I'm a Believer

Clifford makes his stage debut this Saturday as Lord Farquaad's trusty steed in the Community Theatre of Howell's version of, "Shrek the Musical."

This wasn't my idea, despite the fact that I fell in love with the movie.  Hard.  I was so in love with, "Shrek," in fact, that I saw it on the big screen no less than six times. 

That's excessive, even for me.

I also bought the soundtrack and played it in my car until I wore it out.

When my friend, director Ann O'Reilly, first contacted me asking if Clifford could step in as Farquaad's horse, I didn't hesitate to jump at it.  But my first reaction to the idea of a musical play was to wonder how it could ever measure up to the dynamic genius of the film.  The answer, as with most good plays, is that it doesn't try.  It has the same characters, or some variation of them, the same story, and much of the same dialogue.  The music is different.  The acting and dancing and special effects all fall upon the mercy of whatever company is producing the effort.

But Howell is doing it right.   Mark Mazzullo's Shrek is a giant, green, bumbling behemoth.  Fiona, played by Annelise Hoshal is a flaming-haired goofball with a mean set of tap shoes.  Kevin Rogers' Donkey has the comic timing demanded of someone dressed in a suit with floppy ears.  The dancing, the music, the colors, the lights!  With the flash and glitter of the headdress of the formidable Dragon, the mighty Melinda Towns has a voice that could rival Adele.  And as Lord Farquaad, performing the entire two hours on his knees as a tiny little man who "overcompensates", Chris Salter is stealing the show.

Clifford has attended two rehearsals and, as I expected, is reveling in the glamour and attention.  His role is mercifully short -- he is to carry Farquaad down the aisle between the seats, deposit him on the stage, wait while he proposes to Fiona, and then deliver him back up the next aisle and out the back doors.

One of the most impressive things about Chris is that he is not a rider, but he is making it work.  "Cliffy, come to Daddy," he croons, as Clifford sidles a step away from him.  I realize this is one of the great things I miss most about live theatre -- the quick thinking, the ability to improvise during the inevitable unexpected moments.

Clifford is handling everything just fine, despite Farquaad's struggle to negotiate with the fake legs.  The hardest part for me will be getting through it with a straight face.

 

 

 

 

Clifford Visits Fernwood Botanical Garden and Gallery

 

We had a whopping turnout of over 300 people to meet Clifford, pose for photos and see him sign books at Fernwood Botanical Garden and Gallery in Niles, Michigan.  The setting was beautiful and so was the weather!  You can't ask for more.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sunday June 15

Endless Equine Art

Last night I watched "Cave of Forgotten Dreams" on Netflix, Werner Herzog's documentary about the Paleolithic-era paintings in the Chauvet cave of Southern France.  Deemed the oldest works of art on record, the paintings were primarily of horses.  Their scruffy manes, knobby heads and arched necks are easily recognizable, and they are pictured running in groups.  The lines and textures of the images are so beautiful that I want to get a copy somehow and hang it on my wall.

Morgan stallion on black canvas, 9x12" acrylic

It leads me to reflect on this equine wonder, a limitless source of inspiration though the ages.  The horse lives on, forever stretching our collective imagination.  When I learned to hold a pencil and make a mark with it, I started drawing horses.  Even though I had never owned one, I drew them galloping with flowing manes and tails.  I drew long heads with pointed ears and rounded cheeks.  I drew bent legs and bulging knees and comma-shaped nostrils.  Now all these years later, I am still painting horses. It seems only appropriate on this Valentine's Day that I should be reflecting on my first love, the horse.

Here are two new salutes to our eternal friend.

"War Horse", Mustang 9x12" acrylic

Paintings on Slate

For my gallery show, I ordered a few slabs of slate from SlateLady.com . It was my first time ordering from them. I was happy with the product, except that one of the holes wasn't drilled all the way through. But that's easy enough to fix.  They come with holes so they can be hung with something like rawhide or baling twine.

I had painted on slate before, but it's been years.  My first attempt this time was this chickadee with winter berries, on a small piece, about 3x5"  The teeny, tiny detail makes for an interesting challenge on the textured surface of the slate.

Next was another small one, this lady cardinal on a wrought iron gate. 

