My Favorite Part

Bloganuary #26 What is your favorite part about yourself?

Time marches onward. We are born. We grow. We age. We die. The process every living thing goes through.

When going through old photos of my much younger years, I was quite the beauty, although at the time I did not think so. My long black hair with highlights caused by the sun, now has speckling of silver well earned. Grey hair is a sign of wisdom I was taught, I know I have more wisdom than my hair shows…lol. I have small wrinkles, and age spots probably due to the sun. I have put on some weight after birthing four children.

Photo by Steve on

An old Native American proverb is we have two wolves inside us, a good wolf and an evil wolf. Each decision and word is feeding a wolf. The people around us see which wolf we feed.

But my most favorite part I have since I was young, a good heart. I look for the best in people. I like to help others learn and succeed. No matter what life has thrown at me, I will search and find the silver lining. I look for rainbows to enjoy the color. Indeed I do have a sense of humor, I may not get your jokes or sense of humor all the time, but I laugh when I do.

Our outward appearance changes daily, watch a baby grow up and you will see. But the inward person, the one without your appearance, is who you truly are.

I strive to feed the good wolf.



Strength Within

Bloganaury #25 is to write about something that makes us feel strong.

Grace of the ballerina seen in each and every movement. Striding over the ground in slow motion, muscles tense yet flowing, controlled power with pride and glory. A race with the wind is a challenge not denied, and often the victor. Gentle like the dove but upon defensive arousal can distinguish life in a footprint. A heart given is rarest jewel, once given will not retreat. Controlled by quiet voice and love the massive gladiator joyfully submits, a partnership complete.

Stolen Night, photo by Teri Cage, rights purchased

Stolen Night, my appaloosa stallion makes me feel strong. The photo above he is 3 years young and not his full statue. He is 16 hand tall or 64 inches and weighs 1,300 pounds. Words and pictures do not capture the majesty of Stolen Night. He is the most powerful horse I have ever been next to or ridden. I have ridden several hundreds of horses of various breeds, including draft.

Stallions are not the safest or most trustworthy of mounts, ask any horseman. A person who succeeds in winning the heart of a stallion is a true master. Stolen Night’s strength and power brings fear, but when I ride him we are a centaur, horse and human, perfect.

When I am feel weak, the world crashing around me, to him I go for comfort, to feel warmth, to dry my tears in his mane, to stand using his strength. He is patient, comforts with a soft muzzle, ever ready to listen.

Growing up, the only sanctuary I had was with the horse. The need to cry or share my fears, the loneliness at school, the crowded house, my dreams and hopes, the horse always had a listening ear. I could not go to my mother as she did not want to spend the time, and when she did her words were a lie. Horses never lie, ask anyone who has been around a horse. My father was often too busy working providing for his family and extended family living with us. My solace, my sanctuary was the horse.

There were many years we did not own a horse, but the horse was there in plastic form on my dresser or traveling with me in my mind. In my mind we would climb mountains, swim rivers and race the wind. During my teenage years, I would not have survived if it had not been for my horse. I could disappear for hours on their back, leaving the cares and bullying behind. We would find quiet places to tell my story and cry, hiding tears in his mane. Loneliness was not there when I was with the horse. We spoke the same language, felt the same heartbeats. Did you know a horse can hear your heart beat from ten feet away?

My wish became desire turned to passion then to life. I pondered why do I feel strong with the horse? The answer is simple, the horse was there to listen, not judge, not condemn, not call me silly or a fool, just to listen. Listen to the fears of a young girl, listen to the trials of a teenager, hear of the broken heart, the joys of good grade, the dreams and plans after graduation, and hopes for the future. The horse simply listened.

You feel strong when you know you are heard.


Dreams, Dreams and Dreams

The prompt for bloganuary, January 24 is “Write about a dream you remember”. In pondering what to write, I divided my dreams into three categories.

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The first thought when I hear the word dream is the nightly thoughts I have as I sleep. Until two years ago, I did not want to lay down to sleep. I dreaded sleep. For almost twenty years, my dreams were haunting nightmares. I do not want to remember.

Photo by Mateusz Dach on

Day dreams, pleasant thoughts of what we would like to happen. Daydreaming of someone I was attracted to asking me to a dance. Or training a horse to a level in competition and winning. Day dreams for the most part are fantasies, something we would like to happen.

