first ride of 2012

Today was gorgeous but as it turned out by the time I got into the arena it was overcast and gray again, and then dark, and an hour or so after our ride it started raining! Which I wasn't expecting at all. I was even more glad we'd ridden when we did after the rain started.

Keil Bay was very alert again and moving well. Tonight I felt two very distinct things that may be contributing to our good rides. My legs feel very secure. And by that I mean secure in terms of balance and evenness, but even more than that, they feel like they are an inseparable part of the motion. As we were trotting, I let my focus land on my legs - and I experimented. I could easily go from a loosely draped leg to a gentle hugging leg to a completely open leg without changing any other part of my body. I had the ability to shift very subtle things without anything else going askew. I'm not sure exactly how to describe it, but the closest word I can come up with is effortless. In a way it felt like my legs were not there, except if I chose to think about them and note what they were doing.

I've put the saddle a touch further back lately and I wonder if this is making a difference.


After warming up and doing a fair amount of trotting, we finished with some 20m circles at the trot, and happened into a routine of rising trot around the circle, then changed direction through the circle at the sitting trot, then picked up the new trot diagonal going the new direction. We did this for a number of rotations and it was the rhythm of the change from rising to sitting to rising that best illustrated this effortless leg thing for me.

It may well be that my body and Keil Bay's body are in better shape and in sync physically more than we have been for awhile. It definitely feels that way.

The other big thing that feels different and good is my hands and the contact I have with the reins and the bit. It feels like my arms and hands finally caught up with the rest of my body, and something that seemed elusive to me previously (specifically the amount of weight to have in the hands, and contact without pressure, not throwing the reins away, etc.) has suddenly just happened without me paying much attention to it at all. One thing I have done is ride with different bits (basic eggbutt snaffle, loose ring double-jointed snaffle, bitless) as well as different reins (very soft web reins; thicker, stiffer web reins, very soft curb reins) to see what works best. Interestingly enough, my least favorite reins, Keil's very nice but slightly too big for my hands web reins are the ones that now feel the best to me. What changed? I don't think the size of my hands changed but maybe the way I use my hands and arms is making a difference in how the reins feel in my hands. Everything just feels softer, easier, and better.


We're also riding with the Thinline Ultra sheepskin dressage pad, and I am riding with my sheepskin seat saver pad too - and although if you measure the thickness of all these "things' between my seat and Keil's back, it's thicker than ever, it feels like less. I can feel his back and I can feel my own seat bones much more clearly than I have ever been able to feel them.


It's an interesting exercise to try and sort out what is making things work well, as opposed to why something isn't working. But it was wonderful to roll into the new year with a good ride, on the very best horse in the whole world, feeling truly thankful that all these pieces are, for the moment, in sync.

me and Keil Bay canter into the new year

Yesterday afternoon I went out and called the Big Bay in for a ride. He was at the bottom corner of the front field, shining his red bay coat in the late afternoon sun, and he galloped right up to the gate where I let him through. The sun was brilliant, it was in the mid-60s, and I figured we would get in a nice daylight ride.

Alas, by the time I finished grooming him, which included an impromptu sheath cleaning (made easy by the new electric kettle I have in the tack room for heating up water!), a layer of clouds rolled in. Suddenly it looked like rain, but I was again determined to get our ride in no matter what.

We went in and did our usual long walking warm-up. I noticed at the mounting block that my fidgeting has subsided for the most part and also that Keil Bay has gone back to his usual cooperative self. "Move up one step," I asked, and he politely complied. "Wait, move back a little," and he did that as well. The only thing that has changed is the way I feel as I mount. For awhile I was feeling like I needed perfect placement of block and horse. Now I feel more agile and more confident. I actually stopped to think about this yesterday. How much the way we feel influences the way things go, in life, but particularly when working with horses.

Our walk was nice. When we warm up, I choose the direction and the patterns but I let Keil Bay choose the pace of the walk itself. I keep a loose rein and if anything feels uneven or stiff I use the corners of the arena and sometimes changes of direction and circles to stretch both of us out. I've also been doing the flexions at the walk as taught by Jane Savoie, and then some shoulder-in via Walter Zettl. These two things work the best of anything I've ever tried to supple Keil Bay's entire body and get us into a very good place to move into trot.

Keil Bay's trot is a work of art right now. The day before yesterday we did some free work with all three geldings and Keil was doing a huge extended trot, landing heel first, and looking like a 3-year old in the arena. Under saddle he is offering his back, putting himself on the bit, and moving into high gear almost instantly. By the time we got to trot yesterday it was nearing dusk and we had a little extreme rounding of head and neck in response to a squirrel that was running through the neighbor's yard. Interestingly, as Keil Bay coiled up all his power and brilliance into one big inner spring, something I could feel in every inch of my own body, I did not tense up myself. I sent him forward up the long, far side of the arena, the side closest to the forest, and enjoyed the power of that coil as it cycled into his trot. When we came around the short side he asked to half pass across the diagonal, so off we went, right back to the scary squirrel area, but he was so engaged he didn't even think about it.

