This vision was gifted to her in one moment. But over the years pieces have been filled in: during meditations, driving down the road, in flashes of pictures, in simple times of awareness and creativity. A constant knowing was always present.
Walking through the gate reminded her of such a knowing. She realized this because directly in front of her was the edge of the ‘center’ of the property. It was however disguised as a circle of dirt in the otherwise lush, somewhat overgrown, green pasture. She knew it would be there. She had sat there many times in conversation with the land. The horses to come, would use it as a rolling spot to scratch their bodies, cover themselves in sand to ward off flies or, if the dirt was wet, just rolling in the cooling mud. For her, though, this was one of several sacred spots. The full center circle reached from this spot to the main gate, which she had just come through. Everything emanated from the center.
The Fields
She looked out over the land and saw three large fields, as she knew she would. To the south was one field. Then a center field in which she was standing, and then the smallest of the three fields to the north. That one would be called the Cliff Field as it was situated on the hills that led up to the cliffs.
It was clear that this layout was perfect. It exactly suited her ethos of keeping horses as close to nature as possible. All the while keeping them safe (one needs fences for that) and allowing the herd to move between fields. This movement would help with regeneration of the land. The large fields included 20-25 acres of the property dedicated to pasture. Each field could be gated off to give the land time to grow and breath and regrow. She knew the herd would live and move as one, breaking off into smaller sub-units as it grew and evolved or as nature governed. She had no idea how big the herd would grow to be but knew she would always remain aware of what she and the land could offer them. She would be realistic as to the size of her equine family.
Since she had planned to spend the whole day and had packed a lunch to keep her sustained, she listened when the land suggested she head out for a walk around the fields.
She followed the ground beneath her feet. She felt the breeze as it moved along the land and carried her forward. She felt all of these as a horse would feel them. This had been a practice of hers for some time now. Feeling what the horses feel in their world. Identify where it was quiet and sheltered from the wind. Feeling where there was a constant breeze. Close to the water meant the air was in constant motion. This would bode well when a need arose to add shelters for the herd. She would listen to the horses, the land, and the air. She would locate them where nature suggested. It would always be a collaborative relationship.
She was drawn to head to the north field first. The Cliff Field. To her right, if she was facing the water from her center starting spot. She headed through the gate at about mid-fence line. The gate was in surprisingly good repair. It was unclear when animals had last graced this land. That is, except for any wild animals that made it home. There were no signs of recent domestic animal life. She followed the fence line to the right and headed to the corner facing the house and with a left turn started up the hill. This would be called the Cliff Field, for that is where it headed.
She kept her eye on the fence line watching for areas that might need repair. It was clear there had been different iterations of fences used over the years. The beauty lay in the fact that the old iterations had not been covered or removed. It was a remarkable and stunning painting of stone walls, split rail, and hedgerows. Those in themselves told a story of years gone by. They told a tale of sheep, cows, horses, and who knows what else, who had enjoyed this fertile and magical land. It was a mixture, but a mixture that had stood the test of time to tell the story of years gone by. A story she very much looked forward to hearing. And the fencing was still useable for the safety of the wise horses that would be there soon enough.
The north field ebbed and flowed up the hill towards the cliffs, following alongside a narrow human walking path to the east. This way, folks could access the cliffs and the area at the top without having to go through the fields. This path separated the paddock, the forests on the east side and the rather large garden behind the house. The southeast corner of this paddock was a meeting place with small people gates leading to the human cliff path and the garden path.
She knew that she would often walk to the cliffs with the horses following in stride on the other side of the fence. For they knew the magic of the flats at the cliff area and that it was their role to prepare the humans heading there. The horses would slow them down so they could connect with their hearts and let the daily world drift off behind them. But it was for the horses’ safety that the field was fenced all of the way up. Necessary, so these beloved souls would never wander out towards the high cliffs and be harmed by a misstep.
The next line of fence to walk in that field was the west line that followed along the water. It came down the hills and inland, heading towards the sand dunes that announced the oceanfront. With a quick turn back inland before the dunes, the field didn’t have a southwest corner. It cut inland to skirt around a rather large grassy mound, and with the vision in mind, she knew exactly what this mound was for. A place that would provide the space, sounds, and sanctity for many a journey within. There was another human path up the outside of the field, towards the cliffs. This path was for the more daring that didn’t wish to have a barrier between the water and rising cliffs.
The fence joined in with the back fence of the center field and looped back to the gate from whence she had started her tour of The Cliff Field. She knew it would be a place favoured by the horses.
