Fall Friskies

Ah... Fall.. crisp cool nights, cider donuts, pumpkin beer... and frisky, show-off horses.

Well, it's about time for an update -- we can start with my major revelations and the disaster-wreck that was my most recent ride.

Yesterday, after carefully roping an unwilling assistant in the form of a sister (who, may I mention, required extraction from her house the next town over in the form of copious Starbucks fodder), we decided to cross the road in front of barn to school at the farm a little down the ways - about a half mile of walking undersaddle. Said farm is a lovely facility -- indoor with mirrors (so you can see how horrible your position has gotten over the past month!), nice outdoor adjacent to a very busy road, and plenty of capable riders who watch in horror when a rider can't control their misbehaving horse. We hacked over in good spirits, and I was looking forward to having an engaging ride with Holden.

You see, two things have stunted our dressagerly progress: my inexplicable lack of good aids and timing, and the fact that our home ring is based on the side of a hill. This has proved challenging for me because in this stage of Holden's training it's either work on the balance and forget the contact, or work on the contact and hope his extended trot down the hill doesn't end with a faceplant. We thought schooling in a real live ring would help.

"You want me to behave? Yea.."

Well, you know what they say about horses and plans -- I think mice are involved too. It was a disaster -- my kick ride that is W/T/C with reasonable contact mount regressed to 2 year old Thoroughbred before the gates at first call - bouncing, jigging, tenser than a cat suspended over water.. He felt like a keg of dynamite and it was all I could do to keep his trot manageable. We cantered (well, HE cantered -- I hung on for dear life) and worked on walk halt transitions and shamefully made our way home. Of course, the heathen wasn't even remotely repentant -- he even offered a chipper nicker as we crested the rise of our driveway.

I decided to chalk this up as a loss due to fall and greenness, and elected instead to take on a safer engagement -- braiding. I mean, despite the fact my horse is apparently not ready to trot down the centerline without hysterics, I still can keep the delusional dream going and practice braiding, right? Besides, if he's braided at least he looks pretty during his best primadonna moments.

"Mom! What did you do to me?"

I had practiced earlier that week and the braids (which I trusted would turn out spectacularly after watching a few know-how videos on Youtube) came out looking like swollen door knockers. This is why you practice, right?

I watched a few more videos, got some helpful critique (thanks COTH powers that be!) and set to braiding - the weather was cool, the bugs were gone, and my horse had reverted to his placid self. In ten swift minutes I had plaited the entire sweep of his braid into 8 neat, Pony-Club inspector improved sections and was just about to start sewing... when the plastic needle broke!

Whatever. There's always tomorrow.