keil bay notches things up and I spring both into, and out of, the saddle

So this morning I went out and tacked up the Big Bay in advance of a rainy afternoon, determined to keep up our rides so that we can both get back in the groove before autumn proper.

I sprang into the saddle for the third day in a row, oh so proud of myself and very happy with life in general.

I'm not timing our trot sets because I don't wear a watch normally and in fact don't own one at this point in my life - so I'm increasing our work each day based on how many times we trot around the perimeter of the arena (which is bigger than 20x40m but not as long as 60m). Each day I'm increasing by one rotation in each direction.

Today we were up to 5 each way. After a lengthy warm up at the walk, some of which was directed by me and some directed by Keil Bay, we started into our trot work. Trotting to the right is generally the easier direction for both of us, and it happened that we started that way today. We had a nice, rhythmic, very passable trot set to the right. I told Keil Bay that we were making good progress and I was happy with our work together.

Then we took a walk break again and after a little while I organized myself and we headed left and picked up the trot.

One rotation, same as we just did to the right.  I think I was telling Keil Bay that we just had four more to go, as if he needed to hear that the end of the work was near.

Second rotation, a little hop skip and attempt to leap into the canter. I'm not sure if Keil wanted to canter, or if he simply preferred cantering to the left over trotting to the left, but I asked him to stay at the trot, so he said, Fine, M'aam, and proceeded to turn on his huge, gigantic power mode trot.

Well. I really had to up my game to stay with this huge trot. I have been really careful bringing us both back into work as I didn't want to make either of us sore or push too hard. Today, Keil Bay said ENOUGH with the senior citizen mode, we are going directly to power mode and Yes, You Can Do This!

By the third rotation I had sort of settled in with the feeling that we were going to motor right through the arena fence and end up two farms down the lane, and was enjoying the ride. I think it was during the fourth that I began to employ many half halts and made some effort to bring things back down a notch. We finished the fifth rotation on a nice, even keel, and went down to walk from there.

I was so jazzed by Keil Bay's coaching me forward with such vigor that when it came time to dismount, I attempted to spring OUT of the saddle with the same youthful bounce I have suddenly regained getting into it.

This did not work quite the same way. I sprang out but didn't remove my foot from the stirrup quite fast enough to keep up with my body. I did a sort of rolling dismount down to the ground and onto my back. Keil Bay looked mortified and did two skittering steps away from me as if trying to get away from a loose cannon. Then he stopped and just looked at me.

There was no actual hitting the ground - it really did feel like I just rolled gently backwards like one of those Weeble toys except I didn't actually roll back up onto my feet. I had to stand up. No harm done except to my pride.

Although Keil Bay obviously feels we're ready to move on with some big movement and forward motion, I think I need a couple more rides to get back in the groove all the way. But by coaching me to Just Do It, he reminded me that sometimes slow and steady needs to yield to simply leaping forward - not only in riding but in life itself.

As usual, he shows me something in the arena that ripples out through the other areas of my life - writing, living, being.

Thanks, Keil Bay. You're the very best coach a woman could have.

in which the Big Bay and I get back to work

The weather finally cooled down last week and looked like it might stay that way, so the Big Bay and I decided we would get back to work now so that we'll be back in shape when the really nice autumn weather hits.

We started on Monday morning. Just walking, but it was nice walking, and I think we both enjoyed being back to work together in the arena.

Tuesday we did more walking but added some time and energy to the mix.

Wednesday my daughter rode Cody and we opened the arena gate to the back field and did some riding in back, up to the paddock, on through to the front field, back to the arena, etc. Keil woke up fast and then decided he didn't want to go further down the front field than the top half. He did a little balking and we worked through that, circling around and adding a few feet further down the hill a couple of times and then ended on that cooperative note. I realized later that what I might have done was just hop off, hand walk him down to the log jump at the bottom of the hill, mount up down there, and then ride up and down again. I might just do that to begin with one day and see if we can just forego the power struggle altogether a few times.

Thursday was a day off.

