I read this post from The Plaid Horse and thought “those are all very meta, thoughtful reasons to reconsider a trainer or barn, but surely there have to be some really good crazy stories, right?”

Reader, I have two of them.

I have been at six different barns in the fifteen years (!) I have owned Tristan.

Two have them have been truly exemplary. They’re second homes, every tiny detail is accounted for and managed, the people are lovely – they’re just amazing. My current barn is one of those two.

One of them was very good and had many, many positive things, but some noticeable drawbacks. Nothing that made me move but enough that I might not give a wholehearted recommendation to anyone and everyone seeking a barn.

One of them was just fine! It was a friend’s backyard basically and it suited precisely what I needed it for – nine months of rehab turnout for Tristan while I focused on grad school. Care was top notch but it was a fence and a run-in shed and that was that.

One of them was quite decidedly meh. On paper terrific, some really great experiences and memories, but a LOT of weirdness. Some of it concerning. Some of it just weird.

One of them was an actual three ring circus.

It had 50 stalls in two long aisles. They turned in/out by opening stall doors and chasing horses. Down a steep hill and around a corner to a turnout. They had 3 basic groups of turnout. Then they brought them in the same way, after already throwing hay. Many horses went to their own stalls and chilled. A not-small number ducked in and out of several stalls, resulting sometimes in multiple horses in a stall fighting it out.

They once quarantined an incoming horse because it had Cushing’s.

There was no actual trainer on site. There was a barn owner who was some combination of burned out/really terrible/older/sick of the whole thing. There were 20 year olds who taught up-down lessons. So there was a huge, beautiful indoor – and a tack room to die for, and a viewing lounge also to die for – that barely got used.

After about 7 weeks there, when I had already started quietly investigating other barns to move to, I arrived at the barn in the evening to discover that Tristan was colicking very badly. That they had thrown his evening grain on top of his morning grain – my horse who at that point in his life ate every scrap of everything and kicked for more – without even noticing. They did not notice he was colicking. For 48 hours, I slept in a chair in front of or in his stall because I did not trust anyone. He started colicking on Monday; on Thursday, we left the barn under literal cover of darkness and I ate my 30 day notice.

A few months later, the barn owner’s daughter’s ex-boyfriend came to the barn on a Saturday and waved a gun around screaming, then attempted to fire at both the daughter (who was sort of kind of the barn manager and was living in an apartment on site) and the barn owner. The gun misfired, and soon after the police got there.

In Googling the barn for this blog post, out of curiosity, I found that one of their barn workers was arrested for neglect after horses in her care at a private facility were seized and taken to a rescue with a body score of 2.

So, all of those would be warning signs. That barn was the first I moved Tristan to after my college barn, which was amazing. I didn’t yet know what to look for and what not to look for. I liked the facilities, the access to the local state park, the distance from my house, and many other things. The nutty management did not show up until a few weeks in. Now, I’m much, much pickier and more neurotic about the people I trust to care for Tristan.

(One of the barns I looked at to move to during that whole phase came highly recommended and the trainer spent our entire conversation, which included a tour of the facilities, chain-smoking and flicking the butts everywhere. DUDE. NO. That was a really obvious warning sign, too.)

A few weeks ago, I called a chimney specialist to see if we could get the fireplace in our living room operational again.

The previous owners had done…something…to it. It’s still a little opaque to me. At some point, they had a wood stove there, for sure. At some point, there was a chimney fire and they had to put in a new liner. I have absolutely no idea of the chronology of these things. Was the liner there a new one, currently intact? Would we need a new liner? Had they put in the wood stove as a reaction to the chimney fire, or was it the wood stove that caused the fire and nothing had been touched since? Was there anything else we needed to do?

Chimney guy was…extremely less than helpful, quoted $5k just to start investigating, and probably more like $10k when we were done, and strongly suggested we get an insert. Which – when I told him I didn’t like the look of inserts, he said I was the first person who had ever said that. I DON’T THINK SO, DUDE. Fireplace inserts are a very distinct look and one that is very different from actual fireplace.

There’s nothing wrong with them if that’s the way you want to go. But let’s be very clear about them looking very different, right? And I get it – they’re more efficient, easier to clean, probably safer, all sorts of things. But we wanted the fireplace as an occasional cozy winter thing, not as an actual heat source for the house.

After giving me a scare lecture about another chimney entirely in a different part of the house, about which more another day, he also pointed out one last thing: we were losing a LOT of heat out of the fireplace.

