My New Best Friend

Maybe it's premature to rank them so highly, but I LOVE LOVE LOVE Solo's new shoes! Farrier was out yesterday -- we've been experimenting, trying to find a set of shoes that will fit Mr. Goldilocks "just right" and stop his forging ways.

My apologies, it's not the best picture, but it's the best you get from a phone with no flash in a stall at night! But up front he now has Natural Balance shoes with a wedge heel and we also put a slightly shorter shoe on the back -- he was having issues with the longer trailers we tried in the back, so those came off, yay!

End result, rode him lightly last night and he did GREAT! Not a single clinky forge to be had. And we incorporated our homework of adding a few 15 m canter circles -- and on the right lead (easy one) coming out of that circle, he sat down in the prettiest little uphill canter you ever saw.

Me = satisfied again. Anal hoof staring abated for the time being. Ok, you're right, I probably will still stare, but my eyes will be slightly less narrow now.

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Thought For The Day

I am cleaning out my old cell phone in preparation for switching to a new one, as the buttons are about to stop working (especially the one with the "e" on it!). I found these timeless words from God, aka Jim Wofford, stored in a note from our clinic last year. I stashed them in my phone to remind myself often to keep my horse training priorities straight:

Any system which disturbs the natural tranquility of the horse is flawed.

Need I say more? Words to ponder every day...

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Quiz Answers

Just because I know you were dying to find out, our two mystery horses from the 29 December 2009 quiz were successfully identified!

molly was the first commenter to successfully identify our stunning chestnut, Secretariat. A son of Bold Ruler, this red speed demon was not expected to have the staying power for the distance stakes races. It appears no one informed Secretariat of this. Not only did he win the Triple Crown in 1973, he blew it out of the water. In the Derby, he achieved the unprecedented feat of running each successive quarter mile faster than the one before it. That record still stands. He also won the mile-and-a-half Belmont Stakes by 31 lengths and in the fastest time for 1.5 miles on dirt ever before and ever since. He is still listed in "Top Ten" lists of great athletes even in non-horsey circles, won $1.3 million, and his blood lives on in his descendents despite his death from laminitis at age 19 in 1989. As an honor for a great legend, he was buried whole at Claiborne, where he still lies. He also sired the first TB yearling ever to sell for more than $1 million; the colt, Canadian Bound, brought a $1.5 million sticker price, but was a failure at racing. Secretariat later became known for his penchant for producing mediocre colts, but excellent broodmares. Interestingly, necropsy revealed that his heart weighed 22 pounds, the largest ever recorded for a horse.

The grey was a toughie, but Kate chimed in, solving the mystery (even I couldn't figure out who he was): Spectacular Bid. He was a Bold Ruler grandson who may have also been a Triple Crown winner, only the morning of the 1979 Belmont, "The Bid" stepped on a metal pin in his stall and his jockey was in a fist fight, the two of which together cost him the prize. Nevertheless, he won 26 out of 30 races and never lost between 7 furlongs and 1.25 miles. He won $2.8 million and was syndicated at stud for $22 million. He left Claiborne in 1991 and he died of a heart attack in 2003 in upstate New York, 27 years full of heart.

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In Which Solo Is A Guinea Pig

So we have this electromagnetic blanket sitting around the farm. It's on loan (or in storage?) for a friend of the BO. Now, scientifically, there is little data to suggest that magnetic pulse therapy is significantly effective and anecdotal reports show ceramic heat reflection technology to posses greater efficacy. But what the hell, the thing is sitting there and we've got nothing to lose, so we decided to try it out.

The book promised the horse would immediately take on a "calm, relaxed" demeanor. It did not indicate how you would recognize this if your guinea pig horse is generally calm and relaxed anyway.

It also had a useful Q&A section, covering important issues like: "Will this blanket make my horse a champion?" and offering the answer I hope no one paid money for: "No. Of course not. That would be impossible." Yes, those are direct quotes.

