I love winter. I love the stillness of it, the way all of life slows down and pays attention, the way it forces me to come face-to-face with mortality and
I love winter. I love the stillness of it, the way all of life slows down and pays attention, the way it forces me to come face-to-face with mortality and
Dear Betty, I had to write you, in hopes that you’ll take time out of whipping Heaven into shape to read my scattered thoughts. After all, you always had time
I want to tell you about my husband. Every time I take Buzz out for a ride, Adam hooks up the horse trailer. When I get back, he carefully parks
I’ve been working on stamina with my horse, Buzz. Like most Quarter Horses, he’s built for explosive speed over short distances, followed by a distilled, lengthy sense of easy-going-ness. He
I was in a flash nonfiction contest recently, and we had to incorporate the sentence: “It wasn’t a crisis yet” into our essay. What a loaded premonition. It’s gotten me
I’ve been sick this week, the kind of sick that sucks up time like a labrador retriever does meals. I spent a couple of days groaning and sleeping and feeding
Y’all I’m so tired, because this weekend we had TWO fundraisers. The first was for my beloved barn, our therapeutic riding center. It’s a shindig that we spend all year
We bought Treewater Ranch in late March, and the grass in the pastures was brown and dead, mere hints of what might spring up between these sturdy pole fences. After
This year’s Easter was magical. Let me begin, as I often do, by telling you about the food: smoked carnitas tacos with all the fixings (including homemade beans and rice,
I loved baking with my mom as a kid. She is a real baker, the kind of precise person who measures exactly and sets timers and separates yolks from whites.