So, in the dead of winter, with snow slipping to ice all around, what is there really to discuss in regards to the farm and garden? Hmm…Nothing Much.
I had decided, though, that the easiest topic to continue on for long periods of time, the topic that occupies much of my daily thought and bores my family senseless, would be my horses. With a new year comes a new topic, and from now until the foreseeable future, this blog will be about horses.
To start off, I should give a quick introduction to my herd. To make matters easy, we’ll go by seniority. Age before beauty?
Tani: Nearly my age, Tani and I have been together for over sixteen years now. She was a flighty green Standardbred mare when I got her. Now she’s a flighty retired one. She and I have one key element in common. We are both accident prone. For me, it’s slipping on the porch and getting a concussion. For her, it’s slipping in her pen and getting trapped under a wall. We could share battle scars, and that conversation could last forever. Still, aloof, quirky, and yet endearing, she was my first horse, and I am only to happy to be her retirement home now.
Wish: Tani’s best friend, Wish and I have an odd sort of relationship. As a child, I always wanted Ginger from Black Beauty, not the story’s namesake or Merrylegs. No, I wanted the Thoroughbred with issues. Well, be careful what you wish for. Wish and I have done quite remarkable things together. We showed Training Level Eventing, with two completions and one victory at Prelim level Event Derbies. We barrel raced, got third at a show in Pole Bending, and she was the first horse I ever felt piaffe on. Wonderfully talented, and yet perversely opinionated, I wouldn’t trade her for the world, but sometimes, just sometimes, I wish she was a little bit less like a cat and a little bit more like Black Beauty.
Bo: My Dad’s horse, technically, another Standardbred, makes Tani look like she doesn’t know how to be destructive and Wish look like she doesn’t know how to express an opinion. We call him Bucky Bo because every time he gets a reprieve from riding, he has to throw a few in the next time. Sadly, his bucks are pretty pathetic, and he is easy to push on. His habits are quirky, and usually endearing, but sometimes… Well, let’s just say some days I don’t mind he’s not technically mine.
Samson: Ah, Sam, words hardly describe this plucky, severely opinionated Mustang. Pulled from the range at the age of three, Sam has more survival instincts than the rest of the herd combined. He saves water, eats other’s food before his, and has been called a thief. Short, stocky, with an Andalusian’s paces, he prefers piaffe pirouettes to collected trot, and levades to square halts. He has more talent in one foot than most Lippizans have in their entire body. He has also shown Novice eventing, jumped four foot courses, but it is his dressage that is truly spectacular. When he wants to, which isn’t often. He is my task master, my instructor. Working with him is like playing chess with a master when I barely even know the rules.
Mythriel: Finally, the relative youngster. She’s approaching fifteen this year, and her dark gray coat is now nearly white with plenty of speckling. A compact thoroughbred, she has been known to have the attention span of a gnat, but a heart as true as any canine. After all these years, she has finally calmed into a wonderful mare to work with. She actually wants to cooperate, which, in my herd, is pretty rare. She’s tried her hand at eventing, going up through Training courses in schooling, she’s done 3’6″ courses at a hunter pace, but her dressage is my pride and joy, and now, after a year of painful crashes, our goal. She can do every pace required of the two beat-ed variety, now if only we could get all of that out of her canter.
So, there you have it, the herd. How we get through the winter will be all I talk about, which, if you knew me, would come as no surprise. Pictures will come, especially of Sam. Believe me when I say, there is just nothing quite like him. Signing out now…