What's Changed in the Barn October Thru April

 I haven't posted anything in a while about the horse barn project, or about the horses specifically.  That doesn't mean there hasn't been anything going on.  Rather, quite the opposite.

Last fall, I acquired two new boarders, both geldings, both basically retired and owned by the same person.  This is a great arrangement for both my client and myself: she gets someone knowledgeable about older horses giving her horses great care, and I have a client who isn't concerned that there's no 'real' riding arena here (yet. . . it's on the list but not likely this year. . .)

Those two horses, I think I'll refer to as Crockett and Tubbs.  Yeah, Miami Vice, but really the only thing remotely related to that TV show is that one of the geldings is rather chubby (he's an easy keeper and I will need to watch his weight) and mentally I started calling him Tubbs.  Which led to me thinking of Miami Vice and that I could easily name his friend, the other gelding, Crockett, because they are a long time pair.

The LBM is still boarded here, although at the end of December her owner took her out of training for the winter.  Which ended up being a good decision (and one I wholly approved of despite the loss of training revenue) based on the winter we had which was mostly too frigid/snowy/icy to work horses with any sort of regularity.  Plus, it gave me all the decent weather/decent footing days to work the Poetess rather than trying to squeeze her in around a paying customer.  

The LBM started back in training on May first, and seems to have retained a whole lot of what we worked on last year.  So far, so good!

The Poetess? She loved having me all to herself, as it were.  Her training is coming along nicely, and I'm thinking by the end of summer we'll have made an amazing amount of progress.  She catches on pretty quickly, and working her 3-4 days a week has ramped up her learning significantly.

Meanwhile, inside the barn, there's been a whole lot of changes since the beginning of the year.  DH ran wires to the feed room, so now I have a light in there.  That was a great and very appreciated addition, especially on those dark winter mornings.

Next, he framed in the tack room.  Which included making the divider wall between the tack room and Poetess's wall go all the way up instead of just high enough that she wouldn't be able to jump out (as we'd originally built it in our rush to get her home.) 

I wasn't sure how she would respond to that after more than a year of having an unimpeded view to the front half of the barn--and out the front door, but she took it in stride.  That first night, when she came in from turnout, she pricked her ears, sniffed the new boards and I could almost visibly see her shrug and say "huh, guess that was gonna happen sooner or later".  I have, since then, stained the new boards so they match the existing stall wall.

After that wall was finished, DH began framing in the other three walls of the tack room.  And that began the mess of stuff pushed into the center of the room so that he could access the walls with a ladder, and also be able to bring boards into the room for building with.  A mess that daily drives me nuts and has me more and more anxious for the whole tack room project to be finished.

Photo taken before more stuff was added to the center of the room,

making a gigantic mess.

The next wall to be finished was the one between the tack room and the aisle.  Once it had enough boards on the 'exterior' to make DH realize it would be easier to set the door before the whole wall was covered, DH installed the door to the tack room, and then added the remainder of the boards.

In March, when the daytime temperatures were warm enough for three to four days at a stretch, I painted the tack room door.  Because I could.  And because I have a thing for color (that thing being the rationale that anything that doesn't have to be white shouldn't be white).  Using a semi-gloss alkyd paint, I made that door dark green.  (For those wondering, it's Behr paint and the exact color I had mixed for me is called Vine Leaf).  I used two coats of paint and was quite happy with the result.

The door after the first coat of paint, definitely green, but blotchy.

That wasn't the only thing I painted green.  In framing up the tack room (and getting ready to install a ceiling in it), the time had come to move the ladder to the hayloft out into the aisle (it had been in the tack room area for eons) and cut open the 'hay drop' in the loft floor that we'd framed in nearly 20 years ago when the barn was originally built.  

Using the old ladder, which had been given to me in 2005 by a friend who no longer needed it, with the now usable hay drop didn't work ideally.  So, DH offered to build me a new, longer, ladder to my loft.  Of course I said "yes, please!"  I mean, when DH offers to do something remotely horse related, I've learned to jump on that offer before it disappears never to be mentioned again.

With a brand new ladder custom made by DH, I absolutely had to paint it green.  Two coats of the same paint I used on the tack room door, and it was good to go.

