June 10, 2023
Grace and Skye propped themselves up against the wall of the foaling stall.
Finally. Almost fourteen days overdue, but here he was. They had missed the powwow. They had lost countless hours of sleep thinking the mare would foal at night. 

"He's got great color" the boss said softly. 
"When he took so long to get here I started looking up potential problems. Turns out Arabs don't usually have much trouble giving birth, but there is one terrible thing called Lavender Foal Syndrome, and he obviously doesn't have it."

"He's definitely not lavender" Grace said. "Bay or black bay would be my guess."

The mare was a good momma. Skye gave her some love.
"What is Lavender Foal Syndrome?" Skye asked.
"It's a hereditary neurological disease that cannot be cured. The first clue is the color of the foal - pale, from silver grey to lavender, but the real problem is they can't stand up or sit up or nurse. They don't recover from it" the boss explained.
"Are all Arabs at risk for that?" Grace asked.
"Apparently Egyptian Arabs are usually the ones who carry it. So then I had to scramble and figure out if *Bask++ was Egyptian. And he wasn't. He was Polish."

The foal was trying to get those lanky legs under control, nearly landing in Grace's lap.
"Well" Grace said, "He was worth the wait. He's gorgeous. Just like his mom."

There were other new arrivals that Grace and Skye hadn't met yet.  They were outside, enjoying some fresh air and sunshine.  A lovely palomino mare and her mini-me foal. The feisty foal was robust and quite playful. And her mom was beautiful.. No wonder Grace had such a fondness for golden horses.

"Oh I really like her" Skye said.
"I can see that" Grace replied.
"Think the boss will let me work with her?"
"I don't see why not..."

Back inside, Grace was hoping for a few hours' nap. It was a lovely day for riding, yes, but she wasn't very mentally alert, and days and nights of sitting in and around the foaling stall had left her a bit stiff. As she eased into bed she heard the laptop. An email notification. From the boss.
"You ain't gonna believe this" Grace said aloud.
"What?" Skye answered.
"We need to get back to the barn."
"Oh no. A problem?"
"No, I mean I don't think so. I don't know. Come on, let's go."

The boss was there with another mare, Wink My Way, an off the track Thoroughbred.  "Surprise" the boss said softly. "Another late arrival, except this one was wholly unexpected."

The foal was tiny. Well formed, healthy looking, but quite small. Skye edged a little closer.

The mare appeared to be a bit surprised about the whole thing herself. Grace guessed it was probably her first foal. She also noted that the mare didn't seem to have very full teats, but hopefully they would in fact be full of cholostrum-rich milk, and the mare would find her maternal instincts, and the foal would be able to stand tall enough to nurse.  They watched for some time.  The colt was slow to his feet, and didn't stand long when he was able to get up. 

"I'll stay here with them for a while" the boss said. "You two go get some rest. Hopefully everything will work out okay in the next hour or so."

"He's adorable" Skye whispered.
"He is" Grace replied. "He looks good...he's just awful small. I guess we'll just have to wait and see how it goes."
"I don't really want to leave" Skye said.
"Well, let's give them a little space at least, and see how they work things out."

June 11
Wink My Way's little colt wasn't doing well. He had nursed twice, with assistance, but reaching the mare's teats required a lot of effort, and her milk production was scant. With the road still closed, there was no way to get a vet to come up, and not much a vet could do that the girls couldn't. 

They tried one more time to help the colt feed. He just wasn't responding. Nursing was going to take supreme effort on the colt's part, and he didn't have it. 
"Let's get him to a vet" the boss said.
"Do you want to take the mare too?" Grace asked.
"No, I don't think so. If her milk comes in we'll take her down but unless it does, there's no point. The only other option we have is to see if the Bask mare will let this little guy nurse, but he's going to get trampled by her foal."
"Can we bottle feed him from her milk?"
"I tried last night" the boss replied. "He had a little, but not enough to get him up and moving around."
It was a difficult awakening for everyone. The remoteness of the location compounded by the road closure meant that if anything went wrong, you were pretty much on your own. Most of the time nothing went wrong. But now there was a problem, and the clock was ticking.

In their room, Grace and Skye launched into action. Skye took the dog bed, leaving its owner looking a little puzzled.

Grace tore apart her bed, then realized putting her mattress in the back of the truck wasn't going to work.
"You'll be up too high" she said. "The bed of the truck is shallow. This isn't going to work."
"The buffalo robe will" Skye replied.

The girls fuddled around with the truck while the boss made some phone calls.  Ultimately, the buffalo robe proved the perfect gurney for the foal, whom they hoisted carefully into the truck bed.  Skye settled herself in next to the foal.

"You good?" Grace asked.
"We're good."
"Okay" Grace said. "Let's go over this one more time."
"Okay" Skye replied. "It is totally illegal in the state of California for people to ride in the back of trucks on public roads, so once we get off the mountain I am to bury both of us in blankets and stay under the blankets until we get to the vet."
"Correct. And if something goes wrong while we're driving?"
"Bang on the window."
"Yup. Okay. Let's do this."  

Skye peered at the flowers blooming in the mist-shrouded forest.  They made their way down the mountain.

June 17
​All at once it was summer. Flies, sun, heat, all of it. The girls turned out a couple of mares including Wink My Way.  She looked good, healthy, not in any discomfort. Her milk never did come in.

"Is the colt coming back?" Skye asked.
"No" Grace said. "Apparently one of the vet techs who has been bottle feeding him would like to keep him, and the boss agreed it would be best. She said it was kind of a rough awakening, having a horse that needed help and so many obstacles to getting it. She said the foal will be better off in veterinary care for now and in the future, in case there are any complications from the ordeal, or, you know, if there's something wrong with him. Something we don't know about."
"I bet he grows up just fine" Skye responded.
"He very well could."

When the girls returned home they were greeted by a rather unsettling and puzzling scene.  Grace's bed was in pieces on the floor. Literally. Lots of pieces.

The sheets weren't ripped, the mattress was intact...it didn't make any sense.

"I don't get it" Grace said. "I can't wrap my brain around this."

The big dogs were acting a little odd. Guilty odd.  Hobo was more or less hiding behind Baron who was more or less hiding from Grace.  Which gave the pups the idea they should maybe hide too.

Grace sat on the edge of the table, watching Baron and Hobo mill around.
"Is there something we need to talk about?" she asked them.

"Well" Skye said. "Thank goodness we have this wonderful bunk bed. Until we get your bed put back together, I'll be happy to give you the top bunk!"

Grace pulled the laptop out from the wreckage.

Skye turned to Ginger cat - "You tore that bed apart all by yourself and told the dogs we're going to think they did it, huh?"

"Skye....we have more surprises in the barn" Grace said after a quick scan of her emails.

Big surprises in the barn. Dogs.  Six of them.

"I found them in Upper Big Tujunga Canyon" the boss said. "I almost think I should call Search and Rescue and see if they can fly over and look for an accident. These are really nice dogs."

"How did you get them all?" Skye asked. 
"They were hot, and their feet were burning on the asphalt, and they were thirsty, and there wasn't any shade. It was pretty easy. Driving with them all in the cab was not easy, but getting them in was a piece of cake."

There were two very large Great Danes, a Dane mix, and three puppies of who knows what origin.

Skye's attention shifted to the dog in the corner. He was at least part Dane, and his body language was mixed...he looked scared, but his tail wasn't tucked. He wasn't shaking. Just standing very still in the corner. Like maybe if he didn't move, no one would notice him.

"These two are sure friendly" Skye remarked of the pure Danes.
"They are" the boss said, "and really in good shape. Someone is missing them. These aren't throw away dogs."

And then Skye noticed the rest of them.

"This is a mutt mash" Skye giggled. "What do you suppose these guys are?"
The boss shook her head.
"I have no idea. They are young, and I don't think they are related to the big dogs."

And when the dog in the corner turned around it became immediately clear that he was neither aggressive nor overly shy. But he was completely disoriented, confused, and entirely unsure what to do.

"Oh by the way, when I first came home I went by your place to see if you could help me with these dogs" the boss said. "And I guess all of your dogs were inside and they about went crazy when they saw these two big girls. I heard something crash. I'm just hoping it wasn't a horse shaped something."

"No, no horses were harmed" Grace said. Her lips parted again to tell the story of finding her bed completely destroyed...but then she stopped. No need for the boss to know about that. She'd just feel bad. They would figure the bed out on their own.

"Oh my gosh" Skye said. "Six more dogs. I love them all."
"Oh I don't plan on keeping them" the boss said. "I'm going to find their owners. I won't take them to a shelter, but I'm not keeping them."
Grace turned her face away from the boss and smiled. She'd heard those words somewhere before.

June 18
Grace's bed was all salvageable. Somehow. But the sun was shining and the wind was still and the air was deliciously rich with the smells of late spring. And how exactly the pieces went back together was a bit of a mystery anyway. Probably if the girls left, and then came back, the bed would still be right there.

It was a much better day for getting horses out. Especially since Grace suggested Skye ride the big baroque Friesian sport horse.  And so they took that ride Skye had envisioned and cherished the memory of.  They took a small herd of horses across Chilao and through the creek.  To have water in the creek in June was a blessing they needed to take advantage of, or as Skye liked to say, they needed to honor the water with their attention.  Grace wasn't sure where she'd learned that way of thinking, but she liked it.

The water was clear and just cool enough to be invigorating. But the girls and their horses weren't really all that welcome. A coyote made it clear with its constant vocalizations that this land was coyote land, exclusively.

They had forgotten to bring the paso fino, Vivaldi, and they chose to take Charmer, the horse that had bolted last time they took him for a tour of Chilao.

Skye hadn't recalled the path through the creek being so narrow.  The calves they had driven through a month earlier were significantly smaller than horses though.  

At last, they came to the place where the creek widened, and the horses could find their own pace to get across.  Charmer turned on the speed. Love Letters from Heaven gave him some competition.  Outnumbered, the coyote eventually moved off.  The horses stayed together for the trip back home.  The girls kept an eye out for signs of the wild horses, but saw none.  Grace quietly recalled the times before Petrichor had a herd of his own, and he would appear out of the rocks and chaparral while the girls were exercising the ranch horses.  

June 24
The big Coulter pine, the last one standing from a group of three that had succumbed to age and drought, was finished.  The prescribed burn some seasons earlier foretold its weakness.  Instead of  being nourished by the ash and strengthened by the heat at its base, as a fire can sometimes do for trees, the already brittle tree was compromised.  Nine feet of snow and six inches of rain came too late to save it.  Skye penned her observations in a note to the Forest Service.

"To the US Forest Service Chilao Station firefighters. Thank you for giving this tree a chance. We were sure hopeful it would pull through. But that doesn't look like it's going to happen. We understand why the tree will be felled. We know it is for our own safety, for everyone's safety. We will miss seeing it, like so many things that have gone away. But we understand. Thank you for all you do. With respect, Skye. "

A breeze was blowing.  The girls watched the boss leaving in the Pavement Queen, the big red truck, with the harlequin Great Dane in the cab.
"Where is she going again?" Skye asked.
"To a clinic at PetCo. She wants to see if those dogs are chipped so she can find their owners" Grace answered.

"I think that dog is sitting on her lap! How did she get them all home in that truck?"
"I think she told a little fib myself." Grace confided. "There's no way she got all those dogs in the front. I bet some of them went in the back and she drove real slow and prayed the whole way here."

The girls took their own definitely-not-a-pavement-queen Jeep in the opposite direction.  Skye stepped on something as she squeezed into the driver's seat.
"Grace! Your long lost hat!"
"No way...How in the..."
"We thought we lost it at Willow Springs but I guess it blew down onto the floor and we never saw it."
"It's tweaked! But I'm still so glad you found it."
"Well" Skye replied, "in this wind you'll probably just lose it again."
Skye was right. The afternoon breeze was growing stronger.

The girls took a ride up the road a piece, below the quarry, to the sand bank.

Grace marveled at the plants, like none she had seen before.

Skye sunk her feet deep into the red-brown sand, the stuff they used to make their best arenas, and the stuff the wind was constantly taking away from them. This was the source of that wonderful sand.

The gate to the hilltop above was open. The road beckoned.

"Let's go!" Skye said.
Grace pondered the idea.
"I think the bosses' old Suburban would be better. We don't have much ground clearance in the front."

Grace spotted something a little less challenging. The dry creek bed adjacent to the sand bar.  The vegetation was lush, thick as they had ever seen.

And despite Grace's best intentions to avoid deep sand, they did end up pushing their way through a little bit of it.

While the wind had been blowing all afternoon, Skye had made a sort of display in her studio, showcasing an unintentionally growing herd of sculptures.

KS Twister, a 3D printed resin in brilliant white. Grace marveled at his smoothness.

Skye had forgotten his name and he wasn't a resin, but she was still completely smitten by the Criollo horse. 
"You know he's plastic, right?"
"I do" Skye said, "but I just love him."

"And I love this one too. She's a tank."  Skye ran her hand over the grey draft horse. (Maggie Bennett's introduction to 3D printing horses that she graciously offered for free so hobbyists could get a hands-on feel of the 3D experience...by printing their own). 

"And I haven't forgotten you" she said to her NaMoPaiMo horse, still only partially painted. "I think about you all the time. I just don't know when that's going to translate into action."

June 25
Sunday morning dawned cool and wind still.  The sunlight quickly warmed the mountain air.

The horses at the ranch had tipped the girls off to the presence of wild horses. But who. And from where would they emerge.  On foot, the girls made their way to Mustang Rock.  Soon they heard the clatter of hooves.  Highlander's band.

The girls stopped, waited. Highlander saw them. The mares saw them. They seemed relaxed, keeping their distance, but unruffled.

Next, Petrichor's band. The bay mare, the two foals.  The orphan black colt looked good.  Highlander looked healthy.

The girls edged closer, found a place to sit among the rocks, and waited.

Petrichor's band fell in behind Highlander and started to move away. Grace's heart seemed to swell into her throat. Where. Where was Petrichor?

And then he emerged.  Gleaming, golden, glorious.
He too was relaxed. More bothered by flies than the presence of the girls.

Grace moved closer to him as he made his way toward her.  He was going to come right up to her this time. She just knew it.

It was maybe no more than a minute. She touched his face, gentle fingers running the length of his head, near his eye, along the contours of his muzzle. He flipped his head in a measured way to rid himself of a fly. His eyes were pools of calm amber.

And then he was off again.

Skye wondered how many people had such a bond with a wild stallion. Grace's relationship with that big horse was like the stuff of novels.

And the horses disappeared back into the forest.
                                                                                                                    #

May 6, 2023

"Pick a really steady horse" Grace told Skye. "We're going to do some rugged terrain."

Grace wasn't kidding. The mare Skye chose was one she hadn't ridden before, but the boss was gradually giving Skye more responsibility, and more horses to ride. The mare was level headed and sure footed, and older, so Grace chose their path with that in mind.

Except for the crevice. She didn't remember it being so steep or so wide when they'd hiked it with all the dogs some time back. She recalled lifting some of the dogs over and it really wasn't that big of a thing. As long as you didn't look down. Because it was a long way down. Survivable yes, and you'd be able to walk out at the bottom of it if you were a dog or a human...hopefully...but from La Barilla's back it looked somehow much more intimidating.

La Barilla felt her hesitation and halted. The rock face had excellent tooth. He wasn't going to slide in. He had room to go in any direction. Grace focused her intention on the other side of the crevice. After a few tentative steps at the edge, La Barilla went over.

But Skye's mare wasn't having it. Period.  She tried getting off and walking her over.  Nope.  Not happening.

"I"ll ride around the way we came and meet you at the bottom" Skye said.

"Sorry Skye. We can come back across if you want."
Going up over the crevice would probably be less scary than what they had just done. 

"No, it's okay, I'll go back, you go down and around."

At which point Grace realized she had never taken La Barilla this far from home without a riding companion right next to him. Her mount seemed to be reading her every thought, and bunched up underneath her a little bit. She focused again, weight down in the saddle, hands low and calm, and they made their ways in opposite directions.

It was not long before they joined up again, on smoother ground. They continued away from the ranch.
.
"So what's next?" Skye asked. 

"Funny you should ask."

High above, a pair of red tailed hawks circled.  Fo r a moment Skye forgot about whatever was next, and watched them.

The girls were both glad to leave the rocky country behind. Probably so were the horses.  When they emerged from the rocks, the red and white gleam of the truck and trailer stood before them.

"Oh boy!" Skye said. "You do have a big day planned for us."
"Shi..." Grace exclaimed as La Barilla did a rather sudden side step and the saddle didn't exactly follow, and her foot came out of the left stirrup.

"What?"
"The cinch is loose. Really loose. It's all right. I just wasn't prepared for that."
"See, if you rode bareback you wouldn't have to worry about things like that...Kidding, just kidding..."

Grace dismounted without incident. Skye's mare was apparently trailer savvy. She just needed to know what side to load into.

"Are you going to leave him saddled?" Skye asked as she pushed the side door open.

"I am" Grace said. "I think. At least for now. It might keep him from hurting himself. Or not."

From here forward, there was no script. Grace hadn't really thought the rest of it out too far. You couldn't. Things were going to go however they went.

Skye's horse went in.  Without too much drama, La Barilla also loved into the trailer.

"Well...now what?"

La Barilla had been in and out of the trailer before. But Grace had never actually trailered him anywhere. He was already at the ranch when she arrived. He seemed to be all right. A little stomping around, but he was more or less always stomping around and testing the world with his hooves.
"Let's see if we can trailer them home. It's only about a mile. If it doesn't go well, we'll stop."

Grace eased the truck forward, listening for the sound of flailing hooves or other thrashing. So far so good.

Slowly, carefully, they made their way back. The last part of the drive was steep, but it was straight and pretty much level. 

Skye's mare unloaded quietly. La Barilla was a bit impatient to join her.

Horse and rig appeared unscathed. 

"That was a good ride" Skye said. 
"That was awesome" Grace replied. "We should all get some extra treats for today."

May 7
For Grace's next La Barilla adventure, she chose a much kinder, gentler terrain.
It would involve a water crossing. But not here, where they first approached the creek. This was a little steep and a little deep.

They could not escape the feeling they were being watched. It was quiet, they saw nothing, the dogs saw nothing...still.

Grace found a gentler place to cross the water. Still a nice, wide expanse, but an easy entry and exit.

La Barilla liked to splash the water, and that was fine.

Skye's mule lapped at it, drank a little, dribbled a little. What a great mount. The boss was encouraging her to take out some of the horses - and in this case, a wonderful mule - that weren't getting as much attention as others. What a great feeling it was to be given that responsibility.

"Woop!"

La Barilla sank into the soft creek bed. There was a bit of splashing and a little more getting wet than Grace anticipated, but it was all good. They stomped their way across and back into the sea of fleeting green. The warm days were here now. The non-native grass would not be this verdant green for long.

The dogs saw something. They were off. The girls watched. Between rock outcroppings, movement. The signature bound of a deer. A small deer.

"Oh!" Skye exclaimed.
Grace whistled for the dogs. They did not stop immediately.

The girls kept their eyes trained on the rugged terrain, waiting to see another grey-brown bounding deer leap. But no! A coyote popped up from the thick brush and vanished into the rocks.

Grace called the dogs back again. This time they responded.

"I don't know what I just saw" Skye said.
"When are deer born...July? I could have sworn that was a baby deer..."
"I know. Well. We're being watched all right" Skye responded.

The water crossing was one of three elements Grace had planned for La Barilla.

The bunker was next on the agenda...the thing. Bunker, ammunition locker, whatever it was, old thing of a forgotten desert.

"I love this mule" Skye chatted, noting La Barilla's apprehension.
"He's not stubborn at all. He's pretty solid. Not too much seems to bother him. And he has a nice round back."

Baron and Hobo had done the bunker before. White Dog...not so much.

Skye rode about half way in. It was a long, deep structure and the back of it was dark. It was clean, there was nothing to worry about...Baron and Hobo had made sure of that.

Now it was La Barilla's turn.  He hesitated. Slowly, tentatively, put one hoof inside, then another.

Inside. La Barilla wasn't comfortable. Grace decided not to push. He'd gone in. He'd done the big scary thing and didn't lose his head. There was enough room to turn around, but La Barilla did a sort of roll-back turn and his hindquarters touched the wall of the thing. He didn't like that. He came forward for a moment, and then instead of completing his turn, started backing out.

Grace was thinking he was probably going to spin the moment he was clear of the door.  But he didn't. He stepped back until he was well clear of the mouth of the bunker thing, and stopped. That was plenty good enough for Grace.

"Another good ride in the books!" Skye said.

"I was going to ask you if you wanted to ride him when we got back" Grace told Skye. "But I wanted to get that wet saddle off of him. And maybe we've done enough for one day."

Skye watched the golden stallion, turned out in the arena to shake off the day's adventures. Wondered what it would be like to ride him. He was exceptionally good for Grace. Would he treat Skye as well? Perhaps she'd find out some day. 


May 8
The girls turned out a red bay arabian stallion. He was pretty.
"Seems like we have the real typey little arabs and the great big tall arabs and not much in between" Skye mused.
Grace nodded.

"This might be the prettiest of the little typey ones."
Grace nodded.

They turned out a lovely golden mare. "She's a Morab right?" Skye was doing all the talking this morning. Grace was unusually quiet, but the question forced an answer.
"Yes, three quarters Arabian."
And then silence again.

Skye knew sooner or later she'd spill the beans. Finally she did.
"The boss wants to have a review."
"A what? What's a review?"
Grace took a heaving deep breath.
"I'm not exactly sure. In the corporate world I am pretty sure it's a performance survey. How much did you sell, how much profit did you make the company, that kind of thing."
"If that's the case" Skye replied, "we're probably in deep trouble."
"Right? Let's hope it's not quite like that. I don't think I've added too much cash flow to the operation."

Next came the big grill geldings, the twins. "But we still have these two" Skye said. "Cash flow can't be everything or she would have sold one of these guys. I know!"
"What?"
"We'll give her a review all right. Let's put on a show for her. Like remember the day that big batch of stallions came in and we did Circus Knie with them? Let's do something like that."
Grace fell silent again. But in a good way. She kind of liked Skye's idea.

It was a glorious day. They should have been out riding some more. But the boss wanted to adjust the arena lights again. So every time Skye brought a horse down, she went the long way, so she could watch the light changing on the trees.

Gunner, glorious in his pearly cremelo coat, served as a reference for a light horse. 'This is as white as the lights go unless we pull the covers off" the boss said. "I think it's all the warm colors. The paneling, the rail, the sand. Grace do you think we should have painted the railing a different color?"
Grace thought about it for a while. Recalled how much thought and effort went into warming up the cold white of the arena after it was first built. 
"No, I think you made appropriate choices with the color. I'd rather experiment with the covers over the lights." 

At least they got to be outside in between horses and adjustments.  When it came time for a black horse, Skye brought down the old mare, but slowly, savoring the day.

