Losing My Place

Posted by Sharon


You know how, if you lose the book marker in a book you’re reading, it’s sometimes difficult to find your place again (especially if you’ve put the book down for a while) - you're either re-reading what you've already read or have jumped forward missing some of the story. Well, that’s kind of what happened to me – in the book that is my life, I lost the marker and I’m trying to find where I was again.

A good book surprises the reader with twists and turns that challenge the main character and that character meets each challenge, resolves it and, we hope, finds what he/she is looking for by the last chapter. The book wouldn't be interesting if it was any other way! I like to think life wouldn’t be very interesting, either if there weren’t some bumps and detours in the road. I’ve certainly experienced those! So when and why did I lose my place? Did I just hit a bump and run off into the ditch?

I’ve always been the kind of person who has goals – lots of them. I’m also the kind of person who has a plan – always. Plans doesn't always work out the way I want of course, but that never deterred me much before. I changed course, altered the plan and kept going. Not so lately. I'm spinning my wheels trying to find that marker.

Losing my place means I am questioning what got me to this point in my life, where I have arrived and where my story is going from here. I’m floundering around in self-doubt and uncertainty and that’s an unfamiliar and scary feeling. For someone who always knows where she’s at in her “book”, with an unwavering eye on several goals, finding my place again is crucial to my story.

And so this post is about planting both feet in the present and marking the place. By starting to blog again, I hope ideas, plans, enough for several ‘chapters’ of my book will follow. Are my weanling fillies, Perfect and Cameo, that lost marker? Maybe. They are the future of several Wildwood mares no longer with me; maybe they are part of my continuing story too.



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Not in a Rocking Chair

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Lately several people have been telling me its time to slow down. A series of incidents inspired those comments, the latest an injury to my leg when my horse hit it jumping a ditch in the bush behind me. Although I appreciate the concern of well-meaning friends and family, Joyce’s comment on Facebook when I posted a “Note to self” is the one that lifted me most.

“Wouldn’t have happened in your rocking chair!” Joyce said.

Indeed it would not have and aren’t I happy that isn’t all there is to my life! My leg will heal just fine and I don’t regret any of the decisions that led up to the injury. I enjoyed taking my little mare on a new experience that day. I loved teaching her new things and sharing my day with her!

It was Sapphire I saddled to check the fence at the river's edge last Friday, a beautiful, warm fall day. Since the ‘path’ directly to the corner along the fence was overgrown, I crossed the river channel downstream and rode on the river rocks along the river, then cut into the bush to get to the corner. The river had collapsed the fence there  in the spring and would need to be repaired.

I rode across this channel and around the trees to follow the river.
Sapphire quite willingly negotiated the underbrush to the corner, where I got off and checked out the fence while she quite patiently waited.

The view up river from the corner of the fence.
To exit, I decided to lead her along the fence through the bush back into the open instead of going back over the rocks and she seemed amenable to that. But, just before we stepped in to the open again, we must cross a small ditch. I could not get to the side but gave her lots of rein - not enough I guess because she jumped the ditch and hit the back of my calf with a foot.

It hurt, of course, but I didn’t think it would be more than a bruise. Not so. My jeans soaked with blood and the incident ended with a trip to the Red Cross outpost so the nurse there could suture it.

So, Joyce – you’re right! That would not have happened in a rocking chair. It would not have happened either if I had quit training horses or had been too chicken to give my young mare a new experience riding through thick brush! And I am so happy I can say that! The life style is worth the risks.

Joyce was probably referring to a line from my book, “A Life with Horses”, where I wrote, “When I am old and sitting in a rocking chair, I'll have memories.”
That would be “when I am old”! And, in a rocking chair or not, I’ll have a scar on the back of my leg to remind me of a ride along the Chilcotin River on one of my favourite mares...

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She Breathes on my Heart

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"In the steady gaze of my horse shines a silent eloquence that speaks of love and loyalty, strength and courage. It is the window that reveals to me how willing her spirit, how generous her heart."

The above roughly-paraphrased quote from an unknown author embodies a sentiment I have always known to be true but of which I am reminded of from time to time. This past week was one of those times.

