Wind
I had quite an interesting ride on Connie this morning. She was so silly while I was trying to tack her up I went and fetched Jenny, thinking that she might actually be lame, and I was pressing on a sore spot. Nah, said Jenny casually–although she did come and check her over. She’s just a little lively because she didn’t get ridden yesterday.* And the wind, you know, she added, all horses are a little silly in wind like this.
Urgh. I’m old and tired and timid and I don’t want any adventures. She’ll be fine, said Jenny bracingly.** I’m sure she will, I mutter. So I finish the tacking up process and we go out to the schooling ring to find out how bad it’s going to be. Well we got some very nice active trot and then–blimey–some flying changes. It’s true, you just change the bend ever so gently on this astonishingly well-intentioned mare, you feel the faintest flick of reorganisation under you and hey presto you’re on the other lead. Jenny had told me first time I rode her that a canter will brighten up her trot so at this point things were going so flashily we went back to trot and I asked for some lengthenings and by golly we got those too: powering up that slope in seven league horseshoes. The schooling ring has a flat end where the lessons are and a long slope at the other end where you can muck about. I kind of like schooling on a slope occasionally: gives you an extra dimension to keep both of you paying attention–and an upslope is a hell of an aid to getting your horse’s butt under her and working.*** When it’s wussy me running the show, as opposed to a lesson, I’m a lot more likely to ask something daring on an upslope.†
At this point Jenny’s next lesson began so we tactfully withdrew. We’re for it now: out into the countryside with the wind for company. I somehow felt a gallop under the circumstances was probably not best advised so we went a different way–I’m also still in the early stages of learning which bits of this extremely hellhound-familiar countryside are suitable for taking a horse over. And there were kind of a lot of goblins out today–pheasants–eek–but then erupting pheasants startle me–threateningly bobbing white cow parsley–it’s the white that does it–ooooo--cows–well they’re awfully big–aaaaaaah–discourteously over-familiar tree branches–yiiiiiiiii–and so on. We went sideways almost as much as we went forward–but hey, most of the tracks are pretty narrow, so our progress was mostly a sort of sashay–but the crucial thing is we kept going forward. I’m slightly more competent about staying in the saddle than I give myself credit for, but what I absolutely hate and fear is a horse losing its common sense and going for meltdown. You’re only too aware of the fact that you weigh one-tenth what this creature weighs when it’s exploding. Connie never got close–she was only suffering a little case of Critter on Windy Day.†† We power-trotted most of the way–on the excellent grounds that in spirited conditions a walk is too slow and a canter too fast–and we came back all chipper and jolly and ready for our cup of tea/hay. Jenny asked me how it had gone and I said that it had actually been a lot of fun, and that the remarkable-to-me thing was that we’d kept going forward. Jenny nodded and said, yes, that’s Connie. –How did I get this lucky?†††
The other yard news is that Horse-for-sale passed his vetting—to Jenny’s surprise‡ as well as mine. He was 100% doing all the things a horse actually does, and while a little reactive to some of the extreme flexion tests, the vet said, he’s a middle-aged thoroughbred, this is as sound as you can hope for. May he stay that way, said Jenny darkly. He left this morning-sniff–but I have a horse.‡‡ And Jenny has a new horse coming in for schooling, another thoroughbred, off the track, but having proved to have less schooling as a riding horse than its new owner was expecting, she’s looking for someone else to do the hard stuff. I’m going to try to go round Monday morning and see Jenny work New Horse . . . and Connie.‡‡‡ It’ll be a treat to see my horse go really well for someone who knows what she’s doing. I’ll try to remember to take my camera.
* * *
* Note that all Jenny’s horses are out in a field somewhere at least twelve hours a day. Jenny is so my hero in so many ways.^ If she sold her old, charming, cranky yard, and all the land with it, she could afford (as has been pointed out to her) to build a new shiny gorgeous well organised high tech yard . . . with the all-too-usual sort of limited turn-out for the new shiny gorgeous high-tech horses that would live there. She doesn’t want to. She likes her yard as it is. (She does admit that it’s a little hard to keep clean, being full of nooks and crannies and generations of creative mends and patches.)
^ And I would die of embarrassment if I thought she would ever read this, but I’m 99.9999% sure I’m safe. She does know this blog exists, because I keep calling Connie . . . Connie, instead of her real-world name, and I had to tell her why. Fortunately she was amused.
