Thanksgiving

Warning:Sappy post ahead. Proceed with caution.

Reflecting back on the last year of my life is humbling. I have grown and changed significantly and I have learned so much about my art and myself. I have gained new friends, fell out of touch with some, renewed friendships that were hibernating. I have achieved things that I NEVER dreamed could’ve been possible. I am so incredibly lucky to have people who surround me with joy and support, giving me the strength to face each challenge as it comes. My parents, my brother, my nana, my special pal, my best friends, my roommates, my colleagues, my coaches, and so on, and so on. And I am very aware of the fact that I am only in the position I am in my life currently because of the people I have come in contact with. So thank YOU!

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In other news, we had a bit of a Thanksgiving miracle on the farm today. My mom is friends with everyone in the area, including the resident “Flesh Trader.” This is not the official title of this gentleman; it is my mom’s sordid name for his profession. Essentially he is the person in charge of transporting animals to slaughter houses and/or auction. He gets phone calls about animals that are injured or old, and he goes and picks them up and either takes them to auction or to the slaughter house. It is a rather dismal job, but this gentleman is a gentle man (excuse the pun) and treats the animals with kindness and respect. He often tries to find people who are willing to take the animals so he doesn’t have to send them to the slaughter house.

My mom was over at his establishment looking at some sheep and she saw a young palomino horse in his field. She didn’t think about it too seriously until that night when she found that the image of the horse was still occupying her thoughts. The next morning she called the gentleman and inquired if the horse was to be sold.
“No,” he said ” I am taking it to the slaughter house tomorrow.”
He explained that the owners thought she had problems walking and didn’t want to deal with it, so they had him pick her up to take to the slaughter house.The price of feeding her and providing shelter was too much for them.

She is only a year old. In our experience with horses,they don’t always have walking completely figured out right away. They are still technically babies at a year old. Even if she did have a slight wobble to her walk, wouldn’t you want to give her a little time to see if it changed with age? Instead of killing her?!?

My mom told the gentleman that she wanted him to postpone the slaughter house visit until she saw the horse again. She went back to his property, and took the horse there and then. We have named her Flicka and she came to our farm this afternoon.She is having a grand old time trotting around (without a hint of a wobble I might add) with her new friends Freyja, or Norwegian Fjord, and the two miniature ponies from next door. I spent a big chunk of today weeping while standing in a field watching her prance about. Just a big softy. That’s me. (Pictures on the way! She’s so pretty!)img_0194-2

Take away from this post: I love the people in my life. Thankful for the experiences and people who have brought me here. Dad jumps down wells to rescue dogs, Mom rescues horses from slaughter houses= parents are superheros. Eva still cries at everything.

Night all!