Fall Interlude

Took the girls on our usual long weekend walk through my favourite park in my neighbourhood. How tidy some wild natural gardens can be:)

I hear music. No, I mean, I hear it a lot. In my head. Life is very rhythmical, cadenced, circular. In the early fall, I hear the quiet tuning of instruments by an orchestra. The colours are shy this year. They are biding on their own time.

Some of the trees I have watched and admired over the years, usually spectacular by now, are sulking, because they experienced neighbours cut down for no reason or purpose. At least, that's my anthropomorphic take on it;)

The new tones in the wind begin in the fall, the rattle of the different types of leaves, the clapping of poplars, the hissing of cedars, the chuckling of maples... It's a fleeting, beautifully musical time of year. The muted colours are offset by the sharp crimson tones of my favourite trees & shrubs, not yet willing to reach for their highest notes of colour.


All animals are sensitive to changes at this time of year. Ferocious barbed pollen grains, some microscopic, tickle their skin, their delicate nostrils. Burdocks tangle dog and horse hair into disconcerting shapes. Chilly winds surprise summer warmed haunches. Horses whistle and blow in their paddocks, chasing and then following the fickle winds. It's the best time of year for riding. Flies are sleepy, the ground is drier, but still softened enough to be forgiving.

I remember, with an aching clarity, the hacks with GoLightly on our "Suicide" trails. The scenery of Oakville through Sixteen-Mile Creek's parks and trails was unfailingly spectacular. The red clay would soak up his strides, soundlessly, as we'd listen to the cacophony of sounds around us. Only the comforting metronomic sounds of leather chaps on leather saddle. Riding to the rhythms of the natural world. The horse always moves to music. We just have to listen closely.


The Girls, speed-serious-racing towards me, part of their dancing together. I try taking pictures with them, but it's like trying to capture a bird. They flit and fly and frolic. I laugh, and just keep snapping, hoping I can catch an instant of their hilarity.



I won, NO, I won!


Okay, let's race aGain!


Sorry for the picture blitz, precious readers.
My eyes and ears (and nose) are full, of Fall.

CircusMovements&NaturalForcesTBC

and the beginning of my ode to my old red dog, it's coming up on five years since I held her for the last time, and I'm a little more ready to share her with y'all. What the heck kinda dog is this??

The little "Foxy" girl I found, waiting for me at the Toronto Humane Society, Feb.8, 1991. Her first day home. She had danced for joy on her hind legs, all the way to my little Chevy S10 pickup truck, and our drive home was "interesting". We chatted, she showed me her interest in helping with the steering, and she discovered her real name.

She'd been named "Foxy" at the shelter, estimated to be about a year and a bit old, found on the mean streets of Toronto in January, wearing a red leash, and a blue collar. Found in Toronto's red-light district, we joked (sadly) that she'd been a streetwalker before I adopted her. Her name I cannot type to this day, without a twinge of loss. Perhaps in another five years, I will re-edit this post;)

"Foxy" was NOT her name, but I will use it here, it's easier on my heart. She instantly responded to her "true" name.

Foxy was the colour of fall leaves. My first walks with her in Sunnybrook Park were notable to the resident foxes, who lined the trails to gaze in wonder at this fox/not fox/dog. Coyotes always looked twice at her.
Most every dog instantly bonded with her. Not Jack Russell terriers, of course, no surprise there:) She seemed to acquire instant respect and admiration from most other dogs. Royalty, in canine form.

She looks so wan, here, her first day home. She was only 19 pounds when I adopted her. Her normal weight was about 30-33 pounds. Foxy remained quite serious for awhile, so grateful she was to be out of the shelter.

These next pictures are for BlueHeron, whom I promised "Wile E. Coyote" EaR pictures to, way long ago! Foxy's first boyfriend was this handsome fellow, "Kerry", also a shelter rescue. Foxy liked tall guys:)



Our first summer, in Owen Sound, on the beautiful rocky shores of Georgian Bay.
To Be Continued..


MiniMovement...

Circus Time?
The debate about whether dressage is circus, or circus is dressage, has been going on, ever since there WerE circuses and dressage people to argue about it.
It's interesting from my point of view, because I can see both sides. And isn't dressage the subjective sport to judge! It's like Dancing. You either see what you want to see, or you don't. But everybody has a different set of goggles to look through.
Horses garner strong opinions. Inflexible opinions. Why?

Dancing&Dogs

A MiniStallion, owned by friends in Belwood. His name is longer than he is, and I can't remember it! Horrors!


Sunny September WeedFlowers - Goldenrods and Asters.. The goldenrods remind me of fireworks, and the asters blue is the cheeriest colour.