Walking through the gate reminded her of such a knowing. She realized this because directly in front of her was the edge of the ‘center’ of the property. It was however disguised as a circle of dirt in the otherwise lush, somewhat overgrown, green pasture. She knew it would be there. She had sat there many times in conversation with the land. The horses to come, would use it as a rolling spot to scratch their bodies, cover themselves in sand to ward off flies or, if the dirt was wet, just rolling in the cooling mud. For her, though, this was one of several sacred spots. The full center circle reached from this spot to the main gate, which she had just come through. Everything emanated from the center.
The Fields
She looked out over the land and saw three large fields, as she knew she would. To the south was one field. Then a center field in which she was standing, and then the smallest of the three fields to the north. That one would be called the Cliff Field as it was situated on the hills that led up to the cliffs.
It was clear that this layout was perfect. It exactly suited her ethos of keeping horses as close to nature as possible. All the while keeping them safe (one needs fences for that) and allowing the herd to move between fields. This movement would help with regeneration of the land. The large fields included 20-25 acres of the property dedicated to pasture. Each field could be gated off to give the land time to grow and breath and regrow. She knew the herd would live and move as one, breaking off into smaller sub-units as it grew and evolved or as nature governed. She had no idea how big the herd would grow to be but knew she would always remain aware of what she and the land could offer them. She would be realistic as to the size of her equine family.
Since she had planned to spend the whole day and had packed a lunch to keep her sustained, she listened when the land suggested she head out for a walk around the fields.
She followed the ground beneath her feet. She felt the breeze as it moved along the land and carried her forward. She felt all of these as a horse would feel them. This had been a practice of hers for some time now. Feeling what the horses feel in their world. Identify where it was quiet and sheltered from the wind. Feeling where there was a constant breeze. Close to the water meant the air was in constant motion. This would bode well when a need arose to add shelters for the herd. She would listen to the horses, the land, and the air. She would locate them where nature suggested. It would always be a collaborative relationship.
She was drawn to head to the north field first. The Cliff Field. To her right, if she was facing the water from her center starting spot. She headed through the gate at about mid-fence line. The gate was in surprisingly good repair. It was unclear when animals had last graced this land. That is, except for any wild animals that made it home. There were no signs of recent domestic animal life. She followed the fence line to the right and headed to the corner facing the house and with a left turn started up the hill. This would be called the Cliff Field, for that is where it headed.
She kept her eye on the fence line watching for areas that might need repair. It was clear there had been different iterations of fences used over the years. The beauty lay in the fact that the old iterations had not been covered or removed. It was a remarkable and stunning painting of stone walls, split rail, and hedgerows. Those in themselves told a story of years gone by. They told a tale of sheep, cows, horses, and who knows what else, who had enjoyed this fertile and magical land. It was a mixture, but a mixture that had stood the test of time to tell the story of years gone by. A story she very much looked forward to hearing. And the fencing was still useable for the safety of the wise horses that would be there soon enough.
The north field ebbed and flowed up the hill towards the cliffs, following alongside a narrow human walking path to the east. This way, folks could access the cliffs and the area at the top without having to go through the fields. This path separated the paddock, the forests on the east side and the rather large garden behind the house. The southeast corner of this paddock was a meeting place with small people gates leading to the human cliff path and the garden path.
She knew that she would often walk to the cliffs with the horses following in stride on the other side of the fence. For they knew the magic of the flats at the cliff area and that it was their role to prepare the humans heading there. The horses would slow them down so they could connect with their hearts and let the daily world drift off behind them. But it was for the horses’ safety that the field was fenced all of the way up. Necessary, so these beloved souls would never wander out towards the high cliffs and be harmed by a misstep.
The next line of fence to walk in that field was the west line that followed along the water. It came down the hills and inland, heading towards the sand dunes that announced the oceanfront. With a quick turn back inland before the dunes, the field didn’t have a southwest corner. It cut inland to skirt around a rather large grassy mound, and with the vision in mind, she knew exactly what this mound was for. A place that would provide the space, sounds, and sanctity for many a journey within. There was another human path up the outside of the field, towards the cliffs. This path was for the more daring that didn’t wish to have a barrier between the water and rising cliffs.
The fence joined in with the back fence of the center field and looped back to the gate from whence she had started her tour of The Cliff Field. She knew it would be a place favoured by the horses.
Conveniently, she found a spot on the fence line that she could hop over to the other side and head along the sand dune for a bit before coming into the center field via a gate in its west perimeter. Of course, a sweet moment was taken to stop and breathe in the salty fresh air. She knew it would always warm her heart with a feeling of familiarity and fulfilled longing. She also knew that if she stayed here too long it would be dusk before she returned. And it was mid-morning only. Undoubtedly it would hold her beautifully captive as it had for over three decades already.
