The Book

I'm excited to share that I am working on a book sharing all the wonderful stories of working with people and my horses! Here is the preface of the book - I hope you like it! 

 

Ask Like You Mean It - Lessons in Communication from an Unbiased Source, My Horse!

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Boy Scouts Visit the Farm

    Years ago, while sitting in the dentist’s chair, I found myself animatedly describing my latest passion: natural horsemanship. I’d been playing the role of ‘horse whisperer’ for a while, and my excitement was hard to contain. The dental practice, a small office of five women, was familiar and friendly from my regular visits for myself and my five kids and had become a place where casual conversations often turned personal. We talked about everyday life, our families, our homes, motherhood, schools, camps, food and hobbies.
   As I shared stories of the breakthroughs I was having with my beloved horse, Ace, my dentist listened with genuine interest. Midway through my exam, the dentist paused and mentioned that her husband led a group of Boy Scouts. With a spark of inspiration, she asked if I’d be willing to host them for a visit to the farm and demonstrate some of the techniques I’d been raving about.
   Excited to show off Ace and my new skills, I readily agreed. The idea of connecting people, especially children, with the beauty of horses and the subtle magic of gentle communication seemed too good to pass up.
   And so, plans were made and a date was set. 
   When they arrived, it was a lively group of about a dozen young boys, aged 10 to 12, accompanied by five or six parents and the troop leader, my dentist’s husband. The boys piled out of cars with excitement, I could tell they were happy to be out at a farm. The parents, not fully knowing what they were in for, were curious and open.
   To start, I led them on a casual tour of the barn, introducing them to some of the equine residents. The boys as well as the parents enjoyed getting to pet and hear a little about some of the horses under my care. The boys were particularly interested in the grain bin and what the horses regularly ate. I let them all hold a handful of the sweet feed and instructed them, with hands held open and fingers flat, to offer a little snack to the horses that had come into their stalls. The boys were also interested in the tack room, where all the saddles, bridles and grooming equipment are kept. It's one my favorite rooms, smelling of leather and mane and tail shampoo. 
   After the barn tour, I guided them toward the round pen where Ace was patiently waiting, grazing on the new shoots of grass barely making their springtime appearance. I had taken extra care in our grooming routine in anticipation of the afternoon’s visitors. I felt excited and proud to introduce Ace, the horse that had become my greatest teacher. 
   As I began the demonstration, I spoke not just of technique but of relationship—the subtle language of partnership I had cultivated with Ace. I described how I had learned to be present; a safe and steady space he could rely on. I shared how I showed up every day for him, through good weather and bad, being a consistent and steady presence in his life. I learned how to guide him through moments of uncertainty or fear (and he had a lot of them!) with calm reassurance.
   I explained the responsibilities that came with it—feeding, grooming, cleaning stalls—the basic duties of animal husbandry. In return, Ace gave me more than I could have imagined. He taught me to let go of stress, to release tension I didn’t even know I was carrying. He taught me how to let go of frustration and anger and not hold grudges. He showed me that authenticity wasn’t a weakness but a strength. He taught me to be more honest and vulnerable, that I didn’t have to pretend to know more than I did or be stronger than I was. I learned to lead without force, with clarity, steadiness, and grace. We had developed a true partnership.
   The response from the scouts was about what I expected—they wanted to know Ace’s favorite treats, which stall was his, who his field mates were, and what a typical day was like for him. Their questions were sweet and innocent, their attention span short. They were ready to move onto the next adventure, running around the farm.
   But the parents—the parents were listening differently. I noticed how they nodded with quiet recognition as I shared stories of parenting fails and frustrations. When I described how working with Ace had made me a more patient and present mother, a better leader and a better co-worker, I caught glimpses of reflection on their faces. They weren’t just hearing a story about a horse—they were hearing something about themselves.
   What I thought would be a learning experience for the boys turned out to be something far deeper for the parents. It was one of the first moments I realized the power of the lessons Ace, and my other horses, had taught me. Their wisdom wasn’t just for equestrians—it was for anyone willing to listen. That day planted the seed for what would become the Horse and People Project. I realized that even those who never touched a horse could still learn from them—whether by working alongside them or simply by hearing their stories. 
   It would be a few years away, but the beginning of Horse and People Project started on that day. Thanks to the Boy Scouts and their parents!

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