10/25/2025
Tuesday October 21st 2025 saw one of the most beautiful sunsets in a long time, but it was a dark and heavy day on the farm as we mourned the sudden loss of Kana.
Kana was not just a horse; she was a presence. A leader. The matriarch of every herd she ever joined, whether at Northwood Farm or elsewhere. She carried herself with a grace and confidence that made it clear — she was in charge. And truthfully, no one ever doubted it.
Over twenty years ago, Danielle met Kana and instantly knew she was meant to be hers. It wasn’t exactly the “right time” to buy a horse — but as anyone who’s ever loved deeply knows, timing means little when your heart speaks so loudly. So Danielle followed her heart and made sure Kana would never slip away into someone else’s hands. Not long after, her parents — touched by the bond between the two — decided to “buy Kana” for Danielle. And to this day, they still believe they were the ones who made her Danielle’s horse. But everyone here knows — Kana was Danielle’s from the very start.
Kana was the boss. The feistiest of mares. She demanded respect, and she earned it. She didn’t need to be liked by everyone — she was a strong-willed woman in horse form, and like all strong-willed women, she carried both fire and wisdom in equal measure. Those who truly knew her loved her fiercely for it.
But beneath that iron will, Kana had a soft heart — especially for the young. She moved carefully around children, as if she knew how fragile and wondrous their curiosity was. With young horses, she was a patient teacher, showing them how to behave and belong, never through fear, but through quiet, commanding presence.
Her loss leaves a large, bay mare–sized hole in Danielle’s heart — and in the hearts of everyone who had the privilege of knowing her. Yet, we take comfort in knowing that Kana is not alone. She’s crossed the Rainbow Bridge, where she’s surely being greeted by her angel Zoe and her mini bestie, Moka.
Rest easy, Kana. Thank you for the love, the lessons, and the leadership you shared with us all. And thank you for the beautiful sunset — we all saw it, and we all knew. It was your way of telling us your soul was at peace.
You were one of a kind, Kana. And you always will be.