Friday I took the clippers with me when I mounted up and we warmed up and then did some trimming of tree limbs. It's a job Keil Bay seems to love doing - and it's the perfect way to ensure that I don't get smacked in the face when riding him. For much of the trim time, I was standing in the stirrups with both arms above my head, cutting branches and letting them fall to the side and behind us. Keil Bay stood like a soldier and took one step forward, back, sideways, etc. as I asked. There aren't a lot of horses I would trust to do that on at this point in my life, but Keil is definitely one of them!

We had a lot of assistance getting the oak branches studded with young acorns up - two donkey lads were quite happy to drag the branches around and nibble on leaves.

After the tree trimming Keil and I added in the first bit of trot work we've done since the end of June. It was not great, but we had to get the kinks out, and at least we made a start on it.

This morning I went out thinking we would walk and add some time to the trot work. Keil had a funky strip of frog tissue that I had wondered about yesterday - so I had husband take a look and we decided it needed to be trimmed off. I don't think I've mentioned that husband is now trimming the donkey hooves under the supervision of our trimmer, and is also working on the pony. So between the two of us we're learning a lot more and getting more confident about these little hoof care decisions.

I think it was a good one - the warm up and walk were much better today than yesterday, and I let Keil Bay do his "loose rein lead" - he could go anywhere he wanted but the walk had to be big and rhythmic. He again chose a huge figure 8 across the entire arena, but then, interestingly, chose to do a number of 10-15 meter circles to the left, which is at the moment his stiffer side. I wondered out loud if he was working something out in his shoulder. Sure enough, when we hit the trot time, Keil Bay turned on the power mode immediately. Right rein was still better in terms of bend but left was pretty good too!

And in some strange stroke of who knows what, I suddenly seem to have gotten back the ability to do that little "spring" thing when mounting that I did when young and haven't been able to do since I started back riding as an adult. It might disappear tomorrow, but for two days in a row I have done it, and loved the feeling of springing into the saddle. (I should be clear - this is still from the mounting block, not from the ground!)

Anyway, we're having good rides this week, loving the weather, courageously battling dive-bombing horseflies together, and really hoping that by the time we get a real fall day we are in shape enough to do some cantering.

Hope everyone is getting some relief from the long, hot summer of 2012!

the Big Bay's many colored days

Last week Keil Bay had a rare bad day, and as it was happening I kept thinking about Dr. Seuss' book called My Many Colored Days. There's a page that reads like this:

On Bright Red Days how good it feels
to be a horse and kick my heels!

It was hot, Keil Bay had a yeasty frog, and I made the big mistake of taking him out for a bath but choosing to do a hoof scrub first. It is true. Horseflies were dive-bombing, Keil Bay was sweaty and itchy, and I had the hose and the bucket of soapy water all set up. But I picked up his feet and did a hoof scrub first. He handled the first one, but by the second hoof, right hind, he was not amused. He allowed me to finish that hind hoof, and when I let go, he slammed it down, lifted the other hind, and kicked out in anger. How like Keil Bay to express his anger but in a way that clearly did not endanger me. Nevertheless, I smacked his rump with the flat of my hand.

We finished up with no more outbursts, not from me, not from Keil Bay.

We're both ready for cooler weather, clearly.

Today we got it, and I did a quick grooming, fed him half his breakfast tub, tacked up, and we had the first ride we've had in about 6 weeks. It was glorious. Everything felt perfect. We walked, did a little shoulder-in, turns on forehand and haunches, and a little backing. I had the same feeling I had last winter when it felt like we had made a leap forward. The aids were quiet and soft and so was the ride.

As we got started, the doe and her twin fawns showed up in the forest near A. Keil let me know they were there, and we tracked them as we rode and they made their way down the fence line to the back field. We stopped and watched the fawns scampering, and then continued on our ride.

When we were done, Keil licked and chewed, happy to get the other half of his breakfast. I had a good ride and did not break a sweat! I am SO happy to be entering this time of year. The horses are happy too, with nights in the 50s and at least the promise of the demise of the dive-bombing horseflies. Salina cantered up the front field hill a few days ago, and even though it was probably to escape a horsefly, I am relieved she is feeling so good.