It was high spring.  So many flowers, so many varieties of flowers, like the lupine...this one, Skye thought, ought to be called something like giant, spiney lupine.

Blanket on, blanket off...the slightly warm light brought out the sunburnt hues in the black mare's coat.

Next came Donkey in a colorful flower print blanket.  "The lights are white" Skye said. "We just aren't getting the magic outdoor blue sky reflection."
The colors were true though. Pink, red, green, blue, yellow...

The last horse of the day, Precious.
Grace spoke softly.
"We have until some time in the fall to put something together regarding this review, and I like your idea Skye. Let's make a bit of a show out of it."
Skye pretended to be speaking to her beloved mare.
"All right. Let's do it."

May 20, mid afternoon
The thunder beings danced. It was hard to predict what they might do, and where, but Grace took a guess that they had enough time.

Skye had been clamoring about wanted to drive a herd of horses along the creek and through Chilao again. But Grace thought it might be fun to drive the calves. And so they did.  Twelve not exactly one after the other in an orderly fashion little calves. Soon it became evident that in some places, the water was higher than the calves were tall.

They were apprehensive at first.  Grace and Skye watched their little bodies slip deeper and deeper into the water. Probably everything would be fine. Probably calves could swim.

The thunder clouds added a sense of drama and immediacy. Skye watched the lovely black raramuri criollo slip into deeper water.

"Dear Boss" she chimed, "Do you think you could get us twelve more calves before October?"

"Dear Boss" Grace responded, "We really thought they would float."

"Dear Boss" Skye giggled, "This is not to be included in Grace's review."

"Dear Boss" Grace replied, "This was totally Skye's idea, and I tried to talk her out of it."

And after a little bit of tension and chaos, it turned out that they could in fact swim.

And then, after a proper initiation to the creek, and a little swimming lesson, back toward the ranch again, more or less. The calves seemed curious about everything.  

Grace had that sensation again. The one that often came to her when they were riding in or near water or snow. Like living a dream, in a perfect world.

"Yee-oooooh! Get along little doggies!"  Skye tried to keep them together, and heading the right way.

The distant thunder was a constant companion as they rode home, twelve calves still present and correct.  And there were blue clouds. Skye's favorite.

Back at home, they waited on the thunder, the storm presently west of them. No real telling which way it would swing.

In the last hours of daylight Grace and Skye went out to greet two new arrivals.
"Who are they?" Skye asked.
"Couple of mares that need a new home. Someone with too many horses."
Skye laughed.
"There's some irony there you know."
"Oh yes" Grace said, "I know."
The mares took an interest in Skye as soon as she entered the arena.
"They're pretty horses. Are we keeping them?"
"That I don't know" Grace replied.

They were pretty. A little on the wild side but nicely dressed. Skye made a mental note not to get too attached to them. Just in case they weren't staying.

The thunderstorms continued Sunday, missing Chilao by about twenty miles and pouring down on the Acton area. The storm cell was powerful, but brief, the big puffy thunder beings blown out and gone by sunset.  Still, it was worth a look.


May 22
While the girls were chasing sunsets and dunking calves, the boss had been busy working on the arena. Where she found, tucked in a box, the lovely works of Katy Niles.  Grace and Skye brought them in and went through each beautiful piece.
"Weren't we supposed to hang these last year? And then things got kind of hectic and it never got done?" Skye asked.

"Yes we were. But what we didn't realize is that all the works were still here."
Skye put one after another on the easel. Each piece so unique. Landscapes and abstracts and abstract landscapes. 
"This year let's make sure we get them up in the arena."
"Yes. Totally agree."

As the day drew to a close, Skye strolled past the dumpsters. Where she noticed a very large poop. Made entirely of vegetation. It was thoroughly dried so it was at least a few days old. And it was by the trash cans so it could have been a bear. A really big bear. A really big vegan bear. She looked for tracks...any tracks...and found none. 

And the spring marched on.                                             #

April 1, 2023
The scenery sped by. Grace and Skye had never been to Acton, never been on Soledad Canyon before. The boss plied the highway at a leisurely pace with her old favorite truck. It was no pavement queen, but, she said, it made a fine camper once everything was emptied out of it. 

"Is that where we live?" Skye asked, pointing with her nose toward the snow-covered ridge.
"Yup" Grace said. 
"We're on the other side of that ridge" the boss said, "and to the left of those big power poles."

Grace noted the wide open spaces. Thick vegetation. Wild canyons. There wasn't much but open country between them, as the crow flies. There was actually quite a lot of open country, dotted with the occasional ranch or fence line.

They reached their destination in the late afternoon. Willow Springs International Raceway. It was mostly silent now, the desert breeze making its way through low scrub, the sun moving across a wide open sky. The tracks were all behind locked gates, but there was plenty of open asphalt. As soon as the old truck was unloaded, Grace and the boss freed the Jeep from the tow hitch, and Skye took the wheel. It was a perfect place to get some driving practice. 

Grace was lost in thought. Thoughts about what she's just seen. The big, wild country between their home in Chilao and the hills of Acton, a land still at least partially devoted to a rural lifestyle. There was plenty of room for horses there. And some of those steep canyons might even boast year round water.

The desert ground was hard, as if it had never rained. But it was also mercifully flat. Gradually Skye would relax, sit down in her seat, let her shoulders fall naturally. Driving the little Jeep was fun.

April 2
Grace took the wheel for the track day. The girls didn't have a lot of experience with motorcycles, so the whole of it was new and exciting. The smells, the sounds, the beautiful machines, the leather riding suits and shining helmets. Everyone seemed happy and friendly. Many people had dogs with them. 
"You know" Skye said, "if we had a tent, we could do stuff like this more often."
Grace was quiet for a long time.
"If we had a tent..." Grace trailed off mid-sentence.

And the girls were not the only ones with an old Jeep.

The day had gone by fast. At some point, the wind claimed Grace's black hat for good. When it was over, the truck was packed back up, the Jeep hooked up behind it, and the journey back into the snow line began. Grace's head swiveled from side to side as the boss drove. So much open country. What if. What if the wild horses came from this place. 

April 3
Monday dawned cold and threatening to snow in Chilao. Then the wind picked up. The girls were a little worn down from the weekend, and decided to turn out some horses in the relative warmth of the indoor arena.

"Funny" Grace said, "When I made these ponchos they were really just to hide your Christmas present under. I had them draped over the saddle trees. And now we've worn them all winter long, and it's spring, and we're still wearing them. When are you going to start working on those saddles?"

Skye let out a deep, long sigh. "I have...artist's block. Or something. I don't know. I can't seem to get things started, or finished. I want to, but then...I think I'm scared of the saddles. I don't want to screw them up, you know?"

The girls watched the twin grulla horses. 
"There's still two of them" Skye noted. "Did the boss decide not to sell the lighter one?"
"I don't know" Grace said. "She hasn't said a word about it, and I'm sure not going to bring it up."

Skye went to see the old Coulter pine. It seemed to be clinging to life by a thread.  It was a thin thread. But there was new green. It was sparse, it was tenuous...but there was green. There was a little bit of hope left. Maybe, just maybe it could recover.


April 12
​Skye found Grace in the tack room. She was making quite the mess.
"So" Skye questioned. "I guess the calla lily experiment is concluded?"
"Yup." Grace answered. "I can't take it any more. I quit."

"Can we at least keep those two giant ones?"
Grace really wanted to say no. 
"Even though we now have until October to see if they will bloom in pots, I don't think I can stand another minute of lugging them around trying to find the right place for them. They dry out, then they freeze, they get too much water, not enough water...we tried."

"The boss asked me if I wanted to do another guest blog on the website."
"Skye that's very cool. What will you write about?"
"The Raramuri criollo. Well, the criollo cattle in general and then specifically, the Raramuri. I wish I knew where Mikki was these days, she could probably help me. But there's a ton of stuff on the internet. I think I can do it."
"Yes you can" Grace affirmed. "Maybe we'll chase some calves around this weekend and see if we can inspire and inform your creativity. If I let you ride Cookie will you let me get rid of all these dang plants? I won't burn them at the stake or anything. I'm going to...liberate them. Yes, that's it. I will return them to freedom."
Skye laughed. "I'll think about it..."

April 14
"The boss helped me make these posters" Skye said. "We struggled with the words a little, because we don't really own the mare, but I wanted to do something."
Grace studied the poster for a few moments.  It was a lovely image of Petrichor, the pale mare and her foal, taken on the last day they had seen her.
"I think it's good" Grace finally responded. "I mean, it assumes someone has the pale mare, but any other consequence is out of our control, so I think it's fine. I think she was probably further away than one hundred yards from the ranch when we saw her last though."
Skye looked perplexed.
"You think?"
"It's not a big deal. You get the idea. This horse is missing and we want her back."
"It's still light out" Skye responded. "Let's go out and calculate the distance."

The air was heavy with moisture.  It was more than a hundred yards. And that was okay. Pretty soon the girls were entranced by the green. Green grass, green trees, everything so vibrantly green, the moist earth drawing close the moisture in the air, the dampness setting on them, invisible and yet present.

The sound, fainter now but nonetheless omnipresent, of seasonal streams everywhere.

They heard a sound. Skye jumped up and spun around.

They scanned the landscape.

And then they appeared, quite close. Crazy's band.

The twin foals were both in good shape. Crazy saw the girls, but didn't respond except to do a little more head shaking and hoof stomping than he normally did. They were going to wherever they went for the night, wanting for neither food nor fresh water. 

And the night came softly.

April 15
Grace got her wish. Apparently the boss had connections. Arena sand from the quarry up the road had been delivered. The load was apparently thirty per cent water and the truck stopped twice on the way down to tilt and drain. But there it was. Arena sand. It just needed to dry.

The boss also got a new lighting system for the indoor arena. She asked the girls if they could bring out a couple of black horses. Of course the problem with black horses is you have to watch your camera metering. But as far as the lights working, it appeared they did.

Grace turned loose a particularly proud, lithe Thoroughbred stallion.
"Oh, who is this handsome boy?"
"He's got the best name" Grace said. "My Darkest Hour."
"I bet the old black mare looked like him in her day."
"I bet she did."

And it was laundry day, although Skye isn't sure there was any saving the white shirt. It had stains she didn't even recognize.

The boss was on a role. When they got done with the arena lights there were a few hours of daylight left. She asked if Grace and Skye could help her get a few horses photographed. The first one was a pony named Joey...and Joey hit the dirt and rolled before anyone got a picture.
"Ooooh! Joey! Why? Why?"
Grace laughed. "I think it's a pony thing" she said. "They seem to have a special sense of humor."

Grace got Vinnie to take a bow. The boss was impressed with the bow but not with her pictures. 
"He's so hard to photograph" she said. "I never quite get that shimmer in his coat. But you did a great job grooming him."
Grace wasn't sure she liked his ribbons colors. But it sounded like this might not be the last photo session with Vinnie.

Last horse for the day. Another looker. Wild Bill, a gift from Carissa Kirksey.
"So" Grace said to Skye, "Tomorrow morning let's get up really really early, and we'll go out and play with the calves before the boss can catch us and give us another all day chore list."
Skye grinned. "Okay."

April 16
The alarm went off at 5 AM, but Grace silenced it. The girls had been up watching programs until the wee hours of dawn. A little after 6 AM they began to stir. First slowly, then more quickly. But the dawn came even faster.

Grace managed to break the buckle on her chaps, and then they could not find Cookie's bridle. The one they put on her was made for a draft horse and barely clung to her head. They turned the calves loose, and watched as they immediately went to the eastern ridgeline...a rocky ground wholly unsuitable for stock work.
"Just go easy" Grace said. "I guess our goal will be to get the calves out of here and on to softer ground."

"What if we split them?" Skye said. "You take six, I take six."
It sounded so simple.

"I'll take the slow six" Grace said. "You are on a real cow pony. I'm on a horse that may have never seen a calf before."

So far so good. The sound of rocks against Cookie's hooves was unsettling, but she seemed able to navigate them.
"I thought cows just followed the leader" Skye said, as her six calves continually proved to have independent ideas about which direction they should be going. The reins on the drafter bridle were very long, and she mostly didn't need them, but they were cumbersome.

Dawn's light spread across the landscape.

One calf back in the bunch, and another one veers off in the wrong direction. Separating the group was easy. Keeping them that way was proving challenging.

Just as the sunlight crested the ridge, Grace lost two of the slow calves. The two fast slow calves.  They joined Skye's loosely knit group.

La Barilla was more or less getting the idea, but his style was a little different. When a calf tried to break rank, he threw a strike with a front hoof. And for the most part, it worked.

"All right" Grace said, "Enough separation anxiety. Let's get them out of here."

And once the calves were all together again, they did more or less move as a unit. Or at least, in the same general direction.

A gentle breeze swayed Skye's shirts, swinging from hangers on the arena fence.  It seemed like a good idea at the time.  But the next thing she knew, Grace was turning out horses.  Skye scurried to grab her shirts as Anamar got ready to kick up some dust.

The grey seemed to have a fondness for Skye. He certainly wasn't afraid of flapping shirts.

"So I have a plan for next weekend" Grace said.

"Let's have it" Skye replied.
"Next weekend, let's do a traditional regalia ride."
Skye smiled. Bewildered.
"Okay I don't have anything to wear but we'll get Anamar in his traditional tack and we'll get you on a horse in traditional native regalia.
Skye smiled, and remained silent.
"I know, your saddle isn't done. It's okay. I have a plan."
What that plan might be, Skye couldn't even begin to imagine.
"Okay. Let's do it."


April 22
Skye stood looking at her beautiful dresses. "I'm kind of scared to put on the buckskin dress" Skye said. "I don't want to get it dirty."
"If you're going to try riding in a cloth dress, I'd say wear this one. I think the extra leg room will come in handy."
Skye was excited. She still had no idea what Grace had up her sleeve, but she was excited.
"Did you find anything to wear for riding Anamar?"
Grace shook her head. "Not that I have anything even if I did find some reference photos, but so far I've not seen any traditional women's regalia for him."

Grace had also thought it might be fun to watch the meteor shower tonight, and let Skye try to get some pictures. The boss had done a pretty fair job on a whim just yesterday evening. But it wasn't looking hopeful.  The girls watched the sky as it filled quickly with what people referred to as chemtrails, a word which never failed to register emotional and opinionated responses. 

"Do you think it'll blow away by tonight?" Skye asked. 
Grace paused and looked around before answering.
"I'm thinking X marks the spot and today it's our turn. It looks like they're just getting started. We could be under a glowing white sky by noon and a night devoid of stars entirely. But we'll see, I guess.

Skye didn't recognize the horse she was about to ride. He was a solid black quarter horse gelding. And he was tacked up in a lovely, older plains saddle and beaded bridle. This was a surprise indeed.
"You good?" Grace asked.
"Yeah I'm good!"
Her feet didn't quite make it into the stirrups. It was close though. She could do one stirrup or the other, both not both at the same time. The saddle was big and roomy. 

Grace handed her the blanket that would make everything look proper and acceptable.  Anamar was ready to go.

Grace watched the sky. She was almost positive there would be no star gazing tonight. No meteor shower, no mountain magic.

Although Skye was mostly absorbed in her first ever ride in regalia, she saw the look on Grace's face. She looked up too.

"You know what's ironic?" Grace said.
"What?"
"I'm pretty sure today is 'Earth Day.' "

Skye's mount was calm and steady. Anamar was animated.
"Is this the first time you've taken him out?" Skye asked Grace of Anamar. 
"It is. I really like him. He's very alert but also sure of himself. No hesitation."
Skye imagined herself in a time long ago, riding across the prairie, through mountain passes, seeking out what wild foods she might harvest.
"This is a big saddle" Skye said out loud.
"It is" Grace said. You could carry a baby or a child in that saddle with you. Or...whatever."

Grace was probably right. It was just about noon and the sky was nearly transformed from blue to white.
"So if we are so woke" Skye questioned, "how come we can't talk about this? The sky. I mean we watched it. These aren't clouds. This time for sure I know you aren't crazy. We watched a blue sky get transformed and we watched commercial jets fly through that same sky and their vapor trails dissipated. This is not a natural phenomenon and it covers a whole region."

"Because we aren't that woke" Grace said.
"If humanity was all that woke we wouldn't kill each other over religion or racial differences. If we were woke we would be engaging in global environmental restoration and we would go about progress thinking of long term impact. People would care more about the quality of air and water and less about fashion and make up. Now as for the sky that's a slightly more complicated issue. Two things are happening. Most of the world's population is bent down over their jobs all week, and then consumed with whatever they do to forget about their miserable lives over the weekend. Or they are working seven days to feed their kids. They don't look up. People haven't seen the sky in a long time. The other thing is denial. We know that some day in the near future humans are going to try to colonize Mars. But we don't want to believe under any circumstances that something is going on right now in the skies above us. No way. Not possible. There's something deep and psychologically terrifying about that. People don't want to be woke about that. Let's argue over language, or bar soap versus liquid...or anything. Just don't tell me the sky is being manipulated."

Skye thought about those things for a little bit. She thought about the times she'd spent off the mountain. Tried to think if she looked at the sky, except here, being on the mountain. On the mountain it was different. For one thing, the sky was big, and everywhere. For another, what you paid attention to was different, and more immediate. A sound in the bushes meant something and you better look. Around people and cities there's the whole created world. Traffic, shopping, eye candy, small talk, being proper, choices, needing money for everything...the sky didn't figure too prominently in that world. You would have to really focus and look, and pay attention over time to realize how it got cloudy.

They rode in silence for a little while. Their shadows grew soft, the sunlight filtered. There were few flowers blooming, save for the filigree, but there would be more flowers soon. Skye tried to find her way back into her happy dream place. It took a few moments, but eventually the gentle sway of the black's smooth walk and the rhythmic sound of the horses' hooves on the not exactly soft soil worked its magic, and she let go of the sky above for a little bit, and focused on the view from between her horse's ears.

There was a sudden and immediate shift in awareness that brought Grace out of her head and into the moment. She and Anamar spun around as one.

They faced Petrichor and his band. 

Skye watched the stallion and forgot everything previous. She imagined writing a blog about the morning. She composed it in her mind as a gust of wind tussled her blanket and tugged at her hair.

"My first ride in regalia. To be true, it was pretty much one long wardrobe malfunction. First there was the matter of getting situated in my ribbon dress. And my moccasins coming untied again and again. The saddle itself was adorned with an aged wool blanket that seemed to come to life as the day grew warm. The wind and sunlight felt delicious on my bare legs, which would not have been showing except for the trouble I had keeping the modesty blanket arranged. And then, just as I was trying to get all these things under control and look like a proper lady...a wild stallion appeared!"

Petrichor looked fit. There had probably never been better pasture in the Angeles than there was this spring.

Grace kept Anamar gathered under her, and for the first time ever hoped Petrichor would keep his distance. It was still just the bay mare and the two foals, her own and the orphaned black foal. She waited for the appearance of Highlander and his band, but Highlander never came.

Petrichor and his band lingered only for a moment, then turned westward, disappearing into the jagged landscape as suddenly as they had appeared.

The rest of the girls' ride was uneventful. Grace had been a few hours off on her prediction. When they returned to the barn at 3 PM, the sky was a mass of white, as far as they could see. The juxtaposition of dreams and reality, past and present had been a little difficult for Skye. Still. There was something radically different about the ride they had just taken. She would need some time to process all the things.

April 29
The day was warm and glorious. The girls waited for the wind to die down. As the afternoon wore on the wind rose and fell, took long pauses between breaths, but never really stopped. And wind made it hard to control horses. 

So they made the mutually unpopular decision to turn the ponies out in the indoor arena. Particularly since they'd never taken the ponies - as a group - out on the property, or through Chilao. It was definitely on the to-do list.

Joey, the smallest of the ponies, was quick to roll. Surprising, with so many other ponies in the arena.

Grace watched a pretty bay riding pony interacting with one of the welsh type mares. She was sure he was a gelding. His expression wasn't convincing somehow.

Although big and sturdy, the Chincoteague foal was a bit shy.

Skye was entranced with a pinto mare.

Whether or not it was smart was debatable, but Skye decide to ride Mischief. So far, so good.

"Eighteen!" Grace counted. "That's a lot of ponies! I think we're at capacity."

Except for the mares with foals, Skye tried to get them all moving in the same direction.
"You better stay on" Grace said. "There's a lot of tiny hooves in here."
"I'm ready this time" Skye said. "I'm either gonna grab a hand full of mane or just jump off."

In the last hour of daylight, the winds lessened, the gusts becoming an occasional breeze.

And finally, as the sun set, it was wind still.   Skye's beloved tree was probably not going to make it. The boss had taken a pictures of it dappled with snow, and Skye thought she might like to try and paint that scene. It wouldn't be too long before the firefighters felled it, leaving it to lie next to its sibling, collapsed onto the ground.

Aerosol particulate refraction made a disorderly rainbow in western sky.

Home at day's end, Grace and Skye examined the American Saddlebred bust.  Skye had done a little more work on her NaMo horse. 
"I can see lights and darks emerging" Grace said. I think you're going to survive this."


Dawn, April 30
The girls rode the eastern ridgeline on La Barilla and Ladyhawk.  Birdsong filled the air and dewdrops clung to the vegetation.  The sky grew ever lighter at the sun's approach.

They left the race property, crossing the road toward the fire station, dipping down into the tributary stream above Mustang Rock.  The sound of hooves striking the occasional rock hidden in the soft sound, La Barilla pawing at the water, raven's call just above.  But not a word out of Grace.

Skye couldn't take the silence any more.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked Grace.

There was a long, serious pause before she answered.
"Coffee."
                                                                                #

 March 3, 2023

Cabin fever had definitely set in. Something like seven feet of snow had fallen. They could not get the horses out. Even if they could, there was nowhere to go with them. It might be another day...or who knows how long...before they could get from the barn to the arena. At least repotting the plants would give them something to do.

"I guess I should have let them dry out before we did this" Grace mused. 
"I saw a program about the Camargue horses of France" Skye responded. "They were naturally gentling a stallion, catching it and releasing it."
"Who is they?"
"This man...how would we describe him in modern vernacular. A maturity-enhanced equine enthusiast and resident of the Camargue."
"A old horseman, okay..."
"Anyway. They were gentling this wonderful wild stallion. They didn't show how they were catching him, but they would catch him, and he was okay with it, and then they'd slowly work with him...halter, bridle, saddle...they'd groom and feed him...then they'd let him loose again."

They examined the first extricated calla lily rhizome. It was just about ready to start growing. Nothing wrong with it.
"Do you think we should keep going?" Skye asked.
"Yeah. What else are we gonna do? Besides, if transplanting doesn't go well, we'll have a little time to try again. So. They were gentling a wild stallion?"

