Ridin', Reinin' and Writin'

   It was the spring of 2008 and my favourite mare, Silk, was expecting her first foal. What would I call this special one? In the early hours of a day in May, I awoke from a sound sleep and that question was answered. "Silk is going to have a filly and I am naming her Sapphire!' Where did that come from? That name was not even on my list of names. But so it was. Sapphire was born in late day light as my friends were arriving for Horsewoman's Weekend at Wildwood Reining Horses. The delivery was normal and Silk bonded as she should. Sapphire had arrived and she was a perfect, delicate copy of her mother. I bought her a pink halter because she was so feminine.

Silk and Sapphire

   The little sorrel filly didn't take long to show me some fancy moves. Like her dam, she had "sting" but with a gentleness too. I loved her to bits but worried too that she was fragile. My neighbour, who did chores for me one weekend, worried too. "She looks like a little deer," she said. "I'm scared something will happen to her on my watch."

Down the fence we go!

Strutting her stuff

As a yearling

    Sapphire managed to injure herself a couple of times but other than that, grew up normally on my property in the Chilcotin. As a yearling, she babysat the next foal crop through their weaning time. She was not much bigger than they were. As a two-year-old, I started her under saddle but rode her only lightly that year because of her size. She never bucked but she could get pretty excited like Silk did. In 2011, her three year old year, she should have been competing in three-year-old reining futurities but she was behind in training and very immature mentally. I was in no rush. However, I retired from the reining pen that year so she was never shown.

In 2011, my beautiful mare, Prima, was expecting a Wimpys Little Step foal.  I imagined she might even foal out a palomino (the signature colour of WLS) filly. But the much anticipated event turned horribly wrong. On May 13 (Friday the 13th!), Prima lost her bay Wimpy colt. I was devastated, my dream shattered. 

The years passed and the dream faded . . .  until a photo popped up on Facebook last June . . . a palomino filly out of a Wimpys Little Step mare. Only a couple of weeks old but she caught my attention. And she was for sale. I inquired about her and liked what I heard. A combination of breeding, conformation complete with a pretty doll head, talented full brothers and sisters and a breeder who was super easy to work with sold me. I put a deposit down.

In October 2022, I brought Crusin Step O Kismet home. She is a sweet, kind and beautiful filly who will brighten my winter days and has given purpose to my life. I have missed working with the youngsters!

Thank you to Tammy Stewart for giving me the opportunity to own Kismet, daughter of Crusin Whiz (by Topsail Whiz) out of Wimpys Star Pine (by Wimpys Little Step). I am pretty sure it was hard for Tammy to let her go.

Kismet . . . because it is kismet that led me to her. I was meant to be.

I have always believed there are lines of connectivity that are outside our five senses. There are threads out there in the universe that connect in ways we don't fully understand. The following story is one of those things.

 A few weeks ago, a friend of mine approached me to help her find a reining horse. She was quite specific…she wanted a four year old mare, well bred, trained and suitable for her level of riding. I immediately told her it could be hard to find but I knew of one possibility. I checked with the trainer and the mare was still available. After much interaction re: texts, photos and videos with the both the trainer and me, she committed to buying the mare. Since the pretty dun mare was entered in a reining show in Alberta, Sherry chose that time to make the trip to see her and to arrange a ride back to BC. Before the show, though, Sherry and her husband parked their motor home in my yard and we caught up. It had been 16 years!

 The first day here, we saddled my mares and rode. It was a beautiful day and at one point, we stopped and talked for quite some time, sitting in the sun on our horses. Sherry was not quite happy with the barn name her new mare had been given and we discussed that a bit before the conversation shifted to stories of our childhood and how we grew up. Sherry's mind was very much on her father, who she had just lost, and many memories were of him.

 But Sherry was hesitant, having never ate a peach before because they were expensive and not something the family could afford. Hesitantly, she picked out a little peach.

 "No," her dad said. "Pick a peach, a good one!" and he reached in and chose the biggest, fattest peach and gave it to his daughter, who bit into the delicious fruit. Sherry remembers with absolute clarity walking away, juice running down her chin, holding her dad's hand and looking at him like he had hung the moon.

 From the beginning of her story, the hair rose on my arms. Finally, when she reached that point of her story, I had to say something.

 "Sherry," I said. "It's gotta be "Peach"! Don't you see? It has already been decided."

Because, you see, the registered name of the mare she had just bought was Einsteins Peach and Sherry had "picked a peach".

I'm sure her father is smiling.

I don't believe there has ever been a time in my life that I loved my horses more. I begin each day looking out the window at them; I visit each one in the early morning sun; I breathe in their aura, their acceptance, their love. I tend to their needs throughout the day – fly masks, meds if needed, feeding in the winter - and I ride. I am "home" when I am on the back of one of my mares.

My view in the morning

"You are my heart."