This helpful little manual also suggests you might get better results using the thing twice a day. Again, it did not indicate how one would do this without having an infinite amount of time to sit around and stare at a horse wearing a blanket. So, not so helpful really.

Supposedly, you have to use it at the lowest setting for three days, then you can begin to bump it up. I can't imagine anything more anticlimactic. You unroll all these cords and pieces and plug them into this giant silver box that looks like a 1980-model PC (see photo). There are junction boxes and switches and frequency settings galore. Then, with bated breath, you hit the "start" button. At which point precisely nothing happens. There are no lights. There is no sound. There is no heat from the pads. Your horse stands there staring at you contemplating the possiblity of carrots in your pocket. I was only able to figure out the thing was actually working by holding a magnet under each pad and as the machine pulses, the magnet vibrates in your hand. Thrilling.

So after day 1, I can report that my horse is calm and relaxed. Pretty much just like he was 30 minutes earlier, but it's a fun experiment.

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Pats On The Back

It's always good when someone validates your hard work. Every so often, we all need someone to pat us on the head and say, "good girl." (Yes, I share that attribute with my geriatric dog)

Last night, we trucked over to the indoor arena across the street -- I would have ridden over there, but BO was horrified at the thought of crossing a road in the dark (hey, MY horse is road safe!) and insisted we ride in the trailer. No doubt the horses are bemused by the literally one-minute trailer ride.

P met me for a dressage lesson. I'd been feeling good about things and I am happy to report that P gave us an A!! Her comments:

Ooo, the canter is now balanced, rhythmic and packaged -- no more strung out horsey!
Solo is consistent in the bridle and lifting his back at the trot.
New farrier is doing good things as he is now tracking up well.

And the biggest impact for me: we should now be thinking and riding like a First Level dressage horse. The biggest change there is that now we need to make the poll the highest point. When we started, the only way to lift the back was to lower the neck as a lever. Now, Solo has learned to lift and use his back (you can even feel the new muscle behind the saddle, it's COOL!), so now he must graduate to traveling in a First Level outline.

Me = excited!

Our assignment:

-Begin to incorporate 15 m canter circles. Do NOT listen when Solo whines about how they are haaaaaaaaaard. I MUST sit up and sit back, visualizing riding an imaginary canter pirouette and staying over that hind leg, no hunter-creeping forward.
-Put in more lateral work: shoulder-in, leg yield, shoulder-fore, to get him lifting and using his shoulders. Remember to keep the inside leg AT the girth, no cheating and moving it back to push haunches out.
-Keep working and increase frequency of work on changes within gaits: compression of the trot in collection and then expanding it out to medium trot. Solo is not strong enough yet, I can feel it, but in a month or two, P says he may be ready to start doing some real lengthening at the trot. SWEET!

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Patience, Grasshopper

Riding & training are not always a linear, forward progression of learning. In fact, if they are, you should get off your horse & back away slowly because he is obviously not actually a horse & you may well have been sucked into a parallel universe.

Actual training goes like this:

Ok, horsey, this is what we need to do. Just...like...so.

Oh, good try, horsey, you've almost got it!

Hullo, horsey, are you still paying attention? Just one more try...

Crap, bad horsey! That is not even close to what I wanted!

Hey! You suck -- why did you just give me the horsey version of the finger??!

OMG, why did I even try this?? I give up, we'd better just do something else because this was obviously a terrible idea.

Ok, it's been a week since we tried that new thing, let's try it just one time.

Oh, horsey, that was pretty close! Good horsey, I take it back, you don't suck!

Yay, horsey, that was it!

(And here, a wise horsewoman walks away, but most of us try one more time & then return to "Crap!" and repeat many times)

It's so hard to find that balance point between pushing too hard & getting greedy for success & waiting until your horse is really ready & understands what you are asking. Since it is freezing ass cold, I put on 47 layers of clothing & just did some long lining on Sunday.

As you know, Solo can get panicky longeing/lining due to his past but has come a long way. Well, he was having a "bad horsey" day & when I asked for a little canter, he soon cross cantered, freaked himself out, & spun around backing up wide-eyed.

