What, Is It A Holiday Again Or Something?

Yeah, I don't really "do" holidays.  I don't know, maybe it's the pressure, the expectations, the completely illogical rules of them; most likely, d, all of the above.

But when I have not one, but two amazing horses in my life, every day is Christmas morning.  Every day, I see their faces and even after seven years, there's a part of me that can't quite believe it's real.

So despite the bottomless, money-eating pit, despite the stress, despair, anxiety, obsession, psychosis, sleep-deprivation, and all the rest, each day is still a gift because of them.

My day today was riding Encore on a sunny, blue, t-shirt kind of day and discovering that he can once again perform a left lead canter without feeling like a washing machine on spin.  I laughed a bit, thinking people who didn't know better might feel some kind of pity, seeing me at a farm, absolutely alone, accompanied only by the singsong of donkeys and geese.  When in reality, that was just about the best gift I could have been given.  A warm, companionable quiet in the place I love most.  And the best part is, I get to open it over and over and over and over....

I hope each of you had a piece of joy in your day and the joy of peace with a wonderful horse.

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Up Down!!!!

OMG OMG OMG!  I CAN POST THE TROT!

Whoever thought such news would be cause for excitement?  But I could barely contain my glee Wednesday evening as I cautiously put my feet in the (very long) stirrups and asked Encore to trot.

The ortho squad has given their approval for me to proceed, just letting pain be my guide.  Brian, my completely awesome PT, is a bit more conservative but is still very pleased with progress.

And it didn't hurt.  Second gear is now mine again.  Which means I get third gear back too.  Thrilled does not even begin to describe it.

Encore himself remains a bit of a puzzle.  He seems to be healed up (hoorah!) and is moving well.  The new saddle just needs breaking in but he still seems happy with it.  But mentally, the big youngster remains a little enigmatic to me. 

When I drive up and holler my greeting out the truck window, both horses prick their ears and turn happily in my direction.  No doubt in that never-ending equine hope that every truck dispenses carrots and other palatable goodies.

Yeah, I'm watchin' you, lady.

But when I enter the pasture to fetch said equine, Solo immediately turns towards me and waits with bright eyes, with an expression full of happy and hopeful that the halter is aimed for his stripey nose.  Encore, though, moves behind him, watching for a treat, but keeping his distance from the halter.

I am puzzled -- BO says both come right to the gate and Encore offers no issues being captured for hotwalker duty (which he is not all that fond of) and I know all the staff spoils both boys rotten with treats and pets, so it's just me.  I wonder if he STILL begrudges that one time I caught him by surprise with a shot months ago. 

If I move quietly and softly put the rope around his VERY watchful neck, he is then easily haltered and transforms back into Mr. Amiable Businessman.  So why the stand-offishness?  He enjoys getting out and doing things.  We have lots of variety.  He used to walk right up to me and offer his nose.  Is he secretly a woman in his TB brain, never letting go of my one surprise stab?  I know they remember the strangest details, but he has had shots since in the same place with no issues (once I learned surprises were bad, oops, sorry, Solo prefers no warning).

Has anyone invented that horse telepathy hat yet?   

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This Is How We Roll: Dressage Saddles, Pt. II

There's a little town in England where cows live in everlasting terror.  It is called Walsall and it is home to, among others, the saddlemakers at Black Country, Kent & Masters (formerly Fairfax), Frank Baines, Albion, Harry Dabbs...need I continue?

In March, after trying 427 models (perhaps I exaggerate a little....but not much!), we decided on a Kent & Masters dressage saddle for Encore, since Solo's Black Country Eden, while heavenly, was all kinds of the wrong shape for a flat OTTB back.  The tree sat on Encore like it was built for him, the balance was perfect and I loved riding in it.  My ever-generous mother made it a wonderful gift and we moved forward with much glee.

As a side note, K&M has moved in sync with a few other brands and offers changeable gullet plates.  I have mixed feelings about these; they are obviously not a panacaea as they only slightly adjust one part of the tree.  Do it wrong and you can throw the whole saddle off balance.  But they have been helpful as my horses change shape with training and muscular development.  I have owned Wintecs and still have a Collegiate Convertible that I like but for one problem:  the gullet plates have very short tree points and created pressure points under the ends because there was not enough metal to distribute the weight down the horse's side.  My saddle fitter and I both mourned this shortcoming and tried to make up for it in several ways.  I finally successfully put a bandaid on it with my Collegiate, called the magical powers of Ecogold pads.  But K&M (and Thorowgood) did me one better:  they built a longer plate.

