The rain started in this morning, and we weren't quite dry from the last rain, so immediately the ground got saturated and everything has turned to mud. Except for the lovely shelter area and just outside it, where we completed our small gravel project. I'm looking forward to doing the next phase.
I dreaded going out this morning. If I were a person not living with horses I wouldn't have, but as many of you who visit me here know, the path to the barn is one walked many times a day whether it's sunny, wet, snowing, or frigid.
My Bogs muck boots that I got for my birthday last year have already cracked completely through. It's not been a year yet. The cracks started about 3 months ago, so although they have a wonderful, whimsical blue on brown paisley pattern, they didn't withstand the day in- day out wear that anyone with horses at home puts in.
As I went about my morning chores, each time I went out into the rain I stepped into mud and cold water, which began to seep into my boots and soaked into my socks. This happened a few days ago when I was wearing an old pair of socks and I didn't like it but for whatever reason it didn't send me into orbit.
This morning I was wearing a new pair of socks I got at our local co-op. Organic cotton, a lovely burgundy color, with hearts and the words "choose love" on the sides. That the wet muddy water was seeping into these brand new socks sent me right over the edge. Not to mention the fact that I had no waterproof head gear, and the fleece jacket I wore kept me warm but not dry. My thighs were damp from walking in the rain with the muck barrow.
After an hour of drying out inside I headed to the feed store. I needed to pick up our raw milk, needed to check on my special order oats, and by gosh, I intended to purchase some rain gear.
I wore the old standby Muck brand solid black muck boots out of the store. I've owned two pairs of these since we moved to November Hill and while they did eventually wear out, they lasted about 3 years each. I got my money's worth out of them. I wish they would make some colorful ones, but they all end up dirty anyway, so... black is fine.
I also came home with a chocolate brown Outback oilcloth rain poncho. It has a huge front pocket with a heavy duty zipper and snaps all the way up both sides. It has a very nice hood. It makes a satisfying swoop as I walk.
I also came home with a bright sunshine yellow Outback scrunchy rain hat. I would have chosen a more understated color, but they only had my size in yellow. And the yellow one has a nifty velcro pouch where one could put a key, or a credit card, or something small and lightweight. I figured if I conk out in the back field I will be easier to spot with that yellow hat on.
When it was time to go out and do more barn chores, I suited up in my new rain gear. My son informed me I looked like a Bog Woman. Well, okay. I guess that's where I am in my life right now. I wasn't even offended. In some ways, being a Bog Woman has a certain nice ring to it. A certain status. I am a woman who can walk through bogs. Or at least muddy paddocks.
When I got to the barn the donkey boys ran, snorting and spinning. They did eventually come back to sniff my outstretched hands, ensuring that in fact it was ME underneath the gear, but they were not pleased with my swooping poncho. Salina seemed slightly alarmed by the yellow hat, not fearful, but slightly incredulous that I would choose that color.
Cody and Apache Moon were in the back field and they galloped in to see me at closer range. They weren't afraid, but it was clear they were not impressed. Only the Big Handsome Bay walked up to me normally, sniffing the new gear, interested but unconcerned as I led him over to the other side of the barn for a change of venue on a long rainy day.
And then I went on with my chores. Fixing a piece of fencing, mucking, checking troughs, closing gates, dumping, etc.
More rain fell. But I was DRY from head to toe.
billie hinton’s camera-obscura:
life and lessons on November Hill Farm
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Sunday, January 08, 2012
instructions for living a life
Yesterday on Facebook this came across my wall, and I shared it there and wanted to share it here as well:
"Instructions for living a life. Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it."
-Mary Oliver
There is nothing else to say!
"Instructions for living a life. Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it."
-Mary Oliver
There is nothing else to say!
Sunday, January 01, 2012
and meant to say: new year's gift!
I meant to add that The Meaning of Isolated Objects is free through January 4th on Amazon. GO HERE to read and pick up your copy.
Happy New Year!
Happy New Year!
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.
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.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
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.
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.
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