LuceStellare

Freddie: iCalico

This summer has been an enjoyable revival of an old love affair with the outstanding band Queen. The film, “Bohemian Rhapsody” shook loose the fondest memories. “Killer Queen” came on the radio just when I entered the teen years. Every year, they had a new single. Every song carried their sound, their grit and their soul. The “Bicycle Race” was fun. I loved the ching-ching of a European bell. Not many bands had the gravitas to put out something so not a pop song. The imagery was priggish. As a young feminista, it was actually quite appalling .

Freddie has been gone for years now. Truly, he was a calico cat in another life. He doesn’t look like the cuddly type and neither are they. A man with energy that sparked outward. Calicos tolerate us, appreciate us but in the end, don’t give a flip. Freddie talked like that quite a lot. He loved what he was doing but never suffered fools. “Death on Two Legs” comes to mind whenever I tangle with an asshat boss on some nonsense tension involving power plays. Freddie was very sharp as are calico’s. They sit back and consider. They observe and pass judgement with an ear twitch.

If there is a most perfect song of their repertoire, it must be, “Somebody to Love.” It’s brilliant. The ebb and flow, pacing and emotional power is perfect. But, then there is “Seaside”, “Crazy Little Thing Called Love, “and “39”. I miss Freddie. I miss a flamboyant, fan it in front of everyone kind of personality. Such an old friend Ω

Riding a Black Mare

In the summer of 2017, the horse bug bit again and it was about time to be with them once more. Over the past twenty five years, there had been a chance or two to be with horses but it didn’t stick. The push came out of a series of vivid dreams about starving, confined horses living under my childhood home. The dire circumstances are uncovered. The dream vanishes as I feed, water and let them out into the sunshine.

The dreams came on and on. They were so insistent I looked into starting an equine rescue. A flood of energy, almost a will, took over with these thoughts. Cash, it takes mountains of cash to support horses in Massachusetts. At the time, I didn’t even have a backyard to stable one. Well, there has to be two, horses don’t care to live alone.

Maybe for a while, I volunteered at a rescue nearby. The problem was too many hands and no horse time. I gave it a go for a few months. A lesson or two came and went. The skill was there! The cost was too high. I had to set the will aside.

A chance came again to be around horses three years ago. This time, I found the gumption to get back on and ride. All the swimming, yoga and gardening over the years didn’t mean diddly. My body was pretty sore after a few rides. How did I get so crooked! My hip, shoulder, the whole left side is up, rides higher than the right. It’s so weird! I could ride with my stirrup leather one hole higher to get things equal.

The cost is still too high. But, I go. The one unfulfilled goal from forty years ago will not go away. It’s a separate force of energy and not me. I want my own horse.

Emma. This year, I have the great pleasure to be with Emma. She’s not young. Life’s been a little demanding on her. She’s become indifferent to the two legged s. Becky says she’s hard to ride. She is sensitive and prefers her own company. Emma wants to be in a quiet place. It’ll be Friday and Sunday afternoons we’ll have our rides. She’s for sale! Too much ☹ We could negotiate, but it’s the monthly bill that’s too much. One of us would end up eating rice and beans forever. As strong as the will is, it’s not delusional.

Years ago, before I fell in love with horses again, I had fun in finding out my patronus from J.K. Rowling’s webpage. It was a magical moment to see a Black Mare cantering out of the misty night forest. I haven’t lost this bit of news. Is it Emma?

“Black Mare – This animal is typical for people who show strong motivation in life and usually represents passion, determination, and an appetite for freedom. Black is a relatively uncommon coat color, so this could represent a part of your personality that you’d rather keep hidden or just reveal to your personal circle. This specific color could also refer to instinctual urges of your mind for the unknown and mysterious.” Source Mugglenet.com

Well, I have an independent nature and keep my thoughts private. I might share something personal from time to time but that’s not common. My true nature is hidden. I talk to the horses. Their energy is calming.

“Patronus Analysis 034 Black Mare. If this is your patronus then you express yourself freely and have a true and honest Soul. You do not hide the truth and express your emotions well. Those with the Black Mare are gentle and kind of heart. This patronus is common in all houses but least common in Slytherin.” Source Patronus Meaning on Tumblr.

You do not hide the truth and express your emotions well! Yes, the INTJ in me tends to fall on the reality side. We’re not good at games and prefer authentic relationships. They are actually quite rare. Horses play games. They can be quite funny together. Happy, herding creatures in search of sweet grass.

Sunday was a good ride. When we went to the outside ring, she snorted and huffed at the white picnic table that had moved since Friday. Check it out dear, it’s a silly table. We sauntered into the ring. I slipped a bit getting on. Fifty-eight year old legs don’t swing on so easy now. She called out to the other horses. Emma didn’t like being the only horses outside on this murky, cloudy almost rainy afternoon. Becky said she gets marish around other horses. So she’s lonely now! Horses neighed back. It’s okay.

She did tune in after a while. She loosened up and had a lovely swing in her walk. The ground poles gave her trot a lift. She didn’t surge on so much. We’re getting the signals together. This being our sixth ride only, still sorting out how to say in contact with Emma. Some bit champing. Some bending. Smooth halts, transitions still out of sync.

Emma is an Oldenburg from Iron Springs Farm. A fancy sport horse trained up to 4th level dressage. She’s got the moves but has become hard in the mouth. No contact, no connection. This horse is fine. Becky said the surges I feel are impulsion. I have the privilege of riding a horse that has her own impulsion. She has a lot to teach me.

Fridays and Sundays light up with the glory of Emma 🙂 The dream rides on.

Lady Slipper in Bloom

Once in a while now, a morning comes along with a clear sky and a memory of solace. Honeysuckle in bloom along the roadway tosses about in the breeze. Where they always so lush?

Late May is when the forest pixies emerge from under the owl’s wings to tiptoe along the mossy stones. The roots and rocks are worn down now. Trees close the path a bit now. Sapling oak has been fearless. Look how tall you have grown!

The little frog pond has swamped over the gravel path. Hoof prints of horses appear in the mucky soil. Oh! so are my shoes! Carry on, it’s been so long since we came back to this sacred space. A little wet foot won’t mind.

The path winds into young woods, past the busy brook spilling from the old mill pond. Settlement is long gone. Now deer, fox and rabbit tread here.

Up the hillside passing ferns grown gorgeous green. A light violet flowered wild geranium emerges to please the eye. Up and up to the top of the rise. Down and down sliding along the rocky way. Into the sacred groove.

The trail leads on. There is nothing ahead and nothing behind. All is wild. Tree limbs rub and creak above. Flies and gnats visit. Where are they? Once a year, the dear slippers are lost, left clinging onto a shoe rest waiting for the owner to return.

I suppose, to the ordinary eye it looks like pink lady slipper in bloom. Others of us know she passed this way, She was here dancing under the starry sky with her band. The sprites wear the finest silk slippers. So light are they with princess feet almost floating above the ground.

The May dance is almost over. Glad am I to return to these noble woods. My oldest and best friend. How much was left behind here! How much solace has been found along the trail. So much has changed. I got distracted by music, travel, a home and horses. Nothing has changed. Oh there’s more grass on the trail I suppose. Not many feet pass this way?

A day of delight. Walking along with a stout stick to help the old legs get along. We brought no gift. We took nothing out except happiness. The unknown sorrow of many a long night left in this place. The reassuring solace of woodland ways

Blessings, to see lady slipper in bloom A most rare and beautiful day.