This is Raven who will be 3 years old on March 1.
He loves the snow and continued to enjoy the white stuff even when the temperatures plummeted!
Below is a short video clip of our two old mares who live on our farm along with a brief note.
I hope you enjoy this story. It's another 'word challenge' I wrote for the Uxbridge Writers' Circle. The words I had to use are: telegraph, banners, lasso, birch, growth, belt, witchcraft. What story would you have created?
Unexpected
Ethel’s knitting was too tight again. Her fingers reflected the tension which stiffened her body whenever she thought about him. She punished herself by sitting in the window which had the best view of the Telegraph Office. That dreaded telegram could come at any moment. The anxiety had brought her to near breaking point and she teetered on the edge, as if about to fall - she was often overcome by dizziness.
She put her knitting down and held her head in her hands. This waiting and not knowing was too much to bear. Ethel steadied herself with her cane as she stood up. She turned her head from side to side, willing the dizziness to go away.
Without any purpose in mind, she walked down the street. There were banners and flags and posters announcing the rodeo. She didn’t much like rodeos, not wanting any harm to come to the animals, and she particularly disliked the lasso which yanked a sad calf onto the ground with a thud, making a cloud of dust. But she needed to be distracted.
As she walked past the small park, she tried hard not to let her eyes stray towards the large, old white birch. She and Chuck had carved their initials in its flaky bark two years ago but it felt like a century had passed since then.
She reached the end of the street and entered the fairgrounds, surprised that she wasn’t tired. The sun was bright but not too hot and the cool breeze whisked away the tiny beads of sweat almost before they formed on her brow.
A small hut caught her eye. It had bright orange curtains covering the doorway and an array of numerous coloured ornaments hung from the walls. Above the door, the sign said “fortune teller”. There was no other advertisement. Knowing the future, however miserable, would alleviate this gut-wrenching anxiety Ethel thought as she walked with resolute steps towards the hut. Anyone watching would have wondered why she held a cane.
The fortune teller looked just as Ethel had imagined she would look. She jingled and jangled her numerous bracelets, long earrings and huge rings. Her clothes were an eclectic mix of colours and textures and her face was well tanned. There was an aroma of cinnamon as well as a musty odour.
Ethel stifled a laugh. It felt good to harbour a smile at the bizarre situation.
Down to business. Her questions were about Chuck – was he alive and would he return?
The fortune teller told her that Chuck was alive but he'd changed. Ethel wanted more explanation, but there was none. But, just as she was leaving, frustrated, the fortune teller stood up and told her that Chuck was on his way back.
That’s when Ethel laughed out loud as she got tangled up in the curtains on her way out. Although she didn’t believe the gypsy, it was good to hear the words she wanted to hear. She felt better than she had for a year and a half.
She watched a little of the rodeo, just a few minutes of the barrel racing, and then walked home. The growth in her stature as she stood up straight made the cane feel too short. She didn’t need it anymore. She gave it to the old man sitting outside the Telegraph Office, bringing a toothless grin to his wrinkled face.
Just as she took one step to cross the road, the telegram was thrust into her hands. Now the anxiety would be gone for good. But it wasn’t what she’d dreaded for all that time. Chuck was coming home tomorrow and she was to meet him at the station.
Ethel flew into a full-flung frenzy of shopping, cleaning and cooking, exceeding her own expectations for stamina and results. By the time the grandfather clock struck midnight, she thought the house was in good enough order to receive the Town Mayor himself.
On the platform at last, she couldn’t see Chuck anywhere. The coaches had disgorged the passengers but no one resembled her fiancé. An odd-looking character dressed in black walked towards her. Colourful feathers hung from the band of his large black hat, and his belt, adorned with blue and green glass beads, cut his long black coat in half. It was Chuck in disguise.
His story was that his anthropological study of a remote, small community in South America had led to him being subjected to witchcraft. Chuck told Ethel that they resented him being there and held him in captivity with spells and curses. Hence, he explained, why he couldn’t communicate with her and why he couldn’t leave after the promised one month of study.
Unknown to Ethel, the fortune teller hadn’t the heart to tell the fragile young woman who visited her that Chuck was very much alive but had been entangled with a beautiful girl. The image was strong. But she knew that if she had told Ethel, she wouldn’t have been believed.
Ethel gazed at Chuck and then spun around as she told him she didn't believe a word he'd said. She walked tall, and strode back home determined to start a new life.
Vicky Earle Copyright 2025
I hope you're enjoying Love and Death! I love receiving reviews! Please send me yours! Thank you.
Horses in the Snow
Raven is in the background. I'm a Cheetah will be 23 in March. In this short video clip, she walks towards her mother, Lions Raw who will be 29 in March.
You may notice that Lions Raw has more hair on her face. She has Cushing's Disease. Fortunately, we are able to control it with a medicine called Pergolide. She is used to being given the liquid twice a day.
They don't have blankets on even though this photo was taken today when it was quite cold. They grow winter coats and have good shelter (they can go into the barn at any time and have access to heated water in there). But if the temperature dips very low, we put blankets on.
They are good-natured horses and we are fortunate that they are part of our lives.
Lions Raw was an exceptional racehorse and a good broodmare.
I'm a Cheetah is the mother of the best racehorse we have ever owned (I'm a Kittyhawk).
If you were at my recent book launch you would have seen videos of Lions Raw as a foal, and her first race, and a video of one of I'm a Kittyhawk's stakes race wins.
You can find the videos in past blog posts.
Thank you for reading this post. Please share!
Vicky
Fun story!