Finally, dreams with a passion. Strong desires I wanted for my life directions. When I was in high school I dreamed of being a veterinarian. I loved animals and still do. I wanted to help animals be healthy and well. I went through high school studying diligently, had high marks. I was set to go to the college and university, then I made a choice. That choice changed my pathway and I never did go to college or university to become a veterinarian. But, I have realized my dream as I care for my animals everyday, first as a horse trainer and breeding facility and today as a sheep farmer.

There are two families I do business with as a sheep farmer. These two families have the same number of children, are about the same age.

The first, this family day dreams of having a better life, being able to buy a car. We have discussed what their goals are for raising sheep. When talking with them their conversation is about everything that has gone wrong and it is someone else’s fault. Their conversation is very negative, they do not dream, set a goal and work towards the goal. They blame their mistakes or lack of change on someone else. They have family near where they live, but I think they get negative support. This family has the ability for change, if they changed to being positive in their thoughts and actions. Bad things happen to everyone, but how we think determines if we move forward or sink a little deeper in the mud.

The second family, the parents dream of a different life for their children. They have obstacles in the way of reaching their dreams, as they are not from this country. They work hard, dream hard and have hope. When I speak with this family, the first is to tell me their successes, and sometimes of their problems in order to find a possible solution.

Dreams are a powerful tool in setting goals for our lives and reaching goals. How we view our life and dreams has a big effect on the choices we make and if we succeed. We can have dreams and goals, but if we view our life through negative glasses, only seeing the bad and not learning from our mistakes, we can not climb the mountain to reach our goal. Looking through positive glasses, helps us to find the solutions when things do not go as planned, to not be afraid to alter our plans to reach our goals, and to learn from our mistakes.

Photo by Andrei Tanase on

Do not stop dreaming. I may not have reached the dreams of my youth, but I have dreams and some are big dreams. My husband tells me, I am a person when things do not go as planned or our life makes a big shift we were not expecting, I look for a way to climb back up the mountain. I do not give up.

Keep dreaming, keep climbing.


Interview with ?

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For Bloganuary the prompt was to interview a fictional character. Read and follow the clues to discover who I interviewed.

Since your creation in 1919 being the first of what we call today a superhero, I thought it best to have this interview with you. Thank you for agreeing to do this interview.

I do not have a problem answering a few questions, as long as you uphold our agreement of not mentioning my name or giving away my identity.

Agreed. When did you decide to become a hero?

I received a letter from my father while I was away at the university. In the letter my father sounded upset and frustrated with the injustice happening in our community. I decided to return home to assist, but did not think of becoming a hero. The commoners, poor and Native Americans made me the hero and gave my hero persona a name.

Did you form a plan on how your were going to assist the people, or did it just happen?

On the ship during the trip home from the University I formed a plan. The trip took several months, I had time to work out the details of how I would behave when I returned home and how I would help the people, with out being caught by the authorities and killed for treason.

Why do you choose to wear the clothes you do when you are assisting the people? Does your clothing carry a special meaning?

My clothing is plain and available to the common man. If I were to dress in the clothing of my prominent status I would be know to the authorities. I choose the color black so I am hard to notice in the dark and in the shadows. I can move in on my target slyly and cunningly. There is no special meaning to the color or what I wear other than my rapier, my choice of weapon.

Is it easy living a life with a dual or split identity?

In the matters of the heart, most definitely difficult to live a dual identity. In public I must act the coward so the authorities do not learn my true identity as the people’s hero. The young woman I love with all my heart looks at me with disgust and talks only of the greatness and bravery of my hero identity. Aww, but when she sees me, being the hero, during a short glimpse of time our eyes meet, and she looks at me with love and admiration. I only wish she would look at me that way always.

Why do you always leave a mark on your work? Is it pride?

I do not leave my mark for pride or fame or money, only for justice. I leave a single letter as a mark or brand so the common people and Native Americans, I help, are not arrested and put to death for my actions. The innocent should never pay for others illegal actions.

You have been the influence for other heroes and a major influence in the creation of Superman and Batman. How does this make you feel?