"Yes! A wild stallion!" Skye paused. "Oh boy. Hope we can do this without hurting the lily."
"I think we can. This one should have some kind of root ball. Hopefully it's real strong and everything will hold together. I wish you would have seen how they caught the stallion."
"That wasn't part of the program" Skye explained. They said "the stallion allows himself to be caught."
"Hmmm. Must be a young bachelor."

As Grace suspected, a well developed root ball held the soil together. Skye continued describing the show she'd watched.
"Well, kind of. The social structure of the Camargue horses is really different. They are on an island, or a big marsh, and they have no natural enemies. So they don't really need a stallion to defend them. It's a matriarchal society and the stallions probably fight with each other when there's mares in season to fight over, but not like here, where the stallions are guarding mares from everything all the time."
​
The girls went on to discuss how perhaps Grace could try the same with Petrichor...after all, she had brought him in when he was injured...of course that was before he had a herd of his own, or perhaps it was just the bay mare who showed up when they released him...in any case, it wasn't the same, but maybe Grace could find herself riding Petrichor some day.

And so the evening went by, and eventually the replanting job was complete.
"I feel like those spider plants are just sitting on top of the dirt" Skye said.
"They are. But they've got about eight weeks to get some roots on them, and they will."
"Think anyone will care that the succulents don't match?
"I don't think so. I do hope we get to see the calla lilies bloom though."

Everything matched again. 
"So next time we see Petrichor...and who even knows where any of the horses are right now but my guess is they went to the lowest elevation they could get to..." Grace's voice trailed off.
"Next time we see him" Skye continued, "push a little farther. Try to touch the parts of his face where a halter goes and stuff like that."
Grace fell silent, wrapped in thought...staring at their potting work and thinking thoughts of taming wild stallions.

March 4
Grace noticed the light changing.
"Come on" she said, grabbing her coat. "Let's go see the alpine glow."
They lumbered through the snow. Although it had packed down considerably, it was hard work.

They went as fast as they could, quickly overheating in their respective poncho and coat, leaving them at the base of the ridgeline. By the time they had battled their way to the vista point, the alpine glow had faded. A slight breeze stirred, and after a few moments, they were no longer overheated. It was time to fetch up their warm wear again, and follow their footsteps back to the house.

"I think those are planets" Skye remarked of the two bright objects visible in the western sky, before the appearance of other stars.

The barn cats apparently also had cabin fever, and decided to switch cabins. What inspired them to brave the snow and how exactly they did it, the girls did not know, but here they were, looking quite comfortable on Skye's bed.

"If a plow can make it back here tomorrow" Grace said, "maybe we'll get some horses turned out in the arena. We'll see."

The cats were definitely settling in for the night.

​March 5
In the wee hours of Sunday morning the plow truck made a pass, making a track just big enough for the long and wide Payment Queen to navigate. Everyone could get to the highway now, at last. But the plow's circular path did not connect the stables to the indoor arena, and it went through some of the deepest of the snow drifts. There was no way to get the horses out. 


March 6
Monday morning dawned mostly clear. And at some point in the night, the plow had come through again, making another circular path, this time coming near enough to the stables that the girls could shovel a track from the stalls to the plowed path. No more waiting. They were going to get some horses out, even if all they did was go around in big snow plow circles.

Grace went first. Skye was surprised at her choice of mounts. Grace reminded Skye that the only thing La Barilla had ever been afraid of was ground poles. He would probably do just fine in the snow. And he did.

The big roan mare named Winchester Cathedral led the way. The sun was quite warm and soon the air temperature was 42 degrees. The snow would soon be softening.

Skye brought up the rear. It was a lovely morning. So warm was the sun that she considered taking off her poncho.  Dani Girl was playful and so happy to be out.

Making solo loops around the plow track, some stallions came next, beginning with Wanderlust.

Followed by Dreamboat.

Anamar danced his way around.

The boss said there were two more horses coming. Grace and Skye waited. 

Skye fairly squealed. "Oh can I hug her? She looks like a giant teddy bear!" The big buckskin shire mare was new. New to the ranch, new to snow. Of course this much snow was new to everyone. 

The boss's voice rang clear in the quiet mountain morning.
"The next one might be coming a little fast..." 
The girls held their breath. The mare never missed a footfall.

The boss was eager to get some pictures of the new horses. They took the big, calm shire mare out into what was usually a scrub land, transformed presently to a field of snow. There was a thick crust just beneath the freshly fallen powder, and it did not buckle under the mare's substantial weight.

"What's her name?" Skye asked the boss.
"I'm sure it's something long and complicated on her pedigree" the boss answered. We'll have to come up with a stable name for her."

It was nearly noon. The wind picked up rather suddenly. Skye was immediately grateful she had suffered with her poncho through the morning.

The appaloosa mare wasn't going to stand quietly for her portrait. La Barilla wanted to join her.

Skye was entranced. What a horse. Drinking the wind and turning it into rippling power.

She ran and ran, fenced in only by the wall of snow that the plow had left in its wake. It would be just enough.

Beautiful clouds danced across the afternoon sky. It had been a good morning, and the snow made everything magical.

Later in the afternoon, the girls headed into town, going slowly on the highway, still mostly just one emergency lane as Cal Trans worked around the clock to push back the snow. 

Grace slowed as they passed by Upper Big Tujunga Canyon.
"I bet that's where the wild horses are" she said.
"I bet you're right" Skye said. "Down Alder Canyon and out of the snow line. Or at least, out of the heavy snow." 
It felt good to think that way...that the horses were fine, and they'd had the sense and the ability to move to lower ground, and that they would be back again, when the snow thawed and the grass grew lush in Chilao.

March 12
Skye stepped outside with the camera, hoping to catch alpine glow on the mountains. Somehow that glow seemed dependent on clouds to reflect light. There were no clouds, but there was Coyote.

Coyote seemed lithe even in the soft snow, moving easily. Was this the old man, Lives Among Them? If it was, he looked as good and as youthful as ever.

Perhaps this was his pup from 2022. He had a notch in his ear. Did Lives Among Them have a notch? Skye could not recall.  There was no alpine glow yet. Skye went back inside. Grace was pulling off her coat, as the evening was pretty warm...44 degrees.

"I've been doing some research on the Raramuri Criollo cattle" Skye said. "Do you know exactly where our bull is from? Because I don't think he's an Argentine Criollo. The way he is so gentle and people-friendly, that's the way the Raramuri people raise their cattle. As companions, believe it or not!"
"Who are the Raramuri?" Grace asked.
"It's Mikki's people! It's the Tarahumara name for themselves and it means Fleet Foot."
"I have the number of the people the boss bought him from. He was raised locally, and his owners were very proud of him. They are the ones who told me not to be afraid of him. Somehow that information didn't make it along with him."
"Two cats did!"
"Yeah...I remember that well."

"We should be able to get some horses out tomorrow" Grace said. "It's going to stay warm for the next two days. The snow is melting really fast now."
"I know! Even the coyotes are sinking into it."

The last light of day flooded into their room. Maybe Skye would try the alpine glow again.

Where a week ago was solid snow, a seasonal stream now flowed.

And squirrels ate greedily from the exposed riches of the coulter pines, eating sap and cone pedals alike, well nourished again.

Skye gazed upon the tree she had painted, when there were two of them. The other now lay on the ground, slowly to feed the soil. This tree would likely be felled also. The girls showed up as the firefighters surveyed it, chain saws in hand, having just felled the other tree. On this one there was still a small twinge of green. Less than ten percent, and not lush. But the firefighters left it, at least for that day. They knew there was little hope, but they gave it a chance. Skye thought perhaps she should do another painting of this tree alone. Before it fell or was felled.

March 13
​The morning sun warmed the melting snow. It had been forty degrees overnight. Open patches of wet ground were plentiful. 


Skye was still sound asleep. Grace saddled La Barilla and rode the back side of the ranch. The day was glorious. Occasionally the melting snow disappeared into sink holes along the seasonal stream beds, so the morning would not be entirely without some risk, but Grace decided to turn out some horses anyway.

The horses seemed to enjoy all of it...a mouthful of green grass here and there, spongy soil beneath their hooves, the splash of cold water.

Warm sunlight, cool water, crisp air.  SKye had a hunch where Grace had gone.  What fun to just watch the horses.

Grace brought up the rear, letting the horses enjoy the morning at whatever pace they chose. La Barilla looked comfortable under saddle, comfortable in the water...Grace was making him into a versatile, purposeful horse.

"Sleeping Beauty! Good Morning!"

"You want to pick the next herd of horses to turn out?"
"Sure! Can we turn out some ponies?"
"We can."

But as the girls made their way back to the stables, their domestic horses started giving them clues that there was something out there. Out beyond the boundaries of the ranch, in the wild country. 

So instead of turning out ponies, Grace changed ponchos to blend in better with the landscape, and the girls made their way across the swiftly melting snow, hoping what they would encounter would indeed be wild horses.

Petrichor and his band appeared first.

Followed more closely than usual by Highlander with his two mares.

The girls stayed where they were, Skye struggling to keep her footing in the soft, saturated soil.

The bay mare turned around. The pale mare was missing. Grace and Skye watched and waited, expecting to see her at any moment.

Highlander and his mares turned back. Petrichor came slowly toward the girls.
"See if you can touch him" Skye whispered. "He already comes to you. You've so got this. He's going to be your next golden stallion."
Grace smiled. 
"We'll see" she whispered back.

Petrichor moved toward the girls ever so slowly. Like dancing in place.

"My beautiful" Grace said, "where is your pale mare? The watcher? You look well and fit. We're so glad to see you."
Petrichor stayed just tantalizingly beyond reach.

Grace thought to stretch out a hand, then decided not to. She would let Petrichor come in. She would let him make the first contact. He did come quite close.

And then he turned away, to join his herd.

They watched and waited. Perhaps the pale mare was just out of sight, beyond the snow bank. Soon the horses vanished.
"You want to get wet from liquid water, or wet from snow?" Skye asked.
"I'm already pretty wet" Grace said. "Liquid water. At least we won't have to climb it."

Skye paused to study a feather in the snow.

And then another, and another. A scrub jay had likely become someone's dinner. Somehow the feathers were less enchanting now, and Skye wondered if it was a sign. Had something bad happened to the pale mare.

When had they seen the mare last? Skye remembered where. Just not when. She hunted through images on the laptop.
"January 30 was the last time we saw her" She told Grace. "And the first time we saw Highlander's new mare, remember?" 
"Wow" Grace responded. "January 30...six weeks ago already...they could have been so many places in that six weeks. Where would we even begin to look?"

Skye closed the laptop. Where would they look? She had no idea. The forest was huge, and wild from the moment you stepped outside. 
"Hey" Grace said, "do you still want to take out the sled? I can saddle up Jesse..."
"No."
"Are you sure? Maybe while we're out sledding we can look for my hat..."

Skye didn't answer.

Skye went to the creek behind the fire station. Sometimes dry for whole years, usually no more than a pleasant gurgle after rain or snow, today it roared and resounded with deep, plunging tones.

She hoped the sound of the water would wash away her thoughts, but it did not. Where was the pale mare? And what would happen to her foal?

Evening brought more clouds. Rain was coming. It might be days before they could even attempt to go looking for the missing wild mare.

March 17
Skye surveyed the dusk landscape. The rain had finally stopped. Seven feet of snow washed away.

The lone tree stood over its fallen sibling.  Skye wanted to imagine she could see the tracks of a lone mare in the snow. But no.  It was St. Patrick's Day...but then Skye wasn't Irish. There was no sign of wild horses. Any wild horses. Just spongy ground and the song of moving water.

From the stillness a gust of wind came. That wind that reminds you how impartial nature is. A grand movement, not about the individual, but about whole epic processes and constant change. Nature wasn't like people imagined it, gentle and forever enduring. It wasn't like that at all. Well, hopefully the forever enduring part, but for sure not gentle.

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​February 1, 2023
The rules for NaMoPaiMo - National Model Painting Month's International Painting Party -  were few this year. Medallions and wall sculpture was acceptable. Grace eyed a piece the boss had offered up. She thought it was an Akhal Teke, by Rayvin Maddock. It was slightly larger than life-sized, and fabulous.

There was also a wonderful American Saddlebred by a European artist whose name the boss could not remember. Grace wasn't sure she could do these sculpts justice.  But they would temporarily transform the tack room into an art space, as they had done a couple times before, and give it a try.

Also acceptable for NaMoPaiMo this year was finishing unfinished pieces. Skye had been looking at the orange horse since last year. They had tried out a new earth pigment on him and it was very rich and saturating. 
"I bet you could do a gorgeous pinto on that Saddlebred" Skye said.
Grace shot her a look. 
"Oh yeah, no more pintos" Skye whispered. "Ha! Just kidding!"

February 5
It was an absolutely glorious day in Chilao, as beautiful as any the girls could remember.

But everywhere they turned, there were linemen, contractors for Southern California Edison; in trucks, on the ground with jackhammers, operating augers and the like. The work on the power lines was welcome, but all of it was happening in the immediate vicinity, and it was a bit much.

"What if we rode across the station and then up the hill?"
Grace considered it.

La Barilla had no issues with rough terrain.   It was tempting. And sooner or later she'd need to get her mount accustomed to things like big trucks. But her gut said don't do it. 

They went to the arena instead, without any real plan.
"You know what we should do for MIM?" Skye asked.*
"I have a feeling you're going to tell me..."
"A performance challenge. Because isn't it a halter show?"
"It is."
"How boring."
Grace laughed. "What are you envisioning?"
"I don't have a clue. But let's do something. A speed challenge or something."
"Hmmmmm."
Grace was liking the idea.
There was an empty spot on the wall. A little glue left behind from a previously attached banner. Curious. 

February 6
The art supplies arrived. Grace was eager to get started on the wall sculpture.  The conversion of the tack room would begin now. 
"Plastic tarp?"
"Yup. Hopefully enough to cover the saddles too."
"We've used mica powders before without this much precaution."
"Not on anything this big."
Skye thought Grace was being a bit overly cautious perhaps, but whatever. It was time to get busy on the NaMo projects, and if Grace wanted to cover the world in plastic first, fine.

The resin sculpt Skye was also working on was seriously heavy. She pushed it with effort close to the saddles, so it too could be underneath the tarp.

The girls surveyed their tarp work.
"Couple pieces of tape and we're good to go" Grace said.

Grace bathed the Akhal Teke bust in a swath of bronze mica powder, using a foam "brush" designed for house painting. It wasn't the perfect tool, but it was wide and carried the fine powder. It was good enough. The results were pleasing. But a problem became immediately evident. The palettes were difficult to navigate. You either had to stand on them and risk knocking over the sculpture, or lean way over to paint.

Skye made short work of the palettes.  As she did, Grace realized the ground wasn't going to be a perfect solution either. She would live with it for tonight.

And so they worked on their first wall sculptures, Skye using copper mica powder, Grace using bronze. 
"Is it just me" Skye said, "...or do they both look pink?"

Grace rocked back and forth from side to side, trying to catch the light falling on the pieces at a different angle. Finally she conceded.
"You are correct. They look pink. Let's quit for tonight. Maybe they'll look better tomorrow."


February 12
It was cold and windy outside, so the girls worked on their NaMoPaiMo InPaPa projects. But Skye wasn't pleased with the resin drafter.
"I used pan pastels for the dark color" she explained, "and I just don't feel like I can control them. They go on so dark. I think I ruined him."

"I really like your dappling" Grace said. 
"Yeah but, I mean, thank you but, he went grainy on this side...either too much pastel or too much sealer, I don't know..."
"Go another layer of the dark" Grace said. Then if you still don't like him, you can always make him a roan. I think he's going to be fine once you get a little farther. Do his gray areas and get his back darker...you'll be all right."

They turned their attention to the American Saddlebred wall sculpture. "This guy...this is just the first layer of pan pastel. Too soon to say anything about it."

And then Grace's Akhal Teke.  "I'm loving this guy" Skye said. "Do you like him Grace?"
"I do. I think the next layer I do will be a very light yellow. There's some wrinkles on his lip that aren't actually wrinkles, they are tiny little imperfections, and I'm not sure what I'm going to fill them with, but hopefully I can find a filler that will blend in and not mess up the color."

Puddle Jumper, Grace's first and last acrylic pinto, was finally done.  At least for now.  Chances are i a month she would look at it again and still not be satisfied.

"Did you see that we're hosting a performance challenge at MIM?"**
"I did" Grace said. "I guess the boss liked your idea."
"Apparently so! But I wasn't expecting that she'd make us the hosts! How cool is that? And umm, what does it mean, to be the hosts?"

"It means we'll sort of be running the performance challenge. Or at least keeping it on track. Or maybe even timing the timed events."

"And what about you riding other people's horses for a fee?"

"So, that just means that if someone shows up with a horse they want to compete with, but they don't have anyone with them to ride the horse, I can ride it for them. As long as it's western and not fancy get-up western."

"I think it's going to be a blast" Skye said.

February 13
On the south side of Chilao, the wind blew cold. Grace and Skye were worn down from it. It had been blowing for days, just hard enough to make things unpleasant. But on the north side, in the picnic area, all was calm.

So they took the big red truck that Grace liked to refer to as The Pavement Queen, and they went to the north side of Chilao where there were more trees, and sunshine, and far less wind.

"This is so luxurious" Skye said as they crossed the creek, meandering slowly through the picnic area.

"Are you looking for something Grace?"
"Sand" she answered. "Good sand."
The best sand in Chilao was presently under water, and being trampled daily by line workers in big auger trucks.

There was no shortage of sand in the forest. They came upon quite a bit of it.

But it was coarse, rocky...not at all what Grace was hoping to find. They returned to the south side, to the ranch.

When they returned, the wind had finally ceased, and the day was lovely, and beginning to warm. A variety of soil types eroded down onto the ranch property from Yucca Peak. Grace decided to investigate the red stuff. She had thought it to be some kind of clay a few weeks ago, when the ground was saturated to such degree that riding out to inspect it was impossible.

Dry now, they found a quite different scenario. The ground had frozen several times before it dried, and the going was difficult. They went slowly.
"This might not have been the greatest outing for this old girl" Skye lamented.
"Do you think she needs her blanket today, now that the wind stopped?"
"She loves her blanket" Skye said. "But no, I don't think she needs it. Especially not being black."

The line workers were operating helicopters from the fire station, but working elsewhere in the forest.

La Barilla was untroubled by the rough ground, which gave to a kind of gravelly powder under his hooves. Skye and the old black mare were a bit slower, but it looked like Skye might have been enduring more hardship than her horse.

"Do you suppose this is where red ocher comes from?" Skye asked.
"I don't know" Grace said. "It looks like it might be decomposed granite. Or decomposing granite, maybe. Or clay and granite combined."
"What makes the red color...iron?" 
"I think so. Maybe. I don't know. But this isn't going to be any good for arena sand either."

"Oh heck no" Skye responded.

Grace watched the helicopters working, skirting around them, around the buildings, making short trips to move poles, then landing again.

"You are more concerned about those helicopters than the horses are" Skye laughed.

Skye needed to keep her head down, watching her footfalls on the rough terrain.

"Why don't you ride that horse" Grace suggested. "She's not struggling near as much as you are, and we'll find an easier way back."
"Okay."
Skye used a rock outcropping to give herself some height. The old black mare was very tall. And fortunately, patient.

They went along, slow and careful. The day had gone glorious. Any day on a horse was glorious, but today was especially so.

February 18, in Skye's studio
Skye had fallen rather silent on her NaMoPaiMo projects after the boss knocked down the resin drafter while it was wet with sealer. The damage couldn't really be fixed except by going even darker on th top line. Grace seemed to think it was a happy accident.

"I think you've the color pretty much spot on. But what I'm not seeing too much on this horse is dappling."  Grace had made color prints of two pictures of a horse very much the build and color of the piece Skye was working on.  There were no dapples to speak of, just light and dark reds.

"This might be the same horse" Grace said. "I got these off the internet and there wasn't much information to go with them. This guy is in his winter coat so I wouldn't expect to see dappling here. The pangare on the eye and muzzle is really nice. I'm not sure you could get the effect around the eye at this point, but you've got room for it on the muzzle. Good thing you didn't listen to me and make it gray. All in all I think your piece is looking lovely. But let's give this a rest for a bit. The boss said we should come down to the indoor arena."

When they arrived, the arena lights were off. The girls could see there was a horse in the arena. Then something like a spotlight came on, following the dancing horse.

Anamar. In what appeared to be traditional regalia.  They stood, quietly, and watched the stallion move under saddle, riderless.  Then Grace took the reins, and a stirrup, and swung herself up.

"This is a sweet saddle" Grace said. "Generous seat, sits well down on the horse."

The boos continues to offer them the romantic spotlight, following Grace and Anamar around the arena.

There was just enough daylight left to go outside, so they did.

"Where did his regalia come from? Africa?" Skye asked. 
"No" Grace answered. "Denmark. From Shandi Gabriiella Cristel Bech." It took Skye a long time to respond. 
"Wow." 

The girls decided to come in before dark. Something had been prowling around the night before, and they had no desire to meet up with it.
"Did I tell you I talked to the boss about the performance challenge at MIM?" Grace asked.
"No you didn't."
"I asked what all we would need to do. She laughed and said 'pretty much everything.' But, the cool thing is, we will for sure be responsible for the cattle wrangling."
"Cattle?"
"Calves, to be more precise. That whole part of the operation will be up to us."
"I'm down! We'll be real cowgirls!"

February 23
The tack room was a bit crowded.

Calla lilies weren't made for sub-zero weather coupled with a blizzard warning. So the girls brought them inside.  Along with all the current NaMoPaiMo projects.  The calla lily project was a bit frustrating. Very few pairs of pots had well matched callas.

And two of the plants were clearly not going to follow the bonsai script. Their leaves were huge. Healthy, lovely...but huge, and their partner pots...nothing.

Skye's Saddlebred wall art was not too much farther along.
"This one is not going to get done any time soon" Skye said. "I'm okay with it. This one will be a slow and patient affair."

And obviously working dark to light had gotten frustrating on her drafter.
"I'm not as scared as I should be" Skye said. 
"I don't think you need to be scared" Grace said. "I was wondering if you shouldn't do another pangare coat around the eyes. Just to make sure it's smooth and consistent."

They moved on to look at Grace's Akhal Teke.  "Time for the eye" Skye said. 
"It should be blue, right?"
"Yes" Grace said. "And I should be able to get all kinds of detail in it, because it's huge."
"Are ya skeered?"
Grace thought about it for a moment.
"Little bit."

And then they looked at the pots of calla lilies - twenty of them.  This project was not going to plan.  "Are you still thinking of giving these as prizes at MIM?"
"Yes" Grace responded. "I don't know how well people are going to like us for it...they are heavy, I'm not crazy about the soil we used, and they need so much water. And sunlight but not heat. They have until the end of this month to sprout. Then I think we should replace the ones that haven't sprouted with succulents."

