Our colder than customary winter in the Pacific Northwest has defied global warming trends worldwide.  We still have piles of snow drifts lying unmelted from our pre-Christmas storm, and day time temperatures only rose above freezing over the last 24 hours.  What that means is that we have superficial thawing during the day with rain showers, and then under a cover of fog and frost during the night, all is iced up again in the morning, making roads especially deceptive and treacherous.

Our barnyard is no different.  The slabs around our barn have the same coating of black ice in the morning as the roads do.  In particular, the slab behind our hillside horse barn is the source from run off of rain and ground water from the fields sloping above it, streaming to the fields that lie below.  The slab can be a veritable river most rainy winter days, and it has been flowing actively over the last several warmer days.  However, it froze hard during the night, and became a sheet of very slippery ice by this morning.

This is a challenge for the Haflingers as they are allowed out for some fresh air in the fields while we clean their stalls.  All year they are accustomed to going from barn aisle to open gate without considering the footing over the slab, focused only on the green grass beyond rather than the journey required to get there, but mornings like this are a whole other story.

I know better than to try to lead a horse across the ice like this as my ability to stay upright is seriously compromised if I’m pushed off balance.  So the horses must navigate this 10 yards untethered to me and with only my verbal cautions as a guide.  I certainly fear a horse falling on the ice and being injured, especially my mares who are in late pregnancy.  Some of them listen and learn better than others.

Our 25 year old gelding is always cautious and careful.  He’s seen enough unpredictable situations over the years and knows to check things out before committing himself, so takes it easy over the slab and has no difficulty.  Our yearling colt is also wary as he does not always know what to expect from the world yet, so he stops, sniffs the ice, tentatively puts a foot out as a test run and minces his way across, skittering as his smaller hooves give him little traction but he remains on his feet.

Our two pregnant mares, normally impatient about getting to any source of food, are heavy bellied and move awkwardly in the best of circumstances these days, so they are not eager to take chances either.  They seem to know they are more vulnerable and move deliberately and ponderously, safely carrying themselves and their unborn foals over the hazardous footing with an air of great responsibility and I breathe much easier when they reach the field.

Not so cautious is our younger mare.  She is unencumbered by pregnancy, full of pent up energy from lack of steady work in winter, and fueled by hormones.  Nothing seems to really penetrate her brain aside from her own desires and urges–all that matters is what she wants right now!–so she rushes too fast once beyond the barn, does a little skating across the slab and woomph! lands butt first as her feet go out from under her.  Getting up isn’t easy when you have newly trimmed smooth hooves, so she gathers up what is left of her dignity and balance, and gets upright again, stands still for a moment assessing how to proceed and then with great care, full of  grace she lacked a few moments before, walks the rest of the distance to the gate.  A painful lesson in impulsivity and selfish desire.

I’m certainly at a more cautious time of my life myself.  I’ve been through more impulsive, selfish and impatient stages in my younger years and remember all too well disregarding the admonitions and cautions from wiser people than myself.  I had to land hard a few times to “get it”.  I still lapse now and then and find myself treading too fast on “thin ice” but it seems less often as I grow older and perhaps a bit wiser myself.  I find that I’m trying now to guide not just my horses across the ice, but certainly my children and my patients as they navigate the hazards in their lives.  A fall now and then is inevitable and through grace we are picked back up.  That teaches far more effectively than my words of caution ever can.

Nevertheless here is the advice I have, given my own slips and slides on the thin ice of life:

Proceed forward with courage and boldness, anticipating each step as new and unfamiliar.  Remember you carry more than just yourself–you carry your past, your future and indeed that present moment itself–as precious as the moment just past and the moment yet to come.  And when you may think you have “arrived”, you’ll find yet another journey, perhaps just as filled with the unknown,  is about to begin.  Tread lightly within that knowledge, rejoicing in the journey itself and the destination will take care of you when you finally find yourself safe on the other side.