Fear of Flopping

Tad Plaid, sans gonad(s).



A Hydrangea Flower.


Blaze Puppy, and the most important thing on her earth.




That's Leo Bear, with cool kid on his back. Oh, he was a nice kid. Had his own New Forest Pony, horrible thing, no neck or withers, not broke. The kid had already outgrown him, and it wasn't pretty watching them careening around the ring. I insisted he take some lessons on a broke horse. Kid loved to cluck, and chirp, and make the strangest noises with his mouth. The camera has actually captured the pursing of his mouth he'd do. The net forward effect was zero, of course. Well, except that Leo's mildly interested.

The poor kid didn't even know he was doing it, half the time, and with pony, it kinda sorta didn't work, at all. The kid didn't quite have the timing yet. Kid would cluck, and bam, into the fence the pony would leap, broad-side. Yeah, safe mount. His sister was a wonderful kind rider, boarding there at the time, and she was totally embarassed by the pony too.

The Riding Instructor (A Parody of the 23rd. Psalm), written in 1971, by moi.

The Instructor is my enemy.
To whom I DARE not talk back.
He draggeth me to the arena.
He teareth down my arrogance.
Yea, though I walk through the stalls of learning, I will hide my ignorance,
for fear of a fence.
The screams and cruses he flings at me.
My blisters swelleth over.
Surely pain and misery will follow me all the days of my life.
And I will sit the trot, forever.

Funny, I'd forgotten that silly thing. Mom carefully pasted it inside the photo album. Thanks, Mom.
I think, by then, I was taking lessons from Ed Rothcranz. Now, that man could yell! Good thing he was German, and I didn't understand half of what he was saying.
I remember the blisters, and the pain. Riding clear through my jeans. Blood crusting on my inner calves.
The joy. Always, the joy. First.

Fear of Flopping.
It's in everybody/everything, all the time, a little niggling worry ahead thing.
That picture of Tad gelding was taken around the time I realized he'd had NO turnout at his old place. Tad was three. Talk about yippee-kay-Yay!

The first time I chanced it was in this paddock, built on a hill. I thought it would slow him down.

To be continued......