Guest blogger JenniferM (she wrote the blog, not the title!):
Around sunset, Promised Meadows is a slice of heaven,
impossible to replicate adequately in words or photos.
Nevertheless, I'll say that some evenings are of an extra
magical quality. As the clouds sport peepholes for the
setting sun beams, the rolling green hills, shimmering trees
and painted sky break out in hymns of God's grace. A well
rehearsed aria couldn't compete with its breath taking
beauty. The only thing surpassing the glowing landscape at
dusk is the cloudscape, with flourescent and pastel
masterpieces reaching ever upward.
For horse lovers, the opportunity just to inhale their
horsey odor and tend to their needs is a great oasis from
life's troubles and salve for the soul. Once there, one's
daily woes fade into the background as this glorious animal
demands one's undivided attention. There's grooming to be
done, training to reinforce, and praise to give. To witness
the laughter of two non-verbal students interacting across
the arena as they ride warms the hearts of all present. They
are SOOOO happy, and in turn so are we!
This week, I did something new. Having failed miserably at
creating horse fever in my own family, I adopted a friend's
teen to volunteer at RA. At 13, she is fresh to task and
full of enthusiasm for the work at hand. Though I may be
seen as the gift giver, experiencing horses through her
young eyes is a chance to gift myself vicariously the
girlhood memories I wished I had.
The crash course seems endless at first, there is so much to
learn. But it's sweet study, even in learning the basics of
horse care. I was so grateful for the other veteran
volunteers present Thursday night, who were willing to
overlap my mini-lessons with their own to insure we don't
miss a beat.
Often, something comical occurs to accentuate the evening,
and this one was no different. Pasture mates that didn't
want to be separated made me think that the getting them
apart was going to be the most note-worthy event of the day.
However that scene was quickly trumped. WHILE I was telling
that very tale to someone, a visiting corgi peed on my
boots...while I was wearing them. Most times, one would
consider this an offense. But given the standard mucky state
of my barn boots, it was practically a blessing. At least
now one of them LOOKS clean. Remember, looks can be
deceiving.
So on that note, if ever you drive by a humble little farm
nestled in the hills on county 5, with multiple tires
hanging from one tree, four stumps painted purple, little
bridges leading to nowhere and sheep grazing all about,
realize that, maybe, just maybe, you are passing the gates
of heaven. Come back at sunset and see for yourself.
