Friday, June 1, 2012
Guest Post on Thrifty Living
Friday, March 23, 2012
Guest Blogger by The Farrier Himself #3
From about 4-6 years of age Lindsey was my traveling partner. She rode shotgun as we traveled from stable to stable, shoeing and trimming everything from draft horses to minis. She spent her days on the cover of my work truck's service body. She was safely perched, center stage, surrounded by coloring books, Breyer horses and a treat filled lunch box.
Early on she knew the difference between a pritchel and pull-off, a filly and a colt, and a cribber and a windsucker. She also learned that not everyone laughed at Dad's jokes and stories and when a horse bit or kicked, Dad sometimes forgot to say heck, darn, or shoot! She learned that sweat on the ground meant green in the pocket and that green in the pocket meant lunch of her choosing. She knew that an Arab is a breed of horse and an anvil is a heavy, pointy thing you shape shoes on.
We incorporated art education into our schedule as well. We were shoeing on Orchard Heights Road for a unique, colorful, female client named Moonbeam, Starlight, or Rainbow...something along those lines. Her horse was a well behave Quarter Horse Mare with great feet. The chit-chat was flowing under the warm summer sun, and I knew that every month the horse owner had more ink applied to her ongoing tattoo...portions of which were visible on her neck and arms. When I asked how the tat was progressing, she proudly lifted her shirt to show us! It was a dragon or peacock, multi-colored, and extensive...very artsy. Certain items the ink didn't cover, and the gal could care less. Lindsey's eyes bugged out of her head, and I heard the words every father fears, "Dad, I'm telling Mom!" The kid couldn't remember her coat or shoes but took this story home.
Lindsey's exposure to the arts was stimulated and carries on to this day. Oh the punishment a Dad will endure for his daughter's education in artistic expression!
Friday, May 20, 2011
Guest Blogger by The Farrier Himself~#2
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Since our bird feeder is a revolving door of chirps, squawks, beaks and feathers I thought I'd give housing one more try. Shoeing season warms up with the weather so time is short. This project has to be no frills and efficient. A pull of Gatorade from Lindsey's cloth-clad flask (see the shop), fortifies my will and genius triumphs.
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A chunk of 5" plastic fence with factory cap, a hole, wood base, and boom! I'm done!
It takes longer to refill the flask with Kool Aid than it does to build the bird castle. Site placement takes a little longer, and is thirsty work. Installation time coincides with refilling the flask with apple juice and the job is completed.
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The chickadees have moved in and the mayor of Birdville has ordered an entire subdivision of houses for friends and family. I'm so excited I'm refilling the flask with non-alcoholic whisky to celebrate. "Don't soil my handiwork," my daughter informs me, "because you are paying for the next flask!" I'm not worried because I'm making my own flask covers out of the rear pocket of my old Wrangler jeans. Her cute, girly flasks are for the birds.

