Igniting the emotion

Dear recent reader of the sad 2010 blogs. 

Move along, if all you're doing is stoking anger. I'm talkin' to YOU, ex-abuser of Apalachian Chief. Get the bloody blasted hell off my blog. You don't deserve to read this, heckle, you can't understand half of it anyway.  How much money do you have left from your bullsh*t lawsuit? Who are you torturing now? I cringe to think of the animals you're making miserable today. Everyday. No, I don't think about you. I reposted the nightmare of 2010, statute of limitations and all that. Tired of hiding it. Then I noticed someone pinging those very blogs... EW. Gross Yuck. Move on! So, bye!!

(shakes off maggot goo) Where was I?

 Anyone remember why I started blogging all those 15 billion years ago? I do. I was angry. It was August, 2008, I'd been reading a fiery blog by another crazy red-head like myself, called "Fugly Horse of the Day" and my angry horse-light rekindled. Met some pretty fabulous people too, but that's another story. I'd stopped teaching riding many years before, always missed it, always wished I'd been born to royalty so I could afford to stay in horses. So, writing about them was cathartic and relaxing and emotional and allowed me to forget about the anger I was feeling in my daily every day freakin' disastrous life. 

Above blathering started April 24, 2023, but today is July 7, 2023! HAH!

I'm still angry! I make sure no-one knows I'm angry, by avoiding everyone as much as possible. snicker... Hey, it's true! I never liked my own kind, animals made much more sense to me. And considering the current state of things on this whirling/swirling/sloshing planet, I'm wishing I'd had myself cloned. We need more smart peoples, because the wrong people are having dozens and dozens of kids.... 

August 18, 2023

shakes head loose.

THIS makes me irate.

Ignore the black boxes. They're to protect the innocent (me).

September 23, 2023...

My blog experienced a massive shower of bot-pings, and so for a while I took the blog private, because I don't like bots, on horses, or on the internetz. But as SOS said, maybe you'll become popular! However, the ping-onslaught has slowed to a trickle, so I feel safe again. I was pretty sure ol' Maggot was sliming my blog, but maybe Singapore bots really ARE interested in my blog! HAH. Not.

October 23, 2023 HAH! Yes, I've been avoiding typing/talking/writing/why?? sigh.

December 22, 2023 - Sigh again... Takes me forever to want to sit at my work computer and blather about something other than work. It's that old GuilT issue. But we're almost out of 2023, and I would love to kick its sorry butt to the curb. Try again. Ignore the internet buzz in my ears (you cannot tell me our increased transmittinging of all sorts of fizzy particles of all different sizes doesn't get noisy - hello, tinnitus? I'm typing here!!) and just type what my brain is shouting at me. Write !! What?? I continue to enjoy great rants in my head, and I even have a recording device on my newest amazingist device. As soon as I turned it to "record", I lost my thread. Annoying, eh? So, my lack of posts is a good thing, somehow. New twists on old beratements. If I wanna, I will. Anger is a tough one to type through, I've discovered, when it means your hands that have been working 2 jobs now wants to type about why you're angry. Tricky, very tricky. Sure, I'm still in the anger phase of widowhood, but the latest anger has also been brewing for much, much longer, and had nothing to do with my late husband. I'm living without him, and it's like missing a piece of yourself, but not sure which piece is missing. Grief will hit me, and subside. Anger doesn't. At least, not yet.

July 26, 2024! HAH!!! Sure takes me a while to get coherent, eh? Igniting the emotion, on the opening day of the 2024 Paris Olympics, how aproposterocious!

I'm almost but not quite into that permanent vacation thing called "retiring from work" and I am LOVING no commute, and no dealing with the public. I'm a semi-mostly-hermit, and I really dig that too. Saving money on burning carbon makes me happy. Travel? Not me. I LIKE my house. I've decorated it with my husband's (and my) memorabilia, and I walk around remembering all the good times we had together. Helps with the grief, some.

Going to see equines helps a LOT, but the almost retired part of my life is still there, and I have to be available. Once that shite is done, I am going to get FIT and I am going to RIDE horses!!