Meandering along the central paddock fence line overlooking the water, she shortly entered the south field the same way she exited the north field, over the fence. For isn’t that one sign of a true farm girl, being able to hop the fence on a moment’s notice?
The south field was the second largest of the three and, really, the most gentle and peaceful one. When the breeze blew across this paddock, it would playfully traverse numerous small rolling hills. It would dance around the multitude of small groves of trees. She knew this before she arrived. But to stand there and feel the joy in the breeze on her skin was a delight. She could hear the land and the air giggling, inviting her to join in the fun. This area was most likely an old forest that had been worn by time and hoofprints, with the groves of trees being all that remained. It still sung, played with the wind, and provided a home to the small creatures of the land and the winged creatures of the air.
Although the fields were grown over, there were remnants of past pathways that previous large, four-legged inhabitants had created. She had heard it said that horses (or cows or sheep) become the architects of the land they live on when left to roam freely. She wondered what routes her new herd would create in their new home. Would they follow routes of the past or forge trails anew? It always had to do with the shape of the land, the air, the sun, the trees, as well as their resources of food and water. All of nature whispered to the horses and the horses responded with instinctual movements in sync with nature. It was a miracle to witness and follow those paths. As best she could, with the state the fields were presently in, she followed these historical routes, listening to the voices of those that had come before.
She really wasn’t sure how long she had been wandering the south paddock. Eventually, she found herself back towards the east side of it and heading to the gate that joined it and the large center paddock. As she passed through the gate, she thought, what a wonderful space that paddock is. She looked forward to strolling through it, walking with the herd in the future while the busyness of life fell away. and nature sang its sweet song in the trees.
In closing the gate, the squeaky hinges brought her back to the present moment. She made a mental note to get that tended to sooner rather than later. A good metal gate would do well. But perhaps a local craftsman would make a strong, solid wood gate that would be more fitting of the décor. Fashionably suitable and serviceable all in one.
Upon entering the center field, she noted that it was the most open of all the fields. Just a few groves of trees. A gentle slope down in the south and then back up again in the north flanked on the east side by the barn. The original vision did not have an arena. However, she thought the space would be appropriate to build one as needed.
For now, all that walking had left her in need of a break. Upon looking at the time she found it to be late morning. It had been a morning well spent getting to know that which she already knew. Perhaps now a short lunch would be prudent. Rest and fuel up for the second part of the walkabout. The fields were just as the vision had predicted to her all those years ago and all the years leading up to that moment. With a smile of familiarity and warmth in her heart, she headed to the car to dive into the picnic basket that the estate agent had graciously packed for her. After lunch she would take a quick look around the barn, head out to the water and then up the outside path to the cliffs. She was so ready to see the cliff area in person. So many meditations and moments had she spent on those cliffs. Time with family passed, time with what was to come, and time in her own heart. It would undoubtedly be a very special place. Just thinking of it brought a tear to her eye. But for now, sustenance. She had lots to cover before meeting the estate agent in the late afternoon for a walk through the house.
Meandering along the central paddock fence line overlooking the water, she shortly entered the south field the same way she exited the north field, over the fence. For isn’t that one sign of a true farm girl, being able to hop the fence on a moment’s notice?
The south field was the second largest of the three and, really, the most gentle and peaceful one. When the breeze blew across this paddock, it would playfully traverse numerous small rolling hills. It would dance around the multitude of small groves of trees. She knew this before she arrived. But to stand there and feel the joy in the breeze on her skin was a delight. She could hear the land and the air giggling, inviting her to join in the fun. This area was most likely an old forest that had been worn by time and hoofprints, with the groves of trees being all that remained. It still sung, played with the wind, and provided a home to the small creatures of the land and the winged creatures of the air.
Although the fields were grown over, there were remnants of past pathways that previous large, four-legged inhabitants had created. She had heard it said that horses (or cows or sheep) become the architects of the land they live on when left to roam freely. She wondered what routes her new herd would create in their new home. Would they follow routes of the past or forge trails anew? It always had to do with the shape of the land, the air, the sun, the trees, as well as their resources of food and water. All of nature whispered to the horses and the horses responded with instinctual movements in sync with nature. It was a miracle to witness and follow those paths. As best she could, with the state the fields were presently in, she followed these historical routes, listening to the voices of those that had come before.
She really wasn’t sure how long she had been wandering the south paddock. Eventually, she found herself back towards the east side of it and heading to the gate that joined it and the large center paddock. As she passed through the gate, she thought, what a wonderful space that paddock is. She looked forward to strolling through it, walking with the herd in the future while the busyness of life fell away. and nature sang its sweet song in the trees.
