The Big Bay and I got back to work on Thursday, after another few week hiatus from riding. Fortunately for me, Keil tends to come back quickly after a break and more often than not, we've built on what went before, even with the time in between.
We're having a bit of a puzzle with the mounting block. Keil Bay has never had an issue with it, until I forgot to tighten the girth that one day and slid underneath when I tried to mount. Interestingly, he didn't move during that debacle, but since then about half the time he will take a step back when I get on the block.
I realized yesterday that part of what happens when he does move is that I've expected him to step back, and I hesitate. The moment I hesitate he starts to step back. So I slide the block to where he's stepped and start again, but if I hesitate, he takes yet another step back. I can work through the issue pretty quickly by breaking it down into pieces, but what I'd like to do is stop my own moment of hesitation. Which gets back to my middle-aged obsession with the mounting block being at the exact right spot for mounting, something that never used to matter when I rode as a girl/young woman.
Yesterday, we did the mounting block thing two times and the third time I just visualized EASE and vaulted myself up without allowing myself to think about it. That worked well.
I have become slightly obsessed with reins lately. I think it's mostly because that's the part of my riding I'm working on most diligently right now. I feel secure in the saddle, my legs mostly do what I want w/o my having to hyper-focus on them, and Keil Bay is in front of my leg and moving with light aids. So the hands/reins are the primary focus.
I've adjusted my wrist position enough that it's happening naturally now, and that alone has made a big positive change. I'm on to two things: connecting my "hand" all the way up to my shoulder, so that there's a continuous line of "energy" that doesn't get blocked at the wrists, and practicing being able to constantly adjust rein length without it being clumsy - which is, I guess, learning to maintain a soft but steady contact with Keil Bay's mouth.
It's one of those things that is immediately gratifying - when I get all the pieces to happen at the same time, he gets very round and soft and that "circular" energy of a horse moving completely through is obvious.
The hard part, as always, is not giving up when any of those pieces fall apart, which they do, regularly at this point.
I've been thinking for awhile that the beautiful web reins that are on Keil's bridle are too wide for my small hands. They are also a bit stiff, and taking them up and loosening them is awkward. When I ride Cody, whose reins are leather and much thinner and more supple, I find the motion of gathering up/loosening reins a more organic process.
So Thursday I switched an extra set of rubber reins from the pony's spare bridle onto Keil's bridle. Although really long on the pony, they were a bit too short for the Big Bay, but even so, they had a different feel, and my hands were more comfortable. I've been attached to Keil Bay's "gear" - all of which belonged to him when I got him, but it's time to make some changes. I'm hoping on my next trip to S. Pines I can find a pair of used leather reins in the right color that are already broken in. Meanwhile, I'm going to try another spare set we have that are longer.
I've also realized recently as I go through Jane Savoie's Happy Horse DVDs, and continue studying Walter Zettl's Dressage in Harmony, that I'm not utilizing the outside rein as effectively as I should be. I am using the inside rein for too many things, the outside not enough, and I've got to focus in on this for a few rides to try and balance the two.
Otherwise, we had a good ride. We did mostly walking, a bit of trot work, and ended with some really soft and beautiful walk/trot/walk transitions around the arena in both directions. I became completely attuned to the feel of the transition moment itself, and how wonderful it feels when the two of us are in sync and the transition comes from that deep place where our positions are good, and there's almost no need for the actual aids. It's more like I think the aid and he does it.
These pure, single moments when things are so finely tuned and working perfectly are what bring me the greatest joy in riding. That I'm getting tuned in enough to feel them makes me as happy as winning blue ribbons would.
I was reading a blog the other day where a group of posters keep a sort of journal of their riding and work with horses. There are a few posters who continually refer to their horses as idiots, and talk about them "being stupid." There's almost a derisive tone to their descriptions of every ride, and it makes me wonder what brings them back to the saddle.