DH didn't quite understand why I so vehemently insisted that the ladder needed to be painted before installation--or painted at all--until it was in place.  Then, he had to admit that it was definitely worth waiting the three days it took me to get it painted and cured before bringing it into the barn.  The green ladder by the green door just really looks sharp.

It's the little details like that that can make a big difference.

For the interior of the tack room, we'd had many discussions over the winter of what the sheeting material on the walls would be.  DH was hoping (ease of installation and price-wise) that I would say OSB was good enough.  HA!  He knows me better than that.  So his next suggestion was cheapy paneling sheets.  Also a "I didn't wait 20 years for a tack room to slap just anything on the walls" response from me.  Plywood?  Maybe.  Maybe, I said, depending on the grade of it.

Well, then, on Craigslist he found some tongue-in-groove knotty pine paneling that ended up being, per foot, about the same cost as the (less than ideal in my book) grade of plywood he'd been trying to convince me to go with.  Knotty pine paneling?  Oh Hell Yes!!  Winner!!  

So on Good Friday (because he had the day off work) he drove two hours one way and picked up an entire 'rack' of knotty pine paneling from the guy who'd listed it on Craiglist.  And on Easter Sunday, after church and after barn chores (we'd done family Easter on Saturday, remember), I got to staining that paneling so he could start installing it.

It's really a clear coat sealant with polyurethane, but it does put a very light tint to the wood, as you can see in the above photo of the stained (bottom) vs unstained (top) board

Interior tack room/aisle wall, 

partially paneled.

Now, we don't need an entire rack of knotty pine to do the inside walls of the tack room.  But, a neat thing that DH didn't tell me about until after he'd gotten the paneling boards home, is that the back side of the boards is milled for bead board.  So, my tack room ceiling is going to be finished in white bead board, and I spend the end of April starting painting boards for that with a semi-gloss white alkyd paint.  Two coats per board, and they are exactly the look I want for a ceiling (to reflect light back downward as much as possible).

And that is all the horse and barn related news at this little place here from October 2024 to the end of April 2025.

I Went To A Symphony!

On Friday evening, I went to a symphony.  Other than when DD2 was in choir during college, and they performed on the same night as the college's local symphony orchestra, and once when I was really young and went with my parents to a Christmas concert put on by a small local symphony orchestra, I haven't been a symphony goer.  Not that I don't enjoy the music; just too many other things vying for my time and money.

I almost didn't go this time either, but my kids schemed against me and came up with a plan to get me there.  My boys paid for my ticket.  My girls were in charge of transporting me and feeding me dinner before hand.

And so, in the name of a Mother's Day present, I went to the symphony.

DD1 and DD2 came and got me, all dressed up, and took me out to dinner. We'd chosen a nearby Mexican restaurant, and were rather overdressed for the venue, LOL,  But all three of us had a hankering for Mexican, so. . .  

It was a good meal, and I tried birria tacos, which I'd never had before. YUM!  Definitely will eat them again.

Conversation over dinner was good, ranging from trying to plot a 'group' Father's Day present for DH, DS1, DS2, and Honorary Son (would they be amenable to being a foursome for a round of golf if we arranged it?  Not sure. . .) to Faline's goofy picture on her Pre-School Graduation poster to whose house needs what repairs that could be scheduled into a rotating one-weekend-a-month family workday gathering for the summer months.

 

As for the symphony itself, it was wonderful!  I had such a good time.  I made oddball comments based on spur of the moment thoughts in my head in regards to what was going on on stage (like how the guy playing the wood blocks made me think of a defibrillator the way he rubbed them together and then pulled them wide apart to quietly set them down) that my daughters, who have similar senses of humor, totally got a kick out of without being offended by my oddball comment.  The music was terrific, the pianist, who played the entire forty minutes of the concerto by memory without sheet music was amazing.  And the grand piano was absolutely the biggest piano I've seen in my entire life.  (Is there such a thing as a Granddaddy grand piano?  If so, I'm pretty sure it had to be that one.)

It was fascinating to watch the musicians play; their natural body movements during the course of playing their parts, coming in and out of the piece at the prescribed times, made me think of waves lapping on a beach: swelling, breaking, flowing outward to build up and flow in again.

All in all, it was a very special gift, and I'm so grateful to each and every one of my kids (plus my DH who volunteered to make sure horses were taken care of in my absence that night) for giving this experience to me.