Once I got the slates, I couldn't seem to stop painting on them.  I am learning that slate has a rough side and a smooth side, and for some reason I keep opting to paint on the rough side! Duh. Also, it sucks paint like a sponge. It likes a lot of layers. Sometimes you think you are done but then your paint disappears!

 Today's project is a group of horses running in snow.  This piece is 6x9"  A coat of glaze made a big difference in all of these paintings.  It darkens the slate and adds a nice sheen, for a good finishing touch. 

Here's another pic of the running horses, after glaze was applied.  The glare in this photo shows the bumps and ridges on the slate which makes it a challenge to paint on.  However, it was fun and a nice diversion for me -- so I will probably order more.

A Gallery Show at Fernwood Botanical Garden

Several of my paintings, including "Dots", this watercolor of an Appaloosa filly, will be hanging in Fernwood Gallery for their Contemporary Show beginning on Valentine's Day.  Fernwood Gallery is located in the sprawling and inviting Fernwood Botanical Gardens in Niles, Michigan.

Also present will be my experimental acrylic collage on 10x20" stretched canvas. "Bubbles," features a family of dolphins undulating over paper background "sand," which  has script in it about love and affection. I added some adhesive gems for the sparkling bubbles, giving this painting a whole new dimension of light and motion. It must be seen in person to appreciate! See it at Fernwood in Niles, Michigan, Feb 14 - March 16, 2014.

Every Time a Bell Rings, A Horse Earns a Few Bucks

Wheelzebub lives up to its name at every opportunity!

They say no good deed goes unpunished.  At least, that's how it seemed when I tried to get the van and Wheelzebub out of the driveway following the worst ice storm of the decade.  Clifford was slated to appear at the Howell Wal-Mart -- an hour away -- to ring the bell for the Salvation Army.  Their Red Kettle program was limping through the season without meeting its goal.

This faction of the SA had helped me by donating a half tank of propane the winter before my home foreclosed.  I had never fotgotten it.  It was time to give back -- at least a little -- and Clifford was just the horse to do it.

It took a lot of salt, and finally some chains and a hefty diesel pickup, but we finally broke loose and were up and running.

Beth and her trained pooch, Charlie Darwin.  Her husband Bob poses in the background with Magic Genie, a Belgian Tervuren.

 Once again, we had my friend Beth Duman to thank, who had helped us arrange Clifford's appearance. After many years of bell-ringing, Beth is practically a Christmas fixture at Wal-Mart with her wonderful dogs, who take cash offered by passing customers and drop it into a bucket.

Clifford was more than happy to ring the bell, especially after it was attached to his halter and all he had to do was shake his head.  Pretty soon I noticed that, every time I hopped up and down to keep warm, he would start shaking and ringing those bells.  I think I was subliminally cueing him, but he did seem to enjoy the cheery jingling sounds he was making.

Clifford stood on his mat for the better part of two hours, happily greeting the public, and earning candy canes for his efforts.  We even made a front page article in the Livingston County Press!  But he really just wanted to go into Wal-Mart.  Every time my back was turned (while I bent to get more candy canes or was distracted by some other menial task), I would look up just in time to see his rear end disappearing through the sliding doors, amid the hysterical laughter of surprised customers.  Each time, I was able to catch him before he walked through the inner doors to enter the store.  Once I had to run, and when he saw me coming, he ran too.  I was having mental images of him pillaging the produce section.  Fortunately, a shopping cart happened to be blocking him, and he stopped.

It was a cold, but unique and gratifying way to celebrate Christmas Eve.  Clifford's generosity and sense of fun illustrates the true spirit of the season!  Happy Holidays to all!

Cliffy's Aunt Claire showed up to snap some photos.

Clifford Signing Books at Novi Equestrian Expo, 2013

Clifford's Expos, Eh?

We were excited to learn that the Novi Equestrian Expo and Novi Pet Expo, both traditionally held in November, were under new management this year.  The new promoters were enthusiastic and happy to add Clifford to their entertainment list for both events.

 

After a summer hiatus, Til was happy to climb back in his suitcase to perform his freestyle frisbee routine for the amazing Rock N Roll K9s Performance Team.