Burdock Behemoths. 6 Foot tall, I've never seen them so tall before!



Peaceful Pond.


Perseverance, or the Roses that shouldn't have bloomed.
Stunning examples of why I shouldn't even try to grow the English Tea Roses, during a continuously cold downpour of a summer, with no chemical interventions, which is against my green principles. I have used soapy water with some success, but not when it's raining every single day for three months.. I've given up on most of my gardens this year. So much rain, every weed missed is a giant overnight. I hadn't even looked at this plot for about a month. It made me laugh to see those determined blooms, standing proudly atop completely skeletal stems..

My chaos of dogs have decided to train me to dance. Apparently, I am most excellent at this with them. We try to stay within each others "orbits". Okay, except Flip, who does have many frogs hopping into the pond and distracting her right now. The black glop Flip manages to fling onto her tummy and legs and paws on the edge of "my" pond is kinda groady, which is such a doggie desire.

Blaze & I ping each other, all the time. I loook left, left she flies. Stop, drop, roll-over, fly again after the word geese, I need a musical score, and then you guys can watch us country dogs dancing. It's like Blaze and I are traveling on a single path, split only by distance, not intent or direction. It's like riding a horse who's really with you, and is always looking for where you want to go.

Actually, truth be typed, I've over-pingified Blaze. Or something. I've got a very motivated individual, in Blaze. We've decided to play body mirror games, as we walk. I should say, she has, since counting trees is mostly boring to her, whereas Flip counts everything, and always ranges ahead, trying to find something without my noticing it. Flip is A dog first. Blaze is My dog, first. Flip is funny, Blaze is serious.
My husband, annoyingly, nailed it when he said Flip is under-trained, Blaze is over-trained. Happy medium? Maybe for my next dogs:)

I have let Flip tell me how to train her, and she makes me laugh with her. Blaze wants me to tell her EverythinG, now. Not literally, but it's pretty funny to watch..
Blaze is practicing her English language skills. Flip has them All figured out. One of the descriptions for my chaos breed is "stubborn, and barks a lot". I would describe them as opinionated, and vocal when they have deemed it necessary.

I wanted to mention the dearth of several birds that have been seen in my area for many years. Not seen, or heard, this year, includes Eastern Meadowlark, Indigo Bunting, Bobolink, yellow-breasted grosbeak...
sigh. It's quieter, in the country, aka the outskirts of Toronto's wilder places. The road noise grows.

My Wonderful Cousin's Web-Site
Don't expect a great web-site with lots of techno stuff. She will never be techno-savvy. But she is horse savvy. That's WAY more important, for the horses.

Thought of a great new motto about my silly blog and horses, as I was typing a reply to cousin..
If ya can't ride 'em, write 'em.
All I can do right now...

I've been trying to re-ignite my horse fire, dang thing went out.
Kindling, people, I need kindling! Someone really annoy me, or something.
That should be pretty easy to do;)

Party at fernvalley's, btw.
Be there, and bring your tools.

Heroes, for more than one day

An article with pics of my hero, Bill Steinkraus..

I had a lot of heroes, growing up. Micky Dolenz notwithstanding..

The trainer/boss I worked for, Peter Stoeckel, rode with Randy Roy and Ian Millar and that whole group. Peter rode & trained with Michael Matz for awhile, and has a very similar riding style. They all knew George Morris. Peter always, ALWAYS was a stickler for clean and neat and tidy. Working hard every day. Grooming with (gasp) brushes and rub rags and lots of human sweat.

6 days on, one day off. Horses love a routine. Peter was a stickler for routines and slow work and hacking and change of venue. He never said much when he taught, not the greatest teacher.

He always told you exactly what was wrong though. The day he said, after an amazing round of fences out of Lightly and I, "That was good, Baaaaarb", I justabout died.

Watching him wasn't so much eye candy as learning how to ride smooth. The guy never moved. His hands were always soft and adjustable. Peter was a stickler for correct position.. And since he WAS always in the correct position, it was kinda hard not to take him seriously. I was riding the nicely nasty chestnut Jaimie mare (pictured above) one day over fences, and she was bullying me/rushing her jumps, mostly because of my tendency to yup, jump ahead. Over the last fence of a four jump gymnastic, I took a (light) feel of her mouth, in the air. Peter INSTANTLY said, "Leave her be in the air, Baaaarb. No need to take a feel when she's just airborne. You have to learn to wait."

It took forever, it seemed to me, to dump that habit. If my leg was a little too forward, I had to make a move to catch up. AHA! Lower leg too far back, is indeed, worst of the worst, but I didn't have that problem. I had a leg defensively forward, all the time.