Cherry Clafouti

 Recently, I tried my hand at making a cherry clafouti.  I'd never made one, never even tasted one before, but it was something that had been on my radar for a number of years.  A few weeks ago, after learning that I have a tart cherry tree, someone asked me if I'd ever tried making a cherry clafouti with my cherries.

"No," I answered, feeling a bit guilty that I'd never made use of them that way even though I'd heard of it more than a decade ago (best laid plans of mice and men sort of thing).

About two weeks later, I was in the chest freezer retrieving some meat to restock the kitchen fridge's freezer, and I noticed that I had a bag of frozen cherries from the 2023 crop still.  According to the label, it was 3 cups of pitted tart cherries.

Well, that sealed it.  Time to try cherry clafouti.  So I took that bag of cherries upstairs to the kitchen and thawed it overnight.  Meanwhile, I looked up a likely sounding recipe using tart, not sweet, cherries--I actually have a recipe for one using sweet cherries but I've never been confident enough to translate the needed sugar amount to make it tasty with tart cherries.  Then I made a plan for breakfast the following morning.

I confess, I was a bit nervous not knowing how this clafouti would turn out.  Even if it turned out exactly as the recipe described (I was using thawed cherries rather than fresh ones that the recipe called for, and a slightly larger amount), would I even like it?  It's technically an egg dish, and eggs are something I either love or hate, depending on how they're cooked and the resultant texture.

So, how did it come out?  Did I like it?  Will I ever make another clafouti again?

It was delicious!  Definitely a recipe success!  Even though DH complained that it 'wasn't all that good', he ate a quarter of it.  Actually slightly more than a quarter, because, as you can see by the photo above, I cut it kind of off center.  Upon questioning, he said it wasn't great because he likes meat with his breakfast, and it wasn't meat.  Ugh. Hello, macho man, eggs are meat.

Myself, I ate the other quarter! I loved not only the flavor, but the texture was spot on for the acceptable egg dish category.  In fact, the texture reminded me very much of my favorite dish I would get when we would travel to the Upper Peninsula and go out for breakfast at a little local cafe (that unfortunately, isn't there anymore as it closed down a few years ago).  

This recipe is most definitely a keeper.  In fact, I'm thinking that with a reduction of the sugar, it would probably also be excellent made with blackberries.  I will have to remember to try that in August, when the blackberries are in season (out in the woods and in a corner of our field).

I do have to say, it was awesome fresh and warm.  Leftover the next day and reheated, it was still pretty good.  The third day, when I finished off the last piece, it had gotten pretty rubbery.  So, in the future, definitely eat it all right away, LOL.

Since I followed an online recipe pretty much exactly (except my cherries were pitted and thawed), I'm not going to type it out here.  I will just post a link to the original site that I got it from.

Cherry Clafouti

View From The Porch Swing

 Yesterday, I did a lot.  Worked two horses.  Made breakfast (fried eggs and toast for DH, Greek yogurt with granola for me), lunch (leftover chicken tortilla soup) and dinner (burritos!) for DH and I (he rarely cooks).  Washed the dishes, did a load of laundry (and hung it on the line), cleaned stalls, took care of chickens; all of which are normal daily chores.  Spent about two hours painting boards that will become the ceiling of my tack room in the barn.

And then, rather than pick up another chore at nearly 8:00 in the evening (after being on the go for 12+ hours), I told myself I had to sit down.  Not just sit down, but specifically, sit down on the porch swing (because, why do I have a porch swing??? To sit on and relax.)  And, while I was sitting on the porch swing, I may as well read the library book I've had a love-hate relationship with for almost two weeks. 

Why had I not turned the book back in to the library all ready if I wasn't going to actually read it to the end? I still had it, so I should buckle down and get the last 50 or so pages out of the way.  Really, it wasn't a terrible book, and I was sort of interested in how the author was going to tie up all the loose ends. The major plot concept was okay,but I had figured out the gist of it about 150 pages ago and was not all that enthralled with the writing itself.  Overall, not a book for me even though, written a bit differently it definitely could have been more my style (um, less money and time are no object, let's pick a random event in history to add in and then, in the 1950's go back to a semblance of the noble country life of ye olde England and fall in love with the heir whose entire family just happens to love and accept you, American chick, on first meeting. . . nauseum for this person--me--who eschewed poorly written and massed produced romance novels from the time she was a teenager.)  Based on this book, I doubt I will read anything else by this author.

