After the small milestone in my life of graduating from the George Washington University, I have officially began my post-grad adventures. The plan is such: a little town called Hastings, Ontario, then Minneapolis, then north country in Roseau, MN, back to my hometown of Duluth, MN, until I finally return to Minneapolis to fly (or drive) out to Augusta, Montana - where the real adventure begins.
But there are several days before that happens, and for now I am sitting on the porch in Hastings, ON, enjoying a lovely breeze as the sun peeps out of the clouds. This is my haven: with 63 acres of fields, filled with horses, hay, a barn and a house, life could hardly get better. I must also mention the people, who make this place come alive.
But here's the thing: In this haven, I have never managed to escape injury. To be fair, I'm on a farm and we're always working outside. Injury should be expected. But every time? It just seems like overkill. Or perhaps a curse. Sort of like my air travel curse, but that will come later.
I first came here in the summer of 2009, trailering my horse across the border, with 19 hours between here and home. While a delightful time, Elisa fell through a rotten floorboard and managed to catch herself with her arms - unfortunately blowing a blood vessel and tendon, leaving her arm fairly unusable. Shortly thereafter Jo took a fall and sprained her ankle. Two ace bandages down, only one to go.
I was alone. Jo and Elisa had left for the weekend, and here I was just caring for the horses and otherwise laying in the sun. It was the damn pony. Never trust the ponies. Actually she didn't do a thing, but as I crawled out of her stall, I managed to step in just the right hole that caused my foot to make a right angle with my leg. And not the natural right angle.
Needless to say I cursed myself silly and hobbled back to the house, where I wrapped myself up and waited for Jo and Elisa's return.
It was the beginning of a long road of injuries. In subsequent visits I have survived a hornet's sting (it did require bandaging, but otherwise minimal), a nasty fall off my horse directly on my back (when I run it still has a dull ache), and on my last visit it was washing dishes that did me in. While sticking my hand in a glass with a washcloth, I innocently rotated my hand, only to find a broken glass and lovely gash in the sink. I promptly turned around to Elisa to say; "I hurt it" before she ran off for bandages. Shortly thereafter my hand resembled a pink boxing glove that in reality could do nothing but hurt. I spent the rest of my time here working outside with my right hand in my pocket while my left picked stalls, collected broken glass, and burned vine in a barrel.
This brings us to now. Because it is a well known fact that I hurt myself while here, it has become more of a game to avoid it or at least hope it is minimal, or at the end of my trip. So here's what happened yesterday:
Elisa and I mounted up and rode our horses through new territory, where a neighbor had recently given us permission to use his property. With several new acres to explore, we went up ridges, through fields and across the creek before returning to our well tracked fields. When we got to the home stretch, Elisa began moving up the hill to my right, while I had gone straight. Realizing my mistake, I turned to see where she was going.
Now let me tell you about my horse, Vera. She's a lovely mare, the greatest teammate I've ever had and also one of my best friends. Let's be honest, she's forced to listen to me when my other friends can walk away. But one of the reasons we so like each other is because we both love to run. As fast as possible.
This was not lost on Vera when she noticed Elisa going up the hill. The exact hill that we so rarely do anything but gallop up. And that's exactly what Vera thought we should do.
When I turned to the right, Vera whipped herself around and bolted. And now we come to my injury. Are you ready? Take a deep breath.
I broke a nail.
In her haste, my hand jammed against my saddle and just about ripped my nail clean in half. I consider this a legitimate injury because there was bleeding. I am nursing it back to health with a bandaid.
OH THANK GOD IT WAS A NAIL. Now I only have to survive two more days here. But with my injury out of the way, I feel confident I can live without fear.
UPDATE: I survived. I'm on my way to the airport now. Next stop, Minnesota!
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