The Horse Runs Faster to the Barn

 

The Horse Runs Faster to the Barn

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Having all my stuff back at the Rancho doesn’t mean I’m settled down and done.

There is a lot to be said for staying put forever. Stability. Knowing your surroundings and, whether or not they are close friends, knowing those around you intimately. Comfort.  A sense of permanence that rolling stones don’t get to have. Moss. I like moss.

It took me two months to move to Oconahua. It took twelve days for Leo to move me back, complete with bamboo, herbs and my little dog, Lola. There must be a moral or a meaning to this story, if only I can figure it out. The horse runs faster.

We’ve worked hard to get my belongings back into some kind of order. We? Me point, Leo grunt. Leo has been a trooper, putting up with my extra jobs along with taking care of several other houses and yards on the Rancho.

In at least one instance, I got a little carried away with creating spaces differently arranged than when I lived here previously. The differences are part of my fun. Poor Lola. I moved her dog dwelling closer to the front door. That night we had a rather daunting storm. Water everywhere. Soaked doggy bedding.  Back to the tried and true and dry.

I’m bleeding money but that is all part of moving, necessary expenses.

My plants made the move without going into severe shock. Constant rains help. I’m loving them and they are loving me.

My house is in order, bodega mostly settled, patio sort of sorted. The horse is in the barn, so to speak, munching oats, or soon will be.

Today I made a nice batch of granola. Harvested a clutch of limes from my key lime tree and juiced them for the freezer. I’ve ingredients on the counter to make a pizza for dinner. It’s an ordinary day, a restful day, a day of peace.

Now I’m off to mop, mop, mop and then to flop, flop, flop. An ordinary day.

Sondra Ashton

HWC: Looking out my back door

August 7, 2025

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Making Home

 

        Making Home

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In the third week in my new casa just up the road a ways from my old casa, I am making home. In ways this is like baking a cake. It is not a one-step process. It is not a box mix. The moving van (non-existent) does not pull up, put boxes in marked rooms, and roll on down the highway while I make the bed and go to sleep.

Oh, if only it were so simple. Bit by bit though, this cake batter of a home is coming together.  While there is still a lot to do, let’s call this a complicated cake, it is coming together in ways that blend efficiency, ease of use with beauty and comfort. Keep adding ingredients and mixing well and the batter eventually pops into the oven and becomes cake. Home.

Yesterday John and Carol, snowbirds from Minnesota and friends who also have a casa in Gringolandia, which is what we in Oconahua call the little enclave of residents at the Rancho, came to visit, to see my new home.

I watched the looks of wonder on Carol’s face as she took my tour, kept exclaiming, “Oh, Sondra. Oh, Sondra. This is so nice. This is so perfect for you.”

Before John and Carol left, she whispered, “Now I won’t worry about you any more.”

I don’t know what she was expecting but I my imagination of Carol’s imagination knocked on the door of a tiny hovel, one room with bed, bath and stove. The end.

Leaving the cake in the metaphorical oven, let’s segue to Goldilocks and know that the home I make is just right. Just big enough. Just beautiful enough. Just roomy enough. And, bonus, I still live a goodly portion of my day outdoors on my just-right patio surrounded with just-enough plants.

To borrow from days of Radio yore with Paul Harvey, so what’s the rest of the story? Because we know, there is more to this than everything is “just right”, right?

No internet. No phone.

That’s not all bad. Think about it. Three weeks with no news, no horrors, no news, no sales pitches, no news. Not all bad.

But, oh, the inconvenience. The lost touches with friends and family. We are so used to instant access. I am so used to instant access. I want my Telmex and I want it now!

I don’t get what I want when I want it. Instead, I get the clipity-clop as men on horseback ride past on my narrow street. I get the daily sound of the water truck delivering drinking water. I get dogs barking and chickens clucking and my neighbor across the way practicing his trombone and neighborhood children laughing.

Guess what? I want my Telmex and I want it now!

Sondra Ashton

Havre Daily News

December

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