june

It feels like June has snuck up and tapped me on the shoulder, out of the blue. Whenever I step outside, the sound of insects, the vivid green against bright blue sky, and the heat of the season all seem omnipresent. I'm not sure if that's part of why I have been feeling overwhelmed this week, as though I've been weighted down with things to do while at the same time shifted into slow motion.

Yesterday I opened the back door and the red tails were having a fit over something. My daughter came in later with a lovely photograph that made me realize yet again how far we are into this season.

Today I was on the front porch, looking at the garden beds, noting that the muscadine grape vines I cut so severely back only a month ago have come back with ferocity and are taking over again. The trumpet vine is doing the same thing. I have visions of a grape arbor on the side of my porch, and a bed that is, while somewhat wild, a bit more ordered. What I have is pure chaos out there. Lovely, but out of control.

Like me and my eroding schedule. I've got to get the routine shifted before it gets any hotter, or just give up on riding until fall arrives.

The summer solstice hasn't even rolled around yet and already I'm longing for autumn!

Sometimes the seasons are sweetest when they're just around the bend from where we are. But when I slow down in the morning and do things with a quieter tempo, I make the most of the rhythms that sing this time of year.

off to see the wizard

When we got home after a long afternoon at the horse show, I checked email and found that my OED word of the day was spooky:


Of, pertaining to, or characteristic of spirits or the supernatural; frightening, eerie.

Surfing. Of a wave: dangerous or frightening.

Of a person (or animal): nervous; easily frightened; superstitious.

Of or pertaining to spies or espionage.


We didn't hold a seance with the pony, nor did we attempt to surf with him. He's a bit boldly colored to be a spy.

But his first ride in the lakeside dressage arena did bring out a bit of anxiety, some fear, and all the relaxation and rhythm, the base of the training scale in dressage, went right out the window!

Combine that with a very tough judge and you get low scores and lots of "glass half empty" comments. The scores and comments were so low and negative that competitors were openly remarking on them at the ribbon table and the scoreboard.

In spite of this, though, we had a good day that I consider quite successful. The pony loaded perfectly onto the trailer, and unloaded just as well. He was well behaved and easy to handle. We parked beside a trailer full of ponies, one even smaller than he is, and that was a first. The little pony nickers were cute, and they all kept checking each other out. Interestingly, the ponies were being ridden by a local trainer (a tiny woman) and it was really fun to see. She was very enthusiastic about ponies in general, and we kept tabs on how the rides were going throughout the afternoon. She told me we should plan to all show up and overwhelm the judges with ponies throughout the season! I love that idea.

We tacked the Little Man up and took him to see the lakeside arena, then went to warm-up. He was quite alert, looking and checking things out, and there were a few upset horses in warm-up, kicking out, rearing, and generally not happy. In hindsight, we should have persisted with a longer warm-up, but at the time, it just wasn't much fun being in that melee.

The lakeside arena had been reduced for the day to a 20m x 40m size, and the extra 20m was being used for the warm-up box. There was another box outside of that so you could warm up while waiting. The pony wasn't thrilled. The lakeside arena is actually quite beautiful. It sits just down a short but steep hill from the big covered arena, and then there's another hill on the outside that drops down to a small lake.

There are geese and assorted other birds, lots of insect noise, especially as the day passed, and a fair amount of distraction on all sides. Upper level rides were going on in the covered arena, with readers calling out upper level tests on a mike. (hearing that while trying to ride my own test would have completely done me in)

I've heard from many riders over the past two years that many folks don't like riding in the lakeside, because it has so much potential for spooking. Most of the time they use it for the very upper level tests.

When my daughter rode the pony into the first warm-up box, he managed himself okay. He wasn't thrilled but he didn't balk. When it was her turn to ride into the next box, he did balk a little, and he really didn't like the A marker that was sitting there. He spooked at it, then she rode up to and had him sniff it, then he tried to knock it down with his hoof. Ahem!

And then the little bell rang and it was time for him to start his test - the most difficult one she'd signed up to ride. We'd already talked about not worrying about score, but using the test to break him in to the new environment.

The first difficulty was the judge's stand itself. Riding down center line he looked like Dorothy and her friends approaching the Great Oz himself. The pony did okay to X, but after the halt and salute he was very nervous about going to C. The judge's stand is a covered gazebo, with latticed wood around the bottom so that it looks like a checkerboard pattern with the white and the shadow. There's a mimosa tree behind it, which was dripping gorgeous feathery blooms down around the little structure, but the woman in the hat who stood up inside this monstrosity was just too much. He veered to the left, he veered to the right, while my daughter sat calm and deep and just kept working him through this. However, it was clearly going to take some time, so the judge called out that she could proceed toward B and continue from there.