February 25
"You did it! Congratulations!"  
Grace had completed her Akhal Teke bust for NaMoPaiMo.
She wanted to add some shading, but she was stumped for a color choice.
Skye had, for the moment, lost interest in her NaMo projects, likely because neither one of them was near completion, and neither one of them were giving her an easy ride.

Cabin fever had definitely set in. Something like seven feet of snow had fallen. They could not get the horses out. Even if they could, there was nowhere to go with them. It might be another day...or who knows how long...before they could get from the barn to the arena. At least repotting the plants would give them something to do.  And so they did.  Seven feet of snow in Chilao...and more on the way...who ever heard of that?

*MIM - Models in the Mountains live halter show and equine enthusiast's retreat at Chilao School

**Performance Challenge at MIM - this will be a high point, NAN qualifier full class list of performance classes.  The horse accumulating the most points across performance classes will take home a large custom rosette.
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January 4, 2023
Grace found Skye in her studio. She brought Charles the beagle along, who had spent most of the last two weeks living with the boss.  Grace assumed the introduction would go well. Skye hadn't met a dog she didn't like yet. But Skye was not the problem. Charles had bonded to Grace.  Pretty much from the moment they met.  Even living in the main house, Charles was simply passing the days and moments waiting to be with Grace.

"Whatcha workin on?" Grace asked.
Skye let out a heavy sigh.
"Nothing. I'm stuck. I'm...I'm...stuck. I feel...cluttered up. I really wan the stuff I've already done to sell."
"Well, we aren't very aggressive with the marketing" Grace said. "Are you wanting to sell this piece?"
Grace looked at the smallest of Skye's paintings, done on canvas with watercolor pencils and a water wash.
"Yes. But I think I priced it too high because it's my favorite."

"Mine too" Grace said. "That's why I don't think you should sell it. This was your first ever piece, plein air no less! Carried around on horseback even. We should figure out how to hang it somewhere. So that problem is solved. Let's move on to the next piece."

They stood next before the trio of terra cotta deer that Skye had painted, symbolically,  to be a part of the landscape.

"The deer. I love them too. But for sure I want to sell them" Skye said.
"Okay. Well, maybe we just aren't marketing them right."
"Right. How to market them. Hummmm..." Skye's thoughts trailed off...

"This is another piece I love" Grace said. She stood before the rather larger forest night sky in deep blue. "Maybe we should hang this in the arena. Then it would be out of your way. If it sells, great, if not, at least it will be on display."

Then they came to the golden horse in the night sky.  "I can't stand this one" Skye said. "It just needs to go away."
"Then give it away."
"What if no one wants it? How awful would that be?" Skye wrinkled up her face.
Grace laughed.
"Somebody will take it off of your hands. Tell them the story about the bear teeth marks on the back side. And offer free shipping."

Charles meanwhile had finally wandered a few feet away from Grace.  
"Oh look" Skye said. "Charles got brave. He seems to like the deer."


January  7, evening
The light was fading quickly. The pair of grulla horses, built so much like Petrichor and similarly gentle, trotted around the arena in the sun's final glory. Grace seemed a little quiet.  
"Let's see if we can get some good pictures of them" Grace said, but her voice lacked enthusiasm.

The two horses were nearly identical.  Skye looked at Grace, seeking an answer without asking.  It was obvious Grace wasn't quite herself.  Grace pointed with her face toward the slightly lighter colored of the two horses.
"The boss is thinking of selling this one." Both Grace's tone and her expression indicated her displeasure with the idea. 
Skye didn't know what to say. She wanted to keep all the horses. Forever.

As the sun's last rays lit the landscape, the girls took the pinto sport horse out into the arena, without his paso fino sidekick. He seemed slightly unsure of himself, but he looked stunning in warm light just the same.

The air had a damp chill. Back inside, Skye donned her new favorite poncho, and showed Grace some leather samples for her saddles that the boss had given her.

There was a light golden deer hide, a white leather, Grace was unsure what its origin was, and a piece of leather that was somewhat reminiscent of suede and a reddish color. 

Charles the beagle, meanwhile, had met the rest of the pack. He remained focused on Grace, for the most part politely ignoring everyone else.

"I wish it was a lighter color" Grace said, but I'm pretty sure this is my favorite." She took the bit of deerskin and held it around various parts of the women's saddle. 

"The white would be gorgeous too, and more fitting if this is just going to be a parade saddle. Is this just going to be parade saddle?"
Skye shrugged.  "I...I don't know. I don't think so. How often are we in parades aside from dressing up the ranch horses and leading them around?"
Grace laughed. "Good point."

Grace drew her soft blanket around her shoulders. Immediately her bed began to fill with dogs. Charles was hoping to be one of them.
"I'm not sure bed sharing is going to be a hit right out of the gate" Grace mused.

Skye scooped Charles up. " He can sleep with me tonight. I know he'd rather be with you, but he'll survive."

January 9
The rain hadn't yet begun but it was cool and damp and the cloud cover was building. They would get more rain, perhaps even snow.  Wonderful, blessed, magical, life-giving water. Skye heaved the big watercolor pad up onto the table.
"I probably shouldn't have used the good paper for sketching" she said, "but I just love how it feels."
"You're forgiven" Grace said. "Use the good paper whenever you want to. Better by far than not using it. Calves?"
"Yes" Skye replied.

"They have really weird bodies" Skye lamented. "They don't really bend like a horse. And they have a strange chest shape and really bizarre hips."  Skye was right.  Cattle were weird shaped creatures.  Nothing like a horse.

Grace had an idea.

It seemed like a good idea anyway. By the time they had found Mojo and messed around with draft horse halters trying to find one to fit Toro Tor Taxi's great big head, the wind had come up, and the rain began. The gusts of wind were so strong they found themselves leaning on the bull to keep their balance. Mojo was not impressed with the plan. The bull did not seem to mind.

In the arena, the Argentine Criollo bull moved about for five or perhaps ten minutes at the most before settling down.  
"Can you get him to stay real close to the wall?" Skye asked. "I want to see if I can ride him. Just for a second."

Grace feigned a Scottish accent.
"Have ye lost yer mind woman? In case you haven't noticed, that's not a horse. It's got horns and all."
"He'd probably be fine" Skye answered. "Besides. All this rain. We could use a little excitement around here."
"You just fell off a pony not too long ago, wasn't that enough?"
"That was last year already!"

"I don't know" Grace said. "I think I'd stick to trying to draw him."

January 15
A light mist covered the forest. The ranch horses were restless, looking out into the shrouded woods, vocalizing. The girls knew it probably meant there were wild horses out there somewhere.  

​They decided to go looking, on foot, taking their cues from the ranch horses about which direction to go.  Quietly, they headed toward Mustang Rock. Every now and then they would catch a sound.  And then rather suddenly there they were.  The color guard, Skye called them.  Crazy's small but very flashy harem.

"Can they see us?" Grace whispered, not wanting to move too much.

Crazy appeared just then, on a rocky ridge, above his mares and foal.

"I would say yes, Crazy just saw us" Skye whispered.

He was the smallest of all the wild stallions, and the one Grace was a little leery of. He was all stallion and all wild.

"If he comes any too much closer, be ready to jump up and look big" Grace said softly.
"Or run away screaming..." Skye replied.

Crazy came no closer. He made it clear he didn't like company. But then he turned his back to the girls and rejoined his herd as the mist became a light rain.

It was a brief but exciting encounter and Skye was in no mood to go home.

"Let's go see the creek" she said. Grace agreed. Their path was riddled with pools of water. Some of them could be skirted. Others not. 
"Whoop!" Skye slipped into the water. It was cold. Not quite snow melt cold, but definitely not warm.

They made their way to a tributary of Chilao Creek that ran through the fire station and then down past Mustang Rock and into Coyote Canyon.  The sound of the water. Soothing and alive and mesmerizing.

Then home again. The ground was too saturated for riding and the rain and mist was cold. The girls bought horses down to the arena. They were enamored with the new Amazigh stallion.

He seemed hesitant to move around much, so Grace went about with him to help loosen him up.

"Maybe it's the blanket" Skye said. 
"Maybe" Grace answered.

The next horse Grace brought down was the pinto Morgan cross. "Moose!" Skye had a fondness for the big, flashy boy. He was kind and easy going, collected and strong.

Jesse needed no encouragement.  The little palomino mustang was high energy and the chance to stretch out in the area was welcome.

Dream Boat was next, the golden Friesian horse. Grace seemed to have a thing for the golden horses, and they for her.
  
The big bay Akhal Teke  was next.  They had not spent too much time with him since his arrival.  He was spectacular, agile, eating up the ground with his big stride.
"What's his name?" Skye asked.
"Aahhh, his name...I can't remember." 
"It should have something to do with beauty and speed" Skye said.

The final horse of the afternoon was an appaloosa.  yet another gleaming golden blaze of beauty. Most of the horses had a registered name and a stable name.  But there were getting to be a lot of horses. "Don't ask me his name." Grace offered, "No matter what it is, it wouldn't do him justice."

January 22
Grace had saddles and saddle stands filling the room.  She studied one that was very ornate and highly unusual.  And blue.  Skye had never seen anything like it.
"What is it?"
"It's either for a Peruvian Paso or a Paso Fino. I can't remember which" Grace said. "Robbie Ramirez helped me identify it. I was thinking of trying it on Anamar. He has such a high neck and a short back."

Skye rested a hand on the western saddle by Fiona Covert. Which was much too long for Anamar and slightly too wide...but Skye loved the saddle.

"It says "AMAN" Grace noted, referring to the blue saddle. "I don't know who that is. I thought the saddle was by Alice Malcolm, but then the initials don't make sense. Anyway. We'll see if it fits tomorrow."

"So" Skye said, "do you have your NaMoPaiMo International Painting Party pony picked?"
Grace sighed. "Nope. Not a clue. How about you?"
"Ummm...no."

January 23
The wind howled outside, making every rivulet and slow stream of water freeze, driving the temperature down to 20 degrees. It was definitely a good day to have an enclosed arena, but it was still chilly inside, and Grace rather wished she'd brought her coat.

Skye was running back and forth enough to build some body heat. There was no saddle pad for the blue saddle, and the english saddle pad they had was too small, so Skye grabbed a bareback pad, but the square saddle skirts reached beyond the pad.
"It's okay" Skye said. "I'll get a blanket."

Anamar followed Skye for inside the arena with interest.  Skye dashed off to get a blanket.  This was going to be another mash-up of tack that was never meant to go together.

Skye returned in short order. "Think it'll work?"

The girls tried.  The blue saddle didn't fit him. The length of it was good, but it was too wide, and it needed a custom saddle pad. No amount of tightening the cinch would get it to sit securely.
"Oh well" Grace said. "We tried. Let's take it off."

​The saddle didn't work, but the stallion was already bridled, and expecting to be ridden.

"Give me a leg up" Grace said.
"That's the spirit" Skye teased.

Grace preferred a saddle.  She could ride without one, but unlike Skye, she'd learned to ride in a saddle and it was her preference.  Beneath her, the stallion danced.

"His back is round but narrow even though his ribs are well sprung" Grace said. "Reminds me of riding Lightning for the first time. All those gaits I wasn't used to and no saddle and he was green broke..."

Her voice trailed off as they moved around the arena.  He was not gaited, but there was a swiftness to his footfalls.  He was gathered and ready to move out.  Grace was careful not to give him a reason to prove his speed or agility.

"He's a ton of horse. I feel like he could do dressage. I definitely want to put a saddle on him. I don't care what kind of saddle, just one that fits."

January 29, 4:30 PM
Grace and Baron cut through the school on their way back up the hill to the ranch. As Grace closed the door she heard a noise. Baron heard it too. At first she thought perhaps it was the door squeaking, but they heard it two more times. Baron headed toward the sound, coming from the other side of the driveway to the south, just out of sight, in or perhaps just beyond the seasonal stream that last week still gurgled with water. It sounded like a kitten. A big kitten. Or perhaps a bobcat. Then there was another noise, coming from the north. Loud, like a short blast from the whistle of a yard duty teacher, part whistle, part chirp. Baron heard it but registered no reaction. Grace knew the sound from the videos they'd watched. it was a mountain lion. And likely so was the sound Baron was keyed into. A youngster. Grace slammed the school door firmly shut, making as much noise as she could with it; called Baron out, reached for his collar, realized he was not wearing one. They made their way back to the house, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, but knowing they were not alone.

She relayed the story of the cougar sounds to Skye as her hands examined the men's saddle tree. 

"Maybe that's why there haven't been too many coyotes around" Skye mused, secretly glad that Grace's story was all about sounds and not sightings.

"I wanted to take Anamar to the indoor arena while it was still light out" Grace said, "but maybe tonight isn't a good night to do it."
"Did you find a saddle to fit him?"
"Grace smiled. "Maybe. I was thinking maybe this one."
"Oh!!! That's a great idea!"
"Well, since it's your saddle tree, I'm glad you think it's a good idea."
"Can we try it on him in the barn?"
"We could, I suppose."
"Do you think it's safe for us to walk to the barn?"
"I think so. I think we should leave the dogs behind though. If they get away from us and go after the cat, or its scent, it could be bad."
"Let me get my poncho" Skye said. "I look much bigger in my poncho."
"Good thinking."


In the barn, Anamar danced about but allowed the girls to rest the saddle tree, and another mismatched blanket, on his back.

"The length of the tree is good" Grace said, "but it's too wide."
"Can it be shaped? With heat maybe?"
"I don't know. We'll have to ask Maedb Esposito.  She made the  saddle tree.  This is her design, after studying Native American saddle trees from the plains."

January 30
it was early Monday morning. The forest was silent. The snow had come in the wee hours of morning, a fine powder, so light, so magical, and deep. The girls stood for a while in silence, until Skye spoke.
"We should go look and see if we can find any tracks. Mountain lion tracks."
"I need to get my coat if we're going to stay out much longer" Grace responded.

They found fresh tracks right away, but they were coyote tracks. The coyotes had come through probably not long before them. Two of them, working as a team, looking to scare up or scrape up breakfast.


The girls crossed over the coyote tracks and headed up the draw. They knew where they were, and they knew they would be on more or less open ground the way they were headed. But the deep snow made everything look so different. And it made the going difficult. Skye donned the grey and white poncho, hoping to harmonize with the landscape. The wind started to pick up and clouds moved swiftly across the sky.

And then, suddenly, soundlessly, Petrichor's band was in front of them, coming down the draw toward them.

They had encountered each other this way enough times now that the pale mare did not immediately flee. She moved away, picking her footing carefully.

While the mares and foals moved away, Petrichor drew closer.  A light snow began to fall and the wind blew flurries of powder about.

Petrichor took several more steps toward the girls. But the draw was not completely smooth beneath the snow, and a deep drift lay between them. He stopped before the drift, his attention torn between Grace and his herd.

"He looks really good" Skye said in a soft voice.  When the sun broke through the cloud cover for a moment, Petrichor glowed golden against the snow. 

He did not linger long, making his way back to the mares and foals who waited for him a short distance away.

Although the cloud layer was thin, waves of snow washed over the mountains.  The girls had only gone a few steps forward when three more horses came into view.  Highlander and his band.

A new mare. Highlander had a second mare now. The girls watched in silence.  She was pale in color.  Palomino?  Grey?  They couldn't tell.  She was pretty.  

The dun mare was as full of herself as ever.

"Wooop!"
Grace took a step forward to get a better look, and slipped into a hole.  Highlander and the mares turned abruptly.

"Are you all right?"
Grace laughed. "Yeah, I'm fine. So much for stealth."

The mares continued in the direction that Petrichor and his band had gone. Highlander made sure the girls did not follow.  The clouds danced across the sky, creating ever changing light.

The horses headed back into the cover of the scrub, Highlander and his mares following Petrichor's band at a respectful distance. It was safer for both small bands to be in close proximity to each other, and the stallions had obviously worked out their boundaries with regard to the mares. After they passed, Skye noticed something just beyond the horse-trampled snow. tracks that were not coyote, or human, or horse. They were made while the snow was still falling, and so they were impossible to distinguish with certainty. She could say that whatever animal it was, it was walking, slow and deliberate, and like the coyotes, searching through the brush. 

Grace and Skye studied the tracks for a good while.
"This is where the sound came from" Grace said, "the shrill, chirping whistle. Sounded for all the world like a human noise. Baron didn't recognize it at all."

Sometimes there were one set of tracks, sometimes two sets. There was too much new snow...and Skye could not blow the new accumulation off of the original print to get a better look...to say for sure what they were looking at. But its legs were long enough that it went through deep snow without leaving a drag mark. It had four legs, and it was large. That is all they could say for sure.

The wind picked up, the sky cleared, and the cold air nipped at the girls. They headed home, leaving the land and its mysteries for another day.
                                                                                                   #

December 31, 2022
A light rain began to fall.  Grace rode the golden stallion up to the horse trailer.  La Barilla was starting to get the hang of things, taking new situations in stride more and more often.

"Do you think he'll be afraid of the trailer?"
"I don't think so" Grace said. "He came here in a trailer, not too long before I came on board, and I don't remember any crazy stories about the experience."

Grace maneuvered him easily to the ramp. He started up. She halted him, and had him back for a few steps.
"I think he would have gone right in" Grace said.

In the arena, the girls set up a series of poles, and their one and only barrel at the end. La Barilla seemed comfortable and focused.  Left turns were still a bit bumpy, but not quite as bad as they were in the beginning.

Skye decided to try riding a pony.
"This is harder than it looks! She's so narrow, I feel like I could fall off at any moment! And when I squeeze with my legs to hold on, she goes faster!"

The girls took turns weaving through the poles and around the barrel.  Now on his left turns...that's where La Barilla was starting to shine.

The little pony was nimble and quick.  Skye was getting the hang of sitting on her narrower-than-a-horse back.  And then the pony did what ponies the world over occasionally do. Instead of going around the pole to the left, she changed it up, and went right. Skye tried to save herself by grabbing a hand full of mane, but it was too late. The ground was approaching.

The sand was deep, and thick, and tasted like sand. 

"Are you okay?" Grace called out. 
Skye spit out some sand.
"Yes!"

The pony...Grace tried to remember her name...Princess? Goldie Locks? appeared to be having a fine time without Skye.  She loped right up to La Barilla...and then turned abruptly. Grace lunged for her reins.  

"Good catch!" Skye trotted up to retrieve her pony.  She took the reins of her make-shift bridle...as they did not own any proper riding gear small enough to fit a pony...and ran with her pony back to the other end of the arena.

"You little rascal" she said to her feisty mount, "let's try that again!"

Grace gave La Barilla a well deserved pat on the neck.  "You'll make a ranch horse yet" Grace said to him in praise.

Skye and the princess pony took another pass at the poles, at a slow lope, and all went smoothly.

Before they were done for the evening, Skye turned out Precious and Mista Spot. 
"You know" Grace said, it's actually not that cold. This is a pretty warm storm."
"Yeah," Skye replied, "but these two...they never throw me. They deserve a little pampering."

​December 22
The mail hadn't come yet, and it was getting late. Grace had ordered Skye's Christmas gift in October, but it had been put in the wrong box at the post office. There was nothing she could do but order again, and wait. If it didn't come...well, there was this guy. Charles. An adorable beagle. This time it was the boss who brought a new dog home. He was a mature male, not very big, and Grace wasn't sure about his back legs...but Skye would love him just the same.

And then there was this package from Michelle Sepiol. Maybe she could hand it to Skye on December 25. the beagle was going to be harder to keep under wraps.

Grace sat on the edge of the pallet stack. Charles jumped up. The leap surprised her. Maybe his legs were okay. That was a pretty big jump for a pretty small...and rather clingy...beagle.

And then at last, it came. The box was light, but big and awkward.

The women's saddle tree was on top. Grace was struck by the narrow seat it afforded. Fortunately, Skye was thin. And flexible.

The men's saddle tree was next. Grace thought this would likely be the one Skye used the most.

The stirrups were way at the bottom.

There were more than two sets of stirrups. She didn't know what the larger ones were called but she knew they went with the women's saddle. At least, that's what she'd seen in pictures.

Then Grace found the stirrups she'd ordered.  Then she noticed there was still something in the box.

Another set of stirrups. Maedb Esposito had taken exceptionally good care of them with the saddle trees and stirrup molds.

All at once Charles let out a big, hound-like bark.
'Whoa there little guy. Don't worry. Skye will love you just as much no matter what else she gets for Christmas."

December 25

Skye made it down to the tack room without Grace noticing. she'd have to hurry to get Grace's gift wrapped. The dogs milled about, smelling everything. Skye wondered what it was that caught their interest.

Ribbon. She needed ribbon. There was rope on the floor. That would work.  But the shiny garland from the fence...that would be even better.

"Come on you guys, let's get out of here."

Grace made her way to the tack room without Skye noticing. She had barely finished wrapping Skye's gifts when she returned.

The red fabric caught Skye's attention immediately.
"Oh that's pretty."
Grace responded, apologetically. "That's yours, except I made a royal disaster out of it. I wanted to make you a poncho like the one you gave to Elecktra, but it's just a hot mess."

Grace went on apologizing about the bad cuts along the edges and the head hole that was big enough for a pony.
"It's so soft" Skye said in a fabric-muffled voice.

She pulled her head through.  "I love it. It's perfect."  She held out one arm.  And then the other.  And then she danced, twirling the home-made poncho like a fancy shawl.

The other cloth item was lovely too.
"This?"

"This is just a blanket."
"It's gorgeous."
"It seems to be stuck. Skye, give me a hand pulling it back."

The blanket was stuck on something with two round prominences.  At last they freed it.  Skye was, for a moment, speechless. She knew what she was looking at.  A saddle tree.  Resin, fabricated, yes.  Not the wood one she wanted to gather and shape and bind from scratch.  But a lovely women's saddle tree.

Finally she spoke.
"Wow."
"Yeah. Guess you're going to learn how to make a saddle."
So many thoughts were going through Skye's head.

"Come on" Grace said, "I made a second poncho after I butchered the one you're wearing."

Skye could see the second saddle tree beneath the poncho. It was surreal. She was excited, but also numb.

"They came with stirrups too" Grace explained. "You have a lot of stirrup options."
Skye looked at the saddle tree, then at Grace.
"Wow. Wow." 

The head hole on the second poncho was still big enough for a pony. Skye didn't care.  This one didn't have quite as much flow for dancing.  She loved it just the same.

"Let's go turn out some horses."
"But I have a present for you too!"
"We'll come back for it in a little bit."

And so they did.  Grace studied her gift. It was heavy, gorgeous, unlike any piece of art they owned. 
"The boss found it. She thought it looked like Petrichor and said you should have it."
It did look like Petrichor. Her wild stallion heart horse.  Grace studied her gift. It was heavy, beautiful, made with precise lines, very stylized. 
"The boss found it. She thought it looked like Petrichor and said you should have it."
It did look like Petrichor. Her wild stallion heart horse.