I have perfected the art of cursing at your horse very nicely so that he doesn't know that you are cursing his hide.

But I took a deep breath, got him moving forward at the walk & trot again, tracked him left (non-panicky direction) and slowly & patiently worked him up to canter again there, then went back to the right & finally got a canter without stopping & spinning. And there we were finished.

As P says, "Get to the hard side through the easy side."

Ohhhhhhhhhhh, but it's hard to be that patient. Especially, when you KNOW it's a skill they have done before, but they are having a "regression" day. It is crucial to be able to take that VERY deep breath & muster all available calm & patience to work through the bad moments.

And it is not failure to end on an easy note or a try & have a go again another day. You can't win a physical battle with a horse & he doesn't understand your frustration & chances are he's even MORE frustrated then you.

The recipe for success calls for simple, yet very expensive ingredients:

• Patience
• Calm
• Fairness
• Patience
• Patience
• Thoughtfulness
• Sympathy
• Did I mention patience?

And always be prepared for Those Days. You know the ones, where your horse appears to have forgotten all progress & is quite simply & wildly ignorant of your requests? Yup, those.

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Feeling Frosty

It's cold. Like your-face-puckers-inward-to-avoid-contact-with-the-air cold. Then the wind blows. And I seriously rethink my decision to walk out the door.

But I still rode, dangit! We did some trots and canters up and down the hills in the pastures. Or rather, Solo did his best to maintain some time of crooked bow shape to his body so he could remind me where all the OTHER horses were in the arctic windstorm. At least, until my face gave in to wind chill, then I went back in.

Today I am thankful for:

Barn doors to close everything up nice and cozy
Hot water to wash the mud off of pasterns
Heated buckets to absolve me of water hauling duty
Heated stock tanks in the pasture to spare me soaking gloves from icebreaking
Extension cords for all that stuff

For your entertainment, a couple videos from our jump school on Friday. Notably, the day when it was 50 degrees out instead of the polar gale we seem currently stuck in. Sorry, the camera was stuck on a tripod, so you get only a fixed camera angle.

A little warmup gymnastic, in which I need to give more rein...


This one is a 2'11" (regulation Novice height) oxer that was two strides after a similar sized vertical.


This was our "biggie" -- I always try to set up just one that is at a more challenging height or type so that I know if we come to something that looks crazy big to me on a course, we can handle it! This was a 3'2" vertical on an uphill and as you can see, I made sure I had LOTS of horse under me coming to this thing, it was big!


And if you can stomach my giving in to the temptation of cheesiness, this is just a little montage I put together in a late night fit of boredom. I had never made one before so this was my trial run.

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I Am A Sheep

I'm not much for "New Year's Resolutions" but in this instance, for the record, I am going to follow the flock and bleat out some goals for 2010.

We will:

-Complete at least two recognized events at the Novice level, one being the Adult Team Challenge this August at Waredaca.

-Get through a dressage test at a competition in such a way that the judge is not left with an obvious impression that both my horse and I have our teeth clenched in distaste.

-Figure out what the heck is going on with Solo's back feet so we can move back to barefoot land back there.

-Gallop and jump through the woods with the wind in our hair and bugs stuck in our respective grins.

-Give thanks every day for the amazing partnership we share (well, I will, Solo probably just gives thanks for carrots and hay) and the incredible gift of Solo and his huge, kind, generous, brave, red heart.

What are YOUR hopes for your 2010 journey??

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Pop Quiz, Hotshot

A holiday visit to the parent's house found me sorting through pictures of days past. So now, lucky you get to be regaled by my finds in posts to come!

Can you name these Thoroughbred legends I visited as an awestruck kid? Here are your hints:

Both were living in sweet muddy retirement at Claiborne Farm in Kentucky in the late 80's.

One, a brilliant chestnut with three white socks, built like a quarter horse but fast enough to have run his way into the history books. (One more hint: it's not Solo ;-)





The other a grey with a noble eye (whoever can ID this one gets MAJOR kudos).