The Heroes..
Here's an abbreviated list of my heroes. Rodney Jenkins (my first love, in my child mind), Kathy Kusner, Katie Monahan, Nick Skelton, John & Michael Whitaker (their nieces and cousins seem to ride beautifully too, it's genetic), Eddie Macken, Beezie Madden, our Ian Millar of course, Gail Greenough, Beth Underhill, george morris of courses, ummmm, Christilot Boylen, Michael Matz, Mac Cone, any rider that seems to become invisible, on horseback. Conrad, Joe Fargis..... Many many great riders, many still riding, still doing what they do best. Some three-day greats, Mark Todd, Ginny Leng, Ian Stark, Bruce Davidson....

Try to find a video of Beth Underhill riding Altair. There is a rider with an anchored lower leg. A rider who could stick a buck, in two-point. Beth can ride the worst stoppers, without being defensive, and these horses never looked like they ever even knew how to stop.



Just Starving, poor thing;)
Just had to feed the pack of canines. Speaking of dogs, there's just too much wrong here..

Your Lower Leg Position and Its' Consequences.
I know I'm obsessing, but I'm a nut for detail. JustaNuT. I heard a good line from another blogger, "Some riding guru says it's safer to ride with the weight of your body a little behind, and your lower leg a little forward, on greenies." Heck there's a lovely picture of Melanie Smith sitting like a quarterback on a lovely horse, in this month's Practical Horseman. She was never one of my heroes, though.

I just have to disagree. It's in my nature or something. I base this on (who else) GoLightly, a well-broke horse. And Tad Plaid, my deceased bright bay TB gelding, that I started from scratch, after GoLightly. I totally get that it's safer and more stable and blah, blah, blah. On a bad broke horse. Or a not moving forward horse, or a bucker, now that's defense. A horse you "think" might fall down, or go up. All of those are assumptions that can get to be completely inaccurate, simply because you ARE assuming the defensive position. It's heavier on the horse, less comfortable, is all I'm nagging on.

Tangent Alert.
I have decided that if the Horse Sport Magazine can come out against the Grand National Steeplechase, I can come out against rodeo. Hey, it's my blog!
Sorry. As long as we're doin' it for fun, it's just plain wrong, and a waste of the animal's time and stress.
No, I don't mean the cutting horses. I mean the rest of the crap you can see. I get totally enraged by gratuitous violence towards animals. It's part of why my rock is so attractive.
Tangent subsiding. I have GOT to stop watching SHARK videos. I know it's not ALL like that somewhere. I want to go live there. I don't agree with all of what this site is shrieking, but DANG..
It's time we started practicing what we seem to want to preach. Of course, I'm appalled by horse-tripping in other cultures. I am just as aghast by the Wild Horse Race so popular at rodeos. What is the difference? Where do you draw the terrible line?

Okay, back to lower legs.
There's a reason why the chair seat is sooo popular. To me, the chair seat is a lower leg jammed too far forward, and weight too far back. A tendency to grab mouth for balance. I'm talking for flat work and over fences work. If you keep your leg underneath you, the horse is more comfortable! That's all I'm saying! Oh, and I'm also reminded of my Tad, who ONLY attempted bucking when I sat back on him, and GoLightly, who would check what ever he was doing and wait for you to catch up. Don't be behind the motion, GoLightly would say. How can I go forward, if you're behind me? GoLightly was always right.

I think if you really want to get great, or better, or improve, you have to always TRY to emulate correct position. To strive for anything other than correct doesn't help the horse. To say "Oh, so-and-so does it incorrectly", means nothing to the horse. He's still uncomfortable.
What would happen here, , if the heel was ahead of the hips?
Yeah. Splat. Ouch.

Trrrrrot, On!! Legs long and deep, ladies, sit lightly, your horse will smile:)

and an extra Awwwwwwwww!!!

Simple, Not Stupid.

This is a pic of the horse I part-boarded briefly, after I'd readjusted his brow band. I love his expression. HeY, my bridle fits me now! He didn't really need a flash, owner insisted. I loosened it about two holes whenever I rode him. No wonder he was happy.

WARNING, this post is even more scattered/tangential than usual. No reason, I just can't seem to stick on one topic for too long;)

GoLightly was a simple horse. Not stupid. GoLightly never learned to be complicated. He was clearly happy with his job. How unusual is that, now? I have no idea, really. Judging only by what I've read, and watched, isn't enough for making any broad sweeping generalizations. Oh, why not, just OnE. Everybody's different.

Hah, had y'all excited, didn't I?? Yeah, I wish, I know.. snore.... Wake up!

Horses are very (don't get mad) simple creatures. Utterly honest, utterly aware of everything happening, all the time. It's tough being a prey animal. If you've trained them properly, they have you to look to. Horses depend on feeling safe.

