Markers, milestones foal dances and moms

May has always been a busy month and also one of transition, a pivot point that divides the year from one mode to another, and one distinct season to another. This year has been no different. While the calendar says spring still, summer is here now with its heavy humidity and high temps, horse fly swatting, grass cutting, and cool beverage consuming.


May has always meant we have a big fat hit to our pocket book, first because I had two grandmothers’ birthdays, one on the 3rd and the other one was on the 13th. Then of course Mothers’ Day meant more gifts or flowers. Then my aunt’s birthday is on the 10th. My youngest daughter celebrated her 25th on the 18th and my best friend has one on the 22cd. So lots of giving and celebrating gets done, and I just can’t imagine what goes on in Augusts to cause this trend in high birth rates for May.

The 22cd is always a day that gives me serious reflection and is one of the biggest markers in my life. My brother, David, would have been 21 in June had he worn a seatbelt driving from that lacrosse game on the 22 day back in 1975. He would be 56 now and I can’t really imagine him at that age. In my mind David will always be the age I last saw him. That was the day he left to go back to school after spring break had ended that year. His car was loaded and we all stood on the back porch of my parents’ house and hugged and someone took pictures. David’s look in the shots is one of being conciliatory, and patient, but really wanting to get on back north to his life at college. One seatbelt away from another unfulfilled life, David’s death was my first round of real wakeup call about life, and its partner, death.

Life on the farm has had its share of markers too this May. The purple martins have fledged and have taken wing, as have most of the other birds whose nests I have watched for the past months. The veggie garden has begun to bring in the yellow squash, a few peppers, and some green tomatoes, with corn tassels just breaking the tops of the stalks. My ancient riding/broodmare Limerick made it to 27, still feeling pretty frisky for an old gal, back swayed a bit and arthritic but kicking. Another big marker for this month was Mark and my hitting our anniversary on the 24th, number 34. Things just keep on rolling on.

And finally, and I mean FINALLY, with the help of all the mojo rustled up with interested folks thru face book and the internet, a very spirited group of human fillies out in California who made up quite a fancy foal inducing dance (photo above), and a full moon, Joline hatched yet another fabulous foal, who’s sexual orientation was a bit sketchy to begin but who is now confirmed, definitely colt. “F” boy is still unnamed as I get a feel for what fits his personality. He is just so cute but as I look at him I can’t help but assess and measure all the angles and how they will go together as an older horse ready to ride and so far I find nothing but the correct ones for a superior athlete to have. For now he gets dinner from mom, then skitters across the paddock on legs of impossible length, stops on a dime, and falls to the grass to snooze, mesmerizing to witness.

Tomorrow is June 3rd and it will hail a huge marker of a day. My father will be 80 years old/young. Emory McCord Folmar was born in Troy, Al eight decades ago and he has lived every single one of those decades with the strength and conviction of a super man on a mission. I know of few who can say they have done as much in one life as he, and I am proud to be his daughter. I will wish him happy birthday wishes tomorrow and toast to his life and continued string of many more birthdays to come.

Here comes the summer. That’ll do May.