In closing the gate, the squeaky hinges brought her back to the present moment. She made a mental note to get that tended to sooner rather than later. A good metal gate would do well. But perhaps a local craftsman would make a strong, solid wood gate that would be more fitting of the décor. Fashionably suitable and serviceable all in one.
Upon entering the center field, she noted that it was the most open of all the fields. Just a few groves of trees. A gentle slope down in the south and then back up again in the north flanked on the east side by the barn. The original vision did not have an arena. However, she thought the space would be appropriate to build one as needed.
For now, all that walking had left her in need of a break. Upon looking at the time she found it to be late morning. It had been a morning well spent getting to know that which she already knew. Perhaps now a short lunch would be prudent. Rest and fuel up for the second part of the walkabout. The fields were just as the vision had predicted to her all those years ago and all the years leading up to that moment. With a smile of familiarity and warmth in her heart, she headed to the car to dive into the picnic basket that the estate agent had graciously packed for her. After lunch she would take a quick look around the barn, head out to the water and then up the outside path to the cliffs. She was so ready to see the cliff area in person. So many meditations and moments had she spent on those cliffs. Time with family passed, time with what was to come, and time in her own heart. It would undoubtedly be a very special place. Just thinking of it brought a tear to her eye. But for now, sustenance. She had lots to cover before meeting the estate agent in the late afternoon for a walk through the house.
The Barn and Arena
When she got to the car, she felt the pull of the barn. The pull of the smell of the inside of a barn, the old leather, the decomposition of what had been left in there over the years, and the breeze blowing in and out of the cracks and open windows. She felt drawn to have her lunch there. Another sign of a true farm girl, eating in the barn. No matter what state it was in. Most would say ick, but anyone with horses in their heart and soul gets it.
The main entrance to the barn was just south of the welcoming stone, off the drive. One could access it without having to enter the fields. Yet, one could access those by going through the barn. This barn, as she knew it would be, was small. It had only six stalls, pleasantly large and comfortable stalls, but only six.
She had always thought of a barn the same way she thought of a church. It was quiet. It was where she would go to pray and connect with something bigger than her. It was where she would find comfort and community, not always human community. It felt warm. She found it interesting that the shape of the barn had similarities to a church in some ways. These were her thoughts and feelings as she opened the door and stepped inside.
There were thru doors from north to south and from east to west. She was standing at the north door when she entered from the drive. She found the barn to be obviously unused in the recent past, but whoever used it last left it with pride and care. Meaning it was clean but musty. They must have said goodbye to the property, not in a hurry, but with love and perhaps a modicum of sadness and grief.
The layout included three stalls on each side, with utility rooms at each end. From where she stood at the north door there was; a stall on the left and the right, a through aisle from east to west, and then another two stalls on each side. Further storage and utility rooms flanked the south end. Looking up, she saw a small space for hay storage as needed. The barn was in good repair with no blatantly obvious signs of large renovation needed. She knew there would be some, due to the passing of time. It also needed a good cleaning to dust away the cobwebs and a good painting to freshen up the nature green colour that was already there.
Although her horses would live outside all the time, this barn would provide needed space for injury tending and mending, special feeding needs, and other occasions where a stall would provide a safe haven.
The floors of the aisle are what stood out the most. Although the barn was, quite obviously, not the original barn, the floors were cobblestone and clearly dated back further than the walls and stalls themselves.
This was the perfect place to enjoy her lunch, within these hallowed walls, on this sacred floor. She sat in silence, nourishing her body and soul, appreciating her tour of this place so far. In this quiet space she could hear foot and hoof beats of the past, like the rhythm of life on the farm. Cobblestones have a unique echo to them. A subtle sound when a horse travels across them, like a long low drumbeat, or perhaps, a heartbeat. She let her mind wander and imagined the song of the farm. Perhaps it sang of horses coming in for a gentle brushing and respite from the flies on a hot day. Most old barns tend to be cool and calm on the inside. Or perhaps the sound was of horses coming in for a nourishing morning breakfast after a cool night outside. Whatever the words, the melody of the barn was hypnotic, and she found herself listening to the concert there for quite some time.
The far-off ocean brought her back to the moment some how. There was a pull from the sound of the waves, telling her that they were next to have their formal, physical introduction. She gave a shake and a stretch to fully return to the here and now. She cleaned up her picnic and took everything back to the car. The tour then would head back through the main gate into the center field. Before heading west to the water, she took a quick turn to the left or south. She wanted to explore a patch of land just south of the barn.
Although an arena had not been a part of her original vision, it had come to her multiple times over the years. Those smaller visions had come to show her the what and the where.