Este got leathered up for the event and auditioned for the Rock N Roll K9s.  She made a good effort, especially climbing the A-frame, which she had never done before.  She ended up outrunning me on the course and passed her audition with flying colors! 

Colic

On the evening of August 22, I looked out the kitchen window and noticed Clifford in the pasture, lying down and getting up.  I dropped what I was doing and called out to Cindy, "I've got to go.  I've got a sick horse."

I ran outside while the clouds piled up overhead and thunder grumbled in the distance.  Clifford was on his side in the pasture, but he got up when I called to him.  He came over and put his head in his halter obligingly.  I bent and listened, and heard a corresponding grumble from his innards.  So far so good.

We walked up and down the driveway until his tail lifted and he deposited a load of manure.  At that point I was relieved, thinking it was over.  But to my dismay, he sidled away from me, kicking at his belly, and offered to lie down.

"No!"  I said.  "Keep moving!" 

We reached the end of the driveway and his legs folded neatly beneath him, and he collapsed, sprawling by my side while I held tight to the lead rope and yanked on him.  Trudy watched us intently from her station near the lean-to.  "Get up, Clifford!"  I yelled.  "You can't be doing this!"

I took the longe and swatted him, once, twice on the rump, and he lurched to his feet.  I offered him a peppermint, and he took it, crunching it reluctantly.  He was walking crooked, his back feet weaving back and forth along the drive, ataxic in his movements.  I urged him along.  "Come, on, come on, you're doing great."

At that point, Cindy came out of the house and I said, "Call a vet!  He's really sick!"

She ran back inside.

Clifford collapsed again and rolled on his side.  His eyes were half-closed, clouded in pain.  "GET UP!" I yelled, pulling on him.  I swatted him again, snapping him hard with the nylon cord so it would sting.  He struggled to his feet, and I said, "Good!"

We walked.  By now he was breaking a sweat and he seemed determined to try to stay up because it was what I was asking, but I could tell he really wanted to lie down.  His head sagged.  It was heartbreaking to see him suffer.  He had colicked only two or three other times in his life, that I could remember, but it was never this severe.  I had always been able to walk him through it, and the first time he dropped manure he immediately showed signs of recovery.  I took out my cell and called Stayner, my neighbor with his eventing Morgan.  He would know a close local vet.  I was having trouble handling the cell and Clifford, too.  He was staggering and needing all my attention.

Finally, Clifford went down again, and that was it.  No amount of yelling or coaxing could convince him to rise.  He flipped his head up and I tugged on the halter, "No!  Just lie there for a minute.  Don't roll.  Just lie there and rest."

He lifted his hind leg, exposing the white frothy lather on his belly.  "Clifford," I said.  I was determined not to get upset, because he would certainly know it.  "Don't do this to me, man.  We still have a lot of work to do."

Cindy came out of the house then, still on the phone.  She unwrapped a peppermint.  "Get up Clifford," she said, holding it out.  "I'm not coming to you.  You know I don't play that game."

Clifford lay there.  I leaned down and stroked his cheek and neck.  He was soaked in sweat.  He suddenly flipped his head and rolled, once, over on his other side.  He was covered in dust and gravel now, lying on the driveway.  I was beginning to think about getting a back hoe to bury him on Hank's property.  I had fleeting thoughts of Dad, gone five months now, calling Clifford home.  Maybe two years away from Drummond Island was killing him.  Despite myself, I was starting to cry.  "Clifford, you have to get up."

He lay there.

Thanks to our desperate calls, help came.  First was Ron Perkins in his white van, who had hauled Trudy from the UP just several days prior.  Ron was Clifford's special friend, having cared for him while I was away and giving him carrots and scratches.  When he arrived, Clifford rolled up on his sternum and lay there.  Ron came and took the lead rope and pulled on it.  "Come on, boy," he said softly.

Like a petulant child who has been defying his parent, but cooperates with the friendly neighbor, Clifford stood up.  I took the lead rope and started walking.  Clifford shook himself, and I could immediately sense that he was improving.  I loosened the lead and he walked behind me, bumping me gently in the back with his head.  We made several more passes.  Stayner arrived and said, "Oh I am glad he's up."

