, at my age 63, her age 18 and that makes us peers.  We had many great times together, and I know she did too because horses have ways of telling you that.  When I decided that prudence and common sense dictated it was time for me to hang up my reins, that left her standing around with nothing to do, and as a lone horse, that's not a good thing.  For that reason, I tried to re-home my equine buddy twice in the last 6 months.  No fault of hers that it didn't work out, I repo'd her the first time because I had underrated red flags (or else they just weren't there then as they became so in retrospect).  The people looked good.  They weren't.  Stupid decisions, lots of lies and overuse of her without conditioning almost lamed out one very good horse, and though I had to walk her out of there in pouring down rain and winds for 3 blocks to get her into temporary housing, then pay dearly to have her trailered back home, I went over there and took her back.  The second rehoming I did on a trial basis and nothing wrong with new owner OR the place, but this horse is a long way from retirement and she was too hot for the level of student she was looking to accommodate.  From my buddy's standpoint, it was just too busy of a lesson barn.  A good lesson barn where horses don't get overused and get very well cared for, but it just wasn't right for someone who's been on her own, in a free run-in.  She wasn't happy there, and you could see it in her eyes.  I didn't think she'd ever have been happy there.  Back home again. 

I believe I've finally found the perfect place for her.  There are 3 other horses in residence, a Fjord gelding, a Hafflinger mare and a little spit of a thing, a Mini.  They are all sane, sound and friendly.  There's a calm and contented energy among them.  My buddy has not lived with other horses and I wasn't sure she'd do well at fitting into a herd after so long as a solo, but under the circumstances which follow in more detail, the herd instinct can become more valuable to a horse than what they're used to, just because they are.  It's how they live in the wild.   

This is a very nice couple here in town.  They have four children, one of whom is taking riding lessons.  Mom rides, too.  Dad, once in a while, and he's a secure male, not one who likes to show how big he is by needlessly jerking around a 1200 pound animal.  They have 100 acres.  Mom's a feminine little spit of a thing but she does all the fencing herself, from digging post holes to stringing it, and the entire place has perimeter fencing.  In the morning, the horses are given their grain.  They are then led out "to pasture."  And this is the most natural environment I've ever seen anywhere near here.  They are simply turned loose into hay fields where one field leads into another, into another.  Plenty of nooks and crannies with shade trees are spotted around here and there throughout these meadows.  The horses all stay together, but they migrate as a herd from one grazing area to another, freely, at will.  Just like they do in the wild.  They will lie down and nap, and roll.  They are secure.  They can even go into the woods part way to the outer fencing.  It is completely ideal.
One or more of them gets ridden a couple of times a week, usually for an hour or so.  Other than that, they get to be horses.  At night, Mom and Dad or one of the kids go out into the hayfields and find them.  They come when called or are even waiting by the gate because they know the routine, and she leads them back into the barn/paddock area near the house, where they get grained and retired for the night.  And the next morning, repeat.  It's predictable, it's safe, and it's natural.  Since she rides on property only, and ice isn't an issue there like it is in the paddock here, she keeps them barefoot, unshod, the very best scenario.

My buddy has only been there for a few days, but I've been in touch with "mom" at least once a day and she reports that all signs are good.  She's blending in, and from all appearances (and there are equine-specific signs), she's showing every indication of being one very happy horse.

I will know for sure that all's well and permanent when I feel it is.  It probably already is, but I just need time to be sure myself.  They're right here in town, I can go by and see her, and the new owner said that if I want to come over and go riding with her, she'd love to.  I see nothing that appears unworkable about this.  All "vibes" are good, and the signs I'm looking for appear to be happening.  The squeeling when another horse got too close upon first introduction was very short lived.  It only happened two or three times when they were first integrated, and within a couple of hours, she tolerated the gelding co-grazing on her (then separate) hay pile.  Out in the pasture, the first night after a full day out there, she followed the other horses when they came in for the night.  She hasn't shown neck over neck bonding yet, but this is too soon for that and it might happen out in the fields before it gets seen, or not.  But there's no fighting and no signs of it.  While I haven't been there to get impressions of her in pasture residence yet, from the sound of it she's putting out a very peaceful, content appearing energy.  I will rest finally sure when I know that she's willing to lie down (a vulnerable proposition for a horse, and one of the last signs to show that she feels secure).  But I strongly suspect that once she's had a chance to see the other personalities in action over a period of time, she'll trust them to stand sentry, and they'll trust her when it's her turn. 

If this continues to be as it sounds like it's headed to being, then I can say if I were to design the absolute perfect rehoming for this animal, I wouldn't have even ventured to ponder anything this perfect.

UPDATE:  It's been over 3 weeks.  She's fit in.  I went over to visit her after 10 days and just in that time, her muscle tone went from good to solid.  She's getting exercise just naturally during the day with the other horses, and she shows every sign of being thrilled to get tacked up and ridden--one of the many better-than-the-last of surprises she gives her human companions as they get to know her.  (Not too many horses like her.)