I can't imagine ever calling any of our horses idiots. I can't imagine blaming my horse for things that don't work. For the most part, I figure everything that happens under saddle is ultimately my responsibility, since the horse wasn't born with a human being sitting on its back, and since I know without question that even though my horses are trained to carry a rider, I am far from perfect at being in balance, giving clear and consistent cues, and rewarding them properly when they do the exact right thing I've asked.
Each time I get on my horses, I do the same thing I do when I open a new book. I allow myself to be willing to be amazed. I never get out of the saddle without expressing gratitude for the ride.
Just as in day to day life, where looking for the joyous moments brings grace and satisfaction and fulfillment, seeking the same when riding can be a path to transformation with a horse. If we seek the pitch-perfect places, however fleeting they may be, and build on them, we find softness and willingness and connection.
billie hinton’s camera-obscura:
life and lessons on November Hill Farm
Saturday, May 02, 2009
Thursday, April 30, 2009
donkeys gone wild
Yesterday afternoon I was in the small barnyard giving the Big Bay a bath. I had the barn doors closed so the donkeys and Salina were in the barn aisle with access to one stall and the big barnyard, which is their usual hang-out at that time of day during this time of year.
Cody and the pony were in the bare paddock, with access to their stalls and the back field. The sun was shining, the afternoon was quiet, and all was peaceful. I scrubbed the Big Bay with a soapy sponge, thinking how nice it was to be out there with all the animals surrounding me. What a peaceful scene! Everyone was right where they were supposed to be. Or so I thought.
My daughter came out from the house and then she came running through the barn exclaiming, "Redford just galloped out of the barn with a lead rope in his mouth!"
I laughed and told her to go get a picture. A few minutes later she came back. "The donkeys are gone!"
I had just finished rinsing Keil Bay, so I scraped him down and went to help her find them. Salina was walking around the big barnyard calling madly to her donkey boys. They weren't answering.
My daughter had gone down through the gate to the front, thinking they might have gone through the stile.
I walked to the arena, and as I looked for them, noticed the gate to the labyrinth path was open. Husband must have left it when he took wheelbarrows down!
I called to my daughter and we went down the path. Along the way we found the green lead rope, stretched out at full length as though Redford had dropped it in full gallop and it had fallen as he ran.
We went all the way down, and there in the midst of the extravagantly green and tall grass that is now taking over the labyrinth area, were two donkeys. Those long ears were the first thing I saw.
They both looked at me, alert, and for a split-second I thought they might run to get away - but they didn't. Rafer started walking toward me, and Redford followed. I gave them a rub and directed Rafer to head back up the path.
"Your mama is calling," I told him. "Head back to the barn."
He did, but Redford decided he wasn't done exploring. Daughter had to head him off and get him back on the path. Then Rafer helped out and herded Redford up the hill, keeping him on the straight and narrow.
They started running.
Up top, when they saw Salina waiting, they slowed to a walk and got in a proper donkey line. You have never seen anything so cute. Rafer Johnson in front, followed by Redford, a slow walk like two kids who got caught in the cookie jar, walking toward the mama who was going to give them a lecture. Ears were sideways, heads hung just a little. Of course Salina was so glad to see them no lecture happened, at least not that I could hear!
By the time we got back, Keil Bay had rolled, Cody was hanging his head over the gate asking for his own bath, and the pony was standing at the paddock fence looking totally disgusted. You could see exactly what he was thinking. "If that had been ME, I'd be walking around on a lead line right now, yielding this way and that. Those donkeys get away with EVERYthing!"
Cody and the pony were in the bare paddock, with access to their stalls and the back field. The sun was shining, the afternoon was quiet, and all was peaceful. I scrubbed the Big Bay with a soapy sponge, thinking how nice it was to be out there with all the animals surrounding me. What a peaceful scene! Everyone was right where they were supposed to be. Or so I thought.
My daughter came out from the house and then she came running through the barn exclaiming, "Redford just galloped out of the barn with a lead rope in his mouth!"