** I think I’ve said before that Jenny’s one fault is lack of grasp of the depths of cowardice that many of us horse-mad descend to. She’s been running a boarding stable for twenty years or so and gives lessons to everyone who boards with her: she’s certainly aware of the rampant timorousness among the amateur horse-mad. I suspect she may even attract the wimpish element because she’s such a reassuring mixture of sensible and kind–and she’s a damn good teacher. But she obviously has trouble getting her head around it. My impression is that she doesn’t understand why anyone would want to pursue a sport/hobby/avocation they’re afraid of. Uh, well . . .
*** Old schooling slang: you want an ‘uphill’ trot or an ‘uphill’ canter.
†On the subject of Jenny’s attraction for the chicken-hearted, I’ve been fooling around with Connie in the schooling ring three (I think) times now and every time some different person and horse combination cringes anxiously at the gate and calls to me apprehensively, Is it all right if I come in? –It’s a big field.
By no means all her lessons are like this. I’ve seen some quite exciting ones. But there are an awful lot of women–from about eight years old up–who obviously read THE BLACK STALLION at an impressionable age, and nothing is going to stop them learning to ride, not the collywobbles, not a mind that goes blank under stress of collywobbles, not an utter lack of talent and/or coordination, not . . .
†† I’d already been through it with the hellhounds, of course, but they’re smaller.
††† Do I have to worry about it?
‡ Horses that have never been lame a day in their lives go three-legged upon the arrival of the vet to pass them for purchase. It’s a universal law.
‡‡ Hannah told Ruby I’d started riding again, and how wonderful my mare is, and Ruby said, when can we go to England again?
‡‡‡ Supposing I get out of bed in time. Jenny keeps farmer’s hours. I keep . . . writer’s hours.
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Oooh! You’re early today. And Connie entries are a delightful way to start a Sunday morning. Did I mention I’m riding vicariously through you? :-)
Riding schools. I wonder if there are any riding schools around here. Ones that aren’t an hour’s drive away.
And all this just makes me wish I had a horse to ride and time to ride said horse in and skill to ride said horse with. Alas.
Do remember to take your camera, as I know many of us would like to see Connie even if WordPress stubbornly tries to stop you from putting pictures on.
*happysigh* Jenny’s horses and fields sound amazing. More storybook land. I *do* hope you will remember your camera. I love *all* the photos of England you’ve put up so far. What a gorgeous place.
It *is* gorgeous . . . but remember I’m AIMING at the gorgeous bits. We have The Other Bits too. I need PhotoShop–and a tutorial how to use it–so I can GET RID OF (*&^%$£”!!!! PYLONS.
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*****I’ll try to remember to take my camera.*****
Oooh. If you have one, take a video camera too. That way you’ll have footage of her being worked at her best, and one of these days you’ll figure out how to post it here…
*****Note that all Jenny’s horses are out in a field somewhere at least twelve hours a day. Jenny is so my hero in so many ways.*****
Yeah. Horses have to be horses. I don’t have too much patience for people with expensive show horses who won’t turn them out for fear they’ll get unsightly scars. Put them in boots if you’re worried about injuries, but for heaven’s sake, living in a stall except for work is no life for a horse. They’re herd animals and grazing animals and they need to go out and graze and play with their friends.
*****And I would die of embarrassment if I thought she would ever read this*****
(*smile*) I also tend to be very embarrassed if I get caught saying nice things about other people. Have no idea why.
*****I think I’ve said before that Jenny’s one fault is lack of grasp of the depths of cowardice that many of us horse-mad descend to. She’s been running a boarding stable for twenty years or so and gives lessons to everyone who boards with her: she’s certainly aware of the rampant timorousness among the amateur horse-mad.*****
George H. Morris (remember him? God of hunter seat equitation?) wrote in his book that their are two kinds of fear when it comes to horses, and they’re usually mutually exclusive: fear of getting hurt and fear of looking stupid or incompetent. I’m one of the timorous ones who is terribly afraid of getting hurt. Don’t know why, since I’ve been through so many injuries by now that I should know that they don’t kill you unless they kill you (hah). I couldn’t care less about looking stupid, even at a show. Apparently some people agonize over that, and those people tend to be the ones who are physically fearless.
