City Mouse, Country Mouse

In the Summer of 2008, our family made the lifesyle-altering decision to move from Baltimore City to Havre de Grace, MD.

The ways in which our family and life has blossomed since this move is far beyond even what I could ever have hoped. We are truly lucky to be here.

Havre de Grace has the benefit of not being a suburb of Baltimore. This lovely harbor stands tall on its as true Maryland country and farm land. It should not have been a surprise when almost immediately after we moved here, I stumbled upon an opportunity to rekindle my teenage dreams of hanging around a barn with lots of horses.

This introduction came by way of my babysitter. Upon her first assignment with us, she announced that her parents had purchased a horse for her that same day. Well, of course I had to go and see the horse. Duh.

From the first whiff of hay and livetocky smells after entering the gate at The Barn, I knew I was going to have my own horse. I had no idea how but I knew I would. And soon enough, I wedged myself into The Barn's family, incorporating horses into the already full mix of two amazing and incredibly young children, my (fabulous) marriage, work, laundry x4, and a crappy car.

The Time Had Come.

And looking back, that was the moment I finally gave into some of my inner crazy.

When I was a teen, I volunteered at a local 4-H club in St. Petersburg that provided equine therapy classes for handicapped teens. I would do anything the club asked me to do to help prepare for the class, just so I could smell the horses and maybe have the chance to walk the horse around to warm up before the therapy class would begin. On the ride home from the stable I would secretly sniff my hand and inhale the last scents of the horse I tended to that morning, and try not to wash that hand all day. I would ride my ten speed to middle school and pretend it was my horse, and daydream about flying down Tyrone Boulevard on my white stallion, showing those mean girls who was cool. I read about horses, cleaned up after horses, and became possessed with the need to tell everyone about my obsession. In my high school years, there was a brief stint with illegal entries into a small local rodeo...but really, that had zilch to do with horses and mostly to do with stupid teenage bravado. But it still involved horses, and cowboys. Cowboys that had horses.

So after meeting my babysitter's horse many years later, I hatched The Equine Plan.

First, I signed up for English riding lessons, strutting around in my half-chaps as if I knew what I was doing. Next I partially leased one of the farm's beginner horses and tried to figure out how to ride and raise a family. (I still haven't really figured this out to this day) There were many bumps and loads of patience from one of the kindest men on earth, my husband. Later came a fully-leased horse named Hero that broke my heart in more complicated ways than I could ever express adequately.

Which brings me to my current equine partner, Ruby in the Rough (or "Ruby Rube" as my daughter calls her). Ruby is an absolute nice fit for me physically, and she matches my freckles. She is a sweet animal, and although it took some time to iron out our differences, I am enjoying her partnership.

Of course I couldn't leave that harmony alone. Its never been my style to just let things be. No - whenever things are going great, I have this insatiable need to kick it up a few notches to the What IF category. One awful rainy January afternoon, I randomly picked up a book about goats in my local library and became overwhelmed with the desire to raise dairy goats alongside Ruby Rube.

4 months later, my trainer (friend, barn maven, and fearless animal leader) hitched the trailer to her Blazer one April morning, and we were off to pick up a grown milker goat named Phoenix and two goat kids (one doe kids named La Reina and a wether boy kid named Pie Dude).

First thing I noticed is how incredibly vocal my new friends were. I was sure we somehow accidentally packed in a preschool classroom into the trailer with the goats. It was a cacophony of octaves like I have never heard. And later that afternoon, I learned how incredibly entertaining these noisy goats were. Goat kids are hands down the most entertaining mammals EVER.

The new adventures have begun.