By this time it was dark and we were riding in the light of the arena. I'm usually a bit cautious in the night riding but last night it felt like both of us were so connected, I was ready to canter. I worked into it by doing a big, balanced trot with Keil Bay, incorporating figure 8s into the work, and then as we came around a corner, asked for the canter to the right. I think he was surprised that I asked for it, and he responded by going into a massively forward, engaged trot, so I asked again and he went into his big, bold, forward canter.

I felt like I was 10 years old again, begging to canter and then absolutely thrilled when the instructor said yes. I'm not sure what the canter meant to me exactly when I was 10 but as an adult rider it represents balance and forward motion and going with what feels right. Leaping into the moment. Keil Bay has a gorgeous canter, but it is definitely big and forward and bold, so when I ride it with him, it feels like we're no longer earthbound. If I was a painter I could show you what it feels like: woman on horse sailing over the curve of the earth itself.

We down-transitioned to trot and then walk and halt so I could exclaim for a few minutes, then we changed directions and did the same thing going left. Usually Keil is stiffer to the left but lately that has not been true, and our canter depart was perfect in this direction. I could see our shadows cantering along beside us, and I looked closely at them, because I loved the way that shadow rider looked on her horse. It took me a few seconds to realize: that's ME!

Happy New Year! I hope everyone finds a way to canter, or at least walk boldly with intention, into 2012.

christmas wish

I've heard for many years that if you go to the barn at midnight on Christmas Eve the horses can talk to you.

Guess what? Horses talk to us every single day if we are willing to stop and look and listen.

We all come into this world with our five senses and no language. Horses come in with a highly developed instinct and the wisdom to use it. Humans come in with that too but we shift to learning language - words - and in many cases learn to ignore what we feel and focus on what we can say instead.

If we choose to go beyond words and training and what we think we know, we come to a place where we can simply be. We come to the place where we can listen to what the horses have to say to us.

My Christmas wish for everyone is that you come to that place with your horse. It's the most wonderful, amazing, productive place I've ever been in the company of a horse, and that is my goal every single day - to go there again.

Happiest holidays from all of us on November Hill.

christmas eve surprise - free copy of book one in the Magical Pony School series

My middle grade novel, Jane's Transformation, book one in the Magical Pony School series, is free on Amazon until December 26th - if you have a Kindle, or download the Kindle software onto your Mac, PC, or any smartphone, you can get your copy.

Although this is aimed at middle grade readers, it's a story I think any horse person will enjoy. You'll recognize a few of the minor characters... hint: two little donkeys and a one-eyed mare make a cameo but very important appearance. :)

Book two, Fiona and the Waterhorse, will be coming out early in 2012.

Happy holidays to all - and thanks for reading and commenting here on camera-obscura!

solstice gifts 2011

The winter solstice is my favorite holiday of the year. The thought of the longest night appeals to me, a life-long night owl with many memories of late-night revelry, creative peaks, and the quiet that falls even in the busiest of households when everyone but me is asleep.

I love the metaphors of light and dark, and have woven them into all my books. Jane's Transformation (book one in my Magical Pony School middle grade series) literally begins on the afternoon of the winter solstice. If novels have seasons other than that in which they take place, I think it's true that all mine are winter solstice novels, looking at darkness and light and how one contributes to the other.

Every year I wait for what gifts the solstice day will bring. A couple of years ago it was a baby raccoon in the big oak tree by our barn. Tiny little thing, a living metaphor of light and dark. He or she came down and you can see the painted pony (a metaphor himself of light and dark!) looking on with curiosity.

Another year there were black vultures in the tree by the mailbox, inky black against the white-gray sky.

Today I walked out to the barn to feed breakfast tubs to the equines and the first thing I noticed were the bare trees, dark with soaked-in rain, and the white overcast sky.

As I stood in the dim feed room mixing tubs, with my strand of white twinkle lights burning and NPR on the radio, Keil Bay started his Hanoverian breakfast chorus. He whinnies and sings for his breakfast almost every morning, but today it got quiet and I continued mixing. Although I didn't hear any horse sounds, I suddenly felt the presence of something close by, and I turned to find that Keil Bay had somehow opened his stall door, tiptoed across the barn aisle, and was standing with his head and neck inside the door of the feed room, in arm's reach.

Later I was dumping the muck barrow along my compost snake in the back field. I had my back to the forest and was looking up toward the barn when I heard something in the woods behind me.

A small herd of the November Hill deer were walking up the hill across from me, walking further into the woodline, almost invisible except for the white flashing of tails. Over and over again they flagged their tails, stopping and then slowly walking further into the woods.

The black tree trunks, heavy with rain, the shadows of the deeper woods, and those white flashing tails. Another wonderful solstice gift.

If you've read the story of November Hill Press you know that the deer played a huge part in its creation. Today, looking toward a new year, seeing them flashing their call across the clearing was its own bit of magic.

Happy winter solstice to all!