Introduction

I was born in Amsterdam in 1969, on the day Neil Armstrong took his “first giant leap for mankind.” My parents were a nuclear chemist and an artist, more inclined to spend their weekends touring museums than cleaning stalls. They nonetheless indulged my innate addiction to all things equine, surely hoping that this phase would pass and I would take up something like soccer or speed skating. We moved to the United States when I was two so that my father could pursue his career in art conservation, living first in New York, then Massachusetts, where I graduated from pony rides to real riding lessons.

This is me showing a young TB filly, Roxanne, probably around 10 years ago!

I’m sure most parents of equestrian children can relate to the hours spent trekking across the countryside in all weather conditions to riding lessons and clinics, stopping on roadsides to pat random ponies and, perhaps the most valiant sacrifice, getting up in the wee hours of the morning on weekends and spending entire days at small schooling shows watching endless horses and ponies circling the ring and jumping small courses. Yes, all parents with children in sports programs spend lots of time and money in the pursuit thereof, but only horse moms drive to the local sawmill after work to bag up shavings or constantly pick hay off the upholstery of the family car. Now that I have, myself instructed small children, I think I have a better appreciation for the stress that this dangerous sport must cause parents, watching their children fall off or even get stepped on, kicked or bitten – few other sports have the inherent dangers of equestrian activities.

My parents, hard at work on the farm.

We moved to Virginia in 1984 where I got my first horse, Salvo, for my 16^th birthday. I will say that having my own horse kept me busy and out of trouble and taught me a lot about responsibility, perseverance and hard work. Salvo moved down to Blacksburg with me when I attended Virginia Tech. My mother still recalls helping me move into the dorm, hauling tack and grooming boxes while other moms carried teddy bears and fluffy blankets.

This is Salvo - isn't he handsome?!

And a mug shot of Salvo.

I graduated with a degree in Psychology and an English minor and moved back in with my parents, working to save money toward my childhood dream – a horse farm. That dream came true in 1996 when I bought a farm in southern Fauquier county and dubbed it “Equutopia.” The transition from the suburbs of Alexandria to the relative isolation of the farm was a little scary and reality hit hard. While I’m not sure that I agree with the saying that “ignorance is bliss,” I think my personal motto may be “naivete is courage” – tackling an endless, seemingly impossible task is far easier when one is unenlightened to its true difficulty.

Occasionally I have questioned my life’s path, especially on those winter nights when temperatures dip into the single digits, everything is frozen and my friends are out at the movies while I try to avoid slipping and crashing onto the icy and very unforgiving ground as I go about my chores. In my heart I know that I would be more miserable if I ever tried to break my equine addiction.

The back pasture at Equutopia.

Over the last 17 years, I have had many adventures in my evolution from city girl to horsewoman. Numerous characters, both human and equine, have come into my life. Learning basic self-sufficiency, home repair and emergency preparedness have turned out to be imperative as a single young woman with very limited resources living in the country. In addition to taking care of Equutopia and its (currently)30 resident horses, I own/operate a farm supply business and McCauley Bros. feed dealership and am expanding my business into building custom jumps. I have plunged into these undertakings with the eternal optimism shared by most horsewomen, with little experience and even fewer resources.

Salvo in the back pasture at Equutopia.

Many of the horses on my farm are recycled racehorses, some were headed for or already at livestock auctions, and a few were given to me by owners unable or unwilling to care for them any longer. They came to me in various states of health and soundness ranging from a perfectly healthy but aged school horse needing a home with a lighter work schedule to an emaciated Arabian stallion whose teeth were worn from chewing rocks in his quest for any sustenance. They have taught me about rehabilitation and dealing with illness and death. Life is tough when you have a soft heart paired with limited financial resources, but I have learned a lot about improvisation and bartering. In this blog, I would like to share some of my many humorous, frightening, heartwarming and enlightening experiences and the lessons I have learned trying to live my dream the hard way.