Now it's February 26, 2026 fer cryin' out loud! I haz issues with sitting down and typing, BUT, happily, I'm feeling slightly fitter, thanks to the current work "load" I enjoy, which consists of:

1) Going to the barn. YAY! 2) Playing with the cat at the barn. 3) Playing with the dogs at the barn. 4) Chatting with the completely awesome barn manager, and laughing about whatever we feel like. 5) Chatting with the boarders at the barn, all of whom are absolutely wonderful, and make me happy, because 6) They all truly are in it for the horses. Not the ribbons, not the prizes, pure love of the equine. MY kind of place, and that it took me this long to find my own personal horse heaven, just makes me all the more grateful that I did find it. Not everyone is as fortunate.  And of course, last but not least, 7) I am riding. Almost daily. Loving every minute of it.

I've calmed down, can you tell? I needed to. It's wonderful... My anger has abated, and now I'm in a mode I've never experienced before. Once I figure out what it is, and what to call it, I'll let you know. It might be maturity.... Nahhh, that can't be it!!

Am I baaaack? Maybe!!

 As some of you know, I always wait until the stat counter drops down to nothing, before I'll post again. Why? No idea, really, the ping counter frickin' exploded there for a while, which always makes me nervous. When you look at where the ping-pongs are coming from, it makes no sense. Why would anyone in countries I can't even pronounce read here? I think they're just crawler bots, poopy pings if you will, inflating my non-existent ego.

SO! I've found a barn that I abso-tootly LOVE, and I'm part-boarding two critters that (yep) I adore. The barn manager is one of the most talented horsepeople I've ever met, now I just have to help her believe in herself, which of course, isn't something most Barn Pod People like to allow the talented to do.

The boarders are wonderful too!! (sighs, cautiously happily)

Yep, I'm still afraid to feel happy, it started the Horse in the Garage debacle, all those years ago. It's been FIFTEEN years since I last saw the tail end of the maggot, and man, it's lovely to type that.

Some of you know I was widowed in 2022, and I'm still dealing with the grief and the loneliness and the sorrow... My husband has become my guardian angel, and he's still beside me, loving me and supporting me. Sometimes I can't feel him, and sometimes I can. I am just so damn grateful I fell in love with and married the love of my life, because that's what he was, and is.

DO you wanna see pictures?? Okay!!

I'm riding a little 14.3 hand ex-polo pony, he's absolutely adorably hilarious to ride. Best trail pony on the planet, point him, he goes. Anywhere. He's an import from Argentina, so he's seen some stuff, for sure. Wasn't too catchable when I started with him, long story, but now, he's like "Oh, it's the carrot lady!" and while he doesn't exactly trot into the halter, he doesn't run away and try to hide either. He's the blazed face photo bombing the pic, and grumping that he has to stand still for two seconds, while my friend (YES!! I have more than two friends now!!) took the picture. The trails are amazeballs...

I'm also riding the black horse, derping in the picture, and oh, my, gosh.... He's a blog for another day. Suffice it to say, he's the fanciest horse I've sat on since GoLightly, and almost as highly trained as GL was. I don't canter him, my legs aren't that strong, but wow.... Can he MOVE!! I've hacked him all over the property, and he's incredible as a hack. Mostly brave, just struggles when the flies are eating him alive... Or when he thinks he sees a polar bear... 

ANYway, that's enough for now!!

Suffice it to say, GoLightly is RIDING again!!

WHOOOOO HOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

In memory of Apalachian Chief

 A horse who never deserved his fate.

Thank you to everyone that tried to help. 

Godspeed, to all the good horses.

Don't let it bring you down, it's only castles burning.

Find someone who's turning, and you will come around.

I will never forget you. I wish I could.

I've put my posts about him back up. I put them in drafts, because I was afraid of Chief's owner, a sociopath.  The owner can't hurt me anymore. I just pray she never ever ever crosses my path again, and that everyone stops enabling her chronic animal abuse.

Apalachian Chief

Unforgettable, that's what you are

Orry & Sam 2013

Orry & Sam 2013 - 2

Orry January 2021

 At  one pm today, Jan. 27, 2022 Unforgettable II finally laid his majestic head to rest, fighting for his flight to the end.  What a grand old man, to pass where he was safest, with people to love him.

Our final time together wasn't nearly long enough, December 31, 2021. I didn't have much time to spend that day. I'll always regret that. I had planned to take January & February off from the barn, due to other circumstances which I won't bore you with.

He stumbled quite badly for our final ride, as if his hind and his front had forgotten each other. This wasn't one of his "I am so bored, my shoulder will DROP at the walk" gaffes.  He loathed walking for any length of time anyway, and of course guess who was asking him to... Go FAST, Rob kept saying. (Jokingly) sOrry, Rob. Old broads don't go fast, without inner-doctor's permission.