Anyway, I gently swang on my porch swing, skimmed through the last chapters of the book to verify I was, indeed, right about the ending, and then enjoyed about ten more minutes in the beautiful evening before the sun went down.

overlooking the garden, which has been tilled and is ready for planting 

(once it dries up from a rainy Sunday and, now, rainy Monday night and all of Tuesday morning).

due West, to the sunset

I need to remind myself to make use of that porch swing more regularly.  Just because the sun is up and on duty until nearly 9 p.m. these days doesn't mean I also have to spend all those hours working.  Mental breaks are good.  Physical breaks are good.  Remember to allow myself down time.  It's imperative.

Started a New Quilt

I have started yet another grandbaby quilt!  This one is for Grandbaby #8, a girl, who is due in mid-July but is actually kind of expected in June because of issues her mom has had in previous pregnancies.

There's so much to tell in relation to this new grandbaby. She was a Christmas surprise; as in DH and I found out about her back in late December at our family Christmas gathering.  She was also a total surprise to her parents, especially since they thought they had taken steps to ensure that there wouldn't be any more babies between them.  Turns out her dad's little snip snip came about two weeks too late. . . And so, surprise!  DS1 is going to be a dad again.

To back up a bit, DS1 (who became a widower in early April 2023), renewed a friendship he'd had since he was 8 years old.  This friend had, off and on, been quite close, and had even for a while after DS1 and K2 had moved up to MI from SC, been friends with K2 also.  This friend--she's gonna need an official this little place here name--had been through a couple of rough marriages beginning shortly after she and DS1 graduated high school (he stood up in her first wedding when he was home on leave after finishing USMC boot camp) and at the time that K2 passed away was a single mom on her own again.

She and DS1 bonded, many months after K2's death, talking about the challenges of being single parents.  After a couple of months they realized that they were talking and/or texting with each other nearly every day, and decided they might as well try being an official dating couple.  Well, time went on, and, obviously, things got more serious.

So, here we are in May 2025.  They are engaged, she and her 3 yr old son (who also needs a this little place here name) have recently moved into DS1's house, with him, K3, Toad and Rascal, and they are all learning to be a blended family.

Now that you're kinda up to speed on the situation, let's talk about this new grandbaby's quilt!

I had decided, long ago, that all of DS1's kids would have a quilt of the same pattern.  Just like all of DD1's kids all have a quilt of a particular pattern, and all of DS2's kids will have their own identifying pattern.  Likewise DD2's kids, if she ever decides to have any, will have an assigned pattern.  

Knowing that, I didn't have to spend any time coming up with a pattern.  Instead, I spent all my thoughts on choosing fabrics and pulling from my (embarrassingly large) stash.  I needed to find the 'Jesus fish' fabric that I had used in each of K3, Toad, and Rascal's quilts.  That was a self-made requirement.  Just like that fabric ties the quilts of the three siblings together, it will now tie their new sister to them. 

The next fabric that I felt must be in this quilt was the tiny pink heart-flowers that had been in K3's baby quilt.  I pulled the remnants of that fabric, bought back in 2012, from my stash and found that, unfortunately, it wasn't enough as I needed, and some of it had somehow gotten stained.  

Determined that I must find and purchase more, I set out on an internet search, only to remember that I had bought the original yard at Hobby Lobby, as I wasn't buying much fabric online back thirteen years ago.  Did Hobby Lobby still carry it?  Yes, they did!  Therefore, I needed to make a trip to Hobby Lobby!  (Oh no, not Hobby Lobby!  I could easily lose an entire day and lots of money at Hobby Lobby!  Confession: I didn't at all mind the thought of going to Hobby Lobby.)

This fabric would tie the two sisters together.  Despite the big age difference between them, I do hope they will have a fondness for each other and a good bond all their lives.

Another required fabric was something with John Deere tractors.  With the exception of Lucky, who got Disney, all of my other grandkids' baby quilts contain a John Deere print.  I pulled out remnants of each of those, looking to see if there was one that might fit in with the color scheme I had in mind for this quilt.  And what I came up with was this one,

which is also in Faline's quilt.  And so, it not just matches color palette wise with this new quilt, but by including it this time around, will tie Faline and her new girl cousin together.  Symbolic.