It sounds obvious, right? But after five years in the house I’m still learning a lot of “obvious” things and kicking myself for not dealing with them sooner. Oh well.

I pondered for a bit and decided to make a fireplace board to air-seal the fireplace and provide a bit of decoration to the room. Fireplace boards are a very old solution to that same problem.

You could spend all day getting sucked into some gorgeous antique ones, and they’re very collectible. You can also get modern ones in old styles.

The concept is really basic, though: it goes in the fireplace hole and it blocks heat. I figured that was a project I could handle.

Step 1 was to frame out a board that would fit the space, using scrap plywood and 2x4s.

Step 2 was to fill it with a can of foam insulation that I had laying around.

Step 3 was to fill in the nail holes and the crack with wood filler, which I will never use again, amen. I called my brother halfway through and ranted about how much it sucked and what was I doing wrong and got the news that wood filler just sucks and he always mixes wood glue and sawdust for a custom fill. Sigh. Next time.

Step 4 was to prime the board, which I forgot to take a picture of.

Step 5 was to actually insert it, and use a combination of things to airseal it: garage door rubber on the sides, and mortite and felt stripping in other spots. It actually looks better than it sounds.

Step 6, put everything back and marvel at my more comfortable living room!

Step 7, at some undetermined point in the future, will be to add decorative paint, but my priority was getting it in place for now and stopping the heat loss, especially since last month we got $600 in heating bills, ugh.

In the meantime, it looks neater, does its job, and was a nice project that used up entirely material I had around the house. Overall investment, maybe 3 hours, but most of that was running up and down the cellar stairs because I kept effing up the sizing.

Let me preface this by saying: I am about as non-religious as you can get. Spiritual sometimes, maybe. I place a great emphasis in the power of place, and of objects, and of inspiration. But organized religion? Nope.

I write that preface because I’m about to share a hymn with you.

The tune is to Thaxted, a common melody that’s pulled from the sweeping grand bit of Holst’s Jupiter. There are a ton of hymns and other songs in general set to it. It’s an extraordinary piece of music, both in its original orchestral arrangement and in its vocal arrangements.

This particular hymn is titled “For the Splendor of Creation,” and I heard it for the first time at my college convocation, a quasi-religious invocation in the campus chapel the evening before our actual graduation. They printed the words in the program and we sang it and it hit me like a ton of bricks. It still hits me that way, every single time I listen to it.

The lyrics are a hymn of praise to knowledge and learning, in all its challenges and complexities and frustrations and joys. It has spare, simple words that capture perfectly a profound, sincere gratitude toward the process of learning.

I identify as an historian. I have inhabited some kind of atmosphere of academia and learning my entire life, whether as a student or as a researcher. I feel, almost every day, deeply lucky for getting to do what I get to do, even if it makes me crazy on some days.

So, when I’m feeling the need to really connect again to what drives me, underneath all the minutiae and the eight million emails and the late nights and the budget tightening – I listen to this hymn and I remember.

Lyrics:

For the splendor of creation
     that draws us to inquire,
for the mysteries of knowledge
     to which our hearts aspire,
for the deep and subtle beauties
     which delight the eye and ear,
for the discipline of logic,
     the struggle to be clear,
for the unexplained remainder,
     the puzzling and the odd:
for the joy and pain of learning,
     we give you thanks, O God.

For the scholars past and present
     whose bounty we digest,
for the teachers who inspire us
     to summon forth our best,
for our rivals and companions,
     sometimes foolish, sometimes wise,
for the human web upholding
     this noble enterprise,
for the common life that binds us
     through days that soar or plod:
for this place and for these people,
     we give you thanks, O God.

One of my resolutions for the year was to log every ride, so I’m doing that with just brief handwritten notes in a new journal for that purpose.

To be strictly honest, I bought the journal a while ago because look at it! And then had it on a shelf trying to figure out what to do with it. It seemed perfect for this purpose.

Really truly short notes! But they’re working for me, and it also helps that he’s been really spectacular to start the year.

 

Yes, like many many other much more prominent/interesting/influential bloggers, I also received a SaddleBox to try and review for you all to read about. I got it…probably before Thanksgiving, honestly. Sorry, SaddleBox! You were so nice to send it and I suck.

Anyway. I opened it a few days ago and I’ll admit: was pleasantly surprised.

Overall, I’d say the mix was about 1/3 stuff I really liked, 1/3 stuff I’m neutral on but can always use, and 1/3 stuff that was nice, but…not quite for me.