My connection to my horses and theirs to me has always been strong, so much so that I take little notice but sometimes what passes between us is more - telepathic, even spiritual. So palpable I can 'feel' it. I write about such a time in the blog posts, A Peace in their Presence, a morning when my mares bathed me in peace and softness, and A Filly Named Feather, how a special filly lifted me. Then, in A Life With Horses, about how four foals supported me in the only way they knew how at a particularly difficult time in my life:
Oddly, the four foals sensed my emotional dependency. They attached themselves to me in an almost protective way. They never failed to greet me when I walked into their field. They checked in to see how I was doing and then, satisfied I was all right, wandered back to their mothers. I thought they needed me (and of course they did), but they knew I needed them more. They gave me a safe place to fall. (From A Life With Horses)
August 2004: Wildwood Honor, Wildwood Splendor, Running With Wolves, Wildwood Courage

This past week my horses again offered a safe, soft place to fall.

Wildwood Sapphire

I arrived back home from an overnight in Emergency at Williams Lake hospital (See I Fought Them All and They All Won) last Sunday afternoon and immediately checked my horses. I could see the four mares that pastured together in the river field waiting at the fence to greet me and I walked there first. Something was different. Although they often come for a visit, today they were more attentive. Actually, where they before asked for attention, now they were giving attention. I first noticed the change in Sapphire, my four-year-old mare. She hung at the fence longer, lowered her head to be stroked, ran her nose up and down my arm and face. Breathed on me. Generally, she and her friend, Mistral, both came to me but that day, Sapphire was more interested in me than Mistral. She wanted to be at my side.

Wildwood Soul O Silk

Silk also, was unusually attentive. Her eyes never left me, her ears forward listening, her body relaxed and giving. Although she always looks at me like she really 'sees' me, now she looked at me with tenderness too. Was I imagining this? I don't think so because two days later, as I walked down the trail to the bottom, the mares met me. Silk looked at me again like that as if to say, " I am so glad to see you! I was just coming up to check..." 

I love this mare with a love that frightens me. Her soul and mine are enmeshed in a way I cannot explain. Although I have the support of friends and family, Silk is here for me every day in every way. I feel that although she does not speak. No. She does speak  . . . but in a different language . . . and I am so grateful. 



Of all the horses I have ever owned, Silk is perhaps the most intuitive. Highly intelligent with a raw energy that could scare some riders, she and I bonded the day she was born and we have not been apart for long ever since that time. She likes to know where I am and the feeling is mutual.

That these two mares of all my horses should be the ones who "gathered 'round" for the past several days should not have surprised me. Sapphire is Silk's daughter. She is also the daughter of Running With Wolves, one of the four foals in the photo above.

I didn't catch Sapphire last Sunday even though she wanted me to. On Monday, though, I relented. I turned her in the pen opposite the house, the one I can see from my window. We're both happy with that arrangement. On Tuesday I rode her to check fence/ gate in the river field. Although she is often high-spirited like her mother, looking for bears in the bush, she was not that day. She walked quietly, head down and relaxed as we circled the pasture, waded into the channel of the river and up the hill home again. Sapphire is continuing the legacy of her dam, Silk and maybe her grandmother, Tamarac, great-grandmother, Mahogany, and great-great grandmother, Duchess. All those fine mares "carried me" in good times and in challenging ones.

To some of my readers, this may seem like a lot of nonsense; others will understand perfectly. As I heal and adjust to a new reality, I value even more the company of my horses, who give back more than I can ever give to them. They breathe on my heart.   

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I Fought Them All and They All Won

Posted by Sharon


Sometimes the best way to tell a not-so-funny story is to see the hunour in it. Reliving the past weekend is one of those times.

The days preceding the weekend were typical work days – feeding, caring for and riding my horses, house work, yard work, and garden - with one exception. Unrelenting sciatic pain made everything I did harder. As the week progressed, I decreased my work load, riding only two horses every day and those with vague symptoms of light-headedness that I attributed to lack of sleep as well as body pain. On Saturday morning I promised myself I would ride three horses. After  a short ride on Wolf (just getting in him in shape), I broke for lunch then, in he afternoon, I rode Mistral and Peace. When I came back in the house for a cold drink, however, I knew I must make a call to the nurse at Alexis Creek – there was stuff going on with me that needed to be checked out.

