Horseflesh
Sometimes I remember to go to church on a Sunday Let the warm impatience of horseflesh and blackflies Sun on pale skin and The sound of six thousand pounds of hoofbeats Take me where I’ve been meaning to go All
Thoughts as the pandemic emerges
January. The slow dawns of winter wake us gently, the twilight place between light and not-light stretching long and spreading thick over the valley. These days I become awake in stages; with the first rooster calls, with the dogs beginning
The Intimacy of Abundance
There are tiny prickles in the palms of my hands, millimetre-long slivers from a week of working with recycled wood. My hands aren’t hardened but they are willing, and the tool shed takes shape quickly under the direction of my
“Leylines” Video
A Sunday afternoon in the birch grove, a simple love song. True love requires trust and resilience, adaptability and a willing heart. Our more-than-human kin teach us this again and again. Most of all, they request that we find solidity
“Looking For Horses” Video – Live On the Farm
My sweet buddy Elijah and his Good Lady came by the farm for a minute or two yesterday. There are times when I don’t remember to make music unless someone else reminds me to. We ogled the baby piglets and
Shopping for a School Bus
It’s been a couple years now that we’ve been batting around the idea of living in a bus. It’s not so radical now; all sorts of clever people have converted these rock-solid tubes-on-wheels into campers or full on tiny palaces.
Sudden Gods
One cold, starry night I check on the cows in the absolute dark and find one missing – fearing she is calving alone in the field I set out to find her, following beaten-down grooves in the snow from so
Louka, Bringer of Light
This is the very beginning of a story that, like any story, happens both at the end of one story and also smack-dab in the middle of all kinds of other stories. This particular beginning is about how Louka, a
The Wind and the Seeds that Heralded Spring
We have had the coldest February on record. I don’t mean to brag, or complain, because we are not alone – most of the province is breaking its own February records – and also because I have so little to
Firefly and the February Freeze
One very cold morning, I watched the raven fly through the wood smoke,across the open field,and south-east toward the winter sunrise,where Firefly stood in fresh-ploughed tracks,alone and still.She did not begrudge the company, nor the admiration,but was extremely busy doing
Rewilding is Not the Right Word
This article originally appeared October 22, 2018 for Listen To Your Horse.com as part of a series about life on the farmstead, called “Rewilding the Herd”. “Rewilding, though a handsome term and a romantic one at first glance, has come
When Will I Begin Again
We all falter. This is a prayer to be brought back into service, when the way is lost and the light is dim. Looking For Horses by Kesia Nagata When Will I Begin Again When will I begin again To
Lay Beneath My Wings
This is a hymn for the times, a prayer for courage. Looking For Horses by Kesia Nagata Lay Beneath My Wings Your endless body under mine When we move we move in time And flow like water o’er everything You
We’re All Gonna Die (In Paris)
You ask yourself, how can I be here? And yet here you are: persistently, agonizingly, willingly. And you also need to stop reading Ginsberg if you don’t want to lose your mind entirely. Looking For Horses by Kesia Nagata We’re
Firing Line
What happens when you pull the wings off a fly? Salt on a slug, paint down the drain. Where does all the hurt go? What part of the earth absorbs the mistakes? What happens when you burn your own house
Allenby Townsite
What if, when we emerged, we found the that the world had ended? On the edge of the old townsite with our rusty first cars, dark teenage fantasies and aching hearts, the sun parching us dry, gumboots slap-slapping at bare
Something Moving
Intoxication can come in many forms, one of which is when two invisible people catch sight of each other for a brief, bright moment. Looking For Horses by Kesia Nagata Something Moving It’s too warm inside this room Baby you
Bring Me All the Way Down
The sun beating down on arid Cariboo rangelands, the Bigness of All Things making itself known. Road dust in wildfire season, falling in love with love of all sorts and leaning into the land. Learning that it will take all
Looking For Horses
I find myself in the mountains of Andorra searching for the transhumance and the black ponies of the Pyrenees. I’m in the wrong time and place; the valley is empty. My department store sneakers are disintegrating as I walk. It
The Last Time
The last time I climbed onto your back – astride, I tried fruitlessly to summon the will to move you, to be anywhere but here, wrapped around your cool dusty hide, fingers snaked loosely through knots in your mane, stars