"Yes, I was really scared!"  I said.

Clifford started showing some interest in the grass and Stayner said, "Go ahead and let him eat."

So I did, letting the longe play out, and he wandered off and was soon ripping away at the lawn as if nothing had happened, completely covered in the layer of sweat and filth.

The veterinarian arrived then, Rachel from Kern Road Vet Clinic.  A tall and tomboyish sort, she said, "Oh I'm glad to see him like this.  It was not what I expected."

She gave him a shot of tranquilizer, and he almost immediately dozed.  She snapped on some rubber gloves and reached up under his tail, pulling out some manure.  "He feels okay in there.  I can feel more manure, farther down, a little firmer.  I'm going to tube him just be sure there's no blockage.  What did he eat?"

"He ate a bunch of green apples from under the tree yesterday," I said.

The tube went through his nostril, and she blew into it lovingly, forcing the water into him as the gases burst out from him on the other end.  His head sagged, eyes half-closed.  He tolerated everything.

"He's doing okay," she said.  "We will keep an eye out for other episodes of pain.  But for now let's just hope it was the apples."

I sighed and nodded.  She handed me a bill and drove off.  Ron and I continued walking Clifford up and down the driveway until he was alert again and interested in the lawn.  As the sun lowered in the west, I counted my blessings.

Since that day, Clifford has transformed back into his old self, performing tricks, fetching his cone and painting pictures.  But it gives me yet another reminder of how very fragile life is.  Clifford is 22 years old.  We've been together 20 years and I know each day is a gift.  Since that day in August, our bond has magnified.  I realize even more how subtle our communication is.  Every look, every gesture is significant.  The trust between us is implicit.  The love from a horse is different from any other kind, and when you spend years with one, it can reach depths I had never guessed.  A horse's abilities are limited by only two things:  His physical capabilities, and your own imagination.

Photo of Clifford following his colic episode.  It looks like a nice photo, but I can see in his expression that he's been stressed.

Tricks are for Kids

 

Clifford the Wild Morgan!

After the longest, hardest winter of our life, I decided to haul Cliffy downstate and get him back in shape for our tour.  He needs muscle tone and in fact, hasn't even shed all his winter hair yet.  Maybe he was afraid it would never end.

After two days' rest, I took him out on the longe for a light workout.  He was slogging along a bit.  He didn't want to longe normally, instead preferring to turn toward me and rear, do his fancy footwork and trying some other tricks.   He doesn't like doing normal horse stuff.

Despite this, I persisted and he finally did some reluctant trotting.  I thought at 22, perhaps he was feeling his age.  I thought some muscle tone and supplements might help.  Pretty soon he stopped and had that "look of eagles".  I snapped a couple of quick photos before I realized that he was watching a lady and little girl walk down the road.

"Trot!"  I said, urging him to get back to work.  He shook his head and sprang into motion.  When he did, it was like slow motion.  He had that beautiful lift, his long neck arched, his legs moving in suspended elegance, and I watched the years fall away.  He was tipping one ear toward the little girl.  He made one circle around me, and then he kept on going, pulling the line out farther and farther as he made a beeline for the road where she was walking.

"He likes kids," I explained to the pair, as I pulled him back.

"We were watching his tricks!" the lady called.  "We think that's neat!"

I almost called them into the yard.  Clifford was so focused on the girl that we both watched them wistfully as they kept going, farther and farther away from us.

I realized again, that this is his calling.  His interest is not in working and perfecting his training.  His interest is in connecting with people, particularly children.  He is an ambassador, a playmate, a performer and a clown.

We need to get some weight and muscle on him.  He wants to go back to work.  He is ready.

Age 22 and still going strong!

Hay, Chewed

Got a nice email from Standlee Hay Company offering some samples of their timothy hay, alfalfa hay and alfalfa pellets.  Here is a pic of Cliffy from yesterday enjoying some of their alfalfa mix from Tractor Supply Company.  The horses just LOVE this stuff!  And their timing was impeccable because, as anyone in Michigan can tell you, we have had a beast of a season.  The hay shortage due to drought last year was immediately followed by the longest, coldest winter on record in recent years.  Standlee is pulling us through to first cutting -- for which we are truly grateful.