I called Heather, advised her of my symptoms and before I could say any more, she told me she was coming out to see me. This is where things started to get out of control.

Heather arrived with a bag and a machine that would soon be hooked up to my body. As I lay on my own couch with wires attached to me, she watched the results for a few minutes before telling me, in no uncertain terms, that I would have to go to Williams Lake – by ambulance!

“No,” I said. “I can’t!” The already-erratic lines on the paper spewing from Heather's machine squiggled even more wildly. (My heart was beating at up to 160 beats per minute.)

“I can’t leave.”

“You have to.”

I resorted to pleading.

“Not by ambulance, please. Too much drama. Someone will drive me.”

“No, Sharon. By ambulance. I’m going to phone.” (Lost this one…)

I let this sink in.

“Can I go out and get everything ready with the horses?”

“No. You can’t. We’ll look after everything.”

“Well, can I make some calls?” Heather took some of the paraphernalia off of me so I could call a friend to look after my horses and dogs. I did that and then I saw my opportunity.

“I’m going out now,” I announced as I headed for the steps downstairs.

“I’ll come too,” Heather said. (Won this one…)

Back inside, resigned to the inevitable, I packed a few things to take with me. When the ambulances (not one, but two – don’t ask!) arrived, I was ordered back on the couch (Lost this one – one nurse and three paramedics in the room…) where Heather started an IV, commenting that I was "tough everywhere" when she couldn't get the needle in.

“I wanted to get her on oxygen but she wouldn’t stay still long enough,” she told the paramedics. (A small victory… I just ran around the yard getting set up to leave – how could I need oxygen?)

Finally, everyone was happy that we were ready to go. A brief discussion with one of the paramedics determined that he would hold the bag attached to my IV as I made my way to the ambulance. I got up and started walking.

“Slow down!” (Apparently the man could not keep up with me…)

Then I saw the stretcher at the bottom of my steps.

“You want me on that?” I asked. “I don’t need to go on a stretcher! (Lost again...)

So they hoisted me up into the ambulance like I’ve seen a thousand times on television . . . and I immediately became claustrophobic!

“I can’t do this!” I said.

“Do you want to drive?” asked the driver.

“Yes.” (I lost this one too, of course - it was a rhetorical question.)

 So for that outburst I got a shot of Atavan. (Fought that too and lost!)

It's a good thing I didn’t know until later that the RCMP had set up a road block at the end of my driveway, completely unrelated to my situation. I wish I had the picture my neighbour described to me: Road block with RCMP, two ambulances driving out of my driveway and my friend with truck and trailer stopped on the highway waiting to turn in to my driveway! (And I didn't want any drama!)

In emergency at Williams Lake hospital, I was transferred to a bed, hooked up to various wires and tubes (including oxygen - yes, they got their way in that one, too!). The doctor assessed my condition and advised me that I might need a pacemaker (situation going from bad to worse!) but, after all tests were complete, diagnosed my condition as atrial tachycardia and told me he would put me on beta blockers. I could go home in the morning if I was stable. Good news!

I cannot find anything humourous to write about my overnight in emergency on a Saturday night of a long weekend in the Chilcotin. The high point of the evening was when the nurse brought me a phone and I heard the voice of a friend on the other end of the line. I assured her ( and her me...), then kept the phone for a few more calls including one to the good friend feeding my horses and caring for my dog, Mischa.

The next morning, I was released and had to call for a ride home. As I said to the paramedics, "You mean you can take me against my will but you won't bring me home?"

As I waited for my ride, a chance conversation with a man waiting for treatment, yielded unexpected offers - he wanted to know if I wanted a room mate and then asked me out. "You seem to be a nice lady," he said. (Not that nice...)

So I am home now, very glad to be here and feeling a little more in control. But, for a few hours last weekend, I was not . . . and there seemed to be very little I could do about it!

I fought them all, they all won! Damn! Hate it when that happens...