That brough me to three fabrics, and my design needed five.

Thinking more about the big picture of the quilt, and the tone I wanted it to have, I dug through my stash some more, auditioning about a dozen other fabrics, before finally settling on which of those would be the two needed.  Here, in order of how they will be in the quilt, are the final five.

Right after Easter, I was able to get all the squares cut out (had to wait until I could make that trip to Hobby Lobby, LOL).  This week, I sewed the squares, in order, into rows.  Maybe next week I can get the rows sewn into a flimsy with borders, and hopefully after that, get it sandwiched and quilted together.  I'd like to have the entire quilt finished by the end of the month.  Being that I also have two horses in training in May, and an entire 1/4 acre garden to plant, getting an entire baby quilt sewn from start to finish in the next 30 days is going to take conscious effort and strict scheduling of my time. 

Along the way, hopefully I can come up with blog names for the four new people joining my family.  Because that's kind of a big deal, at least to me.  I didn't ever think my family would grow quite so quickly!

Don't Try This Away From Home

 Rather than the disclaimer so often heard when watching something on a tv show or commercial: "Don't try this at home!", at risk of TMI I'm going to share something I learned while on that hiking trip to Sedona with the grandkids last month.

Being a lady of a certain age, who has borne four children and has the resultant bladder tendencies to show for it (or, rather, hope they don't show enough for other people to see!) I've noticed some things as the years go on.

1.  Being sick with a racking cough can be embarrassing if it's been more than about 10 minutes since I used the bathroom.

2. Likewise a sudden hard sneeze.  Both of which instances can create extra laundry.

3. Ditto trying to ride a horse with a jolting trot. (Several years ago I instituted a 'pee before mounting' rule, LOL, but sometimes the trot is just too rough for even that to work.)

4. Grandmas don't jump.  Even if our knees are game, our bladders aren't.

5. Likewise large steps up or down while hiking/rock scrambling can create extra laundry. 

Too much TMI?  Ok, you probably want to stop reading now.  Proceed at your own risk; don't say I didn't warn you.

Still curious?  Read on, especially if you are also a woman of a certain age who has borne many babies.  Consider this a Public Service Announcement.

Period Underwear.  You know, the stuff that is supposed to alleviate your fears of unexpected period abundance and is even lately touted as being useful for leaky mom/grandma bladders?  Due to observation #3, above, in the last couple of years I have invested in some of the miracle undies even though at the advanced age of over 50 I'm hoping every period is the last one (please. . . can I be done yet?!?)   

And, while they do help with the jolting trot situation (or, sudden spooks on a young horse IYKYK), I can't say they work well for numbers 4 & 5.  Those two items being the reason I packed them for our Sedona trip.

In retrospect, it was a great idea, but with testing it failed miserably.  Did I end up with wet shorts/leggings during our hiking excursions?  Nope.  In that respect, they did a great job of absorbing whatever little liquid bits came their way.  (Told you this post really pushes the limit of what's considered TMI.)  Nobody on the trails could tell I'm a lady of a certain age who has borne many children just by walking behind me.

However, how other hikers didn't wonder why, late in the hike, I walked like a toddler with a giant wet diaper, I don't know.  Because that's what I felt like after hiking, and sweating, for miles.  Like I should be making a squishing sound with every step.

Those period undies are super absorbent, and very discreet.  However, they sucked up every single drop of SWEAT that was in their vicinity.  And hiking is a sweaty undertaking, more so when you're on the difficult trails with rock climbing or having to take large steps onto/hop off of small boulders.

Based on this highly unscientific trial, I'd give them five stars for absorbency. 

Five stars for wearing while riding young/spooky horses and/or rough trots.  

But for wearing while hiking??  Zero stars. They would be okay if there was somewhere to strip out of them immediately and replace with a pair that didn't hold five pounds of sweat at the end of the hike. Definitely don't try this away from home.

Where The Fork?!? A Mystery

My Easter decor on Friday

 On Saturday, we hosted family Easter.  Saturday just worked better all around for everyone because 1) most of their in-laws were all ready planning a get together on Sunday, 2) Saturday the whole day was open rather than just the after-church part of the day (and church service times varied from household to household), and 3) there was no way, between church and barn cleaning chores, I was going to be able to cook a meal and have guests over to eat and egg hunt between the time I finished cleaning stalls and when it was time to bring horses in for the evening feed.  In addition to DH and my descendants, we also had my parents and my brother, sister-in-law, niece and nephew (my brother's family we'd been unable to get together with since 2022).