First, treats. Can you really go wrong with treats? I don’t think so. Especially peppermints, which are hands-down Tristan’s favorite. These fell firmly into the loved category.

Also in the loved category: that hoofpick. YOU GUYS. I have a thing about hoofpicks and I have like three in my tack box at all times because different ones work differently and I never know which I’ll need based on my mood and/or Tristan’s feet on any given day. This hoofpick is a perfect – and actually really nice! – version of the “very narrow and pointy pick” variety which is perfect for sort of angling under and up in the heel when his frog is a little bit shed-y and I really want to scrape out any grossness and…I’ve probably talked way too much about my thoughts on hoofpicks. Anyway: it’s legitimately AWESOME.

Rounding out the “sure, can’t have enough” category is the vetwrap and the shedding blade. I swear I could curry Tristan in a shedding blade every day and he’d still lean into it. This one is nicely bite-y and will come in handy when he starts blowing out that long coat.

Straddling the love and like category is this bathing scrunchie. I really like it in theory but I’ll have to test it in concept. I could still go either way on it.

In the “sure…I guess?” category was the scarf below the scrunchie.

It’s a super pretty scarf, reasonably nice fabric (though extremely lightweight), with a pretty design. I just..don’t accessorize. Really ever. At all. I can’t even remember to change my earrings so I leave the same studs in 24/7. A more stylish person who worked harder at being presentable would probably love this scarf. I know there are lots of you out there! I just can’t partake in that level of energy for what I’m wearing.

Last but not least, this lovely little brush. It’s a nice soft face brush and I like it so much…I already own one exactly like it, only with black bristles because let’s be real white bristles? whyyyyyy? So…love but don’t really need another?

It was a lot of fun to get horse stuff in the mail rather than multivitamins or a new dryer vent, I’ll tell you that much. So I think there are lots of people who might like this, and the overall success of subscription boxes in this day and age certainly points to that! But I am not really that person. I think after the third or fourth one I’d start to think too much about all the STUFF and want to purge and/or donate it and it would make me more anxious than happy. But, you know, your brain may vary.

So: thank you, SaddleBox, for sharing your cool stuff with me! If you know someone in your life who loves testing out new horse stuff, loves getting mail, or is somewhat new to horses and is just waiting to learn about the joys of different hoof picks: this would honestly be a terrific gift.

And let’s face it, most people suck at giving things to horse people, so – hey, people out there who love horse people: GET THEM THIS INSTEAD OF OTHER RANDOM NORMAL STUFF THEY’LL HAVE TO PRETEND TO LOVE. I would have been super, super touched if my in-laws had gotten me this. They get me great gifts! But they have never gotten me anything horsey at all because they just have no idea where to even start. This would be a great start.

Okay, here we go!

Tristan

1. Ride a First Level test at one of the two barn schooling shows
2. Take notes (however brief) on every ride
3. Clean tack at least 1x a month
4. Volunteer at 3 events
5. Take 25 lessons
6. *Reach goal: Go to Crossfit 100 times (or roughly 2x a week) for additional fitness

 

Business

1. Keep up with monthly expense/revenue tracking
2. Maintain 100 listings in the Etsy store
3. Mustang gear goes live
4. Sponsor 5 riders
5. Table at a horse show
6. *Reach goal: Get to 1000 sales on Etsy

 

General

1. Try 25 new recipes
2. Try making: croissants, eclairs, cinnamon rolls
3. Declutter in February
4. Finish 5 craft projects
5. Finish upstairs bathroom, front guest bedroom, and nook room
6. *Reach goal: submit Morgan article for publication

Very last one! Did I hit my goals?

 

Tristan

• Get to First Level – You know what, I’m calling this close enough. Fuck it. Done.
• Take 12 lessons – done
• Volunteer at 6 events – I did one. Oh well.
• Get & share 1 video per month of rides – Nothing in December, so this was about a 50/50.

Other

• Finish house interior work – Nope.
• Finish funding emergency fund – DONE!
• Pay off vision correction surgery – DONE!
• Try 24 new recipes – DONE!
• Write 20k on Morgan book – Finished the year at about 12k with plans for more in the new year, not half bad.

Business

• Get to 500 sales on Etsy – 558 sales for the year, YIKES.
• Separate website and social media for business
• Take accounting class
• Develop 3 new patterns
• Have a total of 7-10 items for sale

Jumping on the bandwagon with an attempt at a blog post! I’ll do my 2019 wrapup tomorrow and then talk about new year goals later in the week.