The stumble was unusual. K & R were in the arena, and were surprised too by that stumble. Orry came very close to landing on his knees, while his hind end seemed to be trying to scrabble to catch up.  Odd, and concerning to me, mentioned it to Sam of course.. What happened next?  Completely the anthropomorphic dreamer in me, when I heard what happened the next week.

 As we walked back from the arena to his barn, he stopped halfway, and looked soulfully north across the fields for several unusual moments. The next week, he had moved north, to be companion to an old girl-friend. Orry knew.

I was so glad Orry had a change of scenery, well-travelled old show-horse he was. In the summer, he'd piuffey up, get all snorty/prancey, as he went past the horse trailer, hoping he'd go somewhere and do something interesting, which to Orry was jumping.  Instead, he had an old broad, so pretentious in her boring demands. Generous with her carrots, though.

Ah, Orry. The horse we all could learn from. His lordosis (sway-back) was strange for me to ride, having never ridden one with that condition before, like ever.  Really strange. My back would try to mirror his. I tried NOT to do that, and I never really sat him, if at all. I could sit his trot, but why? Even his canter, as delicious as it was, my body wanted to stay out of his way. I'd sit, but it never felt well, you get the gist. New experience for this old girl! Whereas Orry just was the way he was, could care less what I thought.  Orry would get bored. A lot.   He even forgave me for kicking his croup the first time I dismounted, I forgot how low I was, relative to his croup.   

The following I wrote while I was still riding him. I added the stuff that says **new**blahblah**end new** (for example). Pay attention, there's a quiz. I was so smitten. I started to write Nov. 14, 2021, but stopped. I knew it couldn't be finished. I just knew.

November 23, 2021

Nov.14, 2021

While other bits and bobs of my life may not be exactly rosy, I've so enjoyed riding with Rob M and Sam C!  Thanks to Melanie T, as always, did I ever luck out.  "Unforgettable II" aka his barn name "Orry" always, always makes me laugh.

**new**Okay, once, when he head-twanged me, notsomuch. I was grumpy & sore-backed, anyway, my own fault.**end new**

He's 27th years young-ish, acts younger than any of his other close horsey friends, all about 10 years his junior.  When I started riding him in May (? I think??) he was very quiet, mostly.

Here I am essentially melting. Rob was so gently encouraging ;) (I HEAR YOU, ROB!!)

Easy to ride, absolutely lovely mouth, gorgeous gaits. Easy to catch.  (He wasn't, once, just to remind me who was in charge. It was pretty darn funny, too. I insulted him, and it was a nice day, and who needs riding?? You aren't going to jump!!)

He was (and is) a TEENSY bit herd-bound, but at his age, it's one thing I can easily forgive.  For several rides this summer, I felt brave enough to go up to the barn, catch him out of his field away from his two buddies, and ride him out the back field for a hack, alone. **new**Mistake. BIG mistake**end new**

Orry verrry gradually let me know that he would PREFER to ride with company, thank you very much.  He'd cry in his stall when I'd bring him into an empty barn. He'd settle if Rob was there, though.  Then, Orry started to cry piteously, hacking away from the barn alone, so I'd sing to him.  He seemed to like that, but I guess I didn't sing well enough for him.  Next, he became super magnetized to leaving the barn, in a very sad, eeyore like  "i will go how can you make me do this go away from friends silly human."  Complete negative enthusiasm.

His final opinionated statement, in response to the lack of sensitivity on my part?

We'd been (blissfully unaware of his growing irritation) cantering away from his friends up the green strip between wheat and corn fields, just a lovely day.

Orry: Function quick dump: Test of rider engaged.

A HARD 90degree spook towards the corn (which was taller than both of us at this point, so I dunno HOW Orry saw a bear), because Orry decided there was indeed a bear.  I just couldn't see or smell it. Silly human. All alone out in the wilds?  Herd safety is rule 1!

If he hadn't been such a basically good boy, realizing that this carrot lady might not like him anymore if he didn't at least LOOK at where the bear had been, before going home, we'd still be galloping through the corn...  We eventually, mostly quietly, tiny-piaffed-ed a while then settled, and we went back to his friends in the boring arena.  LIKE HE HAD (very politely!) REQUESTED.  Lesson learned, Orry! 