"Thank you so much Skye. it's amazing. I've never seen anything quite like it." She paused for a moment.
"You know, if the horses ever get rounded up, i'm going to say Petrichor is mine, an escapee from the ranch."
"Do you think the horses will ever get rounded up?"
"I don't know. But i'm not going to leave Petrichor in the hands of the government, or anyone else. Not if I can help it." 

December 26
The boss had also done some Christmas shopping.  Skye tried to guess his breed.
"Moroccan barb" she decided after some careful observation.  

"Excellent guess" Grace responded. "And closer to the truth than my best guess."
"What did you guess?"
"Something something Spanish. Or part Spanish."
"So...what is he?"

"An Amazigh. An African breed, ancient, fairly rare, but influential in the creation of many European horse breeds. Until recently the breed would have been referred to as a Berber. Or possibly Moroccan Barb, I'm not entirely sure. So your guess - Moroccan Barb...it would not surprise me if we found out that there's a relationship there."
Skye watched Grace interacting with the rather fabulous stallion.
​"Careful now. You'll have another favorite stallion soon..."
12.26.22

​December 7
Skye and Grace surveyed their work. Twenty pots, ten sets of two, planted with calla lily rhizomes. There were still plenty more rhizomes and plenty more pots, but the girls stopped at twenty. They already weren't sure what they were going to do with the twenty pots they had.

The red truck was big.  A very different driving experience than the little Jeep.
"Can you see over the hood?" Skye was stretching her neck as far as she could to get a good view.
"I can" Grace replied. "But I can barely reach the steering wheel. I wish it telescoped." 

The arena sand was deep and soft. Somehow it seemed like dual rear tires and good tread should have prevented the truck from sinking in.
"We better not get this one stuck" Skye said. "It will take a big horse to un-stick this one."  She spoke the truth, Grace thought.
"Are any horse people coming to the party?"
"I don't know" Grace answered, "but it's okay. We'll take out horses and have a good time no matter what. The forecast is calling for rain, so the party might be pretty small."
"Oh. Gosh. After all that work. I mean we need the rain so bad but..."
"The boss said no matter what, it's okay. She said this year has been full of highs and lows. Things that went really well and things that went terribly wrong. She said sometimes her best intentions and best thinking has backfired in ways she could not even imagine. And then other things happened that were really good and completely not expected. She said maybe that's just life. We can set our goals on a destination but the journey is the real thing. It's where the memories are made and the relationships created. in a sense the destination is the end of the journey. So maybe it's okay if it takes a while to get to where we are going. This is a good place for the table. Let's set it here."

"Are you going to ride La Barilla for the party? He's very festive."
Grace laughed. 
"So I can take a spill like I did off of Jesse?"
"Awe that didn't count. Your cinch broke and you were standing before anyone saw you."
"I'm not sure yet. A whole truckload of framed pictures came back from a 
Forest Recovery Project show yesterday. The opening of the show was the day before the Covid lockdown began. We need to hang those somewhere in the school this weekend. I'll try to think about next weekend while we hang pictures."

As the rain continued, Grace and Skye brought horses down to the indoor arena for exercise. First, a small group of geldings.

Bramble, a draft influence mustang.

A lovely but as of yet un-named bay pinto stock horse.

A knabstrupper named Wanderlust.  He had a big, bold way of going.

Captain RPG, a Hanoverian sport horse, one of the boss's favorites, now retired..

Then some mares. Always easier when all the horses go in the same direction. The Christmas tree might have given the bay mare a bit of a surprise.  Some were less afraid of the new items in the arena.

December 12

Dawn came white with what began as a light snowfall. the first thing Skye noticed were the tracks. Coyote. Apparently two coyotes.  

Grace had been waiting all year for snow. This one was supposed to be a light snowfall. But as the girls prepared a few horses for some much needed exercise, in what they liked to call "Chilao style", driving the horses across the range, the snow just kept coming.

Ladyhawk had no trouble with snow. she was, as always, high-headed and sure-footed.  And then came a horse no one expected. Gunner! They big pearl Akhal Teke. They had put a blanket on him, yes, but they hadn't turned him out with the others.

"What should we do?" Skye called out.
Skye watched the pearly stallion tear past the other horses.
Grace watched the pearly stallion tear past the other horses.
"I don't think we can do much of anything. Let's hope he chooses a good direction and doesn't fall."

The new arrivals, the bonded pinto and bay friends, bit of an odd couple though they were, stayed side by side.

Gunner was quickly in the lead and making good choices so far. He was headed toward the fire station. Hopefully he would stay in open terrain.

Grace was focused on the front of the herd. The grey mare named Angelic was giving Gunner a go for the lead. Even as she watched, for a moment she had this feeling...like seeing herself in a movie, like watching from outside her body...for a moment, she was aware of some kind of magic, like she was riding through a dream. This was it...this was the journey and the destination, the dream and the now. Gunner veered left, and the other horses followed, and they started on a course that would take them around the Redbird Ranch property.  And the snow kept falling.

The snow, deep in places, shallow in others, made for a good workout. It was fresh, and not yet icy or slippery.

The snowflakes were unusual. Skye had been told the Lakota had something like twenty six words for snow. She wondered what the word was for this kind.

They turned for home after an hour in the snow. Skye caught sight of a coyote as she brought up the rear of the herd. And then another, and another. Three. Probably Lives Among Them on lookout, Whiskey, the raspy throated mother, and The Singer, the pup with his own unique voice. Except Singer was big. If that was him, he did not look like a pup of eight months. He looked to be the same size as his parents.

December 18

The girls had the arena to themselves for the Merry Little Mountain Christmas Party. They did have some horse loving spectators though.  Grace went ahead and rode La Barilla. He did not seem put off by her furry coat. He did not seem to mind the giant pink Santa's hat that one of the visitors to the arena wore.

The boss had made more brownies and peanut butter cups.  And it wasn't just the dogs who noticed.  Since La Barilla was doing so well, Grace and Skye did some passes. There was no agenda...they had all day to ride, or eat peanut butter cups...or both...

​December 4, 2022
Skye saw him standing alongside the road. At first he looked like an abandoned or lost dog, standing there, wondering where he was and what to do next. Then for a moment he looked wolf-like. Then he moved, and Skye wondered if it wasn't Lives Among Them, the male coyote that had likely gotten in a scrap with a bear. If it was, he had made an impressive recovery. She went back inside, got the camera, decided to see if she could sneak a little bit closer. When the coyote noticed how close she'd gotten, he moved away...not that the presence of people bothered him, he was perusing the fire station...but people focused on him and getting that close seemed to put him off a little.

Skye was thrilled. She would have to crop the daylights out of her photos but if even a few came out in focus, she would be pleased. The sound of a truck coming up the road snapped her back into the cold, damp present. A light mist began to fall. There were horses coming.
 
Skye recognized the shipping blanket right away, even before the horse came out of the trailer. She knew the horse inside of it had to be big, and from what she could tell, very pretty.

There were two horses. The second one was diminutive by comparison, prancing in place with lightning fast footwork as Grace backed the big pinto in the shipping blanket out.  The second horse unloaded quietly.

"He's big!"
"He is" Grace responded.  

The mist became a light rain. By the time they reached the indoor arena, they had all taken on some water. 

'What's their story?" Skye asked as Grace made short work of removing the shipping blanket.

"They came together" Grace answered, "I mean, not just in the same trailer, but like a buy one, get one half size...apparently they have been stable mates forever and they are sort of inseparable." 

It didn't take long to become fond of them. They moved with very different steps, but somehow, with one motion.

They were beautiful to watch. Then the cold began to set in. The big pinto was mostly dry and the little bay seemed to have shaken off much of the rain. Grace's coat was drenched.

Light rain and cloud cover continued throughout the afternoon.  Skye had forgotten about the coyote until they were back inside, peeling off their wet coats, feeling the icy tingle of rain soaked hair.

Grace drew her soft blanket tight around herself, listening to Skye describe the coyote's shape-shifting, and then his body language, and how he stopped and watched several times, silently, the way Lives Among Them used to do.  How in a few minutes, when she was warmer, she'd go through the pictures and see if maybe that was him.

It took a bit of editorial detective work, but in Skye's second to the last image, magnified 844 times in Lightroom, to the point of pixelation nearly beyond recognition, you could see the telltale scar. It was Lives Among Them. He had survived whatever encounter - Grace and Skye had heard the all-night commotion in the campgrounds and they were pretty sure the coyotes had taken on a bear - that had left him with a gaping wound on the side of his neck and a swollen head.

It was just barely December, and he was back, back to the place where they had denned and raised a pup the previous spring, behind the fire station. His loud, piercing reply to the sirens made his presence clear. He was an old man for a wild coyote...probably approaching five. And tough. And distinctly wild.

​The girls were thrilled to know that he had survived, and in the same breath, disappointed to know he had chosen to return to the edge of the ranch property. Mountain lions weren't the only animals making the news lately...there had been an increasing number of coyote incidences, from the arroyo in Pasadena where several dogs had lost their lives to a coyote in Woodland Hills trying to make off with a small child in broad daylight. Lives Among Them had been named for his ability to coexist, and for his omnipresence...but somehow that habituation seemed less comforting today as the girls recalled the many encounters of last spring. Perhaps they could continue to coexist.

Mountain lions.  Our relationship with them in the human-saturated habitat of southern California has many facets.  There's so much I want to say, it's hard to know where to begin.  Which audience to address.  What belief systems to tackle.  Yes, belief systems.  Because much of what we know about these big cats, and nature in general, has been taught to us by people and groups whose real knowledge of biology is not experience based, nor grounded in sound, whole-ecosystem principles...or worse, comes from a place of bias that exceeds an understanding of balance.

So I'll get right to the heart of it.  Maintaining viable apex predator populations cannot be achieved with land bridges alone.  The habitats themselves need to be viable.  They need to contain water.  And they need to contain prey.

Big cats the world over have a favorite food source.  Ungulates.  Deer and antelope species.  As long as their prey of choice is plentiful, conflicts between humans and cats remain minimal.  Predation on livestock will still occur because an easy meal is an easy meal...but in an ecosystem that is rich with both prey and fresh water, big cats tend to stay wild.

So as we struggle with the dual realities of wanting to preserve our native wildlife and coexist, and also wanting to own domestic animals and go for walks and enjoy the outdoors ourselves, we need to look at the bigger picture.  There are two key species in this equation of balance.  The mountain lion is one of them.  The other is deer.  

Let's assume that a mountain lion is still able to locate and hunt deer in its habitat.  If a mountain lion makes a kill once every ten days, it will be well fed.  And so will the other species in the ecosystem.  Bear, coyote, vulture, condor, fox, raven, bobcat, even rodents will also feast on the mountain lion kill.  They will directly benefit from the mountain lion's hunting prowess.

A mountain lion, hunting deer, would take roughly 36 deer a year.  So to maintain a healthy population of deer that is able to sustain a mountain lion, the deer population would need to be somewhere between 70 and 100 animals within that mountain lion's hunting territory.

Deer, which are browsers, would in turn help control the growth of foliage, maintaining the plant communities in the ecosystem.  They, like all living things, would also need a clean, reliable source of water.

Deer are really a keystone species in our local open spaces and wilderness areas.  And from personal observation, their numbers have declined dramatically in recent years in such places as the Angeles National Forest.  

If deer are moving to the suburbs...to golf courses, for instance, where there is generally both grass and water, so too will all the other animals who are feeling the effects of drought, habitat loss, human encroachment and intense recreation activity.

We can make bridges and promote tolerance and educate Angelinos about mountain lions...but if their natural habitat can't sustain them, they will be moving into our human habitats and seeking sustenance where they find it.  

Back in the 1980s (you can tell by the big hair!) our boss lobbied for the Mountain Lion Protection Act, Proposition 117.  The Act was passed in 1990 and prohibited the sport hunting of mountain lions.  She was also active in studies to determine the viability of building a wildlife corridor or corridors to link the open space regions than span Los Angeles and Ventura Counties.  At the time it was believed that large predators had already declined beyond a salvageable population, and in thirty years would no longer exist.

No one considered the adaptability factor...that bears would move to the human side of the urban interface and stroll through grocery stores; that mountain lions would become as adept as coyotes at back yard predation.  No one saw that coming.

One thing our boss did make sure of was that Proposition 117 addressed the issue of nuisance animals...cougars that, through habituation, become a threat, to domestic animals or humans.  She knew that a mountain lion in Moorpark had attacked horses.   And she knew that over time, mountain lions would lose their fear of dogs and humans...a fear that being hunted had instilled in them.

Animal populations respond to human behavior.  Whales are perhaps the best example of this.  After many species were hunted to near-extinction, when humans mostly stopped hunting whales and became interested in them for recreational experience instead, whales began tolerating human presence...even bringing their newborn calves close to whale watching boats.  Animals adapt to our behaviors.  They must in order to survive.

About 100 nuisance mountain lions a year are dispatched in California.  These are animals that habitually prey on domestic animals or attack humans without provocation.  Trying to tease the facts out of all the biased information available is difficult.  It has been suggested that sport hunters took less than 100 mountain lions annually.  The number of permits to take mountain lions that were killing livestock reached an all-time high in 1988, with 145 issued and 62 lions taken.

Mountain lions themselves were never endangered.  But the quality of their habitat is.  Vast tracts of land and bridges alone cannot support mountain lion populations.  

Mountain lions need water.  Mountain lions need deer.  The rest of the inhabitants of these ecosystems need the predator-prey relationship of mountain lion and deer to fuel their own life cycles.

We can save all the open space and build all the bridges we like, but unless we are connecting thriving, viable natural ecosystems...unless there is water, unless there are deer...we are doing no great service to the mountain lion, or to ourselves.

November 21, 2022

Skye stared at the glossy new Breyer with his incredible detail and lovely dappling. A very nice little horse.
"He's tippy" Grace said. "I'll bring him back up to the main house soon, before the cat knocks him down."

Grace's face twisted a bit as she read through her emails before walking out the door.
"The boss sent us a link. A mountain lion killed a dog on a leash in the Hollywood Hills. They think it's the Griffith Park cat, P-22."

"Poor dog! But weren't we just talking about that? Couple weeks ago when it was walking through neighborhoods? Matter of time before something happened?"
"Yeah we were" Grace replied. 
"In other news" Grace continued, "it looks like the boss found a home for the bullies."

"But they're good dogs..."
Skye was a bit conflicted about them leaving.  she wasn't sure how they came about...where they came from or who owned them first, but for as love as Skye could remember, the were part of the family.
"Well, we do have ten dogs" Grace responded. 
Skye fell silent for a few moments.

When she spoke again it was about the mountain lion.
"I want to talk about this mountain lion thing."
"Talk or write?" Grace asked.
"Write" Skye said. "I want to write an article or story about what's going on, about how habituation and the lack of deer cause these behaviors."
"What about doing a blog post on the Redbird website? I bet the boss would let you."

Grace reached for her hat, then decided to leave it behind. It was early, they were only turning out a few horses, and she'd likely be fine without it.

Grace ws wrong about the hat. It was nearly two hours later before they were able to turn out horses. With the recent rains had come fierce winds, throwing down the fence, blowing away the fine, soft sand that made up the arena footing. The girls picked up fencing and kicked rocks all morning in an effort to get the arena useable again. Grace still didn't like it. She could hear the horses' hooves striking rocks every now and then.

There were some surprises in the arena for Skye to feast her eyes upon. A pair of mares the boss had been hoping to get for a very long time. And a mule - a jack Grace thought it was, that she ws pretty sure Skye hadn't seen before.

Cassie Cotto-Thorner Black was his breeder, so the boss had named him Black Jack. Grace had never ridden a mule. She was intrigued with this one.

Then there was the shagya arab mare. She was big, and lovely.  Skye was more or less immediately in love with the older pinto mares. They were nearly identical. 

The sound of rocks against the horses' hooves was uncomfortable for Grace. There was nothing she could do to fix it. They were out of sand, and even if they had more sand, it would have to be spread, and thick...there was nothing but hard dirt and rocks left after this last wind. They would take the rest of the horses to the indoor arena.

In the thick, fine golden sand of the arena, Grace turned out Scottish Magpie, her mane done up in ribbons. She was a mover and a looker.

And then Cloud Nine. probably one of the rarest bloodlines in the boss's  herd, a Thoroughbred and Spanish Barb cross.  Although looking at him, you couldn't see much but Thoroughbred.
"He's so tall I get a neck ache trying to look at him" Grace said.

And finally, Windy Boy. Grace had spent a lot of time with him when she first came on board. Watching him, she promised herself she'd be on him again soon. 

November 14, 2022 Chilao
The domestic horses had tipped Grace and Skye off to the presence of the wild equines. The girls could tell that something was out there, and it wasn't something to be afraid of. They went as fast as their legs would carry them in the direction that the stabled horses were gazing and whinnying toward. Skye had never seen Grace move so quick or nimble over the rocks.

"That hat must give you super powers" Skye whispered. "I can barely keep up with you!"

"I'm going to spend the next week picking coat fuzz off of it" Grace whispered back. "But I have to stay in front of you this time."
"Why?"
"Just in case horses aren't color-blind. That's the reddest red sweater I've ever seen in my life."
Skye tried to giggle quietly.

The sun's light rolled out across the landscape.  Grace and Skye moved in and out of morning shadows, clamoring over boulders and scrambling up rock outcroppings.

When they paused for a moment, they could hear the muffled sound of hooves on rock.

Petrichor caught their scent.  The mares paused. They could also smell a human presence in the cool morning air.

Petrichor doubled back, leaving his herd on the other side of an escarpment, making his way down a short and narrow draw.

Grace was thrilled. And nervous. They would emerge at the bottom of that draw. And Petrichor would hold the higher ground.

And then there was another sound. One Grace never liked to hear around the wild horses. A helicopter. Flying directly toward them and then, directly overhead.
"It's okay" Skye whispered. "They aren't coming for the horses. It's not that kind of helicopter."
The helicopters made Skye uneasy too. Too many people talking about the horses...it could be bad. But Grace needed to stay focused on the stallion right now.

Grace took a deep breath, centered herself, and stepped forward, out from behind the shelter of the rock outcropping, into view.

The mares and their foals waited, restless but not afraid.

Petrichor paused. A second helicopter flew almost directly over them. Skye glanced up. "It's going to the fire station" she whispered. "I think it's a sky crane. Probably contractors for Edison."

The helicopter circled, then landed at the fire station.

Skye paused. Just in case the red sweater wasn't to Petrichor's liking.  And then, in a few bold strides, Petrichor was upon them.

Grace couldn't think of any words to say to the big feral stallion.

There was still a wall of stone separating them, but Grace was in a vulnerable position. Petrichor's  body language lacked aggression. He danced, but he did not strike. His ears moved in every direction. His breathing was deep but not loud; Grace took a deep breath and then exhaled, and he did the same to her, and they repeated this ritual several times, Petrichor knowing whatever a horse knows from the scent of another being, and Grace knowing the warm delight of his breath. She could feel its warm moisture as he reached his muzzle toward her hand.

And then he took a few steps back, and spun around, returning to his herd.

Petrichor and his band moved off, the bay mare in the lead.

Grace and Skye walked back to the ranch. Keeping up with Grace was easy now. The soil, having received both rain and snow, and freezing overnight where the surface still held moisture, read like a book. 
"Come to the indoor arena with me" Grace said after a long spell of blissful silence. 
"Okay" Skye replied, wondering what, if anything, could top the adventure they just had.

Inside the arena, Skye stood, speechless, in front of what might have been the most amazing equine art she had ever seen.

They were limited edition prints by the equine artist Sacha Phariss. Grace was saying something. Skye was having a hard time listening.

"I think this one might be my favorite" Grace said. "One of my favorites, anyway."

Grace kept talking. Skye did her best to listen. Something about twelve or fourteen prints, and having them on display for Models in the Mountains 2023, at the end of April, and hanging them being a challenge because linseed oil on wood paneling. 

Skye could not speak. 

And then she saw Little Spot. He was staring at a beautiful spotted horse as if seeing his own reflection for the first time. 
Skye giggled. "I know how you feel!"

We take a moment in the final two images to congratulate Skye on her first sale, the arabian mare Padronis, her 2022 NaMoPaiMo horse.  To find the amazing art of Sacha Phariss, visit https://www.pharisshorses.com

November 6, 2022

Grace worked on her resin mustang stallion in the tack room, where there was plenty of room and good light.  Puddle Jumper had turned a corner.
"I've got to fix two spots on his hooves" she said as Skye examined her work.  Finally, she was starting to like him.

Across the room, a big, bright box lay waiting.  It had Christmas design on the lid, but no tags, no ribbons...just the box.

"What's this?" Skye couldn't wait for an answer.
"Can I open it?"
            
"Sure, go ahead. It's from the boss."

Thank goodness they didn't have to wait until Christmas, Skye thought. The box opened easily, to an overwhelming mass of pink.

"Oooooooohhh...somebody got a blanket set with leg wraps!"
Grace moved in for a closer look.

"Who are they for?"
"La Barilla" Grace replied. "Why hot pink, I'm not really sure, but the color combination is gorgeous."

"Wow that's pretty."

Grace pulled the blanket from the box.  It kept coming and coming out of the box, one fold of fabric after another.
"It's huge" Grace said. "It's way too big for La Barilla. But it's awful nice."

"The boss is awful good to us" Skye mused. Do you think she sort of feels like we're family? She doesn't have any kids, does she?"

Grace started to say no. She thought the boss was just...well, generously eccentric. After all, the boss owned the horses...the ranch...so the blanket was a "gift" of sorts, yes, but...that wasn't the answer Skye was looking for. Skye was always trying to pull together a sense of family. Grace thought for a moment.

"I don't know" Grace answered.
"I mean, maybe. She is pretty good to us."

November 7
Monday morning dawned gloomy and damp. A light mist found its way to the ground and the morning came slow. 
"Remember when Elecktra came to visit?" Skye said. "That was fun. You think she could come out again some time?"

Grace remembered. It was a lot of fun having Elecktra stay with them. 
"I'll see if Anne will let her come out and visit for a while."

The girls opted to use the indoor arena to see how La Barilla liked his new digs. La Barilla stood still while Grace wrapped the shipping boots on his front legs. 

"I think I should have gone the other way" Grace said, "attaching them on the outside. But I don't want to take them off and start over."  

Walking with shipping boots on was another matter. His already highly animated movements because even moreso with these foreign objects wrapped about his legs.

After a few minutes he settled down a little bit, but Grace decided two boots were enough for one morning. As for the blanket, it was, predictably, much too big for him.

Grace and Skye were so focused on La Barilla that they didn't see the boss.

"He does look sharp in those colors" she said. "Too bad the blanket doesn't fit him. He's really not very big, is he?"
"Not really" Grace said. "He's got huge presence though."

"I know who that blanket would fit" Skye said innocently.
Grace thought about it for a moment.
"The black mare?" 
"Yup!"
"Go ahead and try it on her" the boss said. 

