Lonesome Dove Stables

12/28/2025

A little Christmas Fun 2025

12/24/2025

To all our other barn owner friends - have a very Merry Christmas! It’s the night before Christmas, we’re out in the barn,
Blanketing horses to keep them all warm,
They’re eating their dinners, tucked in cozy stalls,
Not aware that it’s Christmas, or any special day at all.
They can dream of spring pastures from their pine-scented beds,
No visions of sugarplums dance in their heads,
But we people are thinking of merry parties and such,
Maybe feeling a little sad at missing so much.
This season is special but the horses don’t know,
We’ve got work to do before we can go,
We finish the chores and head on inside,
To get ready for dinner and our own yuletide.
It’s nearly midnight, the carols are sung,
I remember a story I was told when I was young,
How at midnight on Christmas Eve,
The creatures of the barnyard can speak to us with ease.
I am called to the barn, I wade through the rain,
I know I must go, I can’t really explain,
I slide open the door, pause for a while,
Then slowly walk down the dimly lit aisle.
A nicker from Casey, a wink from JD,
Sleepy old Alibi waking to see,
Tucker rustling his bedding, a snort soft and light,
Each horse gave a greeting as I walked through the night.
I thought about parties bright lit and warm,
The ones we don’t go to ‘cause we have the barn,
And vacations and holidays that we don’t get,
When we’re working long hours for bills to be met.
Walking all the way to the end of the aisle,
I stop to stroke Bonnie, it brings me a smile,
She snuffles my face, hot breath on my skin,
It starts me to thinking about my horses, my kin.
I could be at parties with laughter and mirth,
But where I am right now is the best place on Earth.
Author unknown

12/24/2025

Merry Christmas ❤️

12/17/2025

12/14/2025

“Confessions of a Riding School Saint”

Hello, human.
Yes, you — the one still trying to find the correct diagonal.

I’m the riding-school horse you meet once a week. You call me “steady,” “safe,” or, when I don’t immediately burst into extended trot, “lazy.” I’ve carried hundreds like you — some with bouncing enthusiasm, others with a death-grip on the reins and a look that says, “Please, not canter.”

Every rider brings their own style. Some kick like they’re starting a lawnmower. Some perch like a baby giraffe learning ballet. One even tried “natural horsemanship” by whispering at me for twenty minutes. (I admired the effort, but grass would have been more persuasive.)

I do my best to translate. But it’s tricky when one person wants me to go forward, the next to collect, and the next to “just feel the rhythm” while clamping both legs and pulling on my face. You’d be confused too.

Sometimes, when the messages get too loud or too mixed, I tune out. You call it “lazy.” I call it “self-preservation.” You see, my job isn’t easy — I must keep everyone safe while pretending your seat bones aren’t trying to send Morse code in three languages at once.

I’ve met every training philosophy going: “forward fixes everything,” “never use the leg,” “ride from the seat,” and my favorite — “just sit deeper!” (Usually shouted as the rider performs a mid-arena levitation.)

But I’ve also met kindness. The quiet rider who remembers to breathe, softens their hand, and says “good” when I try. That’s when I lift my back, stretch my neck, and remember what partnership feels like.

I don’t care about levels or ribbons. I care that you try to understand me. That you see me not as a piece of gym equipment but as a partner — one who has to process your nerves, your posture, and your Spotify playlist of contradictory aids.

So before you call a horse lazy, ask yourself: am I clear? Calm? Consistent?
Because the truth is, I’m not stubborn — I’m exhausted from reading mixed signals.

If you listen, I’ll listen. If you work on you, I’ll meet you halfway — maybe even with a flying change if I’m feeling fancy.

After all, I’m not just your ride. I’m your mirror, your teacher, and occasionally, your unpaid therapist.
Now, pat me. I’ve earned it.

Author: Gary A Diploma

12/07/2025

It was a very sad day here at the farm. We lost one of our long time residents PJs Pandora owned by the Rogers family. She was a staple here at the farm and one that everyone had to stop to visit! It will be hard to walk down the drive without seeing her but she’s in a better place and left us all with lots of great memories! Our prayers and thoughts of healing go out to Patty, Jimmy and Heather

11/27/2025

Happy Thanksgiving from our herd to yours!
We are incredibly thankful for all of our clients, helpers and friends! Enjoy your day