Healing with Horses: Sunshine, Rosie, Sunrise

Sunshine: My First Horse, My Teacher

Sunshine, my first horse, was an absolute angel. I made all my early mistakes with her, and she tolerated every one of them with patience and grace. She lived to 35 and guided me through the early years of horse ownership with a temperament that could calm any storm.

She was loving with people, gentle with the herd, and willing in every task. Wherever we boarded, Sunshine became the sweetheart of the barn. She taught me the rhythm of partnership, the importance of consistency, and the quiet power of empathy.

When Sunshine suffered impaction colic and passed away, I was heartbroken. Rosie, her companion at the time, suddenly needed a new herd mate — and I needed a way forward. That loss opened the door to the next chapter: Sunrise.

Rosie: The Difficult Fireball

Rosie had been labeled untrainable. Eight owners in eight years had given up on her, and she was on the brink of being sent to auction. I bought her to spare her from that fate, fully aware she was a project — and fully unaware of how much she would change me.

Her early life had left its mark. She was reactive, protective, and deeply sensitive. Even simple tasks like touch or hoof care could trigger resistance. But behind all that fire was intelligence, intuition, and a fierce will to survive.

Her first breakthrough came with the farrier. After a disastrous initial visit, he refused to trim her without sedation. Two failed attempts later, I convinced him to work with Koelle, our equine trainer. Within an hour, Rosie lifted her hooves calmly and consecutively — a moment that felt like witnessing a miracle.

Rosie’s intuition was extraordinary. She read energy with precision.

The day I arrived at the barn after my accident — disheveled, injured, and emotionally raw — she recognized it instantly. She nickered loudly, nuzzled me gently, and made it clear she knew something was wrong. She didn’t need touch to understand vulnerability.

Through years of partnership, Rosie taught me boundaries, patience, and the kind of trust that must be earned, not assumed. Her lessons remain part of me.

Sunrise: The Companion Who Chose Me

After Sunshine’s passing, Rosie needed a friend. That search led me to Sunrise, an eight‑year‑old Peruvian Paso mare who had been rescued and professionally trained.

Sunrise was everything Rosie wasn’t — calm, brave, steady, and deeply attuned to her rider. On her first day, we performed Monty Roberts’ join‑up in the round pen. She approached me directly, stopped in front of me, and the rescue owner said, “She just chose you.” And she had.

Her past had been difficult. She and her lifelong companion, Conquistador, had been rescued from neglect. But she had also been trained in California, competing successfully and earning ribbons at the Pomona Championship Horse Show.

Watching Sunrise and Rosie together was a study in herd dynamics. Sunrise initially dominated Rosie, chasing her from hay piles. But one day, Rosie stood her ground — a flash of teeth, a burst of energy, and years of suppressed confidence finally released. From that moment on, Rosie never had to defend her food again.

Sunrise became my trusted trail horse — calm, protective, and reliable. She taught me the value of steadiness, intention, and partnership. Even after Rosie’s passing in 2024, Sunrise carried forward the lessons of the herd.

Lessons from the Herd

Each horse taught me something different, something essential:

  • Sunshine taught consistency, grace, and the gentle foundation of partnership.
  • Rosie taught resilience, intuition, and the courage to set boundaries.
  • Sunrise taught stability, bravery, and the quiet strength of reliability.

Together, they reshaped my understanding of leadership, communication, and presence. Horses speak through energy, not words. They respond to intention, not performance. They mirror our emotional truth whether we want them to or not.

The Enduring Gift of Horses

Even after their passing, their lessons remain. Rosie’s intuition, Sunshine’s patience, and Sunrise’s courage continue to guide me — in the barn, in relationships, and in life.

Horses are not just animals. They are teachers, companions, and mirrors of our emotional selves. They remind us that trust is earned, calm is powerful, and connection requires presence.

Their gift endures — in memory, in wisdom, and in the way I move through the world.

© 2026 Romancing the Herd    

Feathers in the Wind

Today marks the first anniversary of my husband, David’s, death. In the quiet moments, my heart still aches.  My inner goddess continuously persuades me to get out and enjoy life.  She who cannot be ignored wisely infers that no one leaves a lasting imprint by tiptoeing through life.

In the early weeks following David’s death, the stillness woke me.  In the dark of night, I understood why people feared silence.  His memory invaded my every thought.  It was like a wicked form of torture.   I went through the motions of daily life feeling like the walking wounded. I still hear his voice in my head scolding or encouraging.  We knew each other so intimately that he would have a thought at the same time I verbalized it.   I know exactly what he would say to me in every instance.  It is comforting to feel David’s presence.