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Canter Counts

My horse is awesome this week, I just have to say. I think perhaps he was abducted by aliens. All of a sudden, he is light in the bridle and staying on the bit. He is stretching out and down into the bit of his own free will during warmup, even at the canter *gasp*! And yesterday...we schooled a course that ranged from 3' to 3'3" -- successfully!!!

I've had a couple of changes of strategy in my rides.

(1) Solo knows where he is supposed to be now, on the bit, so I no longer show him where that is. He has two choices: to either (a) cooperate and be there, or (b) not cooperate and stick his nose up in the air and invert his neck. Should he choose option b, which of course, they always have to periodically try, I simply and quietly close my leg and close my hand at the same time, providing rather irritating resistant contact. I don't say anything, it's not a jerk, just a steady, increased pressure. He is, as intended, quite annoyed by this and decides in a few strides to give and go back down softly to the bit. At which point, I soften (NOT drop the contact) and we return to a light feel. It's working. The basic principle: right thing easy, wrong thing hard and annoying.

(2) I now incorporate a LOT more canter. I don't know why I wasn't before, it just didn't really happen. I'd ask for it, be annoyed with it's lack of bendiness, cadence, and just not do it for that long. It was part of every ride, but was never very satisfactory.

Inspired by my BO, whose horse prefers to warm up at the canter, I decided to start every ride with some forward trot with very light contact, letting Solo stretch down of his own accord (which he enjoys), then, on the same super light stretchy contact, ask for canter, get up off his back and let him just canter around on a loopy rein for a little. I don't care if he's perfectly straight, just that he maintains a rhythm.

Revolutionary approach: warm up the canter before you expect anything from it. Duh. But the result is, he is now offering me wayyyy more stretching down at the canter on that light contact, which he didn't used to be strong enough to do. He can reach down, opening his back, and still maintain a quiet rhythm. Go figure -- you can't improve a gait you don't put any thought into working on!

(3) Solo, true to his QH half, is hard to really get moving forward with impulsion at the walk and trot. But, as is true for many horses, right after he canters, we get a really nice swinging trot. I had BO watch us practice the Novice dressage test today and new strategy quickly became obvious. Before beginning a test, we are going to canter almost up to ring entry, then come back to trot and use that nice, forward trot to come down centerline.

Watch out, Novice-levelers, we are coming for you!

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Foot Fanatical

As you can see, Solo is spending his days like any smart horse in winter -- curled up snug, basking in the sun! Complete with neon blue Lycra club-tail, always an "in" look for the colder seasons.

Me, on the other hand, I am busy being over-the-top-OCD (as usual) about Solo's feet. In short, I'm not satisfied. Ok, he is moving great. BUT. But, over the last couple trims, he has begun to forge so much he tears up the front of his back feet and I have to keep four bell boots on him (he is prone to a little forging, but usually just light and occasional). Plus the back shoes are squooshing his back heels back together again, narrowing the frog and narrowing my eyes.

Momma ain't happy.

My farrier, bless his heart, has been wonderful answering all of my questions and being open to anything and is working with my vet. But he sucks at returning phone calls. I have a call in to him now asking about the forging, if there is anything we can do before the next reset.

I just HATE HAVING STUPID SHOES ON MY HORSE. There. I said it. It's true. They are always a fuss (if you pay attention to them) and it seems no matter what, his foot will never look as good as it does bare. Ignorance was bliss, before I began learning all about feet when Solo was barefoot.

His heels are looking a TINY bit better on the front and he is definitely more comfortable up there, that is undeniable, and we are keeping his toes nice and short and the angles are good. And he's not parking out when standing still to take weight off the back heels. So I guess that is a good thing too.

But I still don't like the trend and am just tapping my foot for farrier to call me back! I am wondering if we can pull his back shoes, if there is enough heel yet for that? But I don't want to make him uncomfortable. But now is the time to do it as we have some breathing space away from any big comps coming up.

