I’ve been digging through my small, but much cluttered closet for about 15 minutes now. I’ve been trying to find my Minnesota T-shirt that I got at the airport last summer. I think it’s about time I clean out my closet. All of the sudden I came up across Nantes’ halter. It has three stripes, blue stripe at the top, white in the middle and red stripe at the bottom. The colors could be brighter, but instead the entire halter is covered with dirt, which is never going to come off. It could also use some stitching. This halter is a symbol of friendship. Friendship between me and Nantes, between a horse and a woman. This halter belongs to a beautiful, bay horse Nantes. I’ve known him for three years. It was love at first sight. He was a beautiful and very powerful horse. But that wasn’t why I fell in love with him, and definitely not the reason why our two souls connected. His eyes were very beautiful, yet very sad. I wasn’t really happy at the time either. I just moved to Colorado from Texas. I was in a new climate, new school, around new people. I was away from all of my friends; I didn’t want to be here. Nantes, on the other hand, has been in Colorado for about five years, but like me I don’t think he wanted to be here. Nantes was, and still is, a dressage horse. He has always been good at it. What he was missing was a true friend. Nantes had a very old owner, who would on occasion come and visit him. He also had a trainer. She is a great trainer. She loves horses deeply, but I don’t think she really had time to be close friends with Nantes. Then I came. I lived close to the barn at that time. Nantes was like a big magnet. I didn’t want to be apart from him. I used to spend hours grooming him. He would shine after I would finish with grooming. But being a typical horse, Nantes would roll around as soon as I put him back in his corral. Nantes was such a joy to be around. I had the hardest time taking pictures of him. He just didn’t want to stand still. He would follow me everywhere. I remember spending an hour in his still. Just sitting there. Nantes would munch on his hay for a little bit, and then he would come over to me to give me a few kisses. After that he would go back to munching his hay. I loved the simplicity of all of it. No words needed to be said. We were together and that mattered the most. Our bond was slowly growing stronger and no one could stop it. Next year, when I go to college, I am probably going to cry on my last visit with him before I head of to New Mexico. But, no matter what, Nantes will always be in my heart. His halter will always be with me as a reminder of him. While most of my stuff will be packed away into boxes soon, the halter will be at my side reminding me of my special friend.

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доказано... если не давать человеку высыпаться на протяжении двух-трех недель, он становится злым и агрессивным.

Я вот что-то не по делу цепляюсь к людям. Наверное, проявляется все самое гадкое в характере, чего уж совсем не ждешь, что вылезет на свет. И что противно - стресс сгоню, пару раз моргну и смотрю на те руины, что остались после меня. Страшно... Наговорю всяких гадостей, разряжусь на ни в чем не повинный народ, а потом горько жалею. Блин, тяжело жить одной и работать по ночам. И не фотографировать лошадей... и зима еще такая мерзкая, никудышно-теплая. И нет конюшни-отдушины, куда можно просто приехать и ткнуться в ближайший денник, пожаловаться на все какой-нить лошадке с печальными глазами. Покормить сухариками да забыть про все беды. Нельзя нам, конникам, без лошадей. И пусто вокруг, кто уехал, кто просто не общается, погряз сам в своих домашних проблемах. А кто-то очень далеко, так даже и не выскажешься - смысл перекладывать на плечи друга свои проблемы?

В общем, чувствую, весна рядом. И жду первой травы, теплых дней и табуна кобыл с жеребятами. Буду отрываться по полной программе и бродить по табунам... Все, кто случайно попался под руку и жесткую беспринципную критику - прошу прощения. Не по злому умыслу...