Dusty, the long stiff black train I rode, absolutely melted down at the sight of a white gate, any kind of white gate. I had been studying animal behaviour by this point, finally, and realized what I needed to do. Dusty had been conditioned to fear gates. They were not safe. My job was to de-condition his fear, help him feel safe around gates again. The most important point about Dusty, he was afraid, not stubborn, not angry. Just scared. Pain will scar fear into a horse deep down, where you can't see it.

Food is a great de-conditioner, if the timing is perfect enough. Dusty was never reinforced with food when he was refusing to go near gates. Dusty was instantly rewarded everytime he even looked at a gate, at first. Then, he was rewarded for going forward, past a gate. He could be galloping past it, but he was still rewarded. Gate = Forward = Food. We practiced that over and over and over. The day Dusty saw a gate, dropped his head and walked up to it for his food reward, was a tear-worthy day for his owners and I. Dusty's jumping skills weren't great. But Dusty learned to jump them again, safely and happily, through careful mind-washing & rinsing:)

Their brains are wired to watch/listen to something important. They tune out, or over-react, or throw you on the floor. Or, incredibly, they just go. If you just go. Your horse is an arrow. Your body is the bow, the quiver. I've said that before. Sorrry.

A well-conditioned, well-trained freely-forward moving horse, of any description is a joy to see. I haven't seen that many. (oops, there it IS) They do not seem to want back legs to bend anymore, in some disciplines. Very odd. How can/does/would this horse jump? Saints, horses are, just saints.

I just see it when I'm watching, a little hitch in the connection between horse and rider. It, 99% of the time, comes from the rider (or the previous rider). The horse is the mirror. Laugh, he'll laugh. Scare, scar, force, fuss, are yours, if you ask for it. Relax, smile, chew, snort, prance, all are yours too.

Okay, first tangent over. It is the first month after the below to-be-mentioned anniversary.. plural. (claps hands) Hello??

Something to think about.
Even after I'd been off riding for a few years, I was able to fairly easily get back into it. How? I increased my demands on my body. I'd flex and stretch parts of the old body while commuting. I'd "ride" a horse for 35 miles, in my head, in my car. I'd practice posture and position. I'd watch great riders, and imagine myself riding in their place. I still practice all those moves I've posted. When I part-boarded the half-starved grey in the above picture, I was able to slowly bring myself back, as he slowly benefited from my hay donations. We built strength together, and he had a powerful jump, I discovered to my delight. Short-lived, as the usual unfortunate circumstances ended that gig. But the coolest thing was the first jump we hopped over, justa 18" cavaletti. I'd been drilling myself to wait for a horse's jump, (without a horse) for a WhilE.

Oh, my god, it was cool. Nothing special GreyGelding bloody exploded over it, and I justflew with him, nowhere near his neck, light on his back, allowing him to. Lower leg tight as a tick, but supple. Hip angle just following what the horse did FirsT. Landed grinning. That's why I jumped. Why I still would, if I could.

Wishing for horses. I'm still wishing. So far, I've heard of three free horses, poor souls, up close to Thornbury, Ontario. Too far.

A Factual, Informative Farming Article
Time's cover story is about food and sustainability, from the "agri-intellectual" point of view.. Funny how food is becoming more important, when it's always been THE most important.

I was so, so new to bloggingg..
A whale of a while, on a whimsy. Well! Who knew horses would gallop back into my computer.
It's been a year since I started doing the blogging thing. To me, that's when I started commenting. Onandonandon.. A year since Eric Lamaze won individual gold at the Olympics, and set my heart afire (while I was in the middle of a thyroid meltdown) with his Hickstead horse. A year since I quit coffee. I know, it explains a LOT about my early comments on other blogs. Boy, was I grumpy;)
(who, Me???)

If only I'd known Robert Dover had a blog... I could've stirred that DQ pot. I have tons of respect for his riding skills. But I like all horses, not just dressidge harses..

I'd never have read all of you people. Hmmmm. Fair enough swap:) I've learned a LOT. A lot, a lot. Thank you, merci, tres beaucoup. There are nice horse people out there. As long as we have folks like you in the horse business, I can continue to feel my glimmers of hope.


Picture of Me and TadPlaid, about two weeks broke at this point. I love his expression, too.

Oh, OH! Brilliant article by Jim Wofford in Practical Horseman this month, again, well, as usual. Mr. Wofford advocates lifting your leg away from the horse too, for stretches, to limber your hips. Amen to that. Oh, and he recommends no stirrups, too! Simple, really. Work your butt off. Get at 'er!


Blaze admiring her new stuffie, donated by Millie-dog.