B is the mid-point marker on the long side and in this arena was the side nearest the lake. The B marker also had a lovely mimosa planted behind it, and it proved to be a sticky point for many horses throughout the day. The pony was very happy to be heading away from the All Powerful Oz judge, but when he saw B looming ahead, it may as well have been the Wicked Witch herself behind it. He spooked again.

I have to say, my daughter kept her cool. In the face of that much chaos, I would have forgotten the test completely. But she kept her head, kept her deep seat, and continued riding. They had some good moments, particularly the free walk, which she smartly used to relax him and proceed with a bit more relaxation into the second half of the test. Still, it was a tough ride and she knew the score would be low.

We had just enough time to untack and offer hay and water, sponge him off, and breathe, before it was time to go back to warm-up and get ready for the next test.

Second test was the second most complex of the day, but we talked about improving on the first ride and again, not worrying about overall performance.

They did much better. He got over the fear of the judge's stand and redirected his anxiety to the markers, mostly the B. Near the end of the test he knocked over a rail near A. But he was more relaxed overall and they raised their total score by a few points.

We had a longer break before the last test, so we untacked, sponged, and tied him to the trailer so he could eat and drink and relax while we had lunch in the little bit of shade our trailer cast.

We reviewed the score sheets and comments and relaxed.

Then we got ready for the last warm-up and ride of the day. By this time the pony was fairly ready for the routine. He had a couple of rough spots but managed to get a fifth place and again raised the total score. My daughter decided she wanted to spend a little time riding him before we left, in order to continue to build on his improved demeanor and comfort level.

The rings were all clearing out, and she took him back to warm-up to do some big trotting and cantering, and then hacked around the grounds a bit, by the portable john, over to the jump ring, and past the award stand. We asked if we could go back down to lakeside and ride a few tests on our own, since the rides down there were all done. They said we were welcome to, and off we went. Daughter rode him down and I marched in on foot, and headed directly to B. He touched the top of the marker with his nose, I shook the mimosa branch and let him smell a mimosa bloom. I walked up to the judge's stand and then stood there, trying to be menacing as daughter rode him back through the first test of the day. He of course did much much better, and they had a full ride with no spooking.

She trotted by B in both directions a number of times, circling to make sure he was comfortable with it. It was nice to end on a fun note in that scary place. Much like coming back to Oz with the witch's broom and realizing - there is no Great and Powerful Oz. Just an empty judge's stand and a sand arena, with a few not so scary geese and some mimosas swaying in the breeze.

But we didn't stop there. My daughter rode him out of the arena and onto the grass around the arena, behind B and the mimosa, right by the lake, and right by the judge's stand. He was fine. We were then able to head back to the trailer feeling like we had truly accomplished something, and very proud of a little painted pony who faced down his fears and conquered them so nicely.

The next show in the series is in August, so we're looking forward to another day with some challenges and opportunities to improve.

Today we woke up to fog and clouds. A nice respite from yesterday's sun, and a quiet day on November Hill.

dreary day, brilliant daughter, happy horse, busy weekend

It was rainy and cool here today, and I'd been waiting for just this sort of break in the temps to do our last equine deworming until September.

Redford led the herd in getting his portion. He saw the tube of ivermectin and marched up, eager to take it. Rafer Johnson spied the action and was soon lined up for his. The pony finished off the tube (it works out perfectly for the pony and donkeys to share one) without a blink and on I went.

Salina is back in heat again, and had already been squealing this a.m. I had fussed at her for flinging her head up wildly in response to Keil Bay committing the gross offense of sticking his head over his own stall door. So I wasn't sure how the deworming would go with her in that kind of mood. She had a mouthful of hay, so I rubbed some circles on her temple while she finished chewing. She turned her head away when she saw the tube, but I went slowly, and when I reached to bring her head back to me, she was quite willing.

Keil Bay was his usual one-handed operation.

Cody has been difficult in the past, but the last few times he's been really easy to dose. Today, though, he saw the tube and when I allowed him to sniff it he walked away. My daughter came out with halter and lead rope and waited with him in the back field while I came out. He was fussing and then he pulled back pretty hard. We stopped and just stood with him, allowing him to smell the tube but not trying to put it in his mouth.

He was quite calm until I positioned the tube again - then he tensed up. Daughter said "why don't we try the tapping?"

Duh! I had completely forgotten about that. She tapped his star and I tapped his cheek, and the dewormer tube slid right into his mouth and it was all done in about 3 seconds. No fuss, no muss.

I'm incredibly fortunate to have such a brilliant young horsewoman keeping me on the right path!

The rest of the day has been very lazy. Daughter and pony are riding 3 dressage tests in a local show on Sunday, so she called the tests out to make sure she has them all straight. The pony is slick and shiny as a seal and assuming we can get that tangerine dream color out of his tail he will look gorgeous.