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All my life I have been horse crazy. I could go on for hours talking about horses with countless stories from the past five years. Out of all the horses that I’ve met over the years, however I truly bonded with one particular horse. The event took place last spring when my heart was broken by a baseball player and a horse named Nantes came to the rescue. I was in love with the baseball player for two years. My feelings were strong, and I knew I had to tell him. I felt nauseous, with my heart beating about a million miles per hour, and the palms of my hands sweating. I was really nervous. He was sitting with his friends, when I came up to him, “Can I talk to you for a minute?” The baseball player got up and we walked over to the side. I looked into his beautiful brown eyes, and his gorgeous smile, and I couldn’t believe what I was about to do. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to tell you something since last year. I think you are a great guy (he smiles), and, well…..I really like you,” I said with my face most likely bright red. He paused a little, then the baseball player said to me, “Alright, we should hang out. I’m gonna have to get your number sometime.” “Okay……I guess……I’ll see you later then,” that was all I could get out of myself without screaming and jumping for joy. I was on cloud nine. A week and a half later he got my number, nothing happened. Three weeks after I told him I realized that nothing was going to happen. My heart was shattered in a million pieces. I felt alone. I was scared. I imagined that I was going to spend the rest of my life alone, and I had no one to whom I could turn. That weekend I went to visit my horse Nantes. As I got out of the car, the familiar smell of horses filled my lungs, the kind of smell that usually only horse people appreciate. The sound of horses munching on the hay made me feel at home. I heard a soft whinny from Nantes. He was out and about in his sandy corral which needed a paint job done to the fence. I ran over to him. I gripped the cold, green chipping fence and climbed over. What happened next was unbelievable. He looked down at me with his big, brown, soft and really kind eyes, where I really got lost in them. Nantes’ back was covered with dust from rolling all morning. His black mane had pieces of hay stuck in it, but he didn’t care. The pain from my heartbreak was there. He felt my pain and sadness. As he came closer to me, I could feel his breath. Nantes placed his head on my shoulder, as I started crying. I grabbed his very long, but soft neck, and I just stood there crying. He stayed with me and wouldn’t leave my side. The horse that cares about his hay more than anything else, stayed with me. I started talking to him, “Nantes, I’m scared; I’m really, really scared. I don’t want to be alone. I want someone to love me, someone to care for.” He must have understood something, because he pulled me closer to him with his head as if to say, “Don’t worry; I’m here for you. I love you.” Then, Nantes started making funny faces. He would pull out his tongue and do weird movements with his jaw. He wanted to make me laugh, and it worked. He also tried to eat my old basketball shoes. They were so old, the shoes slid on the court insteadof making squeaking noises. Nantes also enjoyed rubbing his big, long, brown head against one of my legs. I think he enjoyed seeing me laugh. That day in the spring I had my heart broken for the very first time. I now knew exactly how much heartbreaks hurt. I also realized how close Nantes was to me. I knew how strong our bond really was because of that one moment. When I was completely broken and, Nantes knew exactly what to do. To this day Nantes takes care of me. He greets me with his soft whinny, and he still lets me cry in his mane.

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Купила книжку о фото, автор М. Лэнгфорд (Библия фотографии) под редакцией А.Лапина. Дело было ночью, я полувареная, книжку листала с любопытством, но не вчитываясь. Зацепилась за фото лягушки в полете, по которой трижды прошлась вспышка. Эффект - три лягушки в трех фазах полета. Ярко, четко, сочно, красиво. Лягушки дома не было, кошек в полете не поснимаешь, тем более в час ночи. Зато в мою бедовую голову влезла другая шальная мысль - как рисовать световой кистью. Но световой кисти в доме не нашлось, зато нашлось два фонарика - обычный желтенький и мелкий яркий. Использовав все, что попалось под руку, я стала эксперементировать. Сон как рукой сняло, да и процесс увлек. Жаль, помошника бы... Все-таки нереально снимать собственные руки и при этом светить фонариком...
Зато результат можно оценить.
(картинки можно смотреть в большем размере)

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Зима - это нечто. Помнится, прошлой тоже было забавно наблюдать снег только в конце января, да вот только выпав он не стал каждую неделю таять быстрее, чем насыпаться. На даче собаки разрыли очередной участок земли - правильно, снега нет, а энергия требует выхода. И земля хорошая, не промерзшая... Только как фотографировать, если впору надевать резиновые сапоги и пускать кораблики? По календарю зима, по погоде /\осеньвесна/\. С ума сходят птицы и деревья. Куст черноплодки (а может и не черноплодки, а какой-то другой, я в них не разбираюсь) стоит с набухшими почками и за него страшно. Ягоды вкусные, крупные дает. И смородина подозрительная тоже. Но это все фигня, учитывая, что клубника у нас плодоносила до октября. Ягоды размером с треть ладони, все кусты усыпаны ягодами. Это, наверное, тоже в порядке вещей? Как и снег в середине февраля с температурой от -10 до +5. Не спрогнозируешь выходные - ехать снимать мордочку в зимнем снегу или тусоваться дома за закрытыми шторами, потому что смотреть больно на капель.

(Полностью)

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http://s184.photobucket.com/albums/x16/equinejess/Loving%20Grove%20Farm/?action=view¤t=HPIM0447.flv

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Patriots lost :(

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www.ca.uky.edu/equine

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Интересная штука, у которой есть четыре ноги, которая (или которое?) умеет ходить каким-то непонятным аллюром, средним между рысью и шагом. Как будто на подтанцовке, в вечном поиске равновесия. И эта штука не только ходит, оно знает что такое равновесие и если уж совсем не извернуться, то оно не упадет. Под песенку группы Material issue (valerie loves me) можно понадблюдать за этим "танцующим мулом".

Весит порядка 7,3Мб.

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