Burrs
Teaching my daughter about life happens one mundane task at a time. This momma is no mover and shaker so most of our time together is spent doing simple endeavors like grooming horses or going for walks. I like these down times. We are absorbed in the rhythm of our movements and our conversation. In those moments we are friends. We are talking and laughing, exploring and learning. We are not distracted by screens and obligations. For a period of time we are two people existing together.
This evening my girl showed up at the barn in her dress and mud boots. I was putting the goats in for the night and haying the horses with the intent to groom while they munched. She asked if she could help and as much as I love my barnyard solitude, I equally love when my kids show interest in the animals. So she was given the task of choosing the first makeover candidate as I raided the tack box (for every brush and comb and tool I might possibly need). Immediately she chose Lakota because the knots in his mane and tail were far too inviting. Together with our bucket of beautifying instruments, we got to work and this is where my wondering began, one burr at a time.
Big beautiful tri-colored Lakota happily standing and munching hay. He looks like a wild mustang this summer. I've really have been lax on the grooming. He doesn't hold it against me. He only looks feral but he'll clean up real nice. My months of preoccupation have meant less attention and more pasture time. He's loving life. But a little TLC and back scratch are good too, so he lazily munches as we beautify.
Hannah is quick to attack his tail. It is matted and tangled and she has visions of a silky smooth braid. Who am I to argue? But I know this will be an uphill battle because those mats are full of burrs. She'll figure it out. I start at his neck currying and stroking. Loosening dirt and feeling for anything abnormal. At the other end, his tail is proving to be a challenge. Burrs can't be brushed out and must be removed slowly one strand at a time. We switch jobs. Her new objective is a shiny glossy coat. Mine is what I planned all along - a long contemplation while debriding his tail of the remnants of late summer.
Since my youth I've always enjoyed grooming the horses. My mom did too. I remember her hugging them and inhaling their scent. She said nothing smelled better. I find myself often having the same thought. I also recall how she would painstakingly work the burrs out of their tails. She would be so still; only her hands working. Never in a hurry. I imagine now it was therapeutic and meditative. No, I know it was, because I'm a mom now and sometimes the barn and the chores are my sanctuary.
Most people hate burrs. I guess I'm not a huge fan, but for some odd reason, I leave the plants. Why don’t I eradicate the burdock before it gets to the point of burr production? I've been doing this literal tug of war for 3 decades now. So as I enjoy my late summer evening with my chatty six year old (she’s chatting up Lakota) I allow my wondering mind to ponder the question of the burr.
Burdock is not a particularly attractive plant but it is useful and has numerous health benefits. Who am I to destroy something useful? Every year I intend on taking advantage of its more favorable properties, but never get around to it. However, I still can’t bring myself to pull the plants out of the ground. The leaves are broad and tender early in the season and my goats love munching on them. As the summer progresses and the purple flowers bloom, the bees love buzzing to and fro. I love watching bees get busy and the thought of cutting down the blooms makes me feel guilty. So they stay and I promise myself that I’ll remove some before the problems arise. Then the summer wanes on and before I know it prickly burrs have formed. They attach themselves to all who pass by. Who am I to get in the way of seed dispersal at is most ingenious? Those clingy little hitch hikers sure know how to get around. And then there’s the entertainment factor - nature made Velcro. My kids love sticking them on to each other or me. The presence of burrs signals the end of summer in NY and with that the arrival of shorter days and cooler temps. An indication that life might be slowing down a bit.
Slowing down, that’s what the burrs force me to do. They force me to make time to play with the horses, to inhale their scent, to think and be with my thoughts. The burrs cling to the forelock and tail -mocking me as I contemplate just pulling out scissors or clippers. But let’s be honest, I’m not one to take the easy way or to give in to a little adversity. No, I have all the time in the world (or at least the evening) to finesse them loose. I have a strategy to win this “when the going gets tough” situation. It’s called patience and perseverance. I know it takes one strand at a time to free the burrs from the tail and mane. I know it takes a little extra effort to comb and brush after the burrs are removed. I know it feels damn good looking at a shiny domesticated beast that any horsewoman would be proud to own.
I also know that I can apply my wonderings to other areas of my life because it is full of burrs and I have an abundance of fortitude and tenacity to deal with them. Those are the only things I need to detangle the pesky, sometimes soul-crushing aspects of my life. Like the burrs those problems are seasonal and just as summer fades to fall, this season of my life will change. I’ll keep on allowing the burdock to grow and I’ll keep on showing my daughter that patience and perseverance are the best tools to have in her tack box.
