Top O' The Hill Farm: Foggy Morning Farm and the JOY of riding

Some scientists claim that there is an abundance of negatively charged ions in sea air and that they could have health benefits which range from better circulation to improved moods. The constant moving water and waves create a negatively charged atmosphere similar to the relaxing natural environments near waterfalls, on mountains, in forests or by the sea. A lot of people have enough faith in these effects to purchase negative ion generators for their homes.

There are some mornings I wake up here in Vermont and immediately I feel the ocean. For the first 18 years of my life, I was lucky to live very close to the Atlantic Ocean. Mornings there nearly always began with a moving fog that had a mystical quality and muted the sounds of seaside living—the clanging bouy bells and fog horns, screech of the scavenging seagulls.

We obviously don’t have any of those here in the mountains of Vermont, but when the fog rolls down the hills – and the light morning breezes cause the gate latches to clang against metal and the unique clacking chatter of crows convening for their early dawn meetings. - it immediately transports me back to the sea. I love these kinds of mornings.

Yesterday- we had such a fog.. creeping down on cold cat feet. I have read that if you can’t reside by the ocean for the positive mood effects of the ions of ocean air—hunkering down in the mountains is the next best thing.. as the ionization of the air is the same. I grew up totally immersed in the sea and salty air… but I don’t miss it at all… as my little mountain top here in Vermont duplicates that atmosphere and satisfies my soul. I had to snap photo's of this creeping moving fog around the farm.

My foggy fields

Mountain mists

foggy woods and barnyard

The 'shoreline' at the farm- my little pond with my windflags

Fog settles in droplets on a spiderweb.

As a child.. my sister and I would merely have to walk a short ways through a little opening in the overgrown hedge and across the fields to be at the shore of the ocea. This was not beach—but a rough rocky place- where you were either on the sharp side of the pudding rock cliffs.. or in the deep ocean- no half-way steps here. Every single time I stood at the point of leaping in—I was always .. for that millisecond- torn – remain on the safe or leap into the unknown mystery. This ocean was full of beauty and lots of “scary stuff’. Underwater rock formations covered in all manner of colorful seaweeds – looking like tentacles – fish darting in and out- often a prehistoric looking horseshoe crab lazily gliding by, anemone opening and closing with the swells and starfish and sea urchins clinging steadfastly. Some days we snorkled with masks – and my breath was fast and ragged.. with a mix of brave curiosity and awe for the beauty and a kind of trembling jittery anxiety of the unknown. That mix of apprehension and wonderment was- each time- a real ‘high’ for me.

Riding a horse is so much like that-- no matter how many years I’ve ridden—how many different horses I’ve journeyed on.. each and every time I climb in the saddle it’s just like standing on the pudding rock ready to leap into the ocean.. anticipation and excitement, butterflies and that fleeting moment of backing out.

But once you leap and ride—it’s an indescribable feeling of freedom.. for me just like being in the ocean. Awe, beauty, contentment, release. It’s an exhilarating liberating activity—and satisfying that I can leap and fly and ride the swells with such powerful joy-every single time !