You could say they "take a sad song, and make it better."  Here's to better days ahead!

A Horse in the Farm Store - Outtake from "Clifford Goes Shopping"

Here's a fun short outtake from our YouTube promotion. In this one Clifford is “shopping” and supposed to examine certain things on the shelves. He starts out in work mode, offering up “yes” and “no”, but then he sees the camera! He loves cameras and forgets that an actor is never supposed to look at one! I have to give him a little bump to remind him to “look”.

Want to see more of Cliffy in action? Help us with our 2013 tour by sharing our campaign link.

Isn't It Rich....

Clifford was invited back to Cedarville Library to co-host a clown's appearance on June 18, 2012. These ladies had a lot of fun with him, being kindred spirits and all.  They even let him keep the glasses!

We had a good crowd there and Clifford signed books on this little table.  The signing was interrupted when he realized the table had wheels.  He just wanted to keep pushing it around.

Terrible Til, Cliffy's border collie buddy, had a good time performing tricks for the 50+ kids that showed up.  This girl took kind of a shine to him.  They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

Til shows how to best balance on clown feet.

After our library visit, we stopped over at Cedar Cove Assisted Living Center.  There was a lady there who wanted to see Clifford so badly that she postponed a doctor's appointment to wait for us.  She was sitting on the porch when we arrived.  Note how she is shrinking away.  I guess nobody warned her that when you meet Clifford, you MEET him.

After that, we went inside to meet the residents and sign books.  They took turns posing with him by the fireplace.

He was ready to nod off there in the air conditioning.  No bugs...  Ahhhh...

Thanks, Til!

Thanks for visiting us!  Help support Clifford's 2013 tour by visiting our campaign site.  

Horses and Dogs

Rip and Til playing, "Ring Around the Pony"

Remembering a ride on the Island:  

It's Cliffy's turn to run free and I've saddled Trudy up. We are enjoying a lively trot down the road toward the shore. Til the border collie has taken it upon himself to do some sort of ad-lib herding thing, which consists of blasting ahead at top speed, coming back and circling behind both horses. 

Clifford is lagging behind to eat grass and then periodically galloping to catch up. On one trip back, Til sees him coming and hits the brakes. Most horses would slow down upon seeing a dog directly in their path. Clifford speeds up. He comes flying past Trudy, straight at the little dog. 

My heart is in my throat, but I say nothing because Clifford is clearly trying to scare me again. Til sees him coming, does a quick double back, and runs for his life with Clifford pounding along behind him. Cliffy leaps into the air and flings his back feet high, clearly ecstatic that he has had the desired effect. Til runs off up the road and Clifford stops, looking after him, and lets out a huge snort. "Take that!" Then he looks back at me to make sure I've caught the whole thing.

We go out to the shore and hang out for a bit, so the horses can drink lake water, lick the rocks and eat some of the harsh tufted grass which they clearly love. Clifford has had no interest in dogs since his surrogate mother Reva died in 2001. But I see that Til is not the least bit afraid of either horse and they seem to have some sort of arrangement. On the way back, it is the same, with the dog circling and racing and Cliffy nibbling grass. Then Clifford trots past us with his tail up, and I start yelling. "Git him, Clifford! Get that bad dog!"

More than happy to oblige, Clifford takes off, chasing the white dog madly up the road, shooting out his front legs and arching his neck and shaking his head. He has that same old suspension, floating above ground like he did when he was two years old. It is all a game, and the whole group of us, Trudy, Ms. Rip, Cliffy and Til and me, whoop and holler and run and ride like mad, all the way back to camp.

It's just like old times. It seems we just needed the right influence.

Dozing backstage at the Pet Expo

There is no question that the two species communicate very clearly to one another. 

I remember an incident at the 2011 Horse and Pet Expo in Secaucus New Jersey.  A lady stopped me in the aisle. She had a big boxer dog straining on the leash. She was smiling. "Could he meet your horse?" 

I was frazzled between shows, still had to take the dogs outside, fetch water and about a thousand other things. "Sure," I told her. "I'll have him out here shortly." 

