An Emotional Meltdown at Sundown

Did I have a Happy Easter? Yes I did. I got to Church and the Opera in one weekend. About that opera thing? Crazy. Read about it here.

The weather was lovely. The puppy spent hours tied to the tree with a lunge line, sniffing wonderful things.


I didn't ride my horses but I did get them cleaned up a little. This is the annual Big Horse Brushing. Every year I pick a nice sunny day, usually just slightly too warm for the thermal coveralls, but with a light breeze, and I get busy with the curry combs. In a flurry of horse hair, I brush the winter's worth of stink off of them.

The King never has much winter hair to start with, but he gets dandruff if he's not vigourously groomed in the spring.
Saturday

Monday He is TWENTY ONE YEARS OLD now, and the last few winters have melted the flesh off of him. He's still convinced of his own magnificence though.

The Little Lady is a bear in the winter. I pulled so much hair off of her. Some birds will be very happy with their new building materials!
Saturday DIRTY!


Monday Slightly less dirty.



I did have an awful moment though. I can't even tell you what triggered it but it ended up with me crying and sobbing and being generally very perplexing to my husband. Oh, and also I was blaming him for everything. Nice eh? It had a lot to do with the following a) he is a workaholic and b) all that work and he still hasn't moved his wild animal of a wife out to the country yet. I have no intention of badmouthing the love of my life here; he's the best, despite any problems a husband and wife may have. I simply hit a bad spot and he was the unlucky target. I felt like an ingrateful child throwing a temper fit.

Honestly in my own home I pace, and peer out the windows, and bristle at all the other houses. At the farm I look out the window and feel peace. I still get hit with depression out there, but I can deal.

Jethro decided to cheer me up with a drive in the country.

Big mistake. At the end of the laneway to the farm up the road that I have been lusting over for more than three years, what kind of sign did we see? Not a For Sale sign...although that may have been worse, since we aren't ready to do the financial deal at this point. It was an Application for Proposed Development. What the hell is that? It's a farm, out in the country, on a well and septic system. I was more than a little miffed, especially since 20 years ago my parents weren't allowed to sever off 5 acres and sell 45, just to keep their place. And now this place is trying to subdivide????? I don't get it.

The situation got worse though, as we drove on down roads we hadn't been down in years. In a 40 minute drive, we saw three different farms where the original buildings had been bulldozed to make way for a huge new cattle barn--okay, I love old barns but I can say that farmers have to make a living---and a huge, ugly, ostentatious monster house, the kind whose only merit is its massiveness. Worse, landscaped like a city lot. In the middle of a cornfield.

It's bad enough that out here where my house is, the surrounding farms are being replaced with these horrible "Rural Residences" which only serve a purpose to show off wealth. From useful land to poisoned lawns. But out there, in true farm country...I felt like my dream of finding a place of my own where I could garden full scale, and raise some livestock, slipping away in the face of affluence and conceit.

On arriving home, we leashed up our puppy for a walk down the ditch along the highway, and down the dirt road. It was great: when he stopped for a crap we didn't pick it up. The puppy loved his trot down the gravel road. I was disheartened that the two vehicles who drove past did not wave to us. What is happening???

On the way back to the farm we cut through the alfalfa field for a bit. The sun was setting over the neighbour's red barn. I stopped and held my husband's hand while our dog chewed on the fresh hay. We stared at "our" farm. My parents don't own it; how many times have I wished we could have it back and restore their security and pride. These are silly things. Only just temporary. None of it matters at the end.

But I want it. I want it for them, and for myself and my family. I want my kids to get off the school bus and play with their horses, like I did, instead of only on weekends. I want to look out the window and see fields. I want to get up every morning and shovel horseshit. I want to put hay in the barn on a stifling hot humid July day. I want my husband to stop working so damn hard. Would I give up every rock star party in the world if I could get him to spend time with us, not spare time?

I held his hand as the sun turned orange over the fields and my throat tightened up. "I want this. I haven't done anything to deserve it but I want it so bad."

Two days later we packed up and drove back to our house in town. And we're still married.