The girls walked La Barilla back to his stall, light mist swirling on a gentle, not-too-cold breeze.

The black mare looked pretty in pink. And the blanket fit her giant frame perfectly. She followed Skye, no lead line needed.
​
"Well," said the boss, "looks like that blanket found a home."

And Skye gathered, though she didn't have the nerve to ask, that if the pretty pink blanket found a home on the black mare, that old black mare had probably found a home here.

And finally, in the afternoon, the tail end of the storm made its way up the mountain, and the gentle mist turned into a gentle rain.

October 10, 2022
Grace stared long and hard at the horse she called Puddle Jumper. It was her first attempt at a pinto in acrylic paint, and she wasn't satisfied with him.  She was not convinced she could fix him, but she had made up her mind.  She was going to try.
"I'm going to re-do him. In colored pencil."

Skye was having a hard time listening. She was mesmerized by the rainbows. They came from the window decals that were supposed to deter birds from hitting the window. They filled the room with rainbows in the late afternoon. It made an already magical space even more enchanted.

October 16
Grace had been wanting to hike down to a portion of Chilao Creek that usually had water when the rest of the creek was dry. The weather was lovely and the autumn light equally beautiful. The girls took a different route than they would have on horseback, and it proved to be slow going, but it was nice to see bits of the forest they had never seen before.  Rock formations that looked like easy chairs and a glow to the light that brought everything to life.

Skye was fascinated with the tree rings. 
"This was not a very big tree for all of those rings" she remarked. "Somehow I thought a tree with this many rings would have been much bigger."
"Good point." Grace had more questions than answers as she looked at the stump.  She started counting the rings.  There were many.  And they would never get to where she was trying to go if she started counting tree rings.

After climbing over half a dozen tree trunks and navigating the dry creek bed for about a hundred yards, the girls emerged in familiar territory...except it looked so different. It was covered in plants, not water.

Frequent thunder showers had moistened the soil. Theirs were the first tracks on the wide sand bank.  Grace could see no sign of water.
"Let's go a little farther."

They did in fact find water. And there were birds flying about. But there were no tracks of any kind leading to the water. Perhaps because there had been a light rain last night. Or perhaps because these tiny pools were no longer viable water sources.

On the return trip, they took a familiar path, past the giant oak and up a steep incline. 
"I bet we have a nice sunset tonight" Skye said.
"I think you might be right."

October 17
"Do you like him better?" Skye asked.  Grace was staring at Puddle Jumper again.  She had begun the colored pencil re-creation.  
"I think so. I've just done part of his side so far. I mean, no doubt, this is better. Now I've got all these white pencil flakes in the brown areas. And then I slip with the pencils sometimes. It's kind of hard. But I don't want to wrap him up and abandon him at the Goodwill store any more."

Skye was shocked to hear her talk about the piece that way.  There were more things right about it than Grace was giving herself credit for.
"No! Just keep swimming. You'll save him. I know you will."

Skye shifted the conversation to another piece of artwork.  "I wish I could paint like this" Skye said, admiring the Little Bucker sculpture by Rayvin Maddock, painted by Meredith Warren. 

"You can" Grace said. "You paint a couple hundred horses and stay focused and keep learning new techniques, and you'll get real good. You'll be unique; your work won't look just exactly the same as anyone else's, but you'll get good to where you'll look at your own art and have a sense of satisfaction and pride."  

As the words rolled so easily off her tongue towards Skye, Grace realized the same advice applied for her own work.  Puddle Jumper was only her fourth piece, and the first one to give her real problems.  She needed to embrace her own advice, and be gentle and courageous in her work.

October 22
A cloud layer cam in the afternoon, on the heels of a brief wind.

Predictably, the boss had asked the girls, when they had a chance, if they could track down some of their beloved wild horses and get good pictures of them. She even had a list. It was mostly mares and foals. But whether it was hunting season, or lack of water, noisy campers, predators or something else, the wild horses had been scarce for weeks now.

Skye watched a pair of ravens, flying about excitedly. But not because of her. They were preoccupied with something else. She just couldn't tell what.

Even if by some miracle they found horses, this was not great weather for anything but artistic photos.

The wind picked up again, ushering in the cool, damp air. Just cool enough to make Grace wish she owned a sweatshirt.

Skye welcomed the change of seasons. Autumn felt very alive to her.

October 29
Skye pretended she was still sound asleep as Grace prepared to go down to the indoor arena. Once Grace was well on her way, Skye struggled with the chunk of stone and other nicnacs, setting them aside so she could open her pine chest.

The thing was almost as heavy as that chunk of stone. The boss had shown it to her. It was a horse head, painted on metal with enamel, and it looked an awful lot like Petrichor. The boss suggested that she buy it for Skye to give to Grace, perhaps for Christmas. Skye really couldn't refuse. And she loved the piece.

It was very different from everything else they had, but Skye was pretty sure Grace would love it.

Skye put everything back, and headed to the arena. There were new horses to behold.

The boss was there taking pictures and Grace was handling. As best as Skye could figure, they'd acquired a real circus horse.
"He's not quite a circus horse" the boss said. "He performed for a number of years at a dinner theatre. Something like Medieval Times. He came with all of his finery."

Grace and Skye removed his finery. Skye couldn't resist but to try on the head dress.
"This is so heavy! Why is it so heavy if it's made out of feathers?"
"Now there's a costume" Grace said, laughing. 

Underneath all the trappings was a lovely horse, with a smooth way of going and a kind eye.

The next horse was a show stopper. A gloriously colored standardbred trotter.  The arena was barely big enough for the kind of speed this horse delivered.

The third pair of new horses were as different as different could be from the previous two. A substantial pony mare. And her incredibly cute foal.

Skye swung herself up onto the mare's back.
"She has high withers and a very short back, but she's not little" Skye noted. "She really feels like a...like a short horse. I can't get over how cute this baby is!  I just want to squeeze her!"

Grace brought La Barilla down, but just to turn him loose. She hadn't ridden him in over a week. 

And then, two by two, Grace and Skye brought some mares and geldings down to the arena to let them stretch their legs. It was gorgeous outside, but every time Grace thought the wind was over, it came back again. The wind could be so unsettling. For today, the arena would do.

October 31
The girls had meant to get out before daybreak.  The sun was up, but there will still long, cool shadows to ride through.

Birds were making a tremendous racket. A pair of spotted towhees made their presence known.  Quail darted about beneath the chaparral.

They searched for signs of the wild horses...any wild horses...but found none.   The thunderstorms of summer and early autumn were not enough to fill the seasonal streams, but they were enough to keep wildflowers blooming.

And heading south across Meadow Campground, they discovered a water source...a broken pipe spilling a small but viable amount of fresh groundwater into a shallow depression. Plenty enough water for bears and coyotes, and probably enough for horses, two or three at a time.

The thunderstorms had caused a sort of "false spring" in the seasonal stream beds. There was, at the moment, plenty of fresh, tender grass.  Still, no sign of wild horses.  They headed home as the sun warmed the cool morning air.

It was a good day. Wild horses, no wild horses...a day in the saddle was a good day.

Back home, the girls found a surprise laid out o the table.
"What's this?" Grace said.  "Looks like the boss was here."

Skye read the note out loud.
"The pumpkin is ceramic but the fudge and peanut butter cups are edible. Happy Halloween!"

"Sounds like a perfect breakfast" Grace said.
"Oh yes, I agree."
​                                                                                             #

October 2, 2022
Grace and Skye took a pre-dawn drive while the horses ate their breakfast.  They went through some of the hotter parts of the controlled burn.

The now-dry washouts were easiest to navigate.  They approached a gully that didn't look terribly treacherous.  But as Grace maneuvered the Jeep down into it, things rather quickly did not go to plan.  And the modifications that had been done to the floorboard caused them to high side just as the rear wheels were not getting good traction already.

They came to rest in the gulley gently enough, but not where Grace had intended. They needed to be on the left side of the boulder they were currently lodged against.  They were stuck.

Cool morning air and silence.  The occasional sounds of birds.  The girls circled the Jeep, looked at it from every angle, circled it again.  Yup.  They were stuck.

Dozens of band-tailed pigeons watched Skye's every move from the power lines as the sun crested Yucca Peak.

The girls began their walk home. The rocky parts were slippery in boots, with loose ravel appearing stable and then giving suddenly.
Skye was having a lovely Sunday morning walk, exploring everything.
Grace had this strange sensation. Like this was an epic journey of some sort. It was going to be if she couldn't figure out how to un-stick the Jeep.

Something blue caught Grace's eye in the shadows. Half-buried in the sand, a blue hat, black ears, and big eyes.

Skye looked up to see Grace examining something on the ground. That got her moving.

"It's Mickey Mouse all right!"
Skye made short work of digging the hard plastic mouse - and his sedan - out of the sand wash.

"He crashed a little worse than we did" Skye laughed. "There's not much left of this car."

"Go ahead and leave it there" Grace said. "We'll get it on our way back."

It took an hour to get the horses saddled up. At first Grace thought to take two heavy horses, but the only other saddle that would fit them was all taken apart. It had no cinches and no breastcollar. As it was, Ananda was so big that Grace could not attach the breast collar to the cinch.

As their earlier analysis suggested, there was no way to go forward. They would have to pull the Jeep from the rear and hope it came out of the little gulley as easily as it went in.

Grace put the Jeep in neutral, key in the on position. As she attached a rope to the hitch receiver, she slipped repeatedly in the loose soil. In that area of more intense burn, the fire had gotten into the organic matter in the soil, changing its composition, removing what plant material might have held it firm before. No wonder they lost traction. The soil was like powder.

There was room for error here. This could possibly be more problem than she had horsepower for.  Or if Skye put the Jeep in drive instead of reverse, or the soil caved in more...

The moment of truth came.  Grace nudged Ananda forward.  The rope tightened on the saddle horn, the saddle snugged against Ananda's body, the big horse took one step forward, felt the weight, took another step, and then leaned into the work on the third step. The Jeep tipped back down onto the rear wheels and started to roll out of the gulley.  

"Good! Good! Keep going!"  There was nothing for Skye to do at this point but observe.  Watch the rope, the wheels, the soil.  So far so good.

The Jeep was on all fours, and the steepest part of the pull was coming.
"Are you ready Skye?"
"I'm ready! A little farther!"

Ananda was powerful and steady. The Jeep was coming up. 

"Almost there!" Skye called.
"A little farther..."

Skye bailed out of the saddle and into the Jeep.
"Put your foot on the brake with gentle pressure and start it" Grace called to her.
The Jeep started. Skye pulled herself fully into the driver's seat.

"Put it in reverse, ease off the brake and give it a little gas."

Skye was nervous.  She had to get this right.  A little gas.  She didn't feel anything happening.  She gave it just a little more gas.

"Keep going, keep going, little more gas, good, good, turn the wheel...no the other way...perfect...keep going, keep going..."

It was a little exciting, and bumpy, but the Jeep kept backing up while Grace kept some tension on the tow rope. And then it was over. 
"Put your foot on the brake firmly and put it in park. The top gear."

"How'd I do?" Skye said, smiling confidently. And just then there was a terrible cracking sound. The windshield fell forward, onto the hood.
"You did fantastic" Grace said.
"Do you want to drive it home?"
Skye thought about it for a moment.
"No. That was enough really. My heart is kind of pounding still."

The girls had forgotten all about their earlier discovery, but his blue beret caught their attention once again on the way home.  Grace stopped and picked up the tattered remains of the long-forgotten Mickey Mouse toy.  He was a fitting find for the morning.
"We don't need no stinking windshield, right Mickey?"
​                                                                                                      #

​September 2, 2022
The light was beginning to change, from the harsh, flat dryness of summer to the magical gold of autumn. The heat had been intense, and tomorrow was supposed to be hotter.  Occasional thunder could be heard in the distance. Somewhere it could be raining...but not here in Chilao.

September 3
The prospect of rain looked more promising on Saturday. The heat took your breath away. And then the wind would come. That wind that tells you a change is coming.

"Today could be the day" Grace said.  A restlessness possessed the girls. The air was charged with positive ions, and they were charged too, charged with anticipation and chaotic energy.

There would be a little time before it was likely that anything would happen with the weather. There was still a lot of blue sky. And the day was still young.  The girls decided to use the indoor arena, just in case. And they decided to use a walkover pole with La Barilla.  Skye maneuvered the pole through the deep, soft arena sand. It was heavy!

La Barilla took none too kindly to the pole.  Considering his level headed demeanor thus far, it was a bit of a surprise.  One thing was clear.  He had no intention of engaging it, walking over it, or even going around it.

"Apparently giant blue and white serpents are a thing" Grace said as La Barilla protested approaching the pole.

"Apparently."
Skye started giggling.
"What's so funny?"
"I thought of a new name for him. Spaghetti Western."

"Please tell me you're kidding."

Patiently, reminding herself to stay loose, Grace urged La Barilla toward the pole again and again.  Not fighting him.  Not struggling with him.  Re-centering herself, mentally and in the saddle, after each refusal.  Eventually she could feel him give in.  A step at a time.  Slowly.

"I think we've got it now" Grace commented as La Barilla gathered himself together.  It was a bit dramatic, but indeed, over the pole they went.

Not so bad really. Maybe he could do it twice.

"He looks a bit as if he's going to stomp it to death" Skye noted.

This pole thing took some getting used to.  He did indeed go over it a second time.  He more or less side-passed over it. But all in all, much less drama on the second try.

"What a fine, brave stallion you are" Skye praised.
"Yes you are" Grace affirmed.

After a bit more riding, they took La Barilla back to his stall. Grace paused to take in her favorite smell...petrichor. For a few delicious moments, it rained.

A strike team had assembled at the fire station, with trucks and crews from all over the southwestern region. There were so many crews that trucks were parked along the road. They did not all fit at the fire station.

Higher up the mountain, there was action, and the teams left in groups of four and five vehicles. But in Chilao, the sprinkling of rain and some cloud to cloud lightning was all the storm cell offered. The girls waited, hoped, and decided to bring out some more horses.

Just in case there was thunder and lightning, they decided against very excitable horses. Instead they brought down a few of the new arrivals, and Skye's rather wildly mismatched herd, minus Ladyhawk, who seemed particularly restless and agitated today.

Donkey seemed to be holding up well.  Dinky with his escort, Baron. The new golden mare from Denmark had an easy-going temperament with the other horses.

A sunshine bubble pervaded Chilao. The storm threat was over.  At least here, for now, there would be no real rain.  Another lovely sunset unfolded, the heat diffused, the air was bearable again.

And a half moon, cloudless and bright, illuminated the mountain.

September 11
The girls had been up since a little after 5 AM, when coyotes heckled something from north of the fire station all the way down to the creek crossing. The barking of the dogs alerted them, but they decided not to go out and see what it was the coyotes were tangling with. And they could only hear two coyote voices clearly. Grace wondered silently if the patriarch coyote had succumbed to his wounds.

But when they did go out, before sunrise, they were not disappointed. Storm and Rain Man were sparring over water rights.

Storm, a big bay stallion going grey, was the more aggressive. Although there was enough water, they fought over it...like they often did.

"Let's get closer" Skye whispered.

Storm lunged at Rain Man. As he did, he lost his footing, scrambling awkwardly. He slipped, falling into the water flat on his side with a terrible sound.  Here was Rain Man's chance to trample his opponent. But he seemed startled by Storm's fall, and did not press on with an attack.

The sun crested the mountain.  And then, just as quickly as they came into view, the horses caught wind of Grace and Skye...and they were off.

Dawn's light came and went in between the clouds.
"I hope Storm is okay. That was quite a fall."  Skye looked and looked for the stallions, but she couldn't see them. They vanished into the thickness of the landscape.

Grace edged her way carefully up to the pool that Storm had fallen in.

She wasn't sure if they were lichens or moss. She marveled at how one bit of rain cues the plant nations.  As soon as the clouds departed, it was warm. Fortunately, the sky was full of big, beautiful clouds, so the morning temperature stayed pleasant as they made their way home.

In the indoor arena, Grace turned out three mares. 

Wega, a lovely light grey Lipizzan mare, was recovering from an injury to her left front leg, and that recovery appeared to be going well.

Skye was struck by how similar in color the two golden mares were.

Grace was presently enamored with the grey mare. She was graceful, composed and elegant.

"Do you want to take these two out for a trail ride?" Skye asked, referring to the golden mares.

Grace thought about it. The day was in fact lovely. But the presence of all those clouds made her suspect there was a chance of stormy water still to be had.  And then, just as they were bringing the horses back to their stalls, it began to rain. A light rain at first. It remained light long enough for them to finish their chores. And then, down it came.

Sheets of wind-driven rain poured down.

"Maybe we'll go out for a trail ride tomorrow" Grace remarked, watching the rain washing through the sky like an endless curtain.

September 12
Monday morning was indeed a glorious one for riding. Grace opted for La Barilla and Skye for Ladyhawk, whom she had not ridden in some time.

Lured by the greening plant life, Grace chose a narrow path through the boulder strewn landscape. Ladyhawk followed La Barilla effortlessly.

The girls were relaxed. The coyotes had moved to another part of the campground. The USFS firefighters had modified the dumpsters to make them inaccessible to bears. And perhaps most importantly, hunting season had begun. Twisted as it was, hunting season pushed the predators back.

The plant life clinging to the rocks was beautiful and mysterious. Grace didn't know enough to give them a name other than "probably lichen" which she understood to be a community of plants cooperating with each other, like moss and algae. She saw what looked like yellow flowers, and sought to get a closer look. But no, not flowers...it was another life form...perhaps an algae, perhaps a moss, collectively lichen...

Skye's voice broke Grace's focus on the flora.
"Did you hear that a bear is walking around in some neighborhood down below with an arrow hanging out of it?"
"I did not" Grace replied. She pondered the idea for a bit.  "I don't think I would hunt a bear with an arrow. I seem to recall it doesn't always go well. Poor bear."

Sunday's thunderstorm had left some scars on the land. The ground had managed to soak up some little bit of the water, but most of it ran straight away. Presently, clouds moved across the eastern sky, cooling the September sun and making the morning quite pleasant.

The dogs were still wary, and the wet ground likely held the scent of everything that had recently passed through even better than the dry soil might.

Sometimes the washouts made better travel, and sometimes not.

Baron picked a slightly precarious path for the return home.  Skye decided to take the lead through this particularly rough terrain.  Grace followed as Skye rode the high-headed grey mare over loose rocks and soft soil.

"Skye, does that mare ever look where she's going?"
Skye laughed.
"Not really. But she doesn't trip very often either, so..."

La Barilla may have been afraid of blue and white ground poles, but actual rough ground did not seem to phase him.  What he was trying to adjust to was the weight on his back. It was still new, still something to get used to, balancing a human while navigating terrain.

"How many coyotes do you think you've heard lately?" Skye asked.

Just saying the word coyote put the dogs on high alert.

"Two for sure. And I think we should name the momma Whiskey. She has that gravelly bar-room voice. I am pretty sure I am hearing her."

"Do you think the old male coyote made it? The one the boss calls Lives Among Them?"

"Maybe" Grace said. "Maybe his throat hurts and he can't make a lot of noise right now. Or maybe the pup isn't very loud yet so that's why we think we are only hearing two coyotes. He could be fine, and just laying low. He was never a very vocal coyote. Always just appeared out of nowhere. He might be okay."

Funny. That big old male coyote had kind of grown on them both.

September 15
The tack room was still cool.  Grace steadied a saddle while Skye swung a leg over it as it rested on the saddle stand.
"Gosh Skye, you are vertically challenged."
Grace surveyed the space between where Skye's legs ended and where the stirrups began. It was vast.
"How does the saddle feel otherwise?"
"It's kind of wide."

Skye looked at the seat on some of the other saddles.
"What about this one? Isn't this the saddle we got last year, brand new? The squeaky one?"
"Yes", Grace responded, "Laurel Dedes sent this one."

Skye pulled herself into the seat as far as she could before releasing her foot.
"Oh there goes the stirrup again..."

"It does feel nice to sit on though."
Grace studied the stirrup to foot ratio. There was not going to be an easy fix for this problem.

"You know" Skye said, "I started making a traditional saddle...well, I thought about it anyway, I didn't really get started...but if we can't find a saddle that fits me, maybe I'll just make my own. You ever see anyone ride performance in a native saddle?"

Grace fell silent. No, she hadn't seen it...but probably ladies had done all kinds of riding in their traditional saddles. And Grace had no problem whatsoever in supporting Skye's idea. Skye could ride without a saddle better than most people could with one. If she wanted to make her own saddle, and it wasn't a western saddle...Grace could definitely support that.


September 19
The girls had taken shelter inside during the hottest part of the day.  As the afternoon wore on, they decided to venture back outside. Grace took a quick glance at the computer, paused, smiled.
"What?" Skye asked.
"We placed a couple of horses in The Collective."
"Who?"
"I'll read the full results a little later. For now let's do your glamour shot."

"You know what would be really cool?"  Skye posed the question, and then answered herself.  "Another Jeep adventure."

The dogs didn't know exactly what that meant but Skye's tone was promising. So they gathered. Adventure...perhaps they knew what the word adventure meant.

Skye wanted to make another attempt at selling her work. If she kept it any longer she was going to grow attached to her pieces and not want to part with them.  She needed pictures of her work, and a picture of herself...a studio shot, an art bio.
"I think we've got it" Grace said after taking numerous pictures. "And now, I'd like to show you something."
"Okay..."
"Where's the black mare?"
"In the indoor arena, stretching her legs...sort of."

The girls walked to the arena.  The mare made her way toward them at a relaxed walk.
"I don't know if she'll let me do this again" Grace said.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm trying to roll her upper lip up so you can see inside of it."
The old black mare wasn't in the mood to have her lip pulled on. She put her head way up in the air and started moving forward, slowly, right into Grace. She had a funny way about her. She was gentle, but also her own boss.
"What's on her lip?"
"A tattoo."
"What?
"She's tattooed. It's so faded I can't make any sense out of it, but on the inside of her upper lip there is a tattoo. And that means she is either a registered standardbred or a thoroughbred and probably was a race horse."

"I could totally picture her as a race horse" Skye said. 
"What are we going to do with her Grace? Should we try to find her a home?"

Grace watched the old mare move. She was not as stiff as when they found her, and she held her weight fine; there was nothing skinny about her.
"She looks pretty much at home here. Let's not worry about it too much."  They left the mare in the arena a little longer.  The sandy arena soil was deep, but surely easier on her legs than the terrain they had found her in.  

Skye's request for a Jeep adventure could be fulfilled if they kept the adventure short and close to home.

The brief but wonderful series of thunderstorms had left dry gullies and washouts everywhere. Even a short drive could be adventurous today.

Highlander and his single mare appeared in front of them. And then they quickly turned away again.

Normally pretty assertive about territorial rights, perhaps the Jeep spooked him. He called for an immediate retreat.  The mare moved off quickly, and Highlander followed.