I ran back by a few minutes later and she was still waiting with this big snorting dog. I grinned at her but I was thinking, "Good grief, why is this such a big deal?" 

I went backstage, got Clifford and led him over to his painting table. He was instantly mobbed as usual. He signed a couple of books but then, to my surprise, he singled out this big sloppy dog, walked over to him and went nose-to-nose. The two of them conferred for awhile with bobbing heads; the boxer with his grinning, gaping maw and Clifford with an interested spark. It was one of the sweetest things I've ever seen. Finally, the dog broke off and went back to his lady. She stood there with her eyes welling up. "Thank you." 

As they left, I made a note to myself that I should always remember to be kind.  I still don't know exactly what had happened there. I do know that when I stay out of the way, Clifford can do some wonderful things.

 

A Wild Heart for Horses

Most horse people have enough empathy to find a movie set intimidating.  As much as we love horses, we all pretty much agree with Jerry Seinfeld’s assessment of the equine as, “a jittery, glassy-eyed dinosaur.”  The predatory response in horses is strong and immediate, so imagine putting one in a completely foreign environment that consists of all kinds of potential monsters:  Huge, swiveling lights on leggy tripods.  Miles and miles of thick electrical cords.  Tarps.  Equipment that raises and lowers cameras, and people pushing more equipment around on wheeled dollies.  Oh yes, when it comes to equines, a movie set is not a place for the faint of heart. 

Here is where Hollywood’s wranglers come in, the unsung heroes of over a hundred years in motion pictures.  They are the stunt riders who risk their necks to make an actor look good, to make a scene come to life, to tell the story that began in the imagination of a writer and director who maybe have never even seen a real horse.  The wranglers are the nitty-gritty, get-your-hands-dirty, real life equestrians, the overworked and underpaid, often unnoticed and sometimes not even acknowledged in the glamorous collaboration that we see on the big screen.

Along with the wrangler comes a very special creature:  A trick-trained horse.  This miracle of nature, when asked, will overcome all his innate fears of horse-eating monsters and jump into icy the river, or look with ears up into the glaring lights and gaping lens, or run over miles of rugged terrain, toward a stack of metal scaffolding laden with panning cameras and moving seats and turning wheels, time and again, when he would rather be running away.

I was fortunate enough to talk to movie horse trainer Tonia Forsberg last night.  She was instrumental in providing the horses for the upcoming Hallmark Movie, Our Wild Hearts.  Premiering March 9, the film is about a wild mustang and stars Ricky Schroder of Lonesome Dove, Silver Spoons and NYPD Blue fame.  Ricky, who also wrote and directed Our Wild Hearts, created the film as a vehicle for his daughter Cambrie Schroder to try her hand at acting.

Cambrie and Ricky Schroder on the set of Our Wild Hearts

Tonia grew up with horses and began trick riding at age 12.  She hung out with such notables as Glenn Randall, trainer of Roy Rogers’ Trigger and the Ben Hur chariot Andalusians.  Training came second nature to Tonia.  “I grew up not knowing that I was learning something.” 

She was most influenced by trainer Bobby Lovegren, who has a long history in film, including the soon to be released The Lone Ranger. Tonia describes Bobby with great respect.  “Of all the trainers I have worked with, his methods are among the most humane.”

I warmed to Tonia immediately when it became obvious that humane training methods were a priority for her.  She said that in her experience, most horses really want to please.  It’s when they get confused, or don’t understand what is expected, that a rider or trainer meets with the most resistance.  Gentle repetition is the key to trust and cooperation.

She said that one of the most difficult things about training horses for film is when a director expects a new behavior within a week, or sometimes even on the spot during a shoot.  She has to explain to the director and crew then that a horse’s learning process takes time, and it is best if new behaviors are taught gradually and with patience.  A horse who has learned something at a slow pace will usually retain it better.  A behavior that is taught methodically will be performed more reliably.  “The longer it takes to make, the longer it takes to break,” she added.

Tonia and her husband Todd, who is also an accomplished trainer, have their own herd of equines that they use for film work.  For the Our Wild Hearts mustang, they used Tommy, their black gelding of unknown lineage.  Tommy is sixteen and Tonia has owned him for ten years.  “He’s very trustworthy.  He has good animation and is a good liberty horse.”