PS Thanks to Heather (nurse at Alexis Creek), paramedics, doctor and nurses in Williams Lake, Crystal and Tim (who did chores and kept Mischa), my friends and family for support and Marion (who was prepared to   drive from Alberta  and stay at my place should my 'hospital holiday' be any longer!)

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"It's a holiday if I'm not wearing spurs!"

Posted by Sharon Labels: , , ,

Last weekend (and extending into today) was a long weekend. As I read Facebook posts about camping, trail riding and water sports, and saw trucks pulling boats, campers and motor homes heading down highway 20, I admit I felt a twinge of envy, especially since the weather was perfect for those kind of holidays.  My holiday of choice would have been a trail ride but instead of that or water sports and evenings by the campfire, I spent the weekend by myself at home doing what I do almost every day - caring for and riding horses. 

I guess my "holiday" was the previous weekend, July 27-29, when Wildwood Reining Horses hosted a three-day Vern Sapergia horsemanship/reining clinic. My house and yard was filled with people and horses . . . and an old friend.

Vern demonstrating to Donna and I
Vern and I go back a long way - back to the hills of Saskatchewan, reining shows, working in Italy, clinics and many, many soul-searching heart-to-hearts. Although 'time for talking' was limited last weekend, we still managed to have a couple of in-depth discussions.  One topic was about time off - holidays - of which neither of us gets much. Vern told me he had plans to "holiday" a little after the clinic before he returns to Austria. His family, he said, told him he never took a real holiday. Vern disagreed.

"Don't you remember?" he said to his son-in-law. And he reminded him of a one-day outing they had once had. His son-in-law disagreed, saying it was nothing but a spur-of-the-moment little adventure.

"Yes, it was a holiday!" Vern said. "Any time I'm not wearing spurs it's a holiday!"

So that's the 'holiday' criteria for horse trainers... Although I somewhat agree, I can have a holiday even if I am wearing spurs, like last weekend.

Vern's clinic, as always, was fabulous - informative and fun! I know of no other clinician who could and would give more of themselves to each and every student. He loves to teach.

"I will never retire," said Vern, "As long as I have something to teach and someone wants to learn."

The clinic, however, was not for anyone who wanted to be stroked or coddled. Vern tells it like it is! He also pushes everyone to the limits of their capabilities. He has an innate sense of how far is too far, though, and riders come away from the clinic with the wonderful realization that they (and/or their horse) have accomplished  more than they thought possible!

Shannon getting spurs on - guess the holiday is over!
I think Vern might have to admit the trip to the Chilcotin was a little bit of a holiday even if he didn't take off his spurs. Evenings around the firepit, a visit with a long-lost cousin, lots of good food and laughter counts for something. Good horses doing good things does too. Sliding my stallion, Walking With Wolves, sure brought a smile to his face!

Vern and Walking With Wolves (Photo by Jordan Grier)

And when the clinic was over Sunday evening, Vern was the first to say, "Let's go!" when we were invited to Chilco Ranch for an impromptu team roping and didn't hesitate when Jordan offered him Maverick, a rope and a glove.
Vern on Maverick getting the job done. (Photo by Crystal Grier)
Check out that smile! (Photo by Crystal Grier)
He still had his spurs on so maybe even these moments didn't qualify as a holiday but I'm pretty sure he loved every minute of it.

So I am not going to cry any tears about not being able to take time off for the long weekend. I strapped on spurs just like I do almost every day and rode some fine horses.

Wildwood Mistral and I (Photo by Jordan Grier)

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Hearts in the Sand

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The sun had already set as I slowly drove through the trees and down the sandy driveway to my yard. I had met my friend at the corner and we had driven to Williams Lake for shopping and dinner but now, possibly for the first time, I didn't want to come home.

Bypassing my house yard, I drove past the gate and parked close to the barn, turned the key off, got out and put one leaden foot in front of the other, glancing at the old round pen to my left but walking instead to the barn to feed my stallions, one in the barn and one in a pen behind. It was then I saw the first heart drawn in the sand at the door of my barn. 