Tomorrow my husband and I are celebrating our anniversary with dinner and a movie in my favorite little horsey town. The theater is an old artsy place that still has the original seating. They sell refreshments but the soft drinks are poured by hand and the wine is uncorked while you stand there. There's a big bin full of seat cushions in assorted sizes, colors, and shapes that you can pick up on the way in. I love the movies they choose to screen, and that the theater has the old-fashioned amazing acoustics that make it a fabulous venue for live music. George Winston played there a few years back and I still regret missing the performance.

Lazy Friday, full weekend, and the Mystical-Kit had the best idea of all - big fat book and a bed!

dikki-tikki-tavi

One of my favorite childhood stories was Rudyard Kipling's Rikki-Tikki-Tavi. I had fond dreams of having my own mongoose, who would protect me during the night and keep a watch over the house and yard by day.

A little while ago I was at the barn doing some afternoon chores. The geldings were munching rinsed hay from their hay nets, and Salina and the donkeys had wandered out to the round bale (which now has a hanging tarp that is meant to be a shelter but today it's blowing like a giant flag - and no, they are not afraid - but stand there and let it blow up and away right over them as they eat).

I heard a commotion in the forest and immediately looked at Salina, who is my barometer of all things not quite right. And she too had heard the noise and was staring intently into the trees.

The skittering sounded again and suddenly Dickens E. Wickens bounded out of the trees into the sunshine, intently chasing something that I at first thought was a shadow.

Then Rikki-tikki went out into the garden to see what was to be seen. It was a large garden, only half cultivated, with bushes as big as summer-houses of Marshal Niel roses, lime and orange trees, clumps of bamboos, and thickets of high grass. Rikki-tikki licked his lips. ``This is a splendid hunting-ground,'' he said, and his tail grew bottle-brushy at the thought of it, and he scuttled up and down the garden, snuffing here and there till he heard very sorrowful voices in a thorn-bush.

He proceeded to chase something and I peeled my eyes to see what it was. Something long and black and slithery, winding hither and yonder as Dickens pursued.

Darzee and his wife only cowered down in the nest without answering, for from the thick grass at the foot of the bush there came a low hiss --- a horrid cold sound that made Rikki-tikki jump back two clear feet. Then inch by inch out of the grass rose up the head and spread hood of Nag, the big black cobra, and he was five feet long from tongue to tail. When he had lifted one-third of himself clear of the ground, he stayed balancing to and fro exactly as a dandelion-tuft balances in the wind, and he looked at Rikki-tikki with the wicked snake's eyes that never change their expression, whatever the snake may be thinking of.

It was not, thank goodness, a cobra, but probably a black snake, about three feet long. Suddenly the snake turned to face Dickens, rose up in the air, and struck, one, two, half a dozen times. Dickens bravely battled the snake, swatting it with his paws, until the snake resumed its path to the platform by the arena.

Dickens got on top and paraded around, watching for the serpent to come out again. And then he sat and began to lick his paws.

Rikki-tikki curled himself up in the grass and slept where he was -- slept and slept till it was late in the afternoon, for he had done a hard day's work.

On my way inside, I scooped up the snake-eating cowboy and brought him inside, where he restored himself with cat food.

When Rikki got to the house, Teddy and Teddy's mother (she still looked very white, for she had been fainting) and Teddy's father came out and almost cried over him; and that night he ate all that was givn him till he could eat no more, and went to bed on Teddy's shoulder, where Teddy's mother saw him when she came to look late at night.

He's now curled up on the foot rest beneath my desk, taking a well-deserved break. I enjoyed re-reading Kipling's story today, and realizing that another childhood dream has come true.

Who needs Rikki-tikki when we have Dickens E. Wickens?

Rikki-tikki had a right to be proud of himself; but he did not grow too proud, and he kept that garden as a mongoose should keep it, with tooth and jump and spring and bit, till never a cobra dared show its head inside the walls.

the view from the porch and a few thoughts on dressage

It's been a hot day and a lazy one. I've not done much of anything and yet the day has slipped by, hour by hour, until now it's evening and dusk is turning the sun to shadow outside. The cats are lazing on the front porch, and horses are grazing in various spots until later when they'll all go out to the field for the evening.

Last night my daughter and I went to the annual dressage competition that attracts a lot of upper level riders and horses. I hoped as we drove over that I wouldn't see anything that caused me to regret supporting the show. Unfortunately the very first ride we saw was a young rider doing an FEI pony class, and between her rigid hands, the tight noseband, flash, and her quite agitated rotating leg jabs, the pony was straining to open his mouth, showing the whites of his eyes, and threatening to spook and/or bolt about every 5 strides. He was the very image of a horse pushed to explosion, but he didn't. She held him in from every angle and as far as I'm concerned, he was being a saint not to spontaneously combust out from under her.