Out the south door of the barn and tucking into the south field, there was a flat piece of land. She could build an indoor space here. It would be useful for humans and horses to spend quiet time together. It would be a space where horses would feel free to move away or towards humans as they chose. This indoor space would be sheltered from the elements yet still a part of nature.
This building would be open concept. Boards from the ground up would enclose the space like a fence, but solid. They would reach up the wall four to five feet. The rest of the wall would be open except with supporting posts. The roof would enclose it all to cover the area from precipitation and sun. It would be large enough to be a free and open space yet not so large as to lose the intimacy of any interaction.
The timing and resources would come when needed. She fully trusted that. For now, she could resist the pull of the water no longer.
When she got to the car, she felt the pull of the barn. The pull of the smell of the inside of a barn, the old leather, the decomposition of what had been left in there over the years, and the breeze blowing in and out of the cracks and open windows. She felt drawn to have her lunch there. Another sign of a true farm girl, eating in the barn. No matter what state it was in. Most would say ick, but anyone with horses in their heart and soul gets it.
The main entrance to the barn was just south of the welcoming stone, off the drive. One could access it without having to enter the fields. Yet, one could access those by going through the barn. This barn, as she knew it would be, was small. It had only six stalls, pleasantly large and comfortable stalls, but only six.
She had always thought of a barn the same way she thought of a church. It was quiet. It was where she would go to pray and connect with something bigger than her. It was where she would find comfort and community, not always human community. It felt warm. She found it interesting that the shape of the barn had similarities to a church in some ways. These were her thoughts and feelings as she opened the door and stepped inside.
There were thru doors from north to south and from east to west. She was standing at the north door when she entered from the drive. She found the barn to be obviously unused in the recent past, but whoever used it last left it with pride and care. Meaning it was clean but musty. They must have said goodbye to the property, not in a hurry, but with love and perhaps a modicum of sadness and grief.
The layout included three stalls on each side, with utility rooms at each end. From where she stood at the north door there was; a stall on the left and the right, a through aisle from east to west, and then another two stalls on each side. Further storage and utility rooms flanked the south end. Looking up, she saw a small space for hay storage as needed. The barn was in good repair with no blatantly obvious signs of large renovation needed. She knew there would be some, due to the passing of time. It also needed a good cleaning to dust away the cobwebs and a good painting to freshen up the nature green colour that was already there.
Although her horses would live outside all the time, this barn would provide needed space for injury tending and mending, special feeding needs, and other occasions where a stall would provide a safe haven.
The floors of the aisle are what stood out the most. Although the barn was, quite obviously, not the original barn, the floors were cobblestone and clearly dated back further than the walls and stalls themselves.
This was the perfect place to enjoy her lunch, within these hallowed walls, on this sacred floor. She sat in silence, nourishing her body and soul, appreciating her tour of this place so far. In this quiet space she could hear foot and hoof beats of the past, like the rhythm of life on the farm. Cobblestones have a unique echo to them. A subtle sound when a horse travels across them, like a long low drumbeat, or perhaps, a heartbeat. She let her mind wander and imagined the song of the farm. Perhaps it sang of horses coming in for a gentle brushing and respite from the flies on a hot day. Most old barns tend to be cool and calm on the inside. Or perhaps the sound was of horses coming in for a nourishing morning breakfast after a cool night outside. Whatever the words, the melody of the barn was hypnotic, and she found herself listening to the concert there for quite some time.
The far-off ocean brought her back to the moment some how. There was a pull from the sound of the waves, telling her that they were next to have their formal, physical introduction. She gave a shake and a stretch to fully return to the here and now. She cleaned up her picnic and took everything back to the car. The tour then would head back through the main gate into the center field. Before heading west to the water, she took a quick turn to the left or south. She wanted to explore a patch of land just south of the barn.
Although an arena had not been a part of her original vision, it had come to her multiple times over the years. Those smaller visions had come to show her the what and the where.
Out the south door of the barn and tucking into the south field, there was a flat piece of land. She could build an indoor space here. It would be useful for humans and horses to spend quiet time together. It would be a space where horses would feel free to move away or towards humans as they chose. This indoor space would be sheltered from the elements yet still a part of nature.
This building would be open concept. Boards from the ground up would enclose the space like a fence, but solid. They would reach up the wall four to five feet. The rest of the wall would be open except with supporting posts. The roof would enclose it all to cover the area from precipitation and sun. It would be large enough to be a free and open space yet not so large as to lose the intimacy of any interaction.
The timing and resources would come when needed. She fully trusted that. For now, she could resist the pull of the water no longer.
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