Madison Grove Farm

Happy Tuesday, Farm Friends.

A volunteer sent me this photo yesterday, and I keep coming back to it.

At first I saw the mushrooms. Then I saw the horse.

Same place. Same moment. But change where you put your attention and you see something completely different.

It made me think about how much of our work here begins with observation. In equine-assisted learning, we spend a lot of time asking people to notice before they interpret. Horses are communicating all the time through movement, posture, distance, where they position themselves in the herd, and the subtle ways their bodies change.

The hard part for us humans is not immediately deciding what all of that means.

We are pretty quick to fill in the blanks. He’s being stubborn. She doesn’t like me. That horse is jealous. She’s scared. Maybe. But what did we actually see, and what part of the story did we add?

That distinction matters.

Sometimes we will sit and watch the herd and simply talk about what we notice. Where is each horse standing? Who moved? Who followed? Who stayed? What happened right before something changed? No right answer needed. Just paying attention.

There’s something about practicing that with horses that carries into the rest of life. We get a little better at noticing our own assumptions. We become more curious. Maybe a little less certain that the first story we tell ourselves is the whole story.

And then there’s this photo.

A tiny patch of mushrooms on the forest floor. A horse quietly grazing behind them. And a volunteer who got down low enough to notice both.

That feels a lot like Madison Grove Farm to me.

Sometimes changing what we see starts with changing where we stand.

With gratitude,
Marla and the herd

Happy Monday, Farm Friends.

Yesterday was a pretty special day for Sage.

After the volunteers left, chores were done and everything got quiet around here, my dear friend Paul, founder and director of Country Roads Animal Sanctuary - CRAS, came out to spend some time with us.

Paul is one of those friends who just fills your heart space. The kind of friend you can be honest with about the hard stuff, share the wins with, and even when you don’t see each other all the time, you know they’re there. I was really happy he was here for this.

Sage has been showing us more and more of herself since she arrived. She comes to the gate, wants to go for walks, wants to be involved with whatever we’re doing and has integrated beautifully into her herd. Her previous owners came to visit recently too, and they felt really good about how she was doing. So everything just felt aligned to try something we knew had been part of Sage’s life before.

Sage had been ridden in the past, but not for a couple of years. So yesterday we simply wanted to see what she thought about doing it again.

I got on first. Treeless saddle, simple snaffle that she was familiar with, and no big plan. We started in the round pen and took our time. She was willing and comfortable. Then Paul got on. Different person, different size, different energy, and she was just as willing with him.

Eventually we headed out on the trails. I walked and Paul rode. Sage has walked those trails with us several times now, so she knew exactly where she was going. She was away from her herd, quiet, confident and seemed to really enjoy herself.

And I think that’s the part worth talking about.

Sanctuary doesn’t mean a horse never does anything again. It means they don’t have to. Some of our horses will never be ridden. Some shouldn’t be. Some may show us that they actually enjoy going down a trail with a human on their back. Our job is to pay attention to the horse standing in front of us instead of deciding for them.

Yesterday wasn’t about getting Sage “back under saddle.” It was just one ride and another chance to learn something about her.

She’s approximately 15, we’re still trying to learn more about her history as a BLM Mustang, and she definitely has some conditioning to do. So there is no hurry. Walks, liberty time, herd life, trails and slowly building strength. We’ll see where she takes us.

That’s the beautiful thing. We don’t have to decide the rest of Sage’s story today.

She gets a say in it too.

With gratitude,
Marla and the herd ❤️

Happy Saturday, Farm Friends.

Maybe some of the most important things we do here will never be very exciting to watch.

This morning we have volunteers showing up. There are buckets to fill, mash to make, gates to open and horses to put eyes on. We have one of the horses who boards here not feeling quite herself, so there has been extra watching, extra checking and extra care happening behind the scenes. She isn’t one of our sanctuary horses, so I won’t share her story, but caring for the animals who call this farm home doesn’t really stop at who belongs to whom.

And that got me thinking about how much of this place is simply about showing up.

Volunteers show up on Saturday mornings when they could be doing a hundred other things. Someone notices a water bucket that needs filling and fills it. Someone makes the mash, cleans up the mess, checks a gate or spends a few extra minutes watching a horse because something just doesn’t seem quite right. Most of it isn’t particularly interesting or worthy of a photograph. It’s just the work of caring for living things.

There is so much competing for our attention right now. Everything feels loud and everything seems to want an immediate reaction from us. Then I come outside and this place brings me back to what is actually in front of me. Feed the horse. Fill the water. Notice what changed. Help where you can.