*****But there are an awful lot of women–from about eight years old up–who obviously read THE BLACK STALLION at an impressionable age, and nothing is going to stop them learning to ride*****
Ever go back and read those books once you grew up and knew a substantial amount about horses? I’ve got the entire series and I enjoy reading them every now and then. But they are completely inaccurate when it comes to horse psychology and how to ride. Amazing.
Judith
Yeah. Horses have to be horses. I don’t have too much patience for people with expensive show horses who won’t turn them out for fear they’ll get unsightly scars. Put them in boots if you’re worried about injuries, but for heaven’s sake, living in a stall except for work is no life for a horse. They’re herd animals and grazing animals and they need to go out and graze and play with their friends.
&&&&&&&&&& Or spoil their coats! Good gods! Or let them have any real exercise because it’ll ruin their soft plump lines! –Showing in hand used to be about being FAT, although this may have changed. But I was reminded of all the women who didn’t want to work out because it would give them UNSIGHTLY MUSCLES.
*****And I would die of embarrassment if I thought she would ever read this*****
(*smile*) I also tend to be very embarrassed if I get caught saying nice things about other people. Have no idea why.
&&&&&&&&& I don’t think it’s specifically saying something nice. I think it’s saying something blush-makingly nice behind someone’s back when you haven’t said it to their faces. I think *Jenny* would be embarrassed if I told her she was my hero.
*****I think I’ve said before that Jenny’s one fault is lack of grasp of the depths of cowardice that many of us horse-mad descend to. She’s been running a boarding stable for twenty years or so and gives lessons to everyone who boards with her: she’s certainly aware of the rampant timorousness among the amateur horse-mad.*****
George H. Morris (remember him? God of hunter seat equitation?)
&&&&&&&&& Vividly. I rode for him once. It was not one of my better days. . . .
wrote in his book that their are two kinds of fear when it comes to horses, and they’re usually mutually exclusive: fear of getting hurt and fear of looking stupid or incompetent. I’m one of the timorous ones who is terribly afraid of getting hurt. Don’t know why, since I’ve been through so many injuries by now that I should know that they don’t kill you unless they kill you (hah). I couldn’t care less about looking stupid, even at a show. Apparently some people agonize over that, and those people tend to be the ones who are physically fearless.
&&&&&&&& Hmm. I don’t remember this. Well, I’m the timid, over imaginative type, certainly. I posted here didn’t I, about getting back with horses again, being struck all over how BIG they are? I’m now used to hellhounds, and *they’ve* managed to leave a few scars. But I think I was born missing the dignity gene. I was also born missing the *show* gene. I showed when I was younger, because that’s what you did, but I can’t imagine what would get me to a real show now (as an entrant. I admit I’ve been to one or two schooling shows). For one thing all that FUSS? White britches? And your grey horse WILL develop ‘stable stains’ as they’re politely called overnight, even if you BLEACHED him/her last thing and wrapped him/her up in BALES of cotton wool.
*****But there are an awful lot of women–from about eight years old up–who obviously read THE BLACK STALLION at an impressionable age, and nothing is going to stop them learning to ride*****
Ever go back and read those books once you grew up and knew a substantial amount about horses? I’ve got the entire series and I enjoy reading them every now and then. But they are completely inaccurate when it comes to horse psychology and how to ride. Amazing.
********* Indeed. We’ll have to do a Silly Horse Book List some time. :)
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Note that all Jenny’s horses are out in a field somewhere at least twelve hours a day.
That is AWESOME. It’s so difficult to find places that will do that, especially at affordable rates.
Can’t wait to see pictures!
(PS. Joss Whedon’s Astonishing X-Men run has concluded. Best comic series I’ve read yet. Warren Ellis has taken over the title, but his story is meant to be separate from Whedon’s, mostly.)
Yes. It seems to me they’re better about it over here than in America but that may just be the barns I’ve been at.
Joss Whedon’s Astonishing X-Men run has concluded. Best comic series I’ve read yet.
******* I will have to get my butt in gear and order the last ones then.
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****Do I have to worry about it?****
Nope. Just say thanks to the powers that be. Sometimes things just work out! :D
I don’t know what it is about windy days that gets critters all cranked up, but it is so consistent. Old and settled dogs will go out and start acting the fool like they were youngsters on a nice windy fall day. Younger ones can head straight into brain spasm. When I take a puppy to an outdoor show on a windy day, I always hope for an understanding and tolerant judge.