Tommy demonstrates what being a movie horse is all about!

As she spoke of Tommy, Tonia's affection for him was very obvious.  “He had a couple of doubles, but when it called for a scene where I rode bareback, he was the one for the job.  I rode with no bridle and Todd was calling him from a distance of about three football fields.  Every time we shot it, he always ran right to Todd.  We tried it again later with some of the doubles, but that didn’t work out so well,” she laughed.

And Ricky?  I knew that it was often the unlucky job of wranglers and trainers to teach actors how to look convincing on a horse.  I thought with Ricky this most likely wouldn’t be a problem.  He had surely spent many months in the saddle with the role of Newt in Lonesome Dove.  Even though the miniseries aired in 1989, he must have retained some horsemanship skills.

“Oh yes, Ricky was easy!  He was very natural.”  Tonia added, “It took me awhile to warm up to the fact that he is a real person.  They are a very nice family.  Good people. “

At the time of filming Our Wild Hearts, the Schroders didn’t own horses.  But as work on the film progressed, they started talking about buying some.  I think that when it comes to helping someone feel comfortable with a horse, and helping a horse feel comfortable on a movie set, that tells you all you need to know about Tonia Forsberg.

Traditions with Equine Art and Lunch!

When you live in one place for a long time you develop traditions with people and places that are sweet and sort of comforting. Since I have been displaced due to caring for sick parents over the past couple of years, most of mine have fallen by the wayside. My best friends have made the effort to keep things rolling so I don't feel too out of touch.

This drawing stems from one of them. Muriel Herrick and Dianne Dervin help organize the Michigan Morgan Futurity Stallion Service Auction every year. Muriel owns Century Oak Farm, home of her ever-youthful grand stallion, Gradell's Wild Magic.

Every year now, one day in January for the past seven or eight years, Muriel and Dianne take me out to lunch! I deliver a piece of art and usually a Clifford book, and we sit and eat and talk. We talk about friends we know in the Morgan world. We talk about dogs. And we talk, talk, talk about horses -- especially Morgan horses.

In my current state of upheaval, with Mom being gone and Dad having been so ill this year, the farm lost and struggling to feed Clifford and Trudy this winter, I find moments of comfort in my friends, and in the things we have always done together. My heart is grateful.

Here's a picture of my donation for this year's Michigan Morgan Futurity Silent Auction: Oil Pencil and Conte, approx 9x12"

Grazing in the Evening Mist

A soothing sight for horse owners, two pasture mates in the field together. Acrylic, 11x15" on canvas.

Where Does a Horse Stay When He Travels?

Motel 6 will leave the light on for him! See more photos of Clifford on his website: www.cliffordthehorse.com

Morning Oats

Well, what can one say after a long hiatus? I have let my blogspot fall into neglect... Alas... And unfortunately the past year has provided plenty to blog about. Clifford has toured the eastern part of the USA, visiting libraries, pet expos and yes, nursing homes. We are about to embark on hopefully our most exciting journey of all... But it will remain a mystery for now!

I have produced much art, including equine art. I am now immersed in what I call my, "acrylic phase." Here is the newest example, painted yesterday: "Morning Oats".  I will have some more originals for sale as the Christmas season approaches! If I have any excuse for not blogging, it is to say that Facebook took over. I have posted all new art on my facebook page, "Nancy's Art Studio" faithfully. Many of Clifford's adventures are on his Facebook page as well. One thing I realized about Facebook though, is that the archives aren't organized as a blog. You can post lots of photos and albums, but I am fond of the "journaling" aspect that a blog provides. I wish I had kept up on this more faithfully. Oh well... Lots more stories to tell and art work to blog about!

Splash!

Clifford is enjoying another summer up on Drummond Island. Here is his "oops" moment where he rolled too close to the water's edge when enjoying a sand bath. Cliffy is on tour this summer visiting libraries. He goes right in the library and is a big hit with the kids. He's promoting our summer reading program, "Horse Tales From Around the World". We are teaching a little bit about the history of the horse and kicking some ideas around about how to make the world a better place. You can see Clifford's tour schedule on my website.