I planned to spend this weekend on a healing ride through Monument Valley with a Navajo guide named Joe. Unfortunately, the Tribal Park is closed due to the Covid-19 outbreak. Instead, I spent a quiet morning with my horses.  While snuggling my palomino, Sunrise, a small grey feather floated in space, landing near my feet.   The feather was noticed earlier in the week but disappeared. As if on cue, it reappeared today. Twirling in the breeze, it eventually landed on the toe of my fringed moccasin.  Native Americans believe the feather is a powerful symbol.   Feathers arrive unexpectedly, but always with purpose.  When a feather falls to earth, it carries a message to a living being.  The feather brings inner strength from a loved one. The symbolism is overwhelming and the hair stands up on my arms and neck.

Until you experience indelible loss, you cannot understand what it does to a person’s soul.  Life can be painful and heart-rending. The pain of loss is immeasurable. The most devastating endings usher in the next chapter in life. Over the last year, intense grief has become profound sadness.  There comes a moment when you realize everything has changed.  

I truly believe people come into our life with purpose.  The people we meet along the path teach us lessons, help us to grow emotionally, and force us to realize special moments. There are no mistakes or failures, just an evolution in time.  Each chapter in life teaches us what doesn’t work; thereby, forcing us to focus on what we need.  

A year has passed, yet here I sit with tears streaming down my face.  It is through grief that we learn to value the present.  Each of us is the architect of our life story.  Every chapter must be worth reading.  

Written April 26, 2020

© 2020-2026 Romancing the Herd    

Trail Mix: Horses, Nudists, and Chaos


Chrys, a work colleague, had invited me to her home for a visit. She went to the kitchen to open a bottle of wine just as the doorbell rang. Instinctively, I answered it and found Carol standing there with a flyer that read, “We’d like to see more of you.”

A quick glance told me everything I needed to know: the ride was through the nudist camp on the dirt road behind the house.

I happened to be wearing a horsey T‑shirt, which immediately sparked conversation. Carol mentioned a ride her husband, Kraus, was hosting the following weekend and invited me to join. I laughed — intrigued, if slightly alarmed — because it wasn’t clear whether the ride itself was going to be clothing‑optional.

I’ll admit, the idea of encountering a few naked people on a dusty trail was… attention‑grabbing. Double whoa. Could the Old West really coexist with a nudist camp? And more importantly, is it safe to ride a horse while barely clothed?

About fifteen of us “textiled riders” showed up on Saturday, just in time to hear Kraus and the wrangler debating the clothing‑optional rules. The wrangler, who had provided horses for the nudists, wasn’t thrilled about anyone exposing themselves while mounted. Kraus offered a compromise that helped no one: “We’ll see what happens, but I’m not wearing a dang thing.”

Minimalism, redefined

The riding outfits on this trail redefined minimalism — nothing was left to the imagination. One weekend cowboy made a bold fashion statement: denim where it mattered, and nowhere else. Another rocked a sheer lavender babydoll nightie, though I doubt anyone was focused on the color. One gentleman paired chaps with cowboy boots and… nothing in between. I can confirm there was a lot of chafing happening. Others sported various forms of ventilated jeans, including one do-it-yourself pair of shorts that defied both logic and structural integrity.

As for me, I stuck with jeans and a horsey tee, much to our host’s disappointment.

The visual hazards

I didn’t know where to aim my eyes, so I stared at my horse’s ears like they were the last safe objects on Earth. The rest of the scenery was… unnecessary. By the time we got out of that nudist camp, I’d seen enough bare acreage to qualify for a land surveyor’s license.

The cactus clown incident

One horse leaned down to sniff a cactus ball on the trail and came back up wearing what can only be described as a green clown nose. The rider was not amused by the extraction process.

Sunshine, agent of chaos

Sunshine, my trusty trail horse, liked to stay right behind the lead rider. Every time the leader stopped to wait for the group, Sunshine impatiently booted the lead horse, Lefty, on the backside.

We stopped for a picnic lunch, and I led Sunshine to the table to grab an Italian sub and a paper cup of apple cider. Sunshine sniffed the sub and decided it was hers. While I was busy extracting salami and onions from her mouth, she grabbed the cider cup, wobbled it back and forth, and spilled cider everywhere. My angel had officially transformed into the nudist devil horse.

The home stretch

Despite the chaos, the ride continued. We navigated trails with naked and clothed riders alike, dodging thorns, cacti, and exuberant horses. Sunshine and I survived unscathed, though I spent a good portion of the ride praying, “Please, Lord, don’t let any horse — or bare‑assed rider — back into a cactus.”

By the end, it was clear: the wrangler‑provided horses were far better behaved than some of the human participants. Out on the trail, the humans showed off their bare essentials, while the horses remained steady, reliable, and remarkably unbothered. I’ve ridden a lot of trails in my life, but this was the only one where the humans were more exposed than the cactus — and the horses more dependable than the riders.

I survived it, laughed about it, and filed it firmly under “great story, zero interest in a sequel.”


© Romancing the Herd