So, beautiful, sensitive On Cloud Nine, finally and long coming for it to be just right, it's still very weird not to hear you nicker and trot in when you see me and I think it always will be, but this is the best gift I could have given you. 

Run with your mane in the wind, old friend...

My Most Challenging To Date...ARG!!

A childhood friend of my daughter (her first when we moved here) is getting married in late July and it will be an outside wedding in a park.  Not dressy, but not jeans ilk, either.  Chances are greater than not that it'll be hot.  I'm trying to avoid buying an outfit I can't get wear out of, so figured that a simple, plain solid, summerweight "nice-fabric" pair of slacks or skirt and hopefully same color top would work well if I made a very nice lace shawl that could honor the occasion.  That means lace, so it's not hot.  And it means something other than wool yarn, because even an open lace pattern in wool laceweight provides warmth. 

My LYS has their own brand of yarns and they have an outstanding dye guy, who uses good quality yarns.  I went in there asking for "something fine, something very cool."  We landed upon his line of very beautiful 100% silk laceweight.  (1085 yards to 100g).  All his colorways were gorgeous in this silk line, but what kept calling my eye back to it was a dusty light green without yellow tones or "minty."  This color doesn't show up on most photographs, but I was able to get it pretty accurately on this one, so in viewing the photos that follow, this is the yarn, complete with sheen and all.

About that yarn, this by far THE most challenging thing I've knitted to date.  Not because of the pattern, but because the yarn is very slick, it's extremely thin (like working with 2 strands of sewing thread) and my needles are also slick enough so that when laying the point tip of one against the shaft or taper of the other to dig out an ssk, it's like mercury against crisco.  Not only that, when you slide the sts from your circular cable onto the shaft of the needle, those sts have pulled taut onto the much thinner cable (being slippery, nothing prevents it) so they are a struggle to push onto the needle.  And then, of course, they readily overlap, one over the other.  Sometimes one over several others.  MUCH time is spent carefully, painstakingly e-x-t-r-i-c-a-t-i-n-g all that overlapping of stitches with the thinnest edge of a fingernail.  These rows took me a minimum of 35-45 minutes each.  The one row that involves a complicated Estonian Lace stitch (5-st twist a/k/a star stitch) took me 3-1/2 hours.

But here it is, finished and finally blocking.  Wet-blocked onto 7 ft. of blocking mat squares lined up with one offset mat at each end for the curve.  I did NOT block it aggressively.  Center back, bottom to top, about 20" at the points and about 18" at the rises (the white blocking mats are puzzle-notched, the unmatted portions are my office desk).  This took me two days short of 7 weeks.



Full depth.  Laying flat as it was, I measured 20" depth at the points and 18" at the rises, neck edge to bottom.  (Photo looks weird because of the puzzle piece edges of the blocking mats, it's the neck edge that's off the mats and I used sewing pattern weights to trap it in position.

Close up of the beaded sections...

Beads take a LONG time.  To mount one, you use a ridiculously thin crochet hook that looks more like a hypodermic needle and has the teensiest hook on the end that I can't see it without a magnifying glass.  You slide a bead onto the hook shaft, then take the stitch off the knitting needle.  Slide the bead down over the whole loop.  Return the stitch back onto the knitting needle.  And knit it.  You do that for every bead, one by one, stitch by stitch.  (If you accept that this is just going to be very time consuming it gets easier.)  The pattern does not call for the beads on the lower mesh section, only on the u-shaped scallops above that.  Another knitter beaded the mesh sections and I loved it, so followed her design.  Nicely, she provided a diagram for others who wanted to do theirs that way also.  I did learn a shortcut to beading over ssks and k2togs as these are, which made it easier. 

This is a closeup of the Estonian Lace stitch.  Fortunately it only occurred in one row.  (Two per repeat, 13 repeats, there were 26 of these.)

Though I'm not done experimenting with how to wear this bigger-than-expected shawl, this is what Jenny and I came up with so far.  Though I took it to my LYS who did the yarn, and it seems to have contracted some because at least in their mirror, just laying it over my back so the designer's talents show, and letting it cascade down the front, worked.  I might re-block it pulling more depth to shorten wingspan because I really treasure Susanna IC's designs which deserve to be shown in detail.  (To say nothing of showing off the result of HOURS of at times very frustrating work.)

But until then, at least this shows it some, on a human body.

Unfortunately the top back neck edge was rolled up here, and that's actually one of the prettiest parts of this design, which is why I want to get the wingspan blocked shorter so that I can wear it in a way that shows that beautiful bit of design work.

So there it is.  My biggest knitting accomplishment up to now.  I don't know if I'd ever tackle anything this large with that slippery of a yarn/needle combination again, but I learned a LOT in the doing and will unmodestly say that I am very proud of having completed it.