"You know" Grace said. "A lot of times when we see Highlander, Petrichor and his band are not far away."
And so they looked, hopeful, everywhere they could. But they did not see Petrichor.

"You know" Skye said, almost as if she was talking to herself, "I like this little Jeep. There's not much to it, but it's a lot of fun."
Grace smiled. "Yes it is."

September 25
The girls were up before dawn. Grace showed Skye some images of manufactured saddle trees. 
"Where did you find these?" Skye asked.
"Michelle Sepiol gave me the link. This is a man's saddle and so is the one underneath it."  The men's saddles tended to have low profiles.
"This women's tree is like the saddle we saw at the Autry" Skye noted.
"Do you think I should make my own tree? Or use something like this?"
Grace thought about it for a moment.
"I think you could do both. What would it hurt?"

First light greeted the girls.  The morning was pleasant.  Grace decided to try her luck at ponying La Barilla. 

For the most part, things went smoothly. She rode Skye's beloved Deer Medicine, wanting to be on a horse that she could trust just in case something went sideways.  Skye rode Ladyhawk, because she looked as if she wanted to be out on this glorious morning.

All in all, there was only a little bit of sideways, and it never involved an attempt to break free.

La Barilla's reward was a turn out in the big outdoor arena.  The girls gave him his space, and watched as he reared, spun, pranced and cavorted around the arena.

"Well that wasn't so bad" Grace said. "Another new thing for him and I think he did pretty well."

The day went by fast. The western sky was cloudless but to the east, a bank of clouds clung to the horizon as the sun set. Grace suspected the colors of the evening would not disappoint, and so the girls found a suitable rock outcropping from which to watch the sky and the land and the clouds turn colors.  As they made their way home, they watched a hare in near darkness, foraging near the ranch house, its large eyes and incredibly long ears keen to every sound, every movement as the day slipped quickly now into night.

Skye is hoping to buy one or two of those saddle trees she and Grace looked at, so she's listed her own artwork for sale.  You can find it here:
​
Dusk in Chilao
https://www.ebay.com/itm/314165079137 

The Way of The Deer
https://www.ebay.com/itm/314165054490

Forest Night
https://www.ebay.com/itm/314165193902

Running in Heaven
https://www.ebay.com/itm/314165171206

Padronis
https://www.ebay.com/itm/314165327950 

​August 5, 2022
Grace gently caressed each detail of the carefully crafted saddle.  She was awe-struck. She remembered well coming to Redbird Ranch where there was exactly one functioning western saddle, and it did not seem like all that long ago. Now she rested her hand on a brand new saddle made by Shandi Gabriiella Cristel Bech, and within arm's reach to her right, a dressage saddle, an english saddle and a western saddle by Fiona Covert. And there were saddles gifted to them by Laurel Dedes as well. She felt loved and supported...she and Skye both...and what a strange world it was indeed, as many of their supporters she had never even met yet.

"This is gorgeous" Skye said. "It's going to look fantastic on La Barilla."
Skye was correct.  And that wonderful breast collar, lined with soft sheepskin, would keep the saddle forward.

August 6
The sun slipped behind the ridge and the air cooled.
 It was Grace and La Barilla's first outdoor ride, in the turn-out corral.  Although Grace was eager to try out the new saddle, she opted for the same one she had ridden in last time.  Riding outdoors would be enough new stimulus for one day.  

Skye had come along on Loch'sha, who was calm and good natured. Grace went around the corral several times, steady, while Skye rode alongside and slightly behind.  Grace moved to the middle, brought La Barilla to a halt. Sort of.

"Let's see what happens if you ride in a circle around me" she said to Skye.  Skye walked Loch'sha in a circle around Grace and the golden stallion, close to him, but not crowding him.  As Skye circled, so did La Barilla, keeping Skye and the appaloosa mare in sight.

"He wants to be facing you" Grace noted. "I'm not going to fight with him too much, he's really being pretty good."

"That wasn't too shabby" Skye said. "How about you circle me now?"
"We'll give it a try. In fact, we'll even try going to the right."

Loch'sha, calm as she was, also wanted to be facing the stallion at all times.

"You know, it's probably a natural thing" Grace said. "Of course they want to see what's going on. Then over time they get used to the routine and it's no big deal any more."

"Well I think he's doing fantastic and you should be totally proud of him. And this girl, too" Skye said.
"Are you going to ride him back to the ranch?"
Grace thought about it for a moment.
"No, I'll walk him back this time. This was good for today. This was enough."

August 7
It was hot, sticky and beautiful out.  Clouds graced a blue sky and the humidity suggested the possibility of thunderstorms.  The girls headed for the area, partly to stay cooler, sort of, and partly to be indoors in the event that the heavens did decide to throw around lightning bolts.
Loch'sha had worked out well yesterday as a calming companion, so Grace and Skye decided to stick with a good thing.

La Barilla was all dressed out in the new saddle from Shandi Gabriiella Cristel Bech. There was a confounding bunch of new stuff to get used to. Breast collar, back cinch, new smells, new squeaks.  But it sure did look pretty.  And the breast collar was doing a marvelous job of keeping the saddle up on his whithers.  Grace used the long reins, working him back and forth across the arena.  She really wanted to sit in that lovely new saddle...but she was, above all, not wanting to rush him.  He was doing so well.  

August 12
Grace lead La Barilla to the big outdoor arena to let him burn off some steam. When he was loosened up, she planned on riding him in the new saddle.  The ground bustled with quail and chipmunks.

As she was turning out La Barilla, a chorus of coyote erupted, and they were very close by, at the fire station.  Grace let La Barilla loose and went to watch the coyotes. As she followed one with her eyes, she saw movement to her left. Another coyote, a pup, was quite close.

La Barilla was full of himself tonight.  Ten, fifteen minutes went by. He was still running, pawing, snorting, spinning, bucking, rearing, striking at invisible challengers.  Every time Grace thought he was done, he wasn't.

Twenty five minutes in, Grace decided she didn't have the mental fortitude to ride La Barilla. She would walk him back to the barn. And then return to see if she could catch a glimpse if the coyotes, who were vocalizing in social behavior tones.

When she returned to the arena she found Skye on the old black mare.
"I couldn't get a bridle over her ears to save my life" Skye said. "This is a draft horse halter."

What a sweet old girl. Grace wondered if she'd be going to some kind of equine assisted therapy facility...or if she'd find a way to make this her happily ever after home.

"Do you want to ride her back?"
Grace thought about it.
"Naw, I could use the exercise."

August 13
Skye was still asleep. Grace examined the undercarriage of the little Jeep. Not that she was entirely sure what she was looking at, but what she could see appeared to be sound. Or sound enough, anyway.

The day went on for a long time, but when the shadows grew long and the air cooled, she saddled La Barilla. She hadn't really meant to go for a trail ride, but as they headed toward the indoor arena, the ravens were very active at the dumpsters. A bear had recently been through, getting into the trash and even into the garage of the main house. A bear on her third ride was more than Grace was looking for, so she veered east. Skye and the black mare veered east also. The ground was a little rougher than Skye would have liked, for both of them.

For Grace, the rocky ground gave her mount something important to focus on.  

Grace watched the black mare move.

"What did it feel like when you rode her yesterday?" Grace asked.
"Her hind feet hit the ground kind of hard" Skye said. "We just walked."
"She probably has arthritis. Her back legs are a little bit stocked up. Walking her every day or close to every day will be good for her. Or even having her in a big enough enclosure that she can move around on her own."

It would soon be dark. They picked their way across the rocky ground as the wild birds made their final foraging rounds and the sound of hooves on hard soil filled the silence.

"Do you suppose we'll get to keep her?" Skye asked.
"Probably. I don't think the boss would see her fit to sell, except maybe to a therapeutic riding program, and we don't really know how well suited she is for that. She's awful tall."
"What do you suppose she is?"
"I think she's a Thoroughbred."
"Really?"
"Really."

The last rays of sunlight burnished the landscape. August half way over. The evening was silent save for the scrub jays. This used to be the time when deer would emerge from their daytime hides. But it was rare to see deer any more. And that was just part of the changes. Changes that seemed to be bringing a more uneasy relationship between the wild things and the domestic things.  

August 20
A breeze lifted the hot air and moved it about. Grace gave the little Jeep a test drive. It had gotten some TLC and was running much better. Some modifications had been made to the floorboard. It wasn't pretty, but it worked. The wind shield was still problematic. Grace had tried using caulking and plexiglass, but it had already come apart twice, and this time the angle wasn't right. But...it was progress.  Sort of.

Skye watched the old black mare and realized what Grace had said about arthritis and motion was very true. Despite the mid-day heat, she took the mare, Deer Medicine and Cloud Medicine out for a walk. Not too long or too far, less than a mile probably, just enough to loosen up.

Skye had not expected she'd she Grace. In the Jeep.  Grace hadn't expected to see Skye. 

They mutually agreed the rest of the afternoon would be best spent in the shade. Grace got caught up on the happenings.
"So, apparently a bear broke into the main house on Thursday night" she told Skye.
"Sounds like there were no damages other than the window screen. It came for cat food."
Skye was both fascinated by and moderately terrified of bears. Or more accurately, of encountering a bear in a confined space.
"And...the boss entered the next Collective show even though we are the hosts."
"Is that legal?"
"As long as we aren't judging, yes. And we are not judging. But she says 'Any help you can offer with getting some horses ready for the show would be awesome.' "

"We could probably get some horse ready for their glamour shots tomorrow morning. Maybe the new horses?"
"Let's plan on it. The show is August 27, so this is the last weekend we'll have to do it."

August 21
The girls worked as a team, Grace and Skye bringing the horses to the arena, the boss photographing them with a variety of cameras, using one until it started acting up and then switching to another one.

They managed to get twelve horses out for their glamour shots.

The little paint foal seemed to enjoy the spotlight.  Mom took it all in stride.  The big grullas were more interested in pets and treats than photos.  The new ponies were so much fun to watch.

"I think those are two of the cutest pony mares ever" Skye remarked.
"I agree" Grace replied.  The air was warming quickly as they finished.

When the shoot was complete, the girls walked down the service road. The dogs had barked half the night, so what they found was no real surprise. A bear had gotten into one of the dumpsters. Now by daylight, other scavengers moved in.

"Why aren't these bear-proof dumpsters like they have in some of the picnic areas?" Skye asked. "It doesn't make any sense. All the trash gets brought here. These should be bear-proof dumpsters."

A coyote appeared from in between the dumpsters.
"Money." Grace said. "At least that's what I'm told. The Forest Service can't afford but a couple of bear proof dumpsters."
"That's so wrong" Skye said.

As they approached, the coyote trotted away, up an embankment, and across the school driveway.
"No wonder we can't get rid of the coyotes" Skye lamented.
"It's not just because I used to feed the birds."

"No, it's a lot of things" Grace explained. "It's trash, and water in the spring, and lots of rodents. There's always a lot of rodents around buildings, so in that respect, coyotes offer some balance. But mostly, it's the easy pickings. Remember last year? The coyote den was in a culvert under the road right next to the campground. And the first place the coyote tried to den was the culvert right here, at the dumpsters, right next to the school! She could have walked less than ten yards to get dinner. We're lucky she denned on the other side of the fire station, and not right here."

August 24
The process of photographing horses was actually quite a lot of work.  They had to be clean, they had to present well, the lighting had to be right, the cameras had to work.  It was hot, there were flies and dust and horses wanted to roll and so much running back and forth. But the outcome - the lovely photos - were quite intriguing to Skye. 

"I know it's hot and sticky and flies and coyotes and stress while we're doing it, but I love to see the end result."
Grace had to admit, they'd gotten some good pictures, even if the boss was lamenting about broken cameras.

August 26
In the afternoon's heat, Grace and Skye went to the indoor arena to meet some new and rather different horses.  Finally out of quarantine, Grace and Skye turned out a beautiful mare from Denmark, a gift from Shandi Bech. 

She looked like she might be Spanish, perhaps a Lusitano. Grace wasn't sure.

"We'll have to do some homework" she said. "She has that faint barring, like Simba, but I think he's a double dilute."

The mare was stunning, whatever she was.  

There were other new arrivals. The Zafirah mares. It was difficult to define them with words. They seemed quite aware they were beautiful.  And they were not small in stature.

"These two are for sale" Grace said. "I hope they go to fantastic homes because they are gorgeous."
 
Not all the horses the girls bought down in the relative cool of evening were new.

La Barilla was the last horse they brought down. Grace practiced moving in between poles and turning back at the end of them. The scent of so many mares seemed to add to his animation, but Grace was beginning to get more comfortable with him.

Her hands softened. Her neck and shoulders were more relaxed.

They were starting to look natural together.

The air was cooling. The night would be pleasant. The girls took advantage of the golden hour, which any more was the transition between the time when you might see bears and coyotes to when you almost certainly would see bears and coyotes. But the campgrounds were full of campers, and that would keep both scavengers busy, at least for a little while.  They took a short trail ride, on the new golden mare and La Barilla.

"So how many rides is this?" Skye asked. Grace had to count out loud.
"I rode him twice in the indoor arena, and once on the east side of the property while you were leading the old black mare. Then we rode in the big arena with you on Loch'sha. Or maybe I got that out of order. I ride him in the indoor arena last night. I feel like I'm missing something. Ride number six?" 

"How is your ride?" Grace asked of Skye. 
"Oh she's dreamy. Super responsive. I feel like I need to be careful not to cue her to do something by accident."

"You should consider changing his name" Skye said rather unexpectedly.
"Why?"
"Because it reminds me of pasta or spaghetti sauce."
"But it has meaning. He may be a direct descendant of a herd of Spanish horses that rain wild in central California until the early 1900s. They were called Barilla mustangs. They were either buckskin or palomino. So, probably Lusitanos."

Grace was thinking to turn around and head back the way they came. But La Barilla didn't seem put off by the terrain ahead. He placed his feet with care.

"I keep thinking we'll see Petrichor" Skye said. "It seems like such a long time."
"I know" Grace said. "Apparently there's still water in the little lake at Singing Pines. I wonder if that's where the horses are. And I wonder where the bear and the coyotes are getting water. They don't seem to be going away any time soon."

"Now that you're riding your dream horse, do you still think about Petrichor?"
"Funny. I do. I don't know what I'd do with him, but I do think he'd make a great riding horse. I know. I'm crazy."

July 17, 2022
The evening began to cool. Grace, having spent most of the day disinterested in going horse hunting, made the rather sudden decision to get the black mare.
She changed her mind three times about which mare to ride, settling on Precious. She forgot her hat. And she forgot fly spray. The flies and mosquitos were brutal.
But she had chosen their spot well and as night fell, Petrichor's band made their way to the dry creek valley, where they would spend the night.  The bay lead mare was wary. Petrichor brought up the rear, the black mare well behind the others. He broke away immediately to engage the girls and their mare.

Skye had brought a length of rope which, with any luck, she would slip over the black mare's head and then fashion a quick halter with.  Petrichor was livelier and more animated than either Grace or Skye had anticipated.  They wondered for a moment just how smart their plan was. 

Petrichor seemed more uneasy than he ever had before. He wheeled toward his herd, and then back toward the girls. The black mare was walking past them. If Skye was going to catch her, she would have to make her move.
She kept an eye on Petrichor while a horse fly made repeated attempts to land on her. She had to keep her cool.  Grace wasn't sure what to say to the stallion. She'd always spoke to him in an ordinary voice, like an old friend. What to say to him now?
"Hey big guy. We're going to take that old mare off of your hands. It'll make life easier for you. She's slowing you down. You just hang tight for a few minutes and it'll all be done and over."
As Skye suspected, the mare looked a bit as if she'd been wondering when someone was going to bring her in.  She was tall, but when Skye held up her rope, the mare put her head down to receive it. A nose loop and two quick knots and they were ready to head home.
Petrichor left Grace and Precious and turned his attention to the black mare. For a long and agonizing moment, they were at the mercy of Petrichor, and there was nothing anyone could do. It would be very much not ideal to leave the old mare with a make-shift halter and a length of rope hanging from her head, but whatever happened next was up to Petrichor...and the old mare.
Grace held her breath.
"Come on girl." Skye gave the mare a tug. She paused, uncertain. Petrichor snorted and swiveled his ears back several times, shifting uneasily, tossing his head, tail moving wildly. And then he turned away, trotting toward his wild mares, who immediately moved off, Petrichor taking up the rear. The black mare drew a deep breath, turned toward Skye, and never looked back.
She was none too pretty, but Skye was already in love with her. Funny kid, Grace thought, somewhere in her past there must have been some wonderful elders, human or animal.
The walk down to the indoor arena as darkness fell was uneventful.  The mare lead well and entered the arena as if she had done it before.

"Now what?" Skye asked.
"I haven't got a clue where we are going to put her" Grace replied. "Let's leave her here for tonight. We'll give her some food and water and...hopefully by morning I'll have an idea."

July 19
It was too hot for riding. Skye decided to try her hand at watercolors again. She brought two big sheets of watercolor paper to the tack room. One a little more started than the other.
"I messed up on the darker one a little. I started with the black instead of working light to dark. I think it will be okay though. And this lighter one...I don't know what it's going to be yet."
"Maybe this is just going to be your watercolor style" Grace said. "One bold and dark and one soft and delicate. You've got a great start on both of them."
"The darker one is going to be that sunset we saw on Sunday, with the faint purples and the trees and the yucca silhouetted in the foreground."
"I'm sure it will be lovely."

Skye worked on the painting for untold hours, using the technique she so admired in the images by New Graham, marker over watercolor. Whatever the art words are for when the thing says what you wanted it to say, and it doesn't need to be any more than that. That's what Skye would have said, if she knew the words.

July 23
When Skye first woke, she thought there was a lovely cloud cover easing her into the day. But it was smoke. There were fires burning in other wilderness areas and open spaces to the north and the south.

It would be a good morning to take it easy, and see how the black mare did with the rest of Skye's horses.  The mare had been in a stall of her own for several days, giving her time to get acquainted at a safe distance.  Sometimes it just takes a bit to get used to your herd mates and neighbors. Donkey and Dinky had grown quite accustomed to Baron.  

​The black mare was really big.  The black mare was much larger than Deer Medicine, yet they had a similar way of going. Deer Medicine was an Anglo-Barb, a Thoroughbred and Spanish Barb mare. Her foal Cloud Medicine had Anglo-Barb on both sides, but a higher percentage of Thoroughbred from his sire.

Grace watched the horses move. She was struck by this thought. Somehow, in that rather ordinary moment, she had this sensation, this understanding...she and Skye were living the life, in a changing time. The smell and sound of horses and the dust of their foot falls and the sun through the veil of smoke...somehow just for a moment it all seemed magical. Not ordinary at all. Like a dream. A dream that countless thousands of children had and never experienced. 

And it looked like tiny little Dinky was starting to get the hang of things too.

July 23
The indoor arena was cooler than the atmosphere outdoors, and less smoky.  Grace walked La Barilla, fully tacked, dow to the arena. The only thing he hadn't had was a bit in his mouth, and Grace didn't have a starter bit anyway. He had lead, lunged, long reined, carried various saddles, worked on ground manners.  It was time to get in the saddle, if only for a very brief ride.

Grace pulled herself up and swung her leg over. La Barilla side stepped away from her weight.  The saddle slipped a bit off center.  The weight of a human was awkward.  La Barilla moved sideways, trying to center himself.

So far so good, but not the saddle. Grace needed to straighten it up. She dug her right foot into the stirrup. stood, gave the saddle a pull to the right. The weight and all the shifting was strange and new to La Barilla and he was not sure how to respond.

Grace was able to get the saddle back in more or less the right position. She looked forward, sat down, and let her mount move. He went forward, albeit with uncertainty.  And in a fashion, they went down the rail.

This was a moment Grace had dreamed about for a long time. Once around the arena, not quite from end to end, letting her mount move forward in his highly animated fashion, letting him feel her weight, letting him experience this new thing, keeping her hands flexible on the bosal reins, trying not to give him any new sort of input, just what he had already understood from the long rein, keeping her own weight centered on her hindquarters, moving with him as he sought to find balance.

They kept the ride short, ending on a high note. 

Late in the afternoon, the new horses had begun trickling in.  There would be a total of seven or eight, according to the boss, and this new group would be widely varied.  The little reddish pony was exceptionally sweet.  She also had a little mischievous streak, grabbing the end of Skye's braid as they ran in the arena together.

The other horse that arrived wasn't terribly tall, but he was a heavy draft horse, with a round, sturdy back.
"I've just got to sit on him" Skye said.
"Can you get him to come a little closer to the wall?"
Grace pressed her left hand into the big horse's shoulder, and made a leading motion with her right hand. He moved, slow and deliberate, closer to the wall.

Skye climbed the arena wall, then slid onto his back.
"He's big!"
"And not too excitable" Grace added.

July 30
The trailer came in the late afternoon, as clouds gathered and the humidity rose. The rest of the new horses had come. The horses were relieved to be out of the trailer.  And what a mix of horses. There was a pair, nearly identical, that reminded Grace so much of Petrichor.

Skye was quick to spot the foal.

There was an impressive bay. A dressage horse? A jumper perhaps? Mane and tail still braided.

Skye kept seeing hearts in the gathering clouds.  And far in the distance, the first soft rumble of thunder.

What a very mixed herd!  Exactly what they were, Grace had no idea. But she was fascinated by them.  There was a very handsome pony in the mix. And another...a large pony or a small horse, Grace wasn't sure, but he was very active.

Grace watched the horses, and the clouds. Ever so often a restless breeze would lift. There was a 50% chance of thunderstorms, and after the last storm, which damaged nearly every power pole for a mile around, Grace wasn't going to take any chances. 

Grace watched the horses looking for a hierarchy to emerge, but she wasn't really seeing any. Knowing who had leadership skills would be helpful in the event that the weather changed quickly.

Another rumble of distant thunder. They would lead the horses to their new stalls soon.

Skye greeted the momma mare, and she was calm and sweet. Her foal, on the other hand, seemed used to being the center of attention, and made sure Skye knew it.

The big silver horses were indeed calm and docile like geldings.  Softly, Grace heard the thunder again. They would take the horses two at a time to their new stalls. No need to rush as long as they started now.

The new horses seemed to be attracting the attention of the locals. Instead of more thunder, a rainbow.  Skye was surprised to see a bevy of quail...parents and their adolescent offspring...in a pine tree!

And so July came to a close, sweltering heat and thunderstorms, new additions to the growing herd at Redbird Ranch, and one of Grace's dreams come true, her first ride on La Barilla.

July 10, 2022, Angeles National Forest, Chilao

The girls went out pre-dawn to where Skye had seen Petrichor's band and the new, old black mare.  They looked, and listened, but they found no horses.  

They did see fascinating spider webs.  They saw a young scrub jay learning to forage on its own.