I am honored to have influenced others to seek justice for those who do not have the skills or means to defend themselves. I might be the first hero created by an author, but I am far from being forgotten in the dust with the fairly recent U.S. movies about me released in 1998 and 2005 with excellent actors and actresses who are very well known.

I am in movies created worldwide as well as series shows, animations and even toys. The people are not forgetting me and how I fight for the common and poor of the community.

Thank you for this interview, it has been enlightening. May you continue to be the hero for justice to future generations.


If you know who the interview is with, leave an answer in the comments.

Thank you for taking the time to read this blog.


A Quote for a Lifetime

My Grandson at 3 years saying “Hello” to Sis

There is nothing better for the inside of a man that the outside of a horse.

John Lubbock/Winston Churchill

I am a certified horse trainer and riding instructor, although I no longer train others horses or do lessons. I have spent years teaching youth to ride. I worked with different organizations introducing the horse and teaching youth who had never been around the majestic animal.

“Where in this wide world can man find nobility without pride, friendship without envy, or beauty without vanity? Here where grace is laced with muscle and strength by gentleness confined” — from the Ode to the Horse by Ronald Duncan, created for Horse of the Year Show

My stallion and I together

The horse, with beauty unsurpassed, strength immeasurable and grace unlike any other, still remains humble enough to carry a man upon his back”

 Amber Senti

A horse is powerful, graceful and athletic and can hear your heart beat as you walk up to them. They can feel each and every muscle in your body as you sit in the saddle. There movement is silk beneath your legs.

Yet, can be gentle as a kitten.

My 3 year old grandson and a 6 month old colt.

Horses are used in physical rehabilitation or physical therapy called hippotherapy. The movement of the horse stimulates every muscle of the rider without strain on the rider’s muscles. Horses are being used in the United States to help service men and women with the emotional stresses due to combat.

My son-in-law on his first time ride and being around horses, coached by my daughter.


Back to the Beginning

Photo by Nikolett Emmert on

It is bitterly cold as the north winds blows down through the valley, the woman tightens a coat that no longer fits due to the growing baby inside her. Home, or more the place she is staying is not far away. There are many doubts and fears are running through her mind as fast as the wind blows in her face. One major question keep haunting her through the howl of the winter winds “am I making the right choice?”

If I could travel back in time, there is only one place I want to go and that is to my beginning, to just before I was born. I am adopted. I was put up for adoption at my birth or very shortly there after. I lived in a place for a few until I was thirteen months before placed with a man and woman whom I call daddy and mom.

I was born in the winter, in a hospital at the foot of mountain located in a valley that runs north and south. In the town of my birth there was a home for unwed mothers and adoption agency. The puzzle to my story is my biological parents were married. They had been married for two years before I was born. My biological father was a US Marine during the Vietnam conflict.

So, I would like to speak to my biological mother and ask one question, well more than one, most important “Why was I put up for adoption?”

Was I put up for adoption because she received a telegram saying my father, her husband was missing in action.

These are questions I will not have answers to as when I did get my birth and adoption records, both my biological parents were deceased. My adopted parents would never tell me, even when I knew I had to be adopted and asked mom point blank. The sad thing is everyone in the family including my cousins knew I was adopted, all except me. At the age of forty-eight, while talking with one of my favorite cousins, she told me I was adopted, the first time any family member had told me the truth.

I knew when I was twenty-two I was definitely adopted. I obtained my records at age forty-seven. I did some research and learned where my parents were born, where they married and their divorce was two and half years after my birth. I have half-siblings from both biological parents, but do they know I exist. Was my birth, existence kept from them as a big secret as being adopted was a big secret kept from me?

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We have choices we make everyday. Some of those choices are easy, some are hard, and some life changing no matter what choice we make. I am not angry at my biological mother for putting me up for adoption. I can not walk in her shoes to know the reasons behind her choice.

I am very happy to be alive, to have my life.

I have moved forward, I have children, grand children and a good life.


Time Trap

Windmill in Maxwell, NM photo taken August 2009

I love taking pictures. I have hundreds of photos, mostly grandchildren, but very few I would call great. This old windmill is one of my great photos. My husband and I were on a drive, so its exact location I do not know, as we were not real sure where we were at the time. I asked him to stop, so I could take the photo. The old windmill is not in use for watering livestock or for the remnants of a home that stood near by. I do not know the name of the tree and I have not seen it during the time I lived and traveled in New Mexico.

