Bought 'er the farm

I have been known to joke about my sweet horse, Lakota, “Well, I bought her the farm!”

But there is a strong thread of truth to that simple statement. When I was a young girl I told my grandpa that I wanted to marry a farmer and he discouraged me, saying his way of life was not going to be sustainable in the future. I might have been sad for a moment but he probably gave me a popsicle and I was happy again. Then, as an adult, I lusted after my sister’s ten acre farm in Missouri. She could sit on her covered patio, drink her morning coffee and gaze out over lush greenness to her sweet ponies. I wanted that.

I had my horse boarded at Boulder Valley Farms and she was pretty happy there, but I kept dreaming of having my own place. I dreamed of a fellow who would desire the same lifestyle, we would meet and the sun and the moon and the stars would shine down upon us … and we would buy a farm. But he didn’t show up even though my desire to live on the land continued to grow ….. so I started without him.

I bought Lakota a little farm and it has been a wonderful adventure. There have ups and there have been downs. I survived that first winter blizzard, shoveling four feet of snow and climbing over enormous drifts.  All by myself,  I kept all the horses fed and watered for two and half days till the roads cleared.  I have learned about electric fencing. I am absolutely appalled at how clumsy I am with my ten-jobs-in-one fencing tool, but I own one and I am happy about that. I have a whole spindle of wire that I bought that is too thick for me to work with, I cannot bend it and that pisses me off. But I bought a riding lawn mower and finally learned how to start that cold-hearted-whore of a weed-eater. I am extremely happy about that.

And my sweet Lakota has been a good four–legged partner. I have learned many things from my horse. She has taught me that “slow” is often times faster.  I am learning about patience and the importance of baby steps.

She is constantly reminding me that conversation is a two way street and that I am not the world’s best communicator. She, on the other hand, is crystal clear with her signals. Her body language may be subtle, but it is never meant to deceive. She is consistent in a way that I still aspire to. She literally has a heart as big as football and a kind eye that soothes the soul.

But even as I dream about a fellow, Lakota needs constant companions as well. So a few weeks ago, I drove to eastern Colorado and brought her home a herd. Two miniature donkey’s, “jenny’s” as the females are called, that are just about as cute as can be. Hilde and Penny we call them. I had told Lakota that I was bringing her friends and when we unloaded them at my house, she was so curious. She stood with her head thrown over the fence, checking them out with all of her senses. She is the same horse that was scared to death of miniature horses when they walked behind us the Boulder County Fair parade a few years ago. We introduced them slowly but it went so smoothly that we let them all out in the north pasture together. Lakota mothered on them and followed them around the pasture, a respectful distance mind you, for Penny told her in no uncertain terms that she did not need a mother, thank you very much. But Lakota didn’t mind, she just gave them space and radiated love to these small creatures.

Yesterday, even though the wind was blowing coldly, I wanted to spend time with them. I bundled up and grabbed my heavy gloves. I did some poop scooping and walked the fence line and actually discovered a place were the top wire was broken. I walked back to the shed, unplugged the electric fence, collected some mending wire and my handy dandy fencing tool. Every body followed me back to the fence and watched me weave the wires back together. Then I walked the remaining perimeter, and my girls followed me. I whistled a happy tune and their ears swiveled in the wind. I grinned. I am home and the fence is fixed.