Sanctuary work isn’t mostly rescue-day photographs or dramatic before-and-afters. It’s all the ordinary days that come after. It’s continuing to care when nobody is watching. It’s knowing an old horse well enough to notice a small change. It’s volunteers who keep coming back. It’s people quietly taking responsibility for something outside of themselves.

Madison Grove Farm has been built that way too. One volunteer shift, one donated bag of feed, one person sharing our story, one horse given a soft landing, one small act of kindness stacked on another for a lot of years.

Maybe that’s what I needed to remember this Saturday. We don’t have to fix everything that feels wrong in the world. But we can take care of what is in front of us. We can pay attention. We can show up for each other. We can do something useful and kind, even when nobody is watching.

That’s what’s happening here this morning. Nothing terribly exciting. Just people showing up and caring for horses.

And maybe that’s actually a pretty big thing.

With gratitude,
Marla and the herd

Happy Friday, Farm Friends.

Every morning I make pretty much the same walk, and every morning everybody seems to have something to say.

I start on the south side of the farm with the goats. Medications, breakfast and a quick check of everybody before I head across to the other side.

That’s usually when the morning gets louder.

The donkeys start yelling. The minis are waiting for their mash. Horses appear at fences. Twister is peeking at me through the trees. Magnolia is watching to see where I’m headed. The dogs are making their rounds with me. Everybody, it seems, has something to report.

And somewhere in all of that, I’m watching too.

So much of our time with animals can be spent putting our own stories onto them. We decide someone is happy or sad, stubborn or sweet, lonely or confident. Sometimes we’re right. Sometimes we aren’t.

One of the things the horses have taught me over the years is to slow down and observe before deciding what I think I know.

Who came to the fence this morning? Who didn’t? Who is standing with someone new? Who is off by themselves? Who looks comfortable? What is different from yesterday?

Those little things matter when you care for animals, but I think they matter in our own lives too.

There is something really grounding about stepping outside of our own thoughts long enough to simply notice what is actually happening around us. No story attached. No need to immediately explain it. Just paying attention.

Maybe that’s part of the healing that happens here. Not because the animals have all the answers, but because they keep reminding us to be present enough to see what is right in front of us.

Of course, this morning what was right in front of me was a whole crew pretty convinced I needed to stop observing and get on with things. 😂

With gratitude,
Marla and the herd.

Happy Thursday, Farm Friends.

One of the things horses continue to teach me is how quickly we humans can make up a story about what we see.

A horse is standing away from the herd and we decide she is lonely. One pushes another away from the hay and we call him a bully. A horse doesn’t want to be touched and we think she doesn’t trust us. Another walks right up into our space and we call him friendly.

Maybe.
But maybe not.

Around here, we spend a lot of time observing. Not just looking, but really watching.

What actually happened? What happened right before it? Where were the other horses? What did the horse do next? Is this something we have seen before, or was it one moment on one particular day?

Sometimes when you give it a little more time, the story changes.

I think that’s one of the things I love most about living with horses. They constantly remind me that what I think I know and what is actually happening aren’t always the same thing.

And of course, we do this with people too.

We fill in the blanks. We assume we know why someone did something or what they must be feeling. We take one moment and sometimes make it the whole story.

Horses have taught me to be a little slower with that.

Watch longer. Get curious. Pay attention to what is actually in front of me instead of rushing to explain it.

I’ve been living and working alongside horses for a long time now, and I still catch myself doing it. I still make assumptions. I still get things wrong.

I suppose that’s why I continue to call myself a student of the horse.

There is always something more to learn if we’re willing to keep watching.

With gratitude,
Marla and the herd

Happy Wednesday, Farm Friends.

Sometimes this is what the work looks like.

A lead rope, a walk around the farm and a donkey who sees absolutely no reason to pass up a little grass along the way.

I think there’s something important in these quieter moments. We spend so much of our lives trying to get somewhere, finish something, accomplish the next thing. The animals don’t really care about any of that. They are right where they are.

And when we spend time with them, we get the chance to be there too.

There doesn’t always have to be a lesson or an activity planned. Sometimes we just walk. We stop. We wait. We notice what the animal is telling us and let them have a say in what happens next. Patience is something they teach us without us even really knowing. 

That matters to me.

The horses, donkeys and mules here aren’t tools for our programs. They are part of the relationship. Their comfort matters. Their choices matter. Some days they may want to engage with us, and other days they may just want to eat some random grass in the road.

Honestly, there’s something pretty good about both.

This is a lot of what happens at Madison Grove Farm. Nothing fancy. Just humans and animals spending time together and learning to pay a little closer attention.

With gratitude,
Marla and the herd. ❤️