Taming Wild Pony Projects

Summer brings heat, long days, vacations, and for me, project wrangling.

Each summer Raven escapes the high temperatures and humidity of Texas by heading out of town. I delight in these long stretches of time alone to round up and tame my current herd of run-away ponies.

Many years ago I lived in a tiny cabin on the edge of the Sierra mountains. My horse, Chiona, lived at a stable many miles from me. One morning I woke up with a brilliant idea: To move Chiona to my land. I converted an old shed to a stall, bought some hay, and moved her in. But I had forgotten one major thing in my dreamy vision of being able to visit and ride my horse whenever I wanted to: Chiona was a high-spun, nervous thoroughbred who was an expert at getting herself into trouble.

Chiona waited exactly one day before she metamorphosed into destructo-pony. Then she turned her full powers on. On Day Two I awoke to the sound of hoofbeats outside my window. Chiona had broken out of her stall and was running in panic up and down the road. On Day Three she broke out again, but this time she headed for my garden where she made her mark by galloping repeatedly through my vegetables plants. Day Four we went for a quiet ride where I spent most of my time gripping the saddle so I wouldn't fly off when she stopped abruptly at every tiny noise or movement. On Day Five she broke out again and danced her hooves throughout my garden. One Day Six I realized my folly and moved her to a stable with a real door, fence, and arena.

My current herd of out-of-control pony projects all start out as a dreamy vision of “won't this be wonderful and easy!,” but unattended they bust out of their confinements and create chaos. One is an overflowing heap of papers that attempt to escape each time I open the back closet door; originally I thought “What a perfect place to put the papers I still need to file so I won't have to look at them.” Another is our garage. Yikes. Definitely time for some serious corralling there. The third is Raven's side of our home office, which I received permission to tame after the piles of audio equipment and un-harnessed papers began to stomp over everything else.

Trying to coax a 1,000 pound, galloping animal into her stall at 5 am was great practice for figuring out how to approach the piles of paper that are stacked precariously on my closet shelves and put them into neat containers. And when I open my pantry and see rows of neatly organized goods I feel the same relief I felt the first day I visited Chiona at her new secure stall : all is right with the world and everything is in its proper place.