Refuge Farms (www.refugefarms.org)

So, if I were to ask you to tell me what a friend is, what would you say? Some of you would say a friend is someone you can tell anything to - even the things you are hardly able to tell yourself. Some of you would say a friend is someone who listens and does not judge you - even when you cannot stop judging yourself. And some of you would say it is someone who likes what you like. In addition to all of this, some of us would say that a friend is someone you have history with. Someone that you share memories with. History.

Well, yesterday I drove to a place that I had never been before. I needed directions and my GPS! I parked my truck in a driveway that I had never parked in before. And I walked into a crowd of people I had never met before. But when I left, I left people I call friends.

Now these people and I have no history together. We have no memories together. But we have years of history and we shared our memories for hours. I was in the presence of horse people. I was in the presence of friends.

Amy and Tim own and operate "The Winning Edge Farm" in Mondovi, WI. Amy is the President of the Winning Edge Riders club. I met their lovely daughter and their joyous little dog. And I saw the pride they take in their profession and the horses that they train. Like I said, I was in the presence of friends.

The Winning Edge Riders club was hosting a tack sale. And I was drooling. I found myself several times throughout the day wandering through the racks of saddles for sale . . . touching this western one with all the tooling . . . . touching the roping saddle with the silver . . . . and imagining the feel of the seat of the older one that was smooth from wear. Yes, it was a horse girl's heaven to be standing among the saddles. Taking in their sights and the smell of all that horse leather.

"Now," you say, "What's so special about a tack sale? Why drive to Mondovi just to talk with some people about horses and look at their tack? You did this with everything on your "To Do List"? And especially since you don't even ride?"

I drove to Mondovi and spent the day with horse people because this tack sale was special. A silent auction was being held in addition to the tack sale and the proceeds from the silent auction will benefit Refuge Farms. Imagine that. These people who have never been to THE FARM and who compete in the show rings. These people who have horses with multiple names and paperwork. There people who love their horses.

To say I was honored is an understatement. And a bit nervous. As I walked in from the truck, I wondered what I would find to talk about for the next four hours . . .

But once again, I was taught to act on faith and trust The Master Plan. As I walked across the driveway, the day began with a warm hug from Amy. What a pleasant smile and what honest, true eyes. Immediately, I felt at home. We walked into the garage and I wandered the sale. Taking in my first dosage of all of those saddles.

My first conversation was with a couple who lived in Baldwin. Huh. We talked and we all agreed that they had probably driven by THE FARM dozens of time. Another young lady took me to show me her mare - oh, what a beautiful head on that mare! - and she commented that she loved our website. Loved to read the stories. Good to know that we are reaching people.

Then I met Carl. An elderly man all decked out in his AQHA jacket and hat. Carrying new bridle sets with him to sell. We talked and he said the most profound thing to me. I will never forget it. He said, "I'm glad you are there but so sad that we need you." And then we both cried.

What a wise man. Carl has been around, that is obvious. And his heart is firmly implanted in the horse. He loves his horses and is interested in why we rescue and care for blind horses. "Isn't it cruel to keep a blind horse alive?" he asked. Hopefully, someday, Carl will pull into the yard here at Refuge Farms and I will introduce him to PONY! and Laddee and Unit and Blaise. When we get into the barns he will see. I won't have to say a word. The blind horses will talk to Carl and he'll understand.

Carl asked about the horses and how we found new homes for them. He knew before I told him that the market was tough. That there were more horses than ever and fewer homes than ever. He told me before I could tell him. Carl was in the know. A wise man who loves horses.

Before he left, Carl hugged me and again, in tears, told me he was happy I was there for the unwanted horses but wished I could be run out of business. Then he handed me one of his bridle sets and advised me on it's worth and to use the money "to help a horse." Bless you, Carl.

I meandered over to another man, a man who's wife and daughter showed in the arena. And we began talking. And we shared our history. He growing up with his uncle who worked with the big horses. His uncle who built a reputation of being able to work with the horses that no one else could. This man grew up with this uncle. Learning to handle and love big horses.

And then, once again, I'm standing with someone I have never met before and we start talking about Lance and Loomis and Grass and Houston and Soppa and Schaaf and Zabel. All of them horse pullers. We had horse pulling and big horses in common. So, I spent a good part of the afternoon sharing history with this man. A man who had been a stranger but we parted as friends.

The afternoon drew to a close and I once again hugged Amy, thanking her for the afternoon and her efforts on behalf of the horses. I could see, however, that Amy lived for the horses. Yes, a friend, indeed.

Thanks were given to all and I departed from this place I now can find without directions. A place where I know the horses are cared for and loved. Treated with respect and challenged to be better than they were before. A place where I have friends.

And when I see these friends again, we will recognize each other and ask each other about our horses. Before we ask about each other, of course, we will ask each other about our horses. Friends do that, you know.

Enjoy the journey of each and every day,
Sandy and The Herd