This was not my idea of dressage, and it was difficult to watch, but we stayed on and were happy to see more harmonious riding later in the afternoon and evening.

My eyes roamed from the horses' mouths to the riders' legs and then up to the hands again. It was no surprise that quiet, kind hands and legs plus a relaxed mouth/jaw/poll yielded elegant, fluid rides.

I found this quote earlier in the week, and it was appropriate last night as I watched many horses and riders, most at the upper levels of the sport. Only a few had what Albrecht is talking about.

The “aids” that have become a technical term in horsemanship are no real help for the horse, as long as he perceives them clearly as interference from the outside. They only deserve to be called “aids” when they blend into the horse’s movement so seamlessly that the horse’s desired response becomes “instinctual” and that the rider’s “orders” direct the horse without him perceiving it this way. The observer on the outside will therefore always have to get the impression that “the rider thinks and the horse carries out on his own.

-Kurt Albrecht (1996; translation: T. Ritter)


There were many illustrations of collected work, including the piaffe, the pirouette, and tempi changes. Some were truly beautiful and others looked forced and almost mechanical, and it isn't hard to imagine those mechanical renderings of what should be freely flowing movement creating, over the longer term, joint issues.

Ritter's quote reminded me of the conversation my daughter and I had on our way home last night, having to do with which of our horses would be good at what higher level movements. In my mind that's as it should be - the work should come out of what comes naturally and beautifully to the individual horse. Our pony does levades in the field and I'm sure he could easily be taught to do them in hand. Cody has a natural piaffe that is quite beautiful. Keil Bay floats when he does an extended trot. Salina has the style and elegance to do flying changes that even an amateur rider can sit with ease.

I've experienced some mistaken upper level movements on Keil Bay, and for all I know, that may be the closest he and I come to a canter pirouette. But when it happened, it was fluid and graceful and I sat it well because I had no idea it was coming and it was over before I could start trying to control it. On some level, I love the concept of "accidental dressage" and now that I think of it, it's the sort of sport Keil Bay and I can manage quite nicely. :)


In the course of his education a horse will sooner or later offer most dressage movements on his own, either out of a misunderstanding or as an evasion - travers, counter canter, flying changes, piaffe, passage, even airs above the ground. So, in order to "train" the horse to do them, the rider merely has to seize the right moment and polish what the horse is offering. Before the right time has come, however, the thinking rider will not punish the horse for the premature execution of a movement he wants him to perform at some point in the future. Rather, he will observe and remember the circumstances that made the horse volunteer the movement, so he can use them to his advantage when the time has come.

-Thomas Ritter


I watched the faces of the riders, and the ones who impressed me were the ones who kept the same focused expression no matter what the horse did. It was nice to see the smiles when things went well, but better still seeing the measured faces of patience and acceptance, because you know when you see that in a competition, the horse has experienced it at home.


The biggest enemy to the partnership of dressage is impatience and the human nature to dominate other creatures.

-Walter Zettl

There were a few idiot people walking around, as usual. One supposed trainer and competitor sat behind us during the Grand Prix musical freestyles and did loud, piercing catcall whistles when the winning horses rode their victory lap, in an effort to make the horses spook. I felt like spooking myself, and in the process accidentally belting her one.

There were several musical freestyles that were good, but only one that revealed a horse and rider in their element with the music and the movement. The crowd responded with spontaneous applause a number of times during the ride, and a huge ovation afterward. The judges rewarded the pair with winning scores, and that was good enough to overpower the noise of the banshee behind us.

Today the only horse movement going on here is tail swishing and the occasional snort and shake of the head. We're pondering dressage from the porch while the temperatures fall. As far I'm concerned every equine here gets a blue ribbon.



For true equestrian art there are no recipes and no tricks, regardless of what saddle we ride in. One has to learn that the greatest attention must be paid to the seemingly easiest things and that that is often the most difficult thing. One of the most important principles for a rider is always to put the horse first, in other words, to look out for his wellbeing in his stabling, care, and training. The moment the human starts working with the horse determines whether he will become a great athlete and artist who will be able to look back on a long, healthy life, or whether his path ends all too soon due to poor handling and incorrect work. With knowledge, time, discipline, and body control it is possible to bring the horse almost without training aids into a relaxed position by honest work. You don't have to reach the highest level, but you must always have the feeling that whatever you have accomplished was accomplished well and with honest work. Then you and your horse will always be content.

- Dorothee Baumann-Pellny (Im Damensattel: Eine Reitlehre f�r die Frau, Olms Press - 1997; translation: T. Ritter)