****. . . writer’s hours****
Pretty reasonable hours, actually. Who *wants* to see five in the morning?
Nope.
********* Oh. Okay. :)
Just say thanks to the powers that be. Sometimes things just work out! :D
I don’t know what it is about windy days that gets critters all cranked up, but it is so consistent. Old and settled dogs will go out and start acting the fool like they were youngsters on a nice windy fall day. Younger ones can head straight into brain spasm. When I take a puppy to an outdoor show on a windy day, I always hope for an understanding and tolerant judge.
******** Ozone or something? I can *imagine* that wind under your tail can make you silly, but the air on a windy day does seem to be trying to crank even tailless trousered humans up.
Who *wants* to see five in the morning?
******** Except from the back end of course. That does however have dreadful implications for the following day. Unfortunately.
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Reading this, I was just wondering if you could train the hellhounds – or at least Darkness – to sit on a leather pad behind your saddle on Connie, as was the style with cheetahs trained for hunting in earlier times. What do you think…? :)
I think I want to *live* . . . :)
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“I think I want to *live* . . . :)”
Oh, all right then, I can understand that. It would have made a lovely picture though…:)
*************
I’m onto the third can of beer, for slug traps, in a week. Where are they all *coming* from (*despairs*)!!. Our hedgpigs just aren’t working hard enough, obviously. I’ll swear our poor ‘Bishop’ dahlias will give up if this goes on…
LOL!
I’m putting out the so-called organic blue pellets (how can anything organic be that COLOUR?) like nobody’s business. Next morning half-inch-deep layer (well nearly) of same is GONE. I was thinking sadly that my Duchess of Albany clematis, which is normally a *thug*, had died over the winter, which was very surprising, and was sweeping the leaves off that bit of bed . . . and discovered all forty-six or so of her stems were merely being eaten to ground level by slugs. One half-inch-deep layer of blue pellets later. . . .
“and discovered all forty-six or so of her stems were merely being eaten to ground level by slugs.”
Oh, horrible. Poor Duchess! And that the Bishop here is about the same. The trap I emptied out next to him this morning had 23 in it – and that’s after two similar previous hauls this week. Perhaps if I started nailing the corpes up on the fence, the others would take warning?
My last answer appears to have been, ahem, eaten, by virtual slugs, no doubt. I said: I don’t think it actually works with crows either. . . .
“I don’t think it actually works with crows either. . . .”
No, I’m sure you’re right. Those were gruesome times – but while those old gamekeepers had an enormous amount of knowledge, in most cases, they didn’t get it about the fact that if you clear anything natural to it out of a particular habitat, it will be seen as a very desirable opportunity to move into an ideal ecosystem by those same creatures from elsewhere. I’ll just have to keep going with the beer (I’m not risking any sort of pellets, with hedgepigs – and a lot of birds – around. Your walled arena is a bit different, I know.)
Our crow fosterling and his family have all been down on the lawn in the evenings, this last 10 days, playing in and around the largest bird bath. They are so funny, with this year’s youngsters behaving recognisably as young teenagers…
Well–*twitch*–the stuff SAYS safe for pets, hedgehogs, etc. But I don’t put it in the hellhounds’ reach.
Crows are a riot. And yes, the young ones ACT like young ones.
Connie and Jenny both sound super! I’ve so enjoyed your descriptions of your recent adventures on horseback. I’m also hoping to get back to riding myself soon. There’s a nice stable I found nearby… I’ll keep you posted.
I was curious… when is writing time for you? I’m assuming it’s daily but there’s so much else you blog about that I’m not sure where you work it in… I remember you writing about being in the old house with Peter and having typewriters/computers within hollering distance of each other…. I think? How does it work now with cottage and mews and third house?
Oh and thanks for the excerpt of Peter’s story. I ‘ll have to go hunt up a full copy.
Lastly, how did you find the Blue Castle? Don’t you love how Montgomery simply slides by the physical aspect of marriage in her accounts of Valancy and Barney’s time together on the island? Any chance you were able to read A Tangled Web by the same author?
ta,
A
Yes, daily. Mornings, usually, but I try to get back at least either afternoon or evening.
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