Soon after Darwin settled in I was told I had cancer. I was 39. I knew I didnt want to die in suburban Connecticut. I immediately went thru surgery and then radioactive treatment after my thyroid was removed then began to look for a bigger farm out of state. I was so sick of ticks, taxes, and traffic, which was all Connecticut had on offer for me. I had already gotten chronic Lyme from a tick bite so I was really ready to go. My friend who had been crippled by the riding accident and botched surgery called me while I was looking for farms down in Virginia horse country. She said it was an emergency. A beautiful black warmblood gelding was going to get put down because of fractured withers from a terrible fall on ice. I really didnt want to get involved and said forget it. I had already picked up yet another horse and with all the sheep and my recovery still on my plate--it wasnt smart. When have I been smart? She hung up the phone discouraged and I continued my hunt for a farm. The next call from her came while I was up north in Maine. I was looking at a derelict stone farm house with broken windows, birds flying thru, squirrels in the walls, bats all over and bees in the eaves. And ghosts! I didnt know so many critters were living in the house when I took a look around but I did have an awful feeling about the house. Climbing up the stairs I asked the realtor if it was haunted. She ignored my question. I kept asking for as I climbed higher and higher toward the third floor I was shaking. I felt a pressure in my chest and freaked out when the realtor disappeared. She had only gone to the next room. I felt ridiculous but terrified. I shouted for her, unable to let go of the bannister. She came back and stared at me arms crossed in front of her, a smirk on her face. She said, I grew up in a haunted house. Its nothing. I left the third floor shakily and then stepped out to look at the back yard. It was an enormous field with the sun slanting across the billowing grasses and a tiny farm tractor was way out there cutting hay. The golden honey smell of grass was blowing over me and thru my hair as I stood watching. How many horses could that feed, I wondered. I felt like my heart was a kite flying higher and higher with the wind. It seemed I was on the top of the world and completely isolated. Not a house in sight. My cell phone rang. I dug it out of my pocket. It was my friend. Her voice was cracking with emotion. You have to help, she said. You know that horse with the broken back? The vet says hes got a 50% chance of surviving but the owner doesnt care. He says put the horse down this Friday! Thats in three days!! There I was standing in miles of grass thinking why not. Tell me about the horse. Hes gorgeous! 17 hands at least! Calm. Has a quiet eye too. And black as coal. They keep a sheet on him during the day so the sun wont bleach him. Hes got a lot of training too. His trainer works for Richard Gere. Can you believe it? The owner spent 10,000 bucks for him. Drove all the way to Ohio to look at him. So why is he not going to give the horse a second chance? Hell if I know. Hes got a $5,000 Hermes saddle, a new Porsche. Its not like he cant afford to let the horse rest. But hes sold the saddle already. This horse is a gonner. Rest? I was standing there watching the sun setting over the field. Yes, the vet said he needs 6 months off, then you can try him out. What if hes no good after that? Hed be a good pasture pet for Darwin. Come on. Youre his last chance. When I hung up the realtor came outside. Anything important? Show me the barn, I said hoping it was not as awful as the house. The barn was ancient and had been used as a cow barn before it became a storage for all kinds of junk. Its easily converted to horse stalls, the realtor said, hopeful. Just think, youve got sixty acres. You could put a lot of horses on this land. I was looking around the barn, feeling pressured by the black horse about to die. And then what Id been through came to mind. My Connecticut house was synonymous with cancer for me. I got it, the previous owner of my house had it, and so did the one before her. What do you think? the realtor said. It was like there was a fire underneath me, screaming leave leave leave and yet I had nowhere to go to. I hadnt found anything priced well enough to buy in Virginia. Im not sure, I said stepping out too look at the billowing field. The sun was now below the tree line far away. The sky, pink. The farm tractor leaving the field. The powerful wind smelled cold and of the sea. If you enjoy these posts please click on the author name above, the click LIKE. Thank you!
Posted on: Sun, 14 Sep 2014 00:41:19 +0000
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