Ah, universe, why must you torment my foot obsessed mind with so many variables???

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Because You Can't Ride On Ice

The temperature hovers around a balmy 32 F today. You will have to excuse me if I am less than enthusiastic, but seeing as I moved to the South to ESCAPE winter, I become rather whiny and crabby when it pursues me despite my best efforts.

But Solo has been performing well this week. His canter work gets better every day as I figure out how to stay soft and patient for longer periods. I could go over the indoor, but I just dislike riding in those things. So he can just hang out in the pasture today and enjoy the snowy companionship of Jeff, his TB buddy. I stopped by to wrap up Solo's tail to keep it up out of the mud, just another step to reduce maintenance.

Since the onset of this lovely season, I've been perusing a DVD lent to me in my downtime: Jane Savoie's "Program Your Position." Defintely plenty of giggle-worthy parts; Savoie is a great teacher, but she is always so darn cheerful about the MOST random things, it makes me laugh. It's a series of both five audio CD's and three DVD's which use visual keywords to help you develop a better position. Given that I am a steadfast visual learner, I find several of these to be helpful additions to the mental rolodex. Many are things that P has already incorporated into our dressage lessons, but a few are new to me and will address nasty little habitses of mine.

(1) Imagine holding a full bucket of water nestled down in the pelvic girdle, keeping the bucket perfectly upright so it doesn't spill out water forward (as I have a tendency to tip forward and spill my water right over that front lip!).

(2) Visualize sitting on a bullseye with a level on the hips and lifting legs out laterally to make sure weight in seatbones is even on both sides and weight is centered.

(3) Instead of the common "toes in", think instead "heel out" to straighten foot and drape leg. I've already tried this one and it WORKS.

(4) Rolling both the shoulders and the head and neck during the walk warmup to loosen stiff muscles and encourage the shoulders to open and the head and neck to rest back against the back of your collar.

There is also one whole DVD in the collection just about sitting trot, so that is the next one I'm putting in the player. I'm starting to get a feel for the sitting trot but I figure every viewpoint I can get can't hurt!

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A Love Story

All girls dream of ponies. For at least a brief time in their lives. Some girls never stop dreaming.

That's me.

When I was growing up, every Christmas morning I would lie still in my bed, eyes scrunched tight shut, holding my breath, firmly believing that if I was just still enough & wished hard enough, the sheer power of my longing would make a horse wearing a big red bow appear in my window when I looked out.

Alas, it appears I was unable to keep my eyes closed long enough, for the horse never appeared.

Yeahhhh, they didn't really have helmets back then.  Oops.

As a result, I begged & borrowed rides where I could. My mother did half-lease me a pony when I was 7 (that's Sassy below, circa mid-80's, half Welsh Mountain Pony & what you see is the grand total sum of tack that we had) & she bought me riding lessons from age 8-15. After that, I cleaned stalls, exercised what I could, schooled a backyard prospect or two.

And every day I dreamed of when I would be able to write my OWN horse's name on a bucket of brushes.

There were many gentle teachers & loving hearts along the way. There was the headstrong paint dressage gelding who ran away with me & knocked me out but taught me triumph when I could finally control him. There was the quiet chestnut who gave me my first real canter & jumped a faithful straight line while my arms were outstretched & eyes closed. There was the leggy thoroughbred who won me my first blue ribbon, when I was in college riding hunter equitation. The black ex-Rolex quarter horse who met my truck at the gate every day & despite his age & (unbeknownst to me then) intestinal cancer, always made me smile with his joie de vivre & finely tuned cues.

But none of them were mine & each I had to give up as owners changed their minds & life moved inexorably on. There were years when I couldn't even touch a horse; then I would pull my truck into random horse barn parking lots & sit there absorbing that special barn atmosphere with tears in my eyes because I missed it so much. I was 26 years old & I finally couldn't take it anymore; that horse-shaped hole in my heart had sat empty for too long. I didn't have any money -- I worked (and still do) as a state biologist & rented a house in a "transitional neighbourhood." But dammit, sometimes, it's just TIME. I wasn't going to get any younger, no CHANCE of getting richer, & I wasn't going to miss out on it any more.

