Camp keeps a gettin' it on - - - -

In the beginning

The farm sits were my grandfather’s family had plowed and harvested fields of sweet potatoes, cotton and tobacco for years.  It is the place that his great –Aunt Neely had her home.  It is the place where my pop tried for the first and last time a ‘chaw’ of tobacco.  It is the place that he built a small hobby farm single-handedly  - - - the large pole barn, outbuildings and 15 plus acres of fenced in pastures – with the never ending support and love of my Italian born, warbride grandmother.   It is the place he bought a young mare pony, and told my mom and dad it was ‘time to have a grandbaby’.   It is the place I played as a girl – hours on end- with my very own ponies pretending to be an indian, an explorer, a circus performer and a run-away.  Now as a grown, married woman and mother of two boys, it is the place we call home.  We look across our back yard and notice the cedars as they line the blessedly beautiful, green land we call our little piece of heaven.  It is the place that we call – Cedar Cross Farm and realize each and every day that God has given us a ‘time and place’ for everything (Ecclesiastes 3:1). 

In 1999, Bill and I vowed to love and support one another for the rest of our lives on earth.  He has been not only my rock – a foundation never failing – but my best friend.  Always having and caring for horses my entire life – it was a new venture for Bill and I.  He quickly realized that my love for horses was more complex than most, and he actually calls it my passion.   My God is my Savior for always, my guide, my reason for making a difference.  My boys – Bill and Brock and Brant are my life.  My horses are my passion – watching them interact with one another, seeing them as responsive beings to other horses and especially to people,  becoming and accepted as part of their lives – it truly is amazing. 

Horses are one of God’s most awesome creatures – watch an Arabian as he snorts, prances and struts around when excited.  If you can, imagine an older, wiser horse whose eyes tell a thousand tales and knows the value of ‘yes mam’ and ‘yes sir’.  Then if you can - - - visualize a horse whose story is unthinkable – and trust is nowhere to be found or given - his life is very much different than that of the first.  Horses are so much like people, very much like children-  that it really is ironic.