lesson in lightness

Yesterday's ride on Keil Bay was another windy experience: shavings tarp flapping and billowing, dressage marker rolling, whirlwinds of leaves in the back field. Keil was extremely alert and yet still in connection with me. If I clucked or squeezed one rein, he flicked an ear back to check in.

We warmed up with lots of walk and then some lateral work. My focus for the ride was lightness of aids, and timing so that my release of pressure came a split second before he responded, so he was rewarded for the try. I've discovered I can feel his response to an aid before he makes it if I really pay attention, and my feeling is that if I reward him that quickly, he'll be happier.

I noticed right off in the trot that he was lighter than usual. The sensation was intriguing - it felt both like we were moving slowly, in the air, and that I could sense each one of his feet in its own path toward the ground. We built this up to what I call Keil's "power trot" - a big working trot bold and forward with his back fully engaged.

The real lesson in lightness came with his canter, especially to the right. The instant I asked for it and he transitioned, it felt like we went airborne. For a few strides I couldn't tell if we were truly cantering. I knew we weren't trotting, but Keil Bay's big canter didn't feel as big. Suddenly I realized he was indeed cantering, but he was fully engaged, holding himself up (he has a tendency to let me do that for him) and the result was like floating. My seat was firmly in the saddle and my hands and legs were very still.

His harder side is left and while the canter was just a bit less light in that direction, it was still quite good.

This kind of ride makes me realize once again how much the horse teaches the rider. Everything I struggle to accomplish with my own body happens on its own when Keil Bay gets light. How much of that came from my own focus on lightness of the aids, I'm not sure. But either way, the gestalt was lightness, and we were a happy riding team during and after.

There is nothing like walking a happy, relaxed horse out to the field after a great ride. I slid Keil's halter off and waited for him to turn and touch me with his nose before he ambled off down the hill.

Blog of Excellence

Grey Horse Matters awarded camera-obscura a Blog of Excellence award earlier this week. Since she writes one of my favorite blogs, it's an honor to post this award here! Thank you so much!

Go check out her blog and follow the links she lists as well - you'll find yourself immersed in great horse talk.

our little world

Today was clear and sunny but the wind made it chilly. Still, it was a gorgeous day.



I groomed Keil Bay and did some ground work with him, and then took the grooming kit out to the front field and worked on everyone. It's finally true - we have the whole song: black and bay, sorrel and gray, and one painted little pony...



Around four, the wind died down a little, so I tacked Cody up and rode. It was one of those rides you think is going to be arduous, due to time off and the distraction of the wind. But as it turned out, this 4-year old let his best self shine, and we had one of the best rides we've had in months. Maybe it was the audience: Keil Bay, Salina, Apache Moon, and Rafer came up to watch. Rafer seemed particularly perplexed. "What in the world is she doing to that horse?"

A cast of hawks coasted overhead, like a living kaleidoscope in the sky. The waxing full moon rose just as Cody and I finished up.

And finally, I got an email tonight that our newest family member was born today - his name is Redford and he will be coming to join us in August. This is Redford, very soon after his birth, with his mother, Red Velvet. You can't have just one!

foreshadowing

Today was one of those perfect days that defies the calendar and foreshadows spring: sunshine, bulbs near to bloom, a few flies buzzing around, a March wind. The horses are starting to shed some of their winter coats, and Keil Bay needed sponging after our ride. The water from the barn pump felt cool instead of cold, and lawnmowers buzzed in the afternoon. No one was actually mowing grass yet, but it was easy to imagine they might be.

The day lasted longer, it seemed. Shadows etched images all over the house, through the windows, and outside, on the back of the barn, the branches of the maple tree seemed to form a living creature, in silhouette, against the wall. The shadows of last year's leaves could easily be new ones. The horses stayed out past dark, imagining night-time turn-out in such balmy weather, because the wind died down to nothing at dusk, and suddenly it was warm, uncannily so, for the slide into evening.

Early this morning we clicked back to February and temps in the thirties. It will seem chilly today but we'll settle back in and wait for the real thing to come.

good day

Good book stuff today, continuing to weave a subplot more solidly into the novel. I love when the pieces start falling into place almost on their own.

This afternoon, I had a workshop on classical dressage. Talking about the training scale: rhythm, relaxation, connection, impulsion, straightness, and collection, and watching videos of horses and riders doing the higher level movements, analyzing the various components of the scale.

When I was young I wanted to go to a riding school where my days would be full of horses and learning. I can just imagine what it would have been like to study the training scale instead of advanced math.

A number of people lingered after class to talk about our own horses and pony club and homeopathy. Interesting discussion, favorite topics.

Good day.