2019
It’s been four maybe five years since I last helped to clear any part of this land. That’s a startling confession considering how much of our initial time here was spent doing just that, tearing the place at its seams, pulling, cutting, dragging, burning, carving out a new reality from this raw mass of dirt and debris. It was a beautiful mess. Clearing land is the definition of Catharsis and at that time in our lives we needed a punching bag and drawing table. This farm served as both.
It’s not that we were done clearing, how can you ever be done? It’s that we needed to find a place to stop and rest once the dairy and barns were built and the twins were born. We needed to find a way to be at peace with what we’d done instead of always gnawing at the bit and trying to do more and more (and more). So we focused on the business and the learning curve inherent with operating the heavy machinery of the dairy world. It wasn’t until this fall when we started to discuss horses and the space where they’d live that it was evident it was time to pick up the chainsaw again if, for no other reason, therapy.
The horses live in the pasture just in front of our house. Approximately 5ish acres of mostly overgrown woods, like all of it, sprouting from the downward slope of a hill. While there’s plenty of cleared space for the horses to roam comfortably, it’s a much more sustainable situation if more trees (cactus, mesquite, devil’s vine, wild persimmon) are cleared to let grasses grow, allow more space for the animals to roam safely. It also creates a better view of the pond and the valley portion of the ranch that lies like a shallow bowl at the foot of the hills. It’s a gift, this eventual view from the porch, well hell all of it’s a gift. But this particular view from our porch, dotted with horses, wild ducks swimming in neat lines across the pond, it could be spectacular. A spectacular view also happens to be a ridiculous luxury. But after 3.5 years of raising twins and birthing a farm business, I think we both feel we’ve earned such a luxury.
Which is how I found myself dragging 20 foot cedar trees into a burn pile so hot that the limbs popped and fizzled to gray ash within seconds of hitting the flames. From morning until late afternoon I dragged limbs from piles cut years ago, dragged limbs from piles the moment Jeremy cut them today, dragged limbs from trees long-dead but standing that I pushed and rocked until they submitted to my feeble attempts and groaned to the ground. You want therapy? I suggest clearing. We are in a brief dry period between this winter monsoon season and today was sunny, still, and 60*. The ground is saturated, the foliage is damp, the conditions are perfect for safe and steady controlled burns which we conducted all day long under the curious gaze of 40 goats, 7 dogs, and 2.5 horses, all intermittently cautious and ambivalent to their human servants’ toils.
We ended the day saddling the horses and attempting to walk them through a property buried in water but also sprouting sweet grasses, the temptation of which was too much for our two geldings. It ended with us spending more time convincing them to listen to us than to wander off into the grasses, which is hard to do when we are outweighed 100 fold. Which leads me to this: in terms of the ultimate therapy, the ultimate catharsis – you guys. The horse. The horse. The horse.
I’m choosing to spare details here because our short but exhausting journey with them has been emotional, and too esoteric to go into if you’re not a Horse Person. I’m still deciding if I’m actually a horse person. What I know for sure, and have always known since I was a very small girl, is that there is absolutely no meaning to life if it is not shared with animals. Period, no negotiation, ok? Every species that we encounter adds a deeper understanding of our tangled relationship with the world, with our own history, horses being perhaps the creatures with whom we have the most complicated history. As such, I am fascinated with, confused by, dumbfounded, infinitely exhausted, worried, enamored with and grateful for these creatures. In one short month they have already taught me more about my own mental (and physical) strength and emotional bandwidth than any other being. They have tested my resolve, taxed my patience, have forced me to dig deep all while relieving me – for the first time in three years – of the constant obsession with the dairy. They are a distraction and a disturbance that is, like the land, a beautiful mess.
I recommend, if ever the opportunity should arise, to give yourself over to those things which make little sense, which appear at first as luxuries but in the end blur your reality until suddenly everything seems clear. Does that make sense? Probably not. I hope not. If it all makes sense then you’re not having fun anymore.
I hope that in 2019 you try something that scares you and that is difficult to justify. I hope you find a moment to watch the embers glow while sitting beneath the constellations, animals snorting in the darkness, your drink clutched between cold hands, just feeling the world spin beyond your control.
