Ridin', Reinin' and Writin'

Since my post last week about Florence, I can't get Italy off of my mind – the time I spent there, the experiences I had, the people I met. Since the subjects of Ridin', Reinin' and Writin' posts are whatever random things stick in my head or what’s near and dear to my heart, the topic of this post had already been chosen.

With that in mind, I started looking for the journal I kept while I was in Italy - the only time I’ve journaled in my life. It would be inspiration for my Monday blog post.

Although that quest didn't lead me to the journal , it did offer several hours of nostalgia . . . and inspiraton for many more posts. Everything that has sentimental value to me I keep in one trunk and that’s where I looked for the journal which, as I said, I didn’t find (I'm quite sure it will turn up). What I did find was a lot of memories – scrapbooks, photos, diary, baby books and blankets, dolls, toys, and much more . . . and a small leather binder holding a few letters I received when I was in Italy – one from each of my daughters and two more...

As most of you know by now, the subject of my weekly post on Ridin’, Reinin’ and Writin’ is either something that happened to me, something that has made an impression on me, a persistent thought I couldn’t shake or a topic that just dropped out of nowhere. This time that’s a town called Florence.

It all started with an email from a friend of mine who is holidaying with her husband in Arizona. She lets all of us who are wintering the frozen north live her adventures vicariously with beautifully designed pages in pdf format that she sends by email. I recently received several of their visits to Florence. Florence, Arizona? What? The Florence I know is in Italy! Another place, another time…

I pulled out an album from my shelf, thumbed through it quickly and soon found a few photos of the day I spent in Florence with Vern and Shawna Sapergia. I was working in Italy at the time training reining horses. My job didn’t leave a lot of time for sightseeing but my employer and his wife graciously hosted a one day visit to Florence. Vern (also working in Italy) and Shawna (visiting) joined us.

I remembered then that one of the first things that boggled my mind on my visit to Italy was how old the country really is! I viewed castles in Bari built in the 12th Century! In Florence, the age of churches, statues and bridges astounded me. Below is a photo I took of Santa Croce, a church built in 1294.

Losing an equine friend is the hardest part of owning one. Who would not rather be cleaning stalls, hauling bales, treating wounds or any of the other various tasks associated with horse ownership than taking responsibility for ending his life and/or burying him? And yet, we must do that for the horses we love.

My world, both far-reaching and close by, has lost too many horses in the past few weeks.

“Reasons to Quit” is the title of a Merle Haggard/Willie Nelson song and that phrase (not the song) has been running through my mind for days now – long enough for me to pay attention. What possible connection could the words of that song have to me? Merle and Willie are talking about quitting smoking and drinking. That doesn’t make any sense. It has to be another line in the song:  “The reasons to quit don’t outnumber all the reasons why.”

Having just welcomed a new year and celebrated another birthday (they do keep happening, don’t they?), the reality of my decision to retire from the reining show pen is starting to sink in. Usually I would be planning for my show year – which horses to show, which shows to haul to, etc. – the absence of which leaves me a little lost. I didn’t make that decision to retire without thought – there were valid reasons – but now there’s a hole in my life plan that begs to be filled.

I almost never watch the news. If anything happens I have to know about, someone tells me and I pick up more than I need to know on Facebook. I do, however, watch a talk show once in a while and it was on one of those that I saw a story that touched me deeply. The story was about a teen mom who shot an intruder to protect her baby and herself.

Shootings happen every day, several times a day, I suspect, so what about this one was different? What about this one affected me while others I didn’t want to hear about?

Two of my three children visited over the holidays. Since it is winter, much time was spent indoors and much of that time was spent visiting – and remembering. Shayne and Cindy reminisced a bit about our life in Crooked River, Saskatchewan when it was just the four of us – Shayne, Cindy, Lana and I. How different one person’s memories might be than another’s – even within the same family! Here are some examples:

It’s sometimes the little things that are most important…