The Steeds of the Younglings

*laughing*

I do the best I can and hope for a miracle.

Here's a rough sketch of the Younglings' rides:

Merri on Glisten, a chestnut Percheron (the 'blooded' horses of these books); Arabians for Diann and Corrbed; Welsh Ponies for Dothann and Brann; a Shetland for little Rua.

It's not finished by a long shot but what the heck. I'm having way too much fun with this, I tell ya. I spent hours deciding who was going to ride what kind of 'horse'. The only one I knew for sure was that Merri was on a Percheron; she's the only one who has an actual full-sized official Dunnottar horse. The rest I had to figure out. Diann and Corrbed are too big for ponies so I went with Arabians for them being as they aren't as big as the Percherons. Dothann and Brann are old enough to not want to ride Shetlands, so they got Welsh Ponies, leaving little Rua with her little Shetland Pony.

Part of the fun of this has been remembering the ponies and horses of my own ancient past, my younger days.

Grandad raised Quarterhorses and Herefords - working horses and red cattle.

But he had a couple of ponies for us little ones. These were Muggy, a Shetland Pony, and Midnight, a Welsh Pony.

Now you would think that it would make sense to start us on the smallest of the bunch, Muggy the Shetland. But it didn't work that way. We (at least I) started with Midnight, the Welsh Pony. You see, although he was bigger, Midnight was the sweetest thing on the face of the earth. Muggy, by comparison, was a demon from hell.

Once we got to a certain age, old enough to not ride with an adult or be led by one, we got to ride Midnight. Someone would help us saddle up, and around the yard we would go, first being led and then on our own. 

When we got proficient with Midnight, we could give Muggy a try. After giving that a try or two, it was a distinct relief to get back up on Midnight. 

Midnight would go where I wanted him to go. He would walk, trot, lope like he was supposed to. He never bucked, no matter what. He never bit. He never kicked. He never tried to swipe me off on the corral posts. He never was anything but kind and gentle.

Muggy, the devil, was the opposite. He did all of the above bad things and none of the good ones. He was mean.

We did, however, learn to ride him and to make him do what we wanted instead of any old thing he felt like at any given time.

As we grew, we naturally started eyeing the Quarterhorses. Me, I had my eye on a palomino named Mr. Ed after the horse in the television show, the one who could talk.

When I was big enough and strong enough and capable enough to saddle him, that's when I got to ride him.

Saddling him wasn't a real problem; he was good natured about it for the most part. Except for the times he took a deep breath and swelled his chest cavity just before I tightened the cinch. I'd to go climb aboard and he'd let that breath out. And the saddle wasn't on nearly as firmly as I had figured. Twice he did that and then Grandad told me to knee him in the belly when I tightened the cinch. Worked like a charm, that did. Whoosh - out would go his breath. And quick like a snake I'd tighten that cinch.

There have been a couple of other horses in my life but Mr. Ed will forever have my heart. He grew old out on the ranch and his bones may be there yet for all I know.

Anyway, looking at the mounts of the Younglings, there are no Quarterhorses among them (the breed wasn't a breed back then). Dothann's pony looks like he might have an attitude, Rua's little pony needs to get the hair out of her eyes, and Brann's pony seems to be a nice person.

At any rate, I've got a lot of fixing to do on that sketch if I intend to use it, and the Younglings to get onto their mounts. I can only hope to get the figures right without wrecking what I've already got done here.

I started with the biggest, drew it complete; drew the next one over the top of it and erased the parts of the horse behind it; and so it went. Seems strange to have erased so much of the work I put into them, but it is what it is - has to be that way.

And I guess I'd better get to it or it won't get done.

It's been far too long since I've done any sketching to speak of - it will be good for me to get back into it. It's for the fun of it - I'm certainly not much good at it, but it is fun.

Two 'Youngling' Books Texts Finished

Now I just have to get the cover paintings and the illustrations done ... 

That pretty much tells you what I'll be doing for the next few days!

Why I Sometimes Just Walk Away

The other person may not feel it in the air, but if I do feel it I will hopefully be able to just walk away.

Being unable to do so can and has resulted in some intensely uncomfortable physical reactions for me.

What does that have to do with dolphins?

Nothing.

I just like dolphins, find them soothing to my soul.

Spending Time vs Killing Time

One of the things I love most in this life is spending time with my daughters.

One of the things I love most about technology is that it can give us some 'together time' even when we're far apart. I thoroughly adore talking to them, getting pictures and videos, going 'shopping' with them, messaging on social media, even texting - these are communication tools no prior generations had and they are truly blessings for many of us who live too far from those we love.

The access to research on line, the ability to submit a file instead of snail-mailing a manuscript, the absolute convenience of being able to go in and change a word or add a paragraph without having to re-type an entire page or chapter - you bet it's handy! Being able to use computers for publishing purposes enables a lot of us to share in ways that would have been impossible not so very long ago.

Spending time with people I love, spending time doing my homework and doing my job ... these are what time is meant to be spent on.

Spending time is an investment that pays off always emotionally when it comes to my daughters, and many times financially as the investment pays off in royalties.

So I'm not knocking technology here, believe me!

On the other side of the coin, however, is another side to the story.

Right now, for example, I could (and should) be doing any number of things besides sitting at my keyboard.

All too often I find myself killing time - I don't play the games that many do on line, but hours can go by without my notice when I'm just browsing around the web. Unless it's daughter-time or research that will directly contribute to the content of my books, or using the web to reach out to others with what I want to share, those hours are but killing time. Those hours are dead, and once dead, time cannot be called back.

There's a big difference between spending time, investing it so to speak, and killing it.

Mea culpa. I have murdered many of my days, and forfeited more I could have spent on worthy investments, by killing time.

That's what's on my mind this day.

Pointing Fingers

Weather! I tell ya: there are times ...

The cold damp of this day hasn't eased a bit.

The rain came pat-patting, then came the click-clicking of ice crystals.

Now it's tap-tapping as the rain hits a little harder.

Soon may very well come the silence of snowfall.

Yes, our fields need the moisture; yes there are places and people who would shake their heads at my being irritated by the chill in the air. To be truthful a part of me is looking askance at the rest of me, the smaller part appalled at the larger part that wants only to see the sun shining and the temperatures in the seventies. 

The dreariness dulls my senses until all I want to do is drowse the day away.

And so I am, noting the changing pattters and clickings and tappings, thinking that the grass in my yard is going to be knee-high before it dries out enough to mow it.

I think of those whose own weather troubles would give them thorough justification for cracking me a good one upside the head because I'm whining about a little rain, and maybe a little ice, and maybe a little snow. I do think of them, and pray for them, and am grateful for the solid roof over my head.

I whine anyhow.

When the sun comes out again, then I'll smile.

Every single winter I expect great weather immediately, totally forgetting how long it takes to actually get here, and for how short a duration it actually stays.

*sigh*

When I Was Just A Little Girl ...

From the first time I heard this song I modified the words to suit the teachings of my own mama.

When I was just a little girl
I asked my mama what will I be?
Will I be pretty?
Will I be smart?
Here's what she said to me:

What you choose will be,
Whatever you want you can be.
The whole world is yours, you see ...
What you choose will be.

There was no 'que sera sera' about it. We didn't need to ask what the future would hold. It would be as we made it to be.

She was right.

She didn't just tell me.

She showed me.