To the left are two medium gullet plates.  The one on top is a K&M plate, the bottom one is a Wintec/Collegiate plate.  Both have the same angle.  But not only is the K&M significantly longer, but it also does not pinch in about halfway down the way the other does.  Colour me happy. 

Problem:  within the first two weeks, the dye beneath the stirrup leathers began to rub off a tiny bit.  I contacted my fitter, from whom I had purchased the K&M, and she said to photo track it and let her know what happened.  Most of the Walsall companies are known not only for their well-made saddles, but their excellent service, so I had a low(er) level of distress about options.

Fast forward seven months to October and the dye was becoming an endangered substance anywhere my leathers or legs touched the saddle and by December, it looked like this:

Now, if this was a $500 saddle, I might say, well, my leg covers it all, oh well.  But even though the saddle was a gift, the gifter still put down about $1600 and I expect a heck of a lot better wear for that price!  Were there going to be holes right through the flap in two years?

I will spare you the excruciating details, but I tapped the customer service pipeline.  I hoped I could at least get some money back -- the saddle still rode wonderfully, I didn't want to get rid of it.  To my surprise, I learned that I was not alone.  The company had suffered a bad dye lot (not uncommon in leather-world) and was speedily responding to reported issues and rectifying them generously.  So maybe, I could get really lucky and get them to send some new flaps!

Oh no, Walsall does not take leather inadequacies likely.  My fitter informed me that they were going to replace the whole thing and my NEW new saddle would arrive in early December!

OMG.

And it did.  Fitter informed me the company had slightly streamlined the design and tree since March and if I had ANY reservations, to just let her know immediately and K&M would work as long as it took until we were sorted.  I was a bit nervous -- the words "new tree" send a shudder down my spine.  However, I took a deep breath and set it on Encore's back...and fell in love all over again.

Clip job not finished yet.  Ha.

It assumed its rightful position with gorgeous wither clearance and settled onto his back like a homing pigeon (only without claws).  I sat in it and walked around a bit and was happy to find it felt just as correct and comfortable as its predecessor.

All that is left now is to re-break it in and hopefully we are set.  Time will tell, but I feel much more comfortable knowing that if I DO have any further issues (hey, shit happens), I will not be left stranded.  I cannot give higher praise to K&M -- a company which stands so firmly behind its products and recognizes the significant financial output of its customers will gladly receive my recommendation and business any day of the week.

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Red Reloaded

Imagine my delight when I clicked over to SprinklerBandit this morning and saw my one true love not only pictured, but referred to as the original!  Now, he's hardly the first awesome red gelding, but he was certainly MY first awesome red gelding.

Her description of him (I was so flattered!  Thank you, SB!) got me thinking, as has rediscovering his quirks which had become instinct to me but are all new to his beloved new minion, Amber.  And laughing fondly about what makes him so unique, so amazing, and so maddening.

If you have an Olympic medal, I do not helmet boss you.  Although I think about it.

Like the fact that if you need to change something while you are riding, you are NEVER going to get a damn thing on a straight line.  That horse has never been truly straight in his life and never will be.  You have to use a bend or a transition or a step of leg yield or shoulder fore to unlock his body and ask for the change you seek.  This is why he actually got better scores as he went up the levels and his best test was Training B -- because there is not more than three steps in that test when you are not bending, changing gaits, changing within gaits, or changing direction.

Like the fact that while you will work yourself into a sweat lathered frenzy getting him to trot FORWARD (you better be fit!), if you dig in your heel or spur when asking for the canter, you WILL be doing airs above the ground while Mr. Shiny expresses his disgust with your overzealotry.  Ask Amber about that one.

Like the FOUR YEARS it took me to get this kind, quiet gelding not to rear, bolt, shake, or run at the sight of a longe whip and the slow melting of fear into a trust that I wondered at times if I would ever get.

Like the fact that he HATES it when you hug his head or neck, or you pet his nose, but if I stand still, his expression of affection is to just rest his muzzle against me and I feel the incredible energy flow between us in that touch.