I flipped the switch. I gave myself permission to horse shop. I gave myself a budget & started looking. I searched, I visited, I tried. A 3 year old black Percheron who was greenbroke (What was I thinking? Helloooo, I wanted to JUMP!). A beautifully built tri-coloured Appy (and I don't even go for Appies usually) who had learned to rear to dethrone his rider. A conformational trainwreck of a TB with uneven heels, mile-long pasterns & a limp but the heart of a saint.

Frustrated.

A few months earlier, I had coincidentally started dating this guy. This guy who in about four days I knew would change my life forever. And it turned out that this guy could make my life's only sure dream of horse ownership come true. He gave me a check & said, "Go find what you need." Hell, if you ever want to make a girl love you, that'll do it!

I revised my search with renewed hope of finding a horse that didn't limp & didn't have a death wish for humans.

Solo's first day - 6 June 2006

I was tired of driving around, but one final ad caught my eye: a chestnut Appendix QH named "Benson," with a little chrome. The pictures weren't great, but he looked to have decent conformation & he was a good age (10). I decided what the heck, I wasn't doing anything else, & I drove two hours to check him out.

I pulled into one of the million Carolina sandhills hobby farms & hopped out to meet the owner in the barn. As I walked in, Benson stood in quietly in the crossties awaiting my inspection. I looked at him. He looked at me. And something settled inside me.

I patted him on the neck & proceeded to look him over. He had the worst shoeing job I had ever seen with uneven gaps between hoof & shoe. Zero muscle tone. As I rubbed his lopsided white blaze his owner commented, "Huh, he trusts you. He doesn't do that for many people." So I asked to see him go & to ride him. A young European girl had been schooling him on the trails, said he didn't know a lot but seemed agreeable. She did a couple of circles at the trot & canter in the middle of the pasture (this is my actual video from that day, below) & then I threw my leg over.

He was crooked. He leaned hard on my left leg. He picked up the wrong canter lead. But he didn't fuss. And I felt safe. Which is a big deal to me -- due to aforementioned runaway Paint horse, I don't do bolters. Ever.

I loved him.

I brought a vet out a week later to do a Pre-Purchase Exam. Turned out not only was Benson criminally out of shape, he had bone spurs on his front coffin bones & if you pressed down on the right side of his SI, his back legs would buckle. His stifles popped & his back was lopsided.

I think I can fix that, I thought. "I'll take him," I said.

It was Memorial Day weekend 2006. I found a friend (N) to board him with. She generously drove with me to pick him up in her trailer. All the way there, I was buzzing with excitement, anticipation, & fear. What if the horse didn't like me? What if he turned out to be secretly crazy? What if he had some mysterious ailment/injury/handicap that would kill him six months from now? The horrible possibilities spun choking webs in my brain. I was stark-raving nuts.

He always knew he was sexy!

When we turned up at the seller's farm, I turned over my envelope stuffed with a wild array of cash & money orders that I had pulled together the night before. I signed the bill of sale & collected a Coggins certificate. Naturally, Benson had stepped on his own hind foot that day & ripped open his coronet band on his white hind foot. It was bloody with a chunk missing. I choked inside, I think my eyes rolled back in my head as I thought, "See, I told you he would be hurt!" I just wanted him on the trailer & out of there.


After a brief period of uncertainty, Benson agreed to step on the trailer. The seller proceeded to turn out the mare that was his best friend, who then ran up & down the fence calling for him as he rocked the trailer in a sudden panic. My heart broke for him & N was in tears for his distress as we pulled out. This wasn't starting well.

But we got him home with no further event, settled into his paddock, & let him inspect the place. "What do you want to feed him," N asked? "Ummmmmmmmm..." I knew nothing about horse feed, aside from the sweet feed we had when I worked at a boarding stable in the mid-90's. N, bless her heart, took over. Feed, amounts, hay, all taken care of. Farrier visit set up to rid us of those terrible shoes.

