Life on the Farm and Who's Afraid of Horseys?

When our family gets together, one of the places we do so is at John and Heidi’s (My brother and sister-in-law) farm in Burlington County (Which is on the other side of the state, almost). They own an awesome piece of land in a rural area (16 acres). An assortment of structures dominates the property, including their home, and my mom’s home, as well. And what farm would be complete without a barn, and because they are a horse farm, an indoor ring? There are stalls for the horsey guests, although there are two freeloaders (John’s term, not mine) that also dwell in their own stalls (Huey and Bugs). And if John were to give a tour, the highlight of that tour would be his now famous (well it is among the family) workshop, where he is known to tinker in sawdust and metal scraps.

There are chickens, who are working for their room and board by laying eggs, and the occasional pheasant who, well might end up on the family’s dinner table. So do the bunnies that frolic all over the property. Cute as they might be, they are only thought of as wild game to hunt, and eventually a meal. John has many farm rules, but the one followed by many is “Do not name the food” (or do not consider the animals your pets). I have learned to ask what, and who, might be on the dinner plate.

Heidi is in charge of the horseys and all that goes with that end of the farm. Among some of the things she does is to teach people to ride and to show their horseys in big horsey shows, both of which she does well. I have seen the ribbons. She loves what she does.

I have to admit that I was never fond of horseys. In fact, until my niece Jillian began riding at age three, I was terrified of them. Seriously. I have over the years made several attempts at trying to ride, but each time, there was something that got me out of the saddle very quick. So when Jill began to ride at age three, I thought I’d better not look stupid to a three year old, so began my goal of overcoming the horsey fear.

One of the horseys John owns (again much to his disliking) is Huey. Huey is the big lug of a horsey that has overtime helped me to conquer my fear. Which is odd considering his large size, but he has. Perhaps it’s his gentle soul, those big eyes. Not sure, but he has helped me more than I can express in one blog. As has Jill and Heidi.

So besides all the wonderful memories I have of visiting the farm to share in family celebrations, I have been able to celebrate a few personal triumphs of my own as well. I am still cautious around some of the horseys, but when I feel the need to nurse my fear, I head over to nuzzle with Huey, one of the sweetest horseys I have ever met.

“Feel the fear and do it anyway.” ~Susan Jeffers, 1988