A flower, name unknown, in our pasture the first spring we lived in Texas. 2010

I was walking in the pasture at the new home we purchased upon moving to Texas. I saw this heart shaped beauty. I looked this “weed” up and the flowers are supposed to be circular. I have not seen a heart shaped flower since.

The unique characteristic of photography is it captures what goes through the lens, freezing the moment of time. Does time stand still, only in a photograph.


Mystery at the Farm

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On a road trip with the window down enjoying the warmth of the sun, the smells of spring, exploring the countryside with my eyes as I travel. My eyes venture to some old wooden buildings accompanied by a few tall, worn out cottonwood trees, the remnants of a yard fence, a rose bush in bloom. No sign anyone has traveled to the house or barns in years. I stop the vehicle to respectfully look, staying outside the barbwire fence surrounding the area.

There was a time someone had taken great pride in this home and barns. The rose bush more dead thorny stems than green, yet manages to bring forth its bright red blooms. Where once stood a gate, white iris peak out from the mound of the irises of yesteryear. Someone appreciated beauty around them.

There is not much water in the area as it is semidesert terrain. Yet, the cottonwoods trees show life water flows under ground, but the trees are ancient shown by their monstrous trunks, bending limbs and peeling bark. The house is surrounded by these old gnarly guards, who have stood guard so long their trunks press against the worn sides of the home. The yard fence only stands in the corners, the spans have fallen from weak disrepair.

The home door is closed, remnants of fabric represent the curtains that once hung in the windows that are have been reduced to frames without glass. Do I smell apple pie? A rock chimney and fireplace stand strong, the way the home was heated from the bitter cold of winter. The strength of stone will outlast the wooden sides of the home. The roof is complete but dips like an old swaybacked horse. How many more rain storms or snow falls will the old roof hold?

The barn is not guarded by any cottonwood trees. It stands alone to face the wind, the storms and time. The sides have missing boards, one door has fallen in defeat, the other hangs by a hinge clinging to the barn for support. The roof is half gone. The barn has been lowered to the status of only providing meager protection and comfort for the wild animals who may find this worn out shelter.

Who were these people who chose to make a home hundreds of miles from the nearest town? What were their hopes, their dreams that would inspire them to this place to create a home? Were their children who played in the yard? I think I hear laughter on the wind. Why did they leave?

I love old buildings, any where and anytime. I enjoy visiting ghost towns and learning the history of the individuals who lived there.

Hope you enjoyed this short adventure.


Reading List

Fire Blossom or Pohutokawa

I do not get the opportunity to read much as I am busy with the farm and crafts. But with the end of Christmas, I take a break from crafts. I make sure my sheep are not laming in January and February as the weather is cold and wet. I do have time to curl under a blanket and read.

Two years ago some friends and I read “Fire Blossom” by Sara Lark. Not a real book club, but we would discuss where we were at in the book and our thoughts. We enjoy the historical novel set in New Zealand. They have read the second in the trilogy.

I am hoping to be able to take some time and read the second book “Fires of Change”. I liked the part at the end of the book where the author told the history of events and people she had based her book on.


The Super Power I Would Love to Have

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Super powers that ability to do something that others can not to make the world better, safer for those living there. The word super power brings images of Super Man, Captain America or Iron Man. Someone with the ability to defeat the bad and make the world better.

The super power I would like to have is healing. I would love to be able to go into a hospital and have everyone walk out whole with perfect health, especially children. Children are beginning life and for some it turns out to be a short life.

I do realize there comes a time when we all must die, it is the cycle of life, a necessary part of being. But for children to be sick and or die, is hard. I love children and want them to have a happy childhood, learning things and about life. For some children they learn to face death before they learn about life. I wish oh how I wish I had the power to change this for them.

Each and every one of us were given today. We woke up alive. What are our plans? Where will we go? Will we smile? Do we call someone to say “I love you”?

I had a very dear older friend who did not want flowers or plants at her funeral. She said,” if you are going to send flowers to my funeral, give them to me now, so I may enjoy them while I am alive. I can not smell them when I am dead.”

The day is here, the day is short… make the most of it !

Photo by Jonas Kakaroto on

Smell and share the roses.