Like the fact that when most horses jig or get antsy on the trail, you just ask them to work (i.e. shoulder-in, get on the bit, etc) and eventually they give in and decide walking is easier.  Solo, on the other hand will NEVER. GIVE. IN.  Ever.  He will trot sideways, bowed up against the bit for two hours in 90 degree heat, his ears very clearly saying, F U, lady, the whole time.  Even if it is so hot blood starts to come out his nose, he's not stopping and you will have to get off or make him walk backwards so he doesn't kill himself before you make it home.  Then, he is such a tough bastard that you hose him off and 15 minutes later, he's brightly eating grass like nothing happened.

Yeah! We jumped the ditch!  Oh....crap.

Like the fact that he hated dressage so much, that after a test halt at a HT one day, the judge said to me, "Wow, he really doesn't like dressage, does he?"  Ever so subtle, my redhead.  Yet the day he discovered extended trot and every time I asked for it thereafter, he engaged his hind end and sprung forward with, dare I say, joy, floating powerfully over the ground with his face lit up like a candle.

Like the fact that you better keep your head in the game.  If you slack off and say, celebrate after leaping the ditch, or get excited and pitch your shoulder at him, you either ain't jumping at all or you jumping by yourself!

For those and a hundred other reasons, yes, there is such a thing as Mad Solo Love.  It's been almost seven years and now we just read each other's minds, but that same lightning bolt that hit the first time our eyes met strikes over and over again each time I arrive at the pasture gate.  He taught me things I thought I already knew about heart and patience and trust and courage.  And then, just to make sure, he would teach me again.

To this day, he will STILL test me one way or another every time I get on.  And to this day, it will still make me giggle at his huge personality.  And even though he is out of shape and he will never quite recover from his back injury, I will fall in love with him all over again every time he tries his damndest to give me the best canter he can or jumps a 12" crossrail with two feet to spare.

I wish on everyone a horse (you don't even have to own it) so special that he opens a door in your heart you didn't even know was there and changes you forever.

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Dancing Beneath The Stars

I stood on top of the hill, waiting for Encore to work his way through his supper.  My head was craned back, 30 degrees feeling like 20 once I stopped moving and the cold air seeped in through my edges.  I racked my mind, trying to remember where Gemini was, my astronomy class and fascinated study of the night sky almost two decades in my past.  I finally concluded that if everyone could see tonight's meteor shower, it must be in the southern sky.

So I waited.

A satellite buzzed overhead, its steady glow seeming to traverse the galaxy like a pelican cruises the tips of the waves, effortless in medium in which we are helpless.

I have loved the stars as long as I can remember; my childhood evenings were filled with my mother pointing out the royal arrangement of Cassopeia and the warrior Orion, with his faithful dog at his feet and a brute of a bull on his shoulder.  I came to love them even more over time, because they were the one thing we couldn't reach, the one thing that was truly perfect because humanity couldn't touch it and therefore couldn't mess it up.

As I watched this night, I was struck again by their impossible magic, even though I know the science -- giant balls of fire and gas; the meteors themselves, tremondous rocks hurtling through space and burning trails of flame and debris through our atmosphere.  Yet to us, each star is but a tiny point of light, watching us, and those roaring meteors merely white streaks of an instant, like a single note struck on a piano key in the near-infinite chord of a universal melody.

I also wondered, how long has it been since someone first looked at the incomprehensible brilliance at play above with a horse at their side.  The horses even have their own constellation!  How many people over centuries have watched a tail of ivory trace an arc against blackness while an equine partner chewed into the silence nearby?  How long have horses and humans danced together on the stage watched over by Antares and Vega and Sirius?

I suppose I know the answer already, but it still opens a door in my mind whose hinges had become rusty with disuse.  It brought into question time and perspective and the quiet truth that it is really we, our species, who are a brief single note echoing into the span of geological epochs.  We are the miniscule flashes of an instant, but oh how much sweeter the note is when it is accompanied by hoofbeats and the swish of a tail, by the soft sighs of contentment into a pile of hay, all while massive gravitational forces play on scales our minds cannot even comprehend and entire solar systems are born and die before their light even reaches us.

Yet all we see are those brief trails, a reminder that the warm, powerful neck beneath our hand, the strong quiet heartbeat that drives the horses who teach us about love and patience and strength and exhilaration, all of these are but brief opportunities and we must, we MUST grasp them before their light burns out, the purity of the moment lost and overwhelmed by the blinding arrival of dawn and noise and traffic and rules.

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