Grazing on the first day home.

I was helpless to do anything but hang on the fence & stare. He was mine. Mine mine mine. Finally, no one could stop me from riding him whenever I wanted. I already had a shiny new halter & lead rope.

I just needed a new name because "Benson" was horrendous & untenable for this shining hunk of a horse. So he became "Solaris" & in my star-struck eyes, he shone brighter than his namesake. His nickname, "Solo," carried its own hidden meaning: he was & is the culmination of a lifetime of longing, my one true dream, my sole hope & goal come to fruition.

I drove home to write a name on my brush bucket.

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Tree = 1, Equestrienne = 0.1

We (lifeshighway and I) had a great ride on Saturday. Solo and Pete, lh's great little Arabian endurance partner, run so well together. The horses were primed, the footing was perfect (I love thee, Sandhills, for being my go-to place when the rain turns everything else to hopeless mud), and even human spirits were up. It was a bit cold, but not brutally so and we moved out with joy. Solo jumped beautifully, he's really beginning to consistently jump AROUND the jump, cracking his back and using his head and neck well -- amazing what happens when I stop riding like a drunken ape. We stopped back by the trailers to have a snack and then went back out. It was shaping up to be the best ride in a long time.

Until.

Until we were trotting slowly up a hill. Solo was in his usual position as lead horse, Pete was following. I always keep an ear cocked for Pete's hoofbeats and bells behind me to keep tabs on his location. The horses were a bit tired by this point, so things were pretty mellow. All of a sudden, I heard lh give a squeak (a squeak I've only heard once before when a horse stomped on her foot) and I spun around to see Pete flailing sideways and lh embracing a tree trunk face first, then rolling slowly to the ground.

Oh shit.

You have to understand, we were in Sandhills pine savanna, that looks like this --> not exactly closely packed woods. So what the hell just happened? I was already jumping off Solo (Pete was already calmly munching grass to the side, the little piglet) and hollered at lh not to move. She had a pair of broken glasses and a bloody mouth and I feared the worst after hearing too many fatal tree encounter stories. Her helmet was cracked (thank God for helmets) and I worried about concussion.

After a few minutes of breathing, we ascertained that nothing (miraculously) seemed to be broken aside from glasses. A bitten lip, a sprained wrist, a wrenched back and some bruises appeared to be the sum total. It turns out Pete had just taken a bad step, tweaked his leg, lost his balance, and managed to do so next to the only tree within about 20 feet. Completely random, unpredictable, and begun and ended within seconds.

We led the horses for a little while to let lh work through the inevitable shaking adrenaline surge we all get after we fall off, then remounted to return to the trailers. Only to discover that in the process of dismounting, etc, I had gotten turned around and lost my idea of direction. No problem, we'll just let Solo find the way back, he always finds his trailer! At which point, Solo, with great enthusiasm, led us to a random pasture of horses. Thanks, buddy.

In short, a couple hours later, in the pitch dark, after asking for directions and following the highway (thank you, Solo, for being unflinchingly matter-of-fact about taking us home on the dark road shoulder where I am blinded by headlights and can't even see the ground), we arrived in a tired heap at the trailers. We loaded up everyone in my rig, as we didn't want lh to drive the two hours home after having busted her head.

Turns out, she DID have a concussion, confirmed by a hospital visit later that night. Which means she'd probably be dead right now without that helmet. Which is why I gave her 0.1 points in the post title for not being TOTALLY defeated by that inconveniently located longleaf pine. Which is why I tell people OVER AND OVER AND OVER, it doesn't matter if you are a great rider on a calm horse on good footing on a quiet ride, you can STILL fall off and bust your head open in the blink of an eye! So wear your freaking helmets (unless you are obnoxious, in which case, well, if you remove yourself from the gene pool, I guess we won't all cry too much)!

So until next time, me and my weary horse will be sprawled out in the stall recovering from that particular adventure!

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