Cob Jockey

We are moved. My horse and I are (basically) sharing an address for the first time ever.

This was taken from my bathroom window.

It has been a heck of a month. Every bit of free time I had was spent getting my old (and, it's truly old) house ready to be sold. Since we are asking finished home prices for it, I couldn't have any frayed edges showing that might make a buyer think it needed work. 

Absolutely unbelievable amounts of mulch. I was so tired.

But it paid off. This is my baby. Every bit of it completely transformed over the last nine years since I paid $80,000 for a long empty 3300 sqft house that looked like a haunted house from the outside.

As soon as the last task was checked off the list hours before listing photos were taken, I felt myself start to come back to life. I started seeing my horse again. Really seeing him. Brushing him. Doing more than just a quick hoof pick and cleaning his stall. I haven't swung a leg over since the endurance ride, but I can feel myself wanting that again.

I also started seeing - omg where did these weeds come from?! lol

And doing other farm maintenance chores I'd ignored like dragging and watering for the first time in a month. My fellow co-op members totally understood when I said that some things would fall by the wayside for all of June, and even picked me up when I needed it - I only had 11 feeding shifts in June (should be 14-17), and they occasionally also did my stall. This is the power of the co-op: everyone pulls their weight as much as they can all the time, but when one of us needs picked up, we've got her back. I am eternally grateful for these wonderful people.

Tractor driving skills test: made it!

But as hard as selling the old house is, there's no doubt in my mind that moving out here is the right call. For one - my neurotic special needs child Meatloaf is the happiest and most relaxed I've ever seen her.

She hasn't slept this hard this often in the four years I've owned her. It's incredible.

I didn't realize how anxious she was living in the city until we moved out to the farm, and instead of asking to go out every half hour to investigate something she heard outside, she's now sleeping. A lot. And only asks to go out once or twice a day, if that.

Our new backyard. No fence needed, because Meatloaf thinks she's the only dog on earth out here.

They are, of course, also getting a lot of exercise. To get to the barn, I have to walk from the back end of the farm property to the middle of it, which is about a quarter mile walk. I could drive, and I probably will when the weather is bad, but how could I say no to this commute?

The dogs absolutely love this walk

For another, it just feels right. I grew up on a farm, and it feels like coming home. It is home.