They headed back to the ranch before the sun crested Yucca Peak. Grace wanted to work with La Barilla in the long rein rig while it was still relatively quiet.

They worked on turning. In a fashion. La Barilla a very smooth on his left turns, but he resisted going to the right.  Instead of bending to the right, he basically side passed all the way around, 360 degrees. He was moving to the right...Grace just could not manage to get him to do it "normal."

"I think I am going to change his name" Grace said.
"To what?"
"Nascar."
"What?"
"Nascar. Like the racing series. Because with few exceptions, he only turns left."

All said, their second session was really quite successful. The stallion did what he was asked and appeared to enjoy working. It doesn't get much better than that.

While the girls worked horses, Gary Pickett's annual flint knapper's gathering had returned to Chilao School after a nearly three year absence due to COVID. The girls didn't know anything about paleo tool making, or rocks for that matter, but one of the knappers gifted them with a lovely slab of rock. It was thin, but still quite heavy. Grace was just fascinated by it. Skye had a million questions that Grace could not answer.
"I'm going to clean it off a little" Grace said in the fading evening light. "When you see it in the daylight it'll look even better."

July 11
Dawn was quiet, still and warm.  Grace and Skye set off on foot.  They were looking for Petrichor's band, and they had a hunch where they might find the horses.  In the heat of summer, the horses seemed to prefer to be on the rock plateaus, where breezes were moe likely to find them, and insects were less numerous...until the sheer heat drove them to seek the shelter of trees.  

Whiptail lizards seemed particularly numerous this year. The girls saw a healthy one as they made their way to Mustang Rock.  They did not have long to wait this time.  The black mare was still with the herd.  And Petrichor was looking fit.

The pale mare caught wind of the girls.  The bay lead mare paused.  Petrichor halted, then moved toward Grace and Skye.  The black mare moved closer, unafraid.

Petrichor got between his harem and his humans. He swished his tail vigorously, worked his lips and quivered his nostrils, conflicted.  The black mare followed the other mares as they turned away from Grace and Skye.

A helicopter flew overhead. Grace watched the horses. There was no fear reaction. No one panicked. That told Grace some things about these horses. They had likely never been in a BLM helicopter round-up.

The girls kept advancing, slowly. They were able to get quite close.

Grace got a good look at the black mare. She was old, yes, and she did not look like a mustang, no. But she was also not showing ribs or a dramatically swayed back or prominent whithers. 

Petrichor held ground between his horse and human harems.  It was hot, and the sky was electric blue.

Skye watched the peacock appaloosa foal. It was calm like its mother, and such an unusual color.
"This is doable" Grace said softly. "We'll come back with a halter, or rope, or both. Maybe treats. I bet that mare will come right up to us."
"What about Petrichor?"
"I don't think he'll try to hurt us. He may not like it, but I don't think we need to be afraid. He's just barely wild. At least around us."

And so they left the wild ones to the wild land.  For now.

They spent the heat of the day inside.  Skye admired the slab of stone that gotten from the flint knappers.
"The rock is called Hartville Uplift, from Wyoming" Grace said.
"Did you polish it?"
"I washed it and rubbed it with lavender oil and sea salt scrub...because that's what I had. The stone will absorb the oil but at least for a little while the colors will show."
"Why is some of it so shiny and some so rough?"
"I don't know for sure. We'll have to ask the knapper that gave it to us...#wyopaleo.

July 13
Grace and Skye tidied up the tack room.  It was too hot to ride.

"Do you think we'll ever get to go to Breyerfest?"
Grace thought for a bit before she responded.
"We'd have to figure out how to go with someone else. The boss can't go because too many dogs and other things to manage."
"Or NAN...do you think we'll ever get to show at the North American Nationals?"
"Well, we'd have to qualify some horses first, and any more it seems like we barely have enough time to ride them all. Anyway, don't worry, I'm sure the boss figured out how to bring back horses even though she isn't going. In a couple of weeks, we'll have a whole new bunch of horses to sort out."
"You think?"
"I'd put money on it."

July 16
The temperature had dropped to 89 degrees. Skye found Grace and La Barilla in the indoor arena, which was not much cooler.
"So now what?" Skye asked.
"He still doesn't turn right as good as he turns left, but I thought I'd try one more variation with the long reins. This is really the only thing we haven't done yet. I'm running out of ground work to do before I get on him."

"Are you nervous about riding him?"
"Maybe a little. I want to make sure everything goes smooth. I want to make sure he's ready. I don't want any surprises. Pretty soon though, I just need to do it."

In the evening, out in the vastness of dry ground and aging boulders, as the sun's light lost its grip on the land and faded into shadows, Petrichor's band began to stir.

The small herd was spread out across the landscape.  The black mare was slow.  She was also hard to rush, as Petrichor learned the hard way. She may have been slow at the walk, but her bite and kick were swift.

The bay lead mare pressed on.  Time to choose a place to spend the evening.

At home, Grace caught up on the day's news.
"Oh, the boss forwarded us a message from Jennifer Bray Buxton."
Skye lit up. "What does it say?"
It says "I was reading the newest Grace and Skye story and I wanted to let Grace know that although Olive likely has been through a BLM helicopter round up, she has zero fears of planes or helicopters. She lives near an Air Force base, and there are low flying jets and helicopters on a daily basis. No problem."
"That is VERY interesting! You know what I think?"
"What do you think?"
"I think someone needs to sculpt Olive, in her full floating imitation Arabian trot. Like maybe Maggie Jenner Bennett. That's what I think."
"Holy Cow."
"What?"
"Are you sitting down Skye? A model horse...no, a Pegasus for crying out loud...sold for sixty five thousand dollars in the Breyerfest auction today."
Skye had no response.                                            #



​Chilao School hosts a number of art, healing arts and cultural events throughout the year, including an annual flintknapper's gathering and campout with Gary Pickett.  In 2022 we met some wonderful new folks and we were gifted with some lovely arrowheads and that great piece of Hartville Uplift.  

Maggie Jenner Bennett is the amazing sculptor of a number of horses in The Art of Grace including La Barilla, Crazy and Highlander.  Petrichor is a Breyer model sculpted by Ravyn Maddock.  The black mare is a customized Breyer by Corina Roberts.  Grace and Skye themselves hail from Field of Dolls Studio, Anne Field.  

And in real life, a model horse customized to a Pegasus sold at auction at Breyerfest for sixty five thousand dollars, shattering by more than double the most money that a model horse ever fetched ($24,000 for a one of a kind Alborozzo in 2020).  

​June 15, 2022
Skye pulled together an assortment of leather and quality rope. Making a bosal for La Barilla would be straight forward if she could find everything she needed.  Grace's addition was a length of white cotton rope. She envisioned using a single length to make both "riding" reins and long reins.

When Skye made the original bosal for deer Medicine, she wet-wrapped it in the very same soft leather that she used now, but she then tied the leather on while it was wet. This head piece she wrapped by hand, tying it with a permanent bit of artificial sinew at either end.  It seemed to work just as well.  Before long, she had the basic structure completed.

If making the bosal went relatively smooth, then cutting the blanket was its terrible balance.  The material was difficult to keep straight while she cut it, and fuzzy,  and the two sides ended up not matching.  She was a bit embarrassed about the saddle blanket.  Especially as it was going under such a nice saddle and on such a lovely horse.

June 16, just before dawn in Chilao Creek
Highlander's mare made her way to the water, air still cool from the night.  From across the shrinking oasis, Petrichor and his band made their way toward Highlander.  It seemed they were often in the same pasture land, same watershed, same rocky ridge.  The bay lead mare from Petrichor's band veered away from Highlander and his mare, leading her small herd to shore on the same stretch of sand, keeping as much polite distance as was available.

Highlander reacted to Petrichor's approach, plunging into the water toward him as the sun made its way into the morning sky.

As soon as the stallions were preoccupied with each other, Highlander's dun mare and Petrichor's bay exchanged greetings.

There was a lot of squealing and posturing among the stallions. But no calling for war. Here, there was water enough for eveyone this morning. No need to risk injury.

After a few moments, Petrichor and his band moved out of the watershed, leaving Highlander and the dun mare to enjoy the water.

All the while the hummingbird tried to drive all of the horses away from his water...but no one paid him much mind.

June 29, in the tack room
It was late, and Grace was tired, but she was almost done. She still had to fix the twisted hardware on the cinch, but once she did, this wild mix of tack would come together and Grace would be one step closer to the day when she would ride La Barilla.  But wasn't going to work. Although Grace was getting adept at straightening metal keeps, all of the girths she had at her disposal were too large. La Barilla may have a substantial head, but he was not thick in the barrel.  She needed a smaller cinch, and she did not have one.

Skye broke the contemplative silence, energetically pushing a lovely box across the tack room floor.

"This just got delivered" she said excitedly. "I already took the shipping paper off. I couldn't stand it. It's from Anne Field!"

"Ah. It's my new hat."
"In a box this big?"

Skye was completely enamored with the box.  She didn't even see Grace put on her new hat.

"What do you think?"

Skye had never seen Grace in anything but a tall white hat.  The kind the good guys wear in the old western movies.  The kind you see in advertisements. 

"It's black!" Skye didn't really know what to think. Grace in a black hat. A low black hat with a Spanish kind of feel.  It was...it was so...
Grace took the hat off, placed in on a saddle stand.
"Okay, never mind the hat. Want to see what else is in the box?"

The box held some wonderful things by Field of Dolls Studio...two new bareback pads, pretty in pink.

"These are so nice. And now we have enough in case we ever have company!"
While Skye marveled at the workmanship and fell in love with the colors, Grace examined the girths carefully. They were small and well padded. 

It would require another slight change in direction...the saddle's girth leather would need to be modified to fit the smaller buckles...but it would work. They'd have a long rein rig made of western, english and bareback elements, and the customized remains of a soft, cuddly poncho...but it would work.  Finally.  

July 1
Skye watched the moon slip silently down below the horizon.

"Are you going to take La Barilla to the arena in the morning?"

"Yes" Grace replied. "It won't be first thing in the morning...I'll let him have breakfast and then turn him out for a bit. But yes, tomorrow morning for sure."

July 2
Skye wanted to get out before sunrise and see what the recent thunderstorm had done to the land. There was flooding not far away, but they had none of that. At Redbird Ranch, there was thunder, lightning, and hail. Precious kept stopping, and Skye looked and listened, but she did not see or hear anything.

The terrain seemed even rougher than Skye remembered it. Was Precious stopping because the rocks were hurting her feet?  Then Skye saw what might have been the reason.

Petrichor's band came into view.  Petrichor looked fit.  Skye did not recognize the black mare. She looked old. She was tall...quite a bit taller than all the other horses.  She seemed to be getting along fine with the other horses. But there was something about her.

Skye watched her move. The rough ground was difficult for her. It had been difficult for Precious also. Precious was also older. But it was more than age. Skye made up her mind. This was not a mustang.

Petrichor watched Skye and Precious for several minutes. Then he moved his band away.

The sun burst over Yucca Ridge. From pre-dawn to brilliant daylight in an instant.  Skye left the wild horses and headed excitedly for home. She had to find Grace.

Grace had La Barilla in his new rig. She had tied the stirrups up across his back to keep them from flapping around.  Skye wanted to blurt out about what she had found, but she waited.  Soon she was absorbed in the moment.  Grace released the stirrups.

"You're just in time to hand me the bosal" she said, slipping off the halter.

The bosal had been fitted with a single length of rope that made both riding reins and long lines.  The cotton rope was brand new and un-worked, and a bit stiff because of it.  The texture of the fibers were soft, but it would take a little work to make them pliable.

Grace handed Skye back one of the long reins.
"Run it through the stirrup and go behind him with the rest of the length."  Skye had seen the same long rein videos that Grace was watching.  She knew what to do.

"Now set that rein on the ground and come pick up this one."

So far so good.

"Now if you want, take up both reins, and I'll lead, and you walk behind him. Just keep the long reins slack, but not touching the ground. If you don't feel comfortable, let me know and I'll take the reins."

"I'm good" Skye said calmly.  She had not for a moment expected this. To have the reins.  To be the one behind La Barilla in his first long line session.

Grace chatted away in a calm, no-bother kind of voice.
"I'll have to read the rules again. Minors under 18 are by law not allowed to ride stallions, and last I recall they cannot show a stallion in any discipline, including halter."

Grace and La Barilla made a turn. Skye maintained her position behind the horse, applying no pressure to the reins.

"So it's possible" Grace continued, "that for all intents and purposes, this here training session with you at the reins never happened."

"Okay" Skye responded. She was too focused for a long-winded response. And just for the moment, she had forgotten all about the black mare.

"Let's trade places."  Skye took the lead now, walking with La Barilla, just in front of him and a bit to the side.  

"How does he look Skye?"

"He looks very relaxed, really. I'd say the most relaxed I've ever seen him."

"Turn left, a little bit in front of him...he'll follow you."
Skye started her turn and as she did, Grace exerted the slightest pressure on the left long rein, and the stallion turned. They worked for just a few more minutes before Grace decided to end on a high note.

Ample praise closed out the lesson.

Home again, Skye told Grace about the old black mare. About how she was sure it wasn't a mustang, about wanting to catch her.

"How are we going to catch her?" Grace asked.
"The same way you caught Petrichor! Just walk right up and put a rope around her neck!"
Grace recalled catching Petrichor. It was a one in a million, once in a lifetime thing...and he could barely walk, which was the real reason he was catchable. That...and Grace wasn't so sure he'd always been wild. He'd been following them around for months before he went lame.

"If you approach him, I bet anything we can do it. It has to be you though. He's okay with me but...he loves you."

July 9
Skye marveled at the moon and the stars. The night was clear and the moon was just a few days from full, and so very bright, yet the stars were still visible. She thought about the black mare, out there somewhere. Skye would ride out again as soon as she could to find her.
​                                                                                                                                                #

June 4, 2022
Grace's guess was accurate. The boss had brought the shepherd pups to the Children of Many Colors Powwow, and they needed more or less constant attention. Skye took them for walks on the smooth, green grass, such a luxury, damp with moisture in the cool of dawn.  They were in Oxnard, just a few blocks from the ocean.  The air was laden with delicious moisture.

It was early Saturday morning, and still quiet. Many of the vendors had come in on Friday.  Still more would set up this morning.

"Are you at least going to take your chaps off?" Skye teased.
""Maybe a little later. There's still chairs and trash cans to move."

Grace never did get a chance to take off her chaps and relax.  The powwow demanded her full attention.  It seemed there were endless tasks essential to the smooth flow of the gathering. But on Sunday, chaps still on, she joined Skye at the arena for several hours.

Throughout the weekend they'd seen a lot. Before Grand Entry on Saturday, while all the dancers watched and waited, three young grass dancers went out before them to prepare the dance arena. Skye was struck by how the adults were respectful of those youngsters, and waited while they did their job.

Once the powwow began it was often a riot of sound and color. Skye listened to the master of ceremonies as best as she could.  There were many young people in the arena and everyone seemed friendly and relaxed. Eventually Skye mustered the courage to go out into the arena.  There were a lot of women in the arena too. A large group of Chumash dancers...local native people...took part in the powwow.

Skye watched a thing called a Switch Dance...it was a fun dance, where women and girls danced in the regalia and the style of men, and vice versa...Skye watched a powwow princess become a chicken dancer, and she was good!  

At the end of the day on Sunday, the boss took Skye around for the last few intertribal songs. They stopped for one song at a drum called Blue Star, and danced in place in front of Bear Springs, while other dancers interacted with the drum as they sang in a way that seemed personal and meaningful.

The drums and the singing and the dancing lingered inside of Skye. The powwow ended Suday evening, but Skye stretched it out a little, putting her dress back on and practicing her steps, drum beats etched into her head.  In the tack room she found,  Grace surrounded by new saddles and tack.  Fiona Covert had donated western, english and saddle seat saddle and bridle sets, as well as other supplies.  Grace was a bit overwhelmed by the generosity.  Skye was a bit distracted by the sound of drums still in her head.

June 11
Skye went out before the sun was up, walking about, saying hello to the horses, and to the little iron pony. It was cute, even if it ws missing some things and needing some things.

She loved her dress. She didn't want to take it off. But she couldn't quite work out how she would ride in it.  Mista Spot stood patiently, waiting for her to figure it out.

In the indoor arena, with La Barilla in a halter and a bareback pad, Grace was eager to see if the english saddle and bridle would work the way she had hoped.

Skye was busy trying to make her blanket double as a shawl, but it was bulky.

The bridle had a lot of moving parts. La Barilla looked a bit suspicious of it. 

The saddle was less concerning. He was comfortable with the bareback pad now, and the saddle was small, light, and didn't squeak. He'd already had a western saddle on his back. Grace expected this to go smoothly.

The saddle fit neatly atop the bareback pad and the stirrups were run up high so as not to flap around.  La Barilla took the addition of the saddle in stride.  Grace asked him to move in a slow circle.

Skye walked around with La Barilla, admiring his beauty, admiring Grace's work with him.

Grace would need to do some improvising with Fiona's saddle. It needed a girth, and the one from Trail's End Studio would do nicely. She would also need long reins for the bridle, once she'd put it on him and made sure it would fit.  For today, she decided to let the saddle be enough.  She would put a bit in his mouth another time.  

At home, Grace searched pictures of snaffle bridles and proper bitting.
"Are you wanting to make sure you put it on him right?"
"Yes I am" Grace replied. I've seen real simple snaffles used for training, but this is a full english bridle and cavasson, or at least I think that's what it's called. I'm not exactly sure how to adjust all of it. And I need to find a blanket too".

"Oh, I can help with that." Skye hurried off.  She returned quickly, donning her home made riding hood.

"Remember this? I made it to go for a ride with you and Elecktra when I didn't have a jacket. There's plenty of material and it's real soft.  I guess I could wear it now with my dress, huh? But it's okay. You can have it. I can make another one next winter if I need to."

Skye clambered slowly up the ladder to her bunk.

"Are you ever going to take that dress off?"
"Yes" Skye said. " I just wanted to see if I could climb the ladder in it."

The saddle portion of making the long rein rig was coming along fine. But as it turned out, the snaffle bridle did not fit La Barilla's big head. Grace briefly contemplated dismantling it, but it was such a nice bridle, and she fairly quickly abandoned that idea.

June 12
Grace watched La Barilla move at liberty. He would be beautiful under saddle. She wanted to make sure he had the best possible start.  They would find another way to do a long rein rig.  There had to be a simpler snaffle bridle around somewhere.  Or perhaps a different headstall altogether.

Grace and Skye went for a ride as the day cooled. It was the first time Grace had let anyone ride Loch'sha, the appaloosa mare, whom she had started over a year ago. Skye sat her comfortably, and Loch'sha looked relaxed.

The dogs were alerted to something while the girls talked bridles. Soon the what would become evident as the loud yipping call of a coyote tore the warm forest silence apart. They collectively stopped and listened. Another call from another coyote. Then briefly, a chorus. Three coyotes...the third one with a gruff voice that sounded more like a dog trying to become a coyote. They were able to get an accurate conception of the location of the coyotes from the sound and it was in fact coming from where they suspected the coyotes had denned; not very far at all from the ranch and more or less right behind the fire station. And the sound of at least three coyotes meant one of two things...more coyotes than they really wanted, or at least one pup.
"I really really really want to see puppies" Skye said.
The commotion ceased and the forest fell silent again, except for the sound of campers in the meadow below.
"Me too" Grace said. "Let's go look for them tomorrow morning. Without the dogs."

They put the dogs inside, and in the last light of evening rode for a little while longer inside an arena. Grace was cooking up plans. Skye could tell. She had that far away look.

"See if she will respond to shifts in your body weight" Grace said. And so Skye released the bosal reins. Loch'sha thoughtfully worked with Skye's direction.  Grace studied the bosal. It would work.
"Skye, can you make me a bosal to fit La Barilla? It will need to hold two sets of reins."
"Sure!"

June 14
By the time Grace and Skye set out to find the coyote den, at least one of the coyotes was already in the campgrounds, making a lot of noise. They decided to follow the sound as the sun rose.

As they walked, it seemed like the coyote's call grew more distant, but it was a beautiful morning, so they kept on.

They went past the group camp, back into the cool shadows. They came to the creek crossing, and as they did, the coyote calls ceased. They were greeted by another territorial resident, the hummingbrid.

They walked the recently dry creek bed, cool and still surrounded by green grass. They walked until the came to water. And Crazy's band, having a morning drink.

The watering hole was popular with all forms of life.  The girls ducked down, moving quietly toward a rock outcropping, seeking visual shelter.

Crazy seemed to have caught wind of something, or perhaps they had simply drank their fill, but he moved his band away shortly after the girls had arrived.

There was time enough for Grace and Skye to be certain that there was still only one foal in the herd. All the whie the hummingbird was busy. Chasing finches, chasing horses, posturing to show the girls whose homeland they were trespassing on.

The sun's rays were already warming the cool creek air.

Grace and Skye walked to the water's edge. The pool disappeared into the ground, but the water looked clean and smelled fresh. As long as there was water here, survival was possible for the wild thigs.

The walk back was long as the air warmed, but it had been worth it. Skye thought she saw something move as they neared the ranch.

Sure enough. The male coyote was there, in plain sight and daylight, perusing the land between the fire station and the ranch.  He was alone. Completely distracted by insects. Blending seamlessly into the landscape at all times.  They would have to go out again to look for the den. But not now. Perhaps they would try again in the evening.

The afternoon was warm, but in the dappled shade of the trees, Grace and Skye turned out some of the pony mares, foals and geldings.  The only thing cuter than a pony is a baby pony.

Dinky was a little bit shy and stayed close to mom.

The little black pony was very flashy and fun to watch. As the afternoon progressed, the shade thinned. Grace brought out some stallions one at a time to let them stretch their legs.

Grace hadn't spent much time at all with the Arab that Skye nicknmaed Big Blue. For an Arabian he was very large, and she was entirely uncertain that they owned a headstall which would fit him.

This was the pup Yeller's first encounter with horses. He wasn't sure he needed many more of them.

They turned out the silver-grey Andalusian stallion, River. Gifted the the ranch by Laurel Dedes and as splendid as ever.

It seemed a long day. At last the cooling shadows began to engulf the land. Skye and Grace went back out, on foot and without dogs, in search of the coyote den. They were in the right place, and it was the right time.

They waited, and listened. Nothing.

The shadows deepened.  The insects emerged.

Skye pointed her camera at rock formations in the failing light. They were in here somewhere. She examined her pictures, then went along the horizon and took more.  She saw something that looked like perhaps a ground squirrel standing on top of a rock, acting as a sentinel.

And then she took a closer look at her picture.  There it was. One lone coyote pup. Waiting for its parents to return with the evening meal. Already aware of Grace and Skye's presence. Already old enough to know its place in the world. The girls watched for a while, until shadows consumed the land and the pup hid itself among the boulders. A long day came to a wonderful close.