 

2010

That year had us actively training as eventers and boarding south of Boston. We did small schooling shows here and there – some dressage, some jumping. Nothing huge. This photo was taken at a XC schooling day at Scarlet Hill Farm, and it’s still one of my favorites. I was living and going to grad school right outside of Boston, and my commute was a minimum of 70 minutes to get to the barn.

2011

Still at that farm, still doing small schooling stuff, consumed by grad school this year, mostly. We made baby steps of improvement but nothing mind-blowing. Honestly, most of 2009-2012 is a blur; I was working until 4:30, driving to the barn, riding, getting home around 9pm, starting grad school work, and just sleeping whenever I possibly could.

2012

Whew, this year was full of extreme highs and lows. We came out swinging at an event season after I graduated with my master’s, and we made a pretty credible run at Beginner Novice. Then, he went lame and started abscessing in August, and he didn’t stop for the rest of the year. In November, I moved to Vermont, and he joined me a month later, still lame.

2013

I’m choosing two pictures from this year, and you can’t stop me. In March, Tristan went in for surgery for a badly infected fractured coffin bone; that’s on the left. After struggling to figure out what was wrong for seven months, it was terrifying, but a relief, to address it so directly. By August of that year, we were doing our first hacks in the hay field at our barn in Vermont, recovered and regaining fitness.

2014

One of my favorite pictures I’ve ever taken, period. 2014 had lots and lots of cool hacking out, some light lessoning and schooling, and TONS of volunteering, often crewing for H. and her wonderful Tucker at endurance and CT rides, including Vermont Moonlight and the one where he got loose in the middle of the night and we drove all the back roads of New Hampshire looking for him. That fall, Tristan was diagnosed with Cushings and started on pergolide.

2015

Lots and lots of hacking. Some lessoning. That winter, Tristan started wearing blankets for the first time as a response to his Cushings. He turned 20 years old, and he had a tail tumor and got chemo for it, I swear. He started getting hives in the summer and started wearing a fly sheet for the first time. I bought a house that spring and got married that fall and he was kind of the back burner for a while, serving mostly as my stress relief.

2016

We struggled with some random lameness stuff (true of most years) and just general not going all that well. We did a few tests at the barn school show that fall. That’s my dad on the right, taking video of our test, which was pretty unremarkable.

2017

I rode Tristan for the first and last time ever in polo wraps and my hand to God they are still sitting unrolled in my basement after I pulled them out of the washing machine and said “fuck it.” If that doesn’t sum me up as a rider, I don’t know what does. ANYWAY. I traveled a bunch, did a lot of hacking and some lessoning, and started my Etsy shop late in that year.

2018

That year was all about work: the Etsy shop continued growing, I had a massive work project that took over my life for months, and Tristan had a series of dumb little injuries and/or issues that meant we basically went one week on, two weeks off all year.  I took several weeks off in the summer when I got laser eye surgery. I finished the Black Stallion recap series, which I’m still kind of smugly proud of. In September, Tristan colicked badly enough to require a 1:00 am trip to the vet clinic – the actual worst-case nightmare scenario. He came off the trailer better, but – that was as close as I’ve ever gotten to losing him. He came back from that well and we actually ended the year on a high note with regular lessons.

2019

This past year was a absolute garbage fire the likes of which I hope I never experience ever again. Despite that, my horse life actually went pretty darn well. I worked at the barn a lot, did a ton of lessons, and Tristan is going better than he ever has – even knocking at the door of First Level. The Etsy shop took off and hit all my goals and even with some vet escapades, meant I could pad my savings a little bit. I didn’t blog a lot, but I’m pretty okay with that.

Expectant Arya is expectant.

Yes, I’m there already. I’ve been thinking about these for a while now and I’ll write out more about my thinking process, but here’s a big one right away.

Going forward, this blog will become a little bit less horse-exclusive.

Tristan and various equestrian endeavors still consume most of my waking hours, and that will never change! So anything I write will reflect that.

But I’ve missed having an outlet to ruminate over various other things in my life – namely, my dog, my research, ideas about history, and probably occasionally some baking. I already write about working on the house here, so that won’t be too much of a change.

If that turns you off or bores you, that’s fine! But in my deep thinking about the places I spend my time and energy, I found that I was missing regular writing and reflection, and this blog would only continue to serve my life if I matched it more closely with what I need.