This afternoon I went back to the barn and took a little bottle of bubbles with me. I blew and blew and the donkeys and Keil Bay and Cody were all completely enchanted with the fact that suddenly the woman was shooting magical disappearing balls out of her mouth. Keil leaned his head over the stall door and put his nose out to me, wanting the bubbles to land on him. Eyes wide with curiosity. For a few minutes I turned into some kind of fairy princess and he was completely absorbed. It was easy to see the yearling Keil Bay in his eyes.

In our many colored days, this one had a brilliant blue sky, dark purple muscadines, and the brightest red bay in the big wide world, all here on November Hill.

the November Hill twins

My amazing nature photographer daughter captured these wonderful photographs of the twin fawns that were born on November Hill this year. They have made many appearances with their mom all over the property, and they seem extremely interested in not only us but the equines. The donkeys are equally intrigued and if they see the twins in the forest, will walk up to the fence and gaze at them.

 

If you've read my essay about how November Hill Press got started, you know already that my decision to start the press came after two really amazing experiences I had with the deer herd that lives here. If you've been reading here for awhile you might also know the story of the first day we came to look at the farm - we saw twin fawns in the back field, and I knew this was our home.

The deer gave me the November Hill Press logo, which I love because it perfectly captures the spirit of November Hill farm and press, and the way I feel about my writing. 

 

2012 has been a tough year in a lot of different ways, so seeing this new generation of twins has been especially meaningful for me this spring and summer. Sometimes when we need a sign, we get one. 

It tickles me that the fawns love the wild muscadines as much as I do - and we're all fortunate because this year's grape harvest is bountiful and within easy reach for both deer and humans.

Thanks to my daughter for her quiet demeanor and photographic skill. She always gets the best shots!

quiet in heart, and in eye clear, take 2

This was one of my first posts on camera-obscura, and I was thinking about it today and decided to repost:

the wise eye of zen-master Keil Bay, with quiet-hearted Salina in the background.. a horseback ride in our back field, picking wild grapes from vines hung low, the persimmon tree down the lane, geese honking overhead, and this poem, which came to reside on my little altar last autumn when we moved here, and has this year come true:


The Wild Geese

Horseback on Sunday morning,
harvest over, we taste persimmon
and wild grape, sharp sweet
of summer's end. In time's maze
over fall fields, we name names
that went west from here, names
that rest on graves. We open
a persimmon seed to find the tree
that stands in promise,
pale, in the seed's marrow.
Geese appear high over us,
pass, and the sky closes. Abandon,
as in love or sleep, holds
them to their way, clear,
in the ancient faith: what we need
is here. And we pray, not
for new earth or heaven, but to be
quiet in heart, and in eye
clear. What we need is here.

Wendell Berry


I do so love this poem. This year, right now, I see signs that this long, hot, difficult summer are coming to an end. Salina is shedding, some leaves are changing color while others turn brown and fall, squirrels are starting to gather the first acorns. This week the wild muscadines are coming to ripeness and although in many ways this summer season has been bleak and hard, we have had much rain and the garden has been bountiful. Now we are having the finest crop of wild muscadines I've ever seen since living here on November Hill. I can stand beneath the vines and eat until I'm full. I'm finding them everywhere, even in the arena, lying on the ground.

We have twin fawns living with us this year, a gray fox, a hoot owl close by, and it occurs to me that things do seem to find a balance. When one part of life feels chaotic and out of control, other parts exhibit abundance.

Today I look at that wise eye of the Big Bay and feel very lucky that I still have the chance to look into it. I rejoice that the quiet-hearted Salina is still here, whinnying and grazing and keeping her wise eye on everything.

Tonight as dusk fell I was in the back field, looking up toward the barn, which was fully lit and shining with golden light. Cody was by the hay tent with Rafer Johnson, Salina and Redford were in the front field, Keil Bay was in the grass paddock, and the pony, whose Apache Moon was in fact hanging low in the sky overhead, was taking advantage of all the open gates to meander between all the members of his herd.

Behind the barn the windows of our house shone gold as well. I stopped mucking to look and soak all this treasure in, seeing it all at once because I had stepped back far enough to take it all in.

Quiet in heart, and in eye clear.

What we need is here.