So Saturday it was.  And it was a beautiful day!  No rain, just a little wind, and temperatures that got close to 60 degrees.  The sun kinda shone, the grass was green (and not yet so tall and thick that DH would have needed to cut it), the daffodils were in full bloom, everyone arrived on time, the kids (all ten of them) were well behaved.  

We egg hunted.

We ate really good food; so good that nobody even bothered to take a picture of the spread, because we were all so eager to dig in.  Highlights included a cheese 'ball' shaped like a carrot with shredded cheddar cheese on the outside of it and a chunk broccoli on the end for the carrot greenery, a mixed green salad with about 20 different add-in options, corn casserole, ham and more ham (with 23 people I had made over 20 pounds of ham), banana cream pie, finger Jello (that actually went faster than the pie!), two dozen deviled eggs. . .

It was a really (loud and somewhat chaotic but overall) good day.  Tiring, but good.  I have to confess that by the time everyone left, and I looked at all the dirty dishes piled up from the event (my dishwasher sorta died a few weeks ago), I said "I'll deal with that tomorrow."  Because on Sunday, other than church and barn chores, there was nothing on my docket. No company to host, nobody else's house to travel to, just a quiet afternoon.

My Easter decor on Sunday morning.

So, it wasn't until later in the day on Sunday that I tackled the final clean up from our Saturday gala.  With DH's help (him drying and putting away), we got the dishes done.  And since DH had done the putting away, for the most part, I didn't notice until Sunday evening that we had a mystery on our hands.

We had used 'real' plates and silverware as opposed to paper plates and plastic silverware.  To do so, despite the current status of our dishwasher, had been a conscious decision on DH and my parts.  We just hate the concept of buying stuff to throw it away after use, and all the extra trash that creates (that goes in a landfill to sit and sit and sit).  And so we had gotten, in the past year, an extra set of silverware and purchased 20 plastic divided trays (plates).

New plates for group meals.

We had already been the owners of 7 similar plastic plates (dubbed the 'potluck plates' by my kids when they were little as we always used those when going to potlucks where participants were requested to bring their own tableware in addition to a dish to pass) for decades.  The originals had come from the senior meal center that Mother-in-Law worked at before her retirement, and had been phased out from that institution when it switched to disposables.  

The originals, left, and the new on the right.

Anyway, all that to give a little background to the current mystery.  When I was sorting the extra plates and silverware from what we use every day, I noticed that we are missing 7 little forks.  (The size most people refer to as dessert forks; they are the ones we typically give small kids to eat with and refer to a little forks rather than the 'big' forks--regular size forks--adults use).  Now, I know how many forks I own; especially after making it a point, in the last year, to reach a number that would be enough to have 20 or more people eat at once.  And I know which forks are the new 'extras' and which ones I've owned for over 30 years.  And, I'll have to admit, I'm rather attached to the things I've owned for pretty much the entirety of my adult life.

So to have SEVEN forks missing, and all of them be the forks that have served me and my family for over three decades, well, it's a big deal to me.  I counted.  I re-counted.  I looked in every drawer in my kitchen in case someone saw them, unused, on the counter after the dessert was served (at which time I was in the barn doing horses' evening feed) and, thinking they would be helpful, put them away somewhere (obviously not in the correct spot).  I searched and re-searched the counters all around the sink area in case somehow I had missed a bunch of dirty forks during the dishwashing marathon.  I even (ICK!!) dug through the very full bag of trash from Saturday in case a kid or kids had accidentally thrown them away with the paper plates that someone pulled from the cupboard to serve dessert on while I was busy in the barn.

Did I find them?  Nope.  Not a single one!  How do seven forks go missing?!?  It's a mystery.

All I can think of, at this point, is that they were in one of the dishes/casserole pans brought by guests and, unseen, got taken home with someone's dirty dish-to-pass dish.  But you'd think by now, on Tuesday, that they would have been discovered (assuming everyone has washed their Saturday dish by now) and I would have gotten a text saying "Hey, weird thing, I have some of your forks.  They got mixed up with my stuff and brought home by mistake."