Marching on..

March is bringing milder weather, finally. The snowdrifts and snow piles are melting, the bare ground patches are spreading into almost a whole field. The horses are desperately searching for the single blades of grass that survived ice, mud and hooves sliding across them. Even Chessie, my lame, sick, emaciated mare is trying to find grass. She is still alive, we switched antibiotics to doxycycline, which she can stay on longer, but she is so thin and limping and pitiful. Every time the vet and I talk about realities of recovery, whether this is lymphoma or a chronic infection that we can't find, she lifts her head , looks straight at me and I see her fighting. It is heartbreaking . But I will fight as long as she can.

Yesterday was the ten anniversary of my brother's death. I still miss him terribly and can't believe it has been ten years. Still grieve for him quietly and wish my kids had known him longer and that my husband had met him. I remember the day he died I was hunting and my horse spooked because I had shot over his ear, at an errant puppy running riot. He bucked so hard I broke three fingers that got caught in my gun. A member of the field came up and soothed him while I regrouped. I have always thought it was the pain of grief and helplessness in the face of my brother's cancer that manifested itself in that injury, on that day.