Don't Let Worry Ruin the Ride

"What am I doing up here?  I don't think I want to do this.  He's so tall!" I heard my brain say after I had swung my leg over the saddle of a giant horse.  We hadn't even begun our hour-long trail ride, and memories of nightmarish equine experiences were, already, making me regret my decision to conquer this fear.  Putting a fake smile on my face, I prayed that my 17-year-old steed wouldn't feel my apprehension.  I listened to directions on how to handle Chief, a beautiful brown and white American Paint.  His eyes reminded me of our Golden Retriever's eyes, but I still couldn't shake the slight, but bothersome, knowledge I have of horses, regarding their skittishness.  What if a snake or some mice were to run across our path?  Would Chief bolt, catching me unprepared to hold on for dear life?  What if he tripped?  I've seen that happen before.  In that instance, the horse's mouth hit the ground resulting in a bloody gash in its lip. 

Even though I was told to use the words, "Giddy up" and "Whoa" for commands to move and to stop, none were needed, as Chief and I were third in line after Wrangler Dave and my friend Bonnie.  My horse nonchalantly followed the others, but I was still a little shaky, especially when Chief stopped abruptly and arched his back, placing me even higher into the air.  I should have known that he was just relieving himself of a rather large pile of poop, but fear has a way of blocking out common sense sometimes.  Then, as the scent of it reached my nostrils, and Chief starting walking again, I calmed down and made a decision.

It was only one week after the beginning of fall, so the colored leaves were interspersed with the unchanged green ones, and the contrast was gorgeous.  The sounds of late summer could still be heard throughout the woods.  Coming out of the forest, into a clearing, the heat of the sun felt like joy penetrating my soul.  We were heading for the beach of a glistening lake when I decided to stop being such a worry wart. Instead of having the shakes over past events and possible "what ifs", I thanked God for all of the ways the ride was affecting my senses.  I thanked Him for the ability to sit upon a horse, for my friend who suggested it and went with me, and for faith (however late) that everything would be okay.  A half hour later, I was treating Chief to a goodie and wishing that I could go again.
My photo, "South Haven Sea Glass, Merged II" reminds me of the colored leaves along the wonderful trails at Simpsarosa Stables in Grand Junction, Michigan.

Change is Good

Writing is as relaxing to me as knitting is to others, so what's with all of the avoidance behaviors?  My ten-minute bike ride turned into twenty, then I drove the car across town for just one item.  Having a strict rule against the latter, and doing it anyway, showed me it was time to sit down and write my post before I do something I really regret.  But as I turned on my laptop, the mood just wasn't right.  As much as I treasure the little space on our upstairs landing, where words usually flow from my keyboard, I desperately needed a change of venue.

Looking around for electrical outlets in this old house wasn't a problem; there are several.  Today, though, choosing a place to plug in felt like work to me.  I just wasn't, as they say, "feelin' it".  In the back of my mind were some words I had heard recently on the radio, "Sitting is the new smoking, in regards to healthy living".  That thought cut the possibilities down considerably.  So I headed out to the garage.  Something about setting up in my husband's man-cave gave me a boost of energy.  I really woke up when I remembered he had just installed a new window facing our morning glories.  To top it all off, the window is high and horizontal with a shelf right below it.  To work there, I had to stand up.  Love it!  Not only was I able to write semi-outdoors with a beautiful view right in front of my face, I also got to think on my feet.  It was refreshing!  And now, I'm done.  Change is good.

I chose this photo, "Lightening Stone", because I don't usually photograph all colors of beach glass together.  I usually have a color theme, but change is good sometimes.

End of Summer

42 degrees?  It's only the 17th of September!  Here, in South Haven, Michigan, it hardly feels as though we've had a summer season, and now fall is beginning early.  Sure, we had a good share of beautiful days and a few really hot ones, but it all went by so fast.  Last winter had been categorized in most of my neighbor's descriptions as "extreme".  The length of the season was longer than usual.  The temperatures were colder, winds were stronger, and the amount of snowfall was unbelievable!  So, yes, I'm a little bit miffed that I couldn't sleep with the windows open last night, and I miss listening to the sounds of birds and squirrels this morning.  

As I sit here, trying to figure a way out of this end-of-summer funk, I'm coming to the realization that the blame for my mood goes more to myself than to the temperatures.  Looking back, I didn't take advantage of the few hot days we were blessed with.  In my semi-old age (Oh, dear, another blame game), instead of donning my bathing suit and jumping into the great Lake Michigan waters, I think I recall escaping the heat by turning on my air-conditioner.  Only a few times did I pack my beach umbrella and set up camp in the sand.  Hmmmm, that's too bad.

Okay, as usual, seeing my thoughts in writing forces me to also see the truth.  The choices we make are ours, and we must take ownership of them.  Rather than blaming others (or nature), we should think back on how we handled situations and on what we did with what we were given.  

Lesson learned.  I will put my coat on with a smile, think positively about the possibility of a few more warm days, and when they do come, I will choose to use them well.

No Child Left Behind---Really?

"We didn't do much learning today," my grandson told his mommy when he got off the bus.  It was his first day in first grade.  Last year, in a different school, his Kindergarten year was a lot more academic than what I would like to have seen.  Since I don't mention names, I guess it's okay to say that my grandbaby's opinion of school was that he hated it.  Hated Kindergarten?  Yes, almost every day of it.  I have to admit, that when I visited last year's school, the physical environment did not appear to be one that would nurture the developmental stages of five and six-year-old children.

As a retired teacher with a Master's Degree in Early Childhood Development, I have more confidence in discussing this subject than I do in most other topics.  My education and personal experience in teaching young children has grown within me a passion for letting people know how wrong it is to push our young ones beyond what their developmental ages can handle.  Not all five-year-olds have the same developmental age.  Even if they differ by just a few months, consider what a huge percentage that is of such a small amount of years lived so far.

Growth happens in natural stages.  The best example I can think of is baby teeth.  No parent or teacher can look at a child and say, "If you try really hard, and pay close attention to me as I speak, you can make your front tooth fall out."  That sounds ridiculous, yet, it's similar to what our nation is doing as we take away each five-year-old's time to be a child in Kindergarten by forcing a first grade curriculum down their throats.  Think of it.  Not all of those children are ready for sitting quietly to learn how to read, write stories on their own, and do most of their work with pencil and paper.  So what happens?   Even more play time is taken away in an effort to have more "practice".  Then, sadly, those who still don't conform to what our nation says is grade-level, are placed in special programs and labeled "at-risk".  Hog wash!  They're young, that's all!

Instead of experiencing failure and growing up thinking that school is hard right from the beginning, Kindergarten is supposed to be a transition from home to school through:  playing, singing, being read to, and social interaction (Don't take my word for it, look in Wikipedia.).  The word, "Kindergarten", means "children's garden" and used to be a place for children to "bloom" and get ready for school.  Five-year-olds are like sponges; they love to learn, but we still need to feed  their developmental hunger for doing gross motor (large muscle) activities such as running, building with blocks, finger painting at easels, and active games of movement and song that incorporate pre-reading and pre-math skills.

In a nation that sounds like we know what we're doing by spewing the phrase, "no child left behind", what I'd rather see is, "no childhood left behind".  So when my grandson came home after his first day of first grade, I was thrilled to hear that they "didn't do much learning", because that meant his new teacher took the time to make sure her students had a wonderful first day.  She made sure her students want to come back.  My grandchild says he loves school this year, and he's ready to learn. 

My photo today is for my grandson.