I laughed and told her to go get a picture. A few minutes later she came back. "The donkeys are gone!"
I had just finished rinsing Keil Bay, so I scraped him down and went to help her find them. Salina was walking around the big barnyard calling madly to her donkey boys. They weren't answering.
My daughter had gone down through the gate to the front, thinking they might have gone through the stile.
I walked to the arena, and as I looked for them, noticed the gate to the labyrinth path was open. Husband must have left it when he took wheelbarrows down!
I called to my daughter and we went down the path. Along the way we found the green lead rope, stretched out at full length as though Redford had dropped it in full gallop and it had fallen as he ran.
We went all the way down, and there in the midst of the extravagantly green and tall grass that is now taking over the labyrinth area, were two donkeys. Those long ears were the first thing I saw.
They both looked at me, alert, and for a split-second I thought they might run to get away - but they didn't. Rafer started walking toward me, and Redford followed. I gave them a rub and directed Rafer to head back up the path.
"Your mama is calling," I told him. "Head back to the barn."
He did, but Redford decided he wasn't done exploring. Daughter had to head him off and get him back on the path. Then Rafer helped out and herded Redford up the hill, keeping him on the straight and narrow.
They started running.
Up top, when they saw Salina waiting, they slowed to a walk and got in a proper donkey line. You have never seen anything so cute. Rafer Johnson in front, followed by Redford, a slow walk like two kids who got caught in the cookie jar, walking toward the mama who was going to give them a lecture. Ears were sideways, heads hung just a little. Of course Salina was so glad to see them no lecture happened, at least not that I could hear!
By the time we got back, Keil Bay had rolled, Cody was hanging his head over the gate asking for his own bath, and the pony was standing at the paddock fence looking totally disgusted. You could see exactly what he was thinking. "If that had been ME, I'd be walking around on a lead line right now, yielding this way and that. Those donkeys get away with EVERYthing!"
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
a day of writing with horses and sand
A Day of Writing With Horses and Sand
(no experience with horses necessary, no mounted work)
Two dates available: Friday May 29th OR Saturday May 30th (you are welcome to register for both days if you like)
10 a.m. - 4 p.m.
Come to November Hill and work on poetry, fiction, nonfiction, journalling, or anything you like, in the company of horses, miniature donkeys, and myself.
Schedule for these days:
10 - 10:30: introductions and intentions for the day
10:30 - 12: time with horses and donkeys
12 - 1: writing time (you may work on your own or do guided writing with me)
1 - 2: lunch - bring your own, beverages provided - with discussion
2 - 4: time with the sandtrays
Cost: $75 for the day (reduced this year to help with budgeting in these tighter times)
Email to register HERE
Saturday, April 25, 2009
foreshadowing summer
This is what greeted me this evening when I went out to the barn, a big giant rune in the sky:
And then the donkey boys, who see a camera and here they come:
It should be spring.
We've had our annual sprinkle of April birthdays: husband, Keil Bay, Apache Moon, and my daughter's is soon to arrive. The baby birds in the barn erupt in a fit of chirping every time we make a sound. We're on our second batch of fly predators.
The carpenter bees are buzzing, insects humming, and green explodes around us in every direction.
But we're into a string of 90 degree days right now, and it feels a LOT like summer already.
Today the big industrial fans got taken down, cleaned, and put back up with new baling twine. The horses came in and I am pretty sure I heard Keil Bay heave a sigh of relief when the fans came on. They're like big sound machines, almost like the roar of surf. When you're inside the barn on a hot day, with the fans going, it's like being on a big ship sailing for a distant destination, motor churning softly, far away from the hustle and bustle of the regular world.
The morning routine now includes feeding, checking for ticks, rinsing any bites or scrapes with calendula tincture in cool water, and then a quick brushing and fly spraying.
The horses go back out after breakfast until the heat of the day arrives, when they wander in again to find clean stalls, fans, hay, and fresh buckets of water. If you go out between 2-3 p.m. you are likely to find Keil Bay stretched out snoring. Other times you find horses playing musical stalls, and Salina and the donkeys are likely to be standing in the barn aisle.
