"Our Dreams, Connections and Memories of Horses Crossed the Rainbow Bridge"

Howdy Friends,
 

Our thoughts of our departed equine partners, I believe, are a connection to their spirits. Not merely memories, though memories are precious, but conduits by which we travel and visit with them again and again.

 How often have we slept comfortably and been visited by long ago physically gone friends in dreams so real we could feel them, smell them, hear them? Friends who in days past had carried us gleefully across fields, trails and on adventures. Friends who stood silently with us and joined us in celebrating our joys. Helped shoulder the burden of our disappointments, our sorrows. The spirit of the horse can be so tightly woven into ours that it is highly appropriate it would continue to lift us after leaving the physical realm. Continue to guide us, comfort us, lighten our hearts.

On a sunny day, busy with whatever task we'd undertaken, a sudden wisp of a thought brings a departed partner back with a nicker and a snort. Perhaps a head shake and stomping foot. An invisible muzzle touches our cheek.

While riding our present horse a thought of how to cue, move or sit dashes into our head and we think, "There you go old friend. Thanks for the help." They talk to us still, ever present helpful and connected.

 

Diablo and me, long ago ...

My old friend Diablo, while never less than a high spirited boy, has dropped in often to reassure, even guide my thoughts over the years. Funny how he mostly appears when I'm troubled. But then he always was at his best when I needed the most help. I believe it was his wisdom that helped me see, my spirit guides are horses. While Honey was only with me a short time, she too connects from time to time, in her quiet unassuming way. She was never less than a perfect gentlelady.

Honey and me ...

Often I get thoughts from/of horses I barely knew, perhaps worked with, but the images and thoughts are clear and sometimes deep. I believe when a connection has been made, the conversation continues forever. If we listen they will talk.

Friends if you have those sudden thoughts, peaceful dreams and ideas that seem to come from nowhere, embrace them. They are your friends visiting.

Gitty Up ~ Dutch Henry

Grandma's Christmas Cactus

Grandma's Christmas Cactus

Howdy Folks,

I spent my youth, which seems so long ago, but sometimes not so long ago, on a dairy farm in PA. When I was about 10 I was, "Farmed Out" that is to say placed on a farm to work for my room and board. There I learned much. It was there that, although I did not realize it at the time, I was first touched by the spirit of the horse. While the farm always had an old tractor much of the work was done with the heavy horses, Dan and Bill. It was huddled in their stall on one of my first nights on the farm that I felt that spirit. I can still remember that feeling of comfort, safety that came over me. The first time in my short life that I felt that way.

Life was suddenly so different. I had spent the previous 3 years locked in a room, with the sole window painted black. Here on the farm there was a vast openness that took some getting used to. Here on the farm there was suddenly no more ugliness, no harsh words and worse. But there was no love there either. I was there to work. I found my work fun though, mostly. I never really enjoyed shoveling out the privy. If you're too young to know what that is, try the google thing. It was here on the farm that I first discovered birds, too. My first was a Killdeer in the cornfield as I hoed thistles from between the stalks.

The farm had no modern conveniences, well we did have electric in the milk house, I suppose the dairy insisted on that. But the house and the rest of the farm had no running water or electric. One of my chores had been to carry and heat water for wash day Monday. Another to keep the wood box full.

One day, a few months after I'd arrived at the farm, a car pulled into the driveway between the house and barn and I watched from the barnyard as a woman walked up to the house. Soon she came out to me. It was my Grandma. I didn't know then, but she was forbidden to come see me. But she did. She told me later that she'd parked way off on other days and walked to safe vantage points to watch me work ... Until the day came that she would watch from afar no more. Years later she told me she would sit outside the house where I'd been in that room and stare at the black window for hours.

From that first meeting on the farm Grandma became my only regular visitor. The folks didn't really like it, because when she visited it took me away from my work. But Grandma was very determined.

Robbie and I still have Grandma's Christmas Cactus. It blooms some years at Christmas, other years I guess it doesn't feel like it. Over the years it has sometimes struggled to stay with us, but like Grandma that little cactus is very determined. Grandma loved violets too, it was for her they had such a big role in my novel.

By my guess Grandma's cactus is well over thirty years old, and this year it's sporting a fine display of red blooms. I paused this morning on my way out for coffee with Kessy and said howdy to Grandma.

That raggedy little plant still brings Grandma's happy visits to me.

Gitty Up,

Dutch Henry