Grit Blogs > Red Pine Mountain

Age Is Just A Number

A Red Pine Mountain LogoThanks to the generosity of Purina, I have some exciting posts coming up in the next couple of weeks.  I hope you'll join me for some great information on feeding your animals and for a fabulous giveaway.  But before I start those posts next week, I have something on my mind; namely age. 

Do you ever feel old? Yes, there are those who would call me old.  Increasingly, younger adults call me "Maam" but I don’t feel old.  However, I’m at that age where I’m starting to be targeted for products designed for the elderly and my mailbox is full of ads for adult diapers, hearing aids and more. I don’t feel old. (Okay, so I repeat myself now and then but who doesn’t.)

I decide to take a hike in the woods and think about the meaning of life. No dogs today; the mosquitoes are out in force, the deer flies are biting, and dogs are best left home. I have my camera but my pictures just never do justice to the woods. My best attempt comes up short but here it is.


Hard to believe another summer is almost over and in just a few short weeks, the leaves will be golden.  Another year, another birthday looming. No, I’m not that old. Okay, who am I fooling, I'm old.  In my crone years I suppose.  But I can still hike with the best of them.

I find a log and sit for a while to do some thinking but the deer flies start to bite. I read in a New Age type of book that if I pretend I am one with the bugs, they will accept me as one of their own and not bite me. I pretend.  They still bite. I decide to get moving.

Mountain Man has been hard at work spending days at his job and evenings working on his new firewood station. Now, he’s even older than I, but I can tell you for a fact most teenagers couldn’t keep up with him. It’s exhausting just watching him.


When he’s not home, I climb up onto the platform and I can see for miles. I never, ever get tired of this view.


 I try to get off the platform; realize I can’t swing my body back onto the ladder. Oh, no. I got up here. How am I going to get down? It’s steeper than it looks in the picture but it’s hours until Mountain Man returns. I take a deep breath and decide to jump. My bottom is padded after all and Mountain Man has left mounds of dirt. Here I go. I say a prayer, woosh, I’m down on the ground again. Thank you Lord!

I head over to visit the birds. The Sebastopols are growing every day. I can’t say enough good things about them.  They are amazing geese who do everything together. Where there is one, there are all four.


No longer are my babies tiny chicks.  Now, my Polish hen knows the meaning of bad hair days.  I can sympathize.


Have you ever seen an Appenzeller Spitzhauben? These chickens are so tiny yet they do not tolerate being confined. They are meant to free range and prefer to fly high and roost in trees. I understand. I can’t stand being confined either. Staying inside makes me crazed ... I lose perspective. I don’t see myself in a nursing home spending my days playing cards and eating pureed peas. Not me, I’m not old yet.  Still plenty of time to fly high.


Donkeys on the other hand prefer company. They are always together. Kind of like the geese. Friends forever, inseparable, entwined. 


Time to see Midnight, my Tennessee Walking Horse. I start to mount and every bone in my body aches.  I ask my friend "Why do we do this?" as I try to hoist my short leg over his oh, so wide back.  I plop into the saddle, Midnight sighs and off we go.  We walk around the ring for a while but I'm anxious to do more.  We've been working on getting him to gait.  He knows how to do it, but we don't know how to cue him.  We discover the secret. Tap, tap with the heels, then stick my legs straight out in front and off he goes.

It’s amazing, a blast, like riding on a floating cloud. No posting, no jarring. It’s amazing (I know, I know I repeat myself).  Awesome!  I am lost in delight as we glide around the ring.  The perfect gait for an aging Mountain Woman. My Hoveround horse. I am filled with joy. What a blast!


I shall leave you with a quote from Mark Twain:

Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.