Gratitude

For horses and where they carry me

Silky waits 
patient in the moment 
eyes wide and wise

Silky is a small Quarter horse in her 20s with a big heart, and a sometimes snippy temper. She’s a reining horse, better trained than I will ever be, and a delight to ride out on the trails, where she can go all day and then some.

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Hello Friends! It’s Wednesday and time to exercise our gratitude muscles and remind ourselves of the good in this battered world.

Today I am grateful for the gift of generous friends who welcome me to ride their horses, and for the horses themselves, who carry me to places I wouldn’t otherwise be able to go.

I grew up hiking and backpacking, and once could—and did—walk for days with all I needed on my back, fording icy rivers, climbing up and over mountain passes, side-stepping down steep snowfields and balancing on narrow ledges. After decades of living with Lupus and some complications, my body simply can’t do that kind of hiking and backpacking anymore.

I also grew up riding. When I worked for the Forest Service in Wyoming, I briefly kept my own small herd of riding and pack horses, tough and agile mountain-trained horses.

Me in my happiest of happy places, on a horse packing into the wild mountains around Yellowstone National Park ...

Then came grad school, marriage, and following my husband Richard’s academic career around the country. The horses stayed behind, sold to a friend. I focused on raising a stepdaughter, building a freelance writing career and managing a household through seven moves in our first decade as a family.

After Richard died of brain cancer, I began rediscovering parts of myself I had left behind in our almost three decades together. Including horses.

I’m a trail rider, happiest on a horse out somewhere wild. On the days when Lupus makes my body ache all over and my muscles wobbly, I can still get on a horse and ride for miles, watching quail run through the grass, discovering the first spring wildflowers in bloom and listening to aspen leaves rustle in the breeze.

I always feel better after I’ve been on a horse—my body, mind and spirit rediscover their balance on horseback in the wild.

A birthday ride high in the Pecos Wilderness

Yesterday, on one of my bad days, a friend texted to ask if I wanted to go for a late afternoon ride. Oh, did I! We met at the barn with just enough time before sunset to fetch the horses, groom them thoroughly—they are beginning to shed their winter coats—saddle up, and ride down the arroyo.

The air was balmy for late February, the sun warm and the breeze fresh. The horses were as happy as we were to be out, walking with long strides, loping a bit now and then. We rode until the sun began to get low, and then we circled back, the horses picking up the pace to head for home and hay.

That ride turned a bad day into a very good day.

Modern horses, Equus caballus in the language of science, are a single species bred into many forms for different human purposes: riding, showing, herding, driving, racing, and serious work like logging, hauling or plowing. They were our main mode of transportation for centuries.

Horses are herbivores with sturdy, grass-munching teeth and long stomachs filled with microbes who can digest the cellulose in their hosts’ food. The horses I ride weigh in at 800-1,000 pounds and they balance that weight on four legs, each ending in a single hoof, their sensitive foot-pads guarded by a sturdy and resilient outer hoof like a very thick, curving toenail.

They are herd animals with big eyes for watching for prey (which for the millennia before we domesticated them included humans) and big brains with extraordinary sensory perception capabilities.

Horses immediately register the mood of those around them—a trait necessary for surviving in herds—which makes them excellent for therapy and a challenge for riding. If you are nervous and upset, your horse will pick up on your mood and be “difficult.” If you are calm, your horse is too, and you are more in tune. Riding is a good lesson in self-awareness.

Riding at Ring Lake Ranch in Wyoming

Horses are my magic carpet, my ticket to the wild, where my heart sings and my spirit runs free. So I am thankful for my generous friends who invite me to ride with them, and for their horses, who carry me to places I can no longer go on my own two feet.

What are you grateful for this week? Hit the comment button below and let us know!