I knew what the significance of the heart in the sand was... Thinking about that, I forked feed to Little Wolf and Wolf, then plodded by the old round pen again on a path across the arena to check and feed the broodmares. Usually my two pretty fillies, Perfect and Cameo, lifted my spirits but tonight I doubted they would. Feed them I must though so I shuffled along eyes to the ground . . . and stopped. There, in the harrow drag-track across the arena, was another heart, carefully scribed, carefully positioned so I would see it when I crossed the arena.


Hearts in the sand. I knew who drew them . . . and why. "I thought they might cheer you up," he said later. Well, no - the hearts in the sand didn't cheer me up but I so appreciated the effort because, you see, I had come home that evening to one less horse. Destiny was gone.

Wildwood Destiny entered my world on April 20, 1993 and immediately captured my heart. The first foal for my good mare, Wildwood Tamarac, I had great expectations for her. Her sire was an own son of Doc Bar and double bred King; her dam was sired by Solanos Peppy San. I was sure she would be a reining horse and had plans to train her and compete in the NRHA Futurity in Oklahoma City in 1996.

April 20, 1993 - Destiny born to Tamarac
But my talented little bay mare was "destined" to overcome adversity time and time again. Savaged by her mother when she was only a few hours old, lost in the mountains when she was two, sustaining a traumatic shoulder injury at three and surgery and three pins in her leg at four years old, we missed the futurity. I entered the reining pen only a few times before breeding her. Again, she faced pain, the pain of losing her three week old filly. 

Destiny and her first born, Lace.
Through it all she remained cheerful and tough - really tough. She learned to not only survive but thrive and went on to gift me with wonderful trail rides, beautiful foals and a charming stable presence. Last year she raised her last foal and I did not breed her again, believing she would be with me for several years of retirement. I was wrong. A sudden debilitating lameness left me only with a choice I did not want to make. For the past few months I spent time with her every day, moving her to grass, penning her alone at night so she would not be hurt running from the others. She was never far from me and she always greeted me with ears up and often whinnied, making a difficult decision even more difficult.

On July 12, a vet humanely euthanized Destiny at home. I lost a very special friend and the fourth of what I call "The Dynasty". 

The morning after I discovered the 'hearts in the sand', I walked to Destiny's grave by the fence east of the house. There I found another heart - this one outlined in river stone - and inside the heart, a "bouquet" of grass and alfalfa in flower. While my friend had kept me company her husband had tried his very best to ease the pain he knew I would feel when I came home to an empty pen. Thank you, my friends, for lifting my heart just a little...


And now life begins without Destiny, although I still imagine I see her face looking through the rails at me with her ears up and her nose stretched to my hand as it was when I said goodbye. I can still feel the softness of that nose although she has been gone for a week. 

Destiny (center with head up) with her family 1999
Duchess, Mahogany (at back)
Tamarac and Silk (mare and foal upper right)
Kokanee, Promise, Whisper and Harmony)
Duchess, Mahogany, Tamarac (Desiny's maternal ancestors) and her little filly, Lace, are buried on myold property in Armstrong and Destiny is here in the Chilcotin but I like to think they are together now as they were in the photo above. And the legacy of this fine maternal line still lives . . . in Legacy and Legacy's offspring. Last spring Destiny's daughter, Legacy, foaled out a beautiful bay filly that I named Wildwood Perfect Six because she is the first of the sixth generation of this line of Wildwood mares. Perfect, Legacy and Legacy's siblings - Whiskey, Sable, Honor, Magic and Breeze - carry the genes of this fine mare. She will never really be gone.

I took the photos below on July 12, 2012, the last day I spent with Destiny. The first is of Destiny with Legacy and Perfect - I thought she should meet her granddaughter. In the second photo, Destiny is looking off in the distance. What is she thinking here? That she would like to trot over the hills like she used to? I hope she's doing that now. 
Legacy, Perfect and Destiny

Those hearts in the sand have been erased by the footsteps of her stable mates (somehow fitting) but my memories of Destiny will live on. For nineteen years she was part of my world. Now a river rock 'heart' marks her final resting place. I go to see her there every day. Miss you, girl. Rest in peace.

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