Around 5-6 p.m. they head back to the field, rested and ready to enjoy the onset of evening.
In the next week or so we'll be getting eastern encephalitis shots and updated Coggins, and they'll all have their teeth checked to see who, if anyone, needs floating.
I'm excited to have a new homeopathic remedy from our vet this year, for use on the day of shots to help ameliorate side effects.
Riding needs to be done either first thing in the morning, or well after sunset. I hope to try out the new Cool Medic vest this year, which you soak down with water, squeeze out, and then wear. Supposedly it keeps you cool as a cucumber, which will make riding so much easier on these hot days.
I think we're all hoping this is an aberration, and that we get at least another month of spring before summer arrives. Meanwhile, there are cat and corgi bodies laid out like little throw rugs all over the house, I have put in the annual Lands End sandal order, and I'm counting down the days to Thursday, when the local farmers' market will surely be bursting with locally grown bounty for easy summer meals.
And then the donkey boys, who see a camera and here they come:
It should be spring.
We've had our annual sprinkle of April birthdays: husband, Keil Bay, Apache Moon, and my daughter's is soon to arrive. The baby birds in the barn erupt in a fit of chirping every time we make a sound. We're on our second batch of fly predators.
The carpenter bees are buzzing, insects humming, and green explodes around us in every direction.
But we're into a string of 90 degree days right now, and it feels a LOT like summer already.
Today the big industrial fans got taken down, cleaned, and put back up with new baling twine. The horses came in and I am pretty sure I heard Keil Bay heave a sigh of relief when the fans came on. They're like big sound machines, almost like the roar of surf. When you're inside the barn on a hot day, with the fans going, it's like being on a big ship sailing for a distant destination, motor churning softly, far away from the hustle and bustle of the regular world.
The morning routine now includes feeding, checking for ticks, rinsing any bites or scrapes with calendula tincture in cool water, and then a quick brushing and fly spraying.
The horses go back out after breakfast until the heat of the day arrives, when they wander in again to find clean stalls, fans, hay, and fresh buckets of water. If you go out between 2-3 p.m. you are likely to find Keil Bay stretched out snoring. Other times you find horses playing musical stalls, and Salina and the donkeys are likely to be standing in the barn aisle.
Around 5-6 p.m. they head back to the field, rested and ready to enjoy the onset of evening.
In the next week or so we'll be getting eastern encephalitis shots and updated Coggins, and they'll all have their teeth checked to see who, if anyone, needs floating.
I'm excited to have a new homeopathic remedy from our vet this year, for use on the day of shots to help ameliorate side effects.
Riding needs to be done either first thing in the morning, or well after sunset. I hope to try out the new Cool Medic vest this year, which you soak down with water, squeeze out, and then wear. Supposedly it keeps you cool as a cucumber, which will make riding so much easier on these hot days.
I think we're all hoping this is an aberration, and that we get at least another month of spring before summer arrives. Meanwhile, there are cat and corgi bodies laid out like little throw rugs all over the house, I have put in the annual Lands End sandal order, and I'm counting down the days to Thursday, when the local farmers' market will surely be bursting with locally grown bounty for easy summer meals.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
tree of life Bay
This morning in my email inbox, I found the most lovely photo of Keil Bay, titled Handsome Bay, from my husband, who must have snuck this photo in sometime over the past week or so.
I kept looking at it in between checking email, reading blogs, etc. and then I saw the real picture within the picture.
It's Keil Bay, with the tree of life coming right up out of his back. What an amazing photo, and so very appropriate for my handsome, amazing horse. Thanks, Matthew.
I kept looking at it in between checking email, reading blogs, etc. and then I saw the real picture within the picture.
It's Keil Bay, with the tree of life coming right up out of his back. What an amazing photo, and so very appropriate for my handsome, amazing horse. Thanks, Matthew.
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