His canter is enough to make your eyes tear up, with it's purity and smoothness.

Now that the cold is here, he has stopped begging for tummy/other surprising area scratches.  Probably xyz-rated to describe, but also utterly ridiculous.  Or maybe I SHOULD have been scratching gelding/boy horses' erm, areas for all those years!  Feel kinda guilty, really. sOrry, all my good geldings, it never occurred to me.  Orry lets you know, by holding up a hind leg piteously, basically pointing...

He refuses to have a hind foot picked out, until the designated area is scratched.  Hard to argue with that half-ton of logic.  I kept doing it wrong, Sam and Rob tried to show me, but I just couldn't get it right.  It was annoying to the poor guy.  Rob and Sam can have him standing on hind-tippy-toe, ridiculous in itself, neck straight out in front of him, eyes closed, nose extended in utter bliss.

He makes me nervous, (not an unusual state for me) as he can come close to whooopsing his suspensory apparatus, which is...  Yeah. Not good. He's big, don't fall down, Orry. He never does (so far as I know) so I'm sure he just does it to make his humans gasp.  Finally, trying very hard to make him happy, I put him back into his stall, and he used that long head and neck to very gently push me towards the area in question. The rest of the story is preposterous. sOrry, it just makes me laugh.

He's very reasonable, as long as you follow his very few rules. Ignore them at your own peril, or you will comply.  He's become woolier than a Shetland pony, which I often accuse him of being (in 16.2negative4 hand Hanoverian disguise).

He has all the moves of the ponies I've known. A blissful, "excuse me, I'm leaving now", sort of attitude.  "Bye! I have a date!" And off he goes :)  Skating along the floor with Orry trailing one cross-tie & me hanging onto his halter comes to mind. (His friends had LEFT. MUST LEAVE WITH FRIENDS!!)  Orry's not like that all the time! I feel as safe with him as any horse I've ever ridden.   Safety is such a relative term...

He's annoyed with me here, because I STILL haven't jumped him. He keeps hinting, and hinting...

I've seen him jump, in pictures and in person.  Sam takes pity on him after I've bored him to tears with flat"work", and they zoom over a few little jumps for fun. **new**Orry's eyes would positively FIRE, and his ears would stay up. Rare for Orry, when I was riding him, to get his ears up. "flatwork is for wimps", says Orry.**end new**

Still not ready to jump, in my heart, yet. They only have so many in them, right? Orry doesn't owe me any. Honoured to be up there at all, really. He is such a handsome fellow, and so smart. Yep, I'm smitten, kitten.   Maybe I should listen to his hints, eh?   Orry, I do get what you're saying, and I appreciate your faith in my abilities.  I think Sam is best equipped and most deserving of those jumps you love.   No offence intended.   You jump around enough for me on the flat, mister spooksatleastoncejustbecause.

Cooler weather! Orry has been barging, and gallivanting, and bucking up his heels when asked to come in for "work".  I wear a hat now when I work around you, Sir Orry. You KNOW why, sOrry not sOrry!  Yes, it was my fault, and yes, I spoil you badly. Taught me a good lesson in safety.  And to not have a sore back when I "work" around horses.

END November 14.

Back to today, January 27 (not really, it's still taking me awhile to finish, as it has to be perfect).  Stopped writing in November, I just had a feeling I shouldn't keep writing. Bad luck or something.

I was a bit worried about him, because he hadn't felt entirely "right" for the last few times I rode, but there was nothing to really say about it. He felt tired, is the hindsight way of telling it, I guess.

Just soooo bored.  Rob likened Orry to a border collie, a Ninja of his equine species. Can't disagree. Orry's birthday was May the fourth, for dog's sakes!  I called him a Jedi Knight, but Sam said he did have Sith moments !  Such an intelligent, kind, opinionated face..

It was his time. Orry knew, I truly believe he knew..

Orry would come when I called him, his ears pricked. I can imagine it's just the carrots, or I can imagine he was glad to see me, too. Didn't matter. Those ears, those eyes...   Unforgettable.  I could go on and on, and I obviously have, which I tend to do with horses...

I am grateful that Penny & Dublin's losses "prepared" me.

It's the truth I've always had a hard time with, when it comes to horses.

You can love them all you want, and you always have to be ready to let them go.

sOrry for the long post. Orry had a long life. May 4, 1995 - January 27, 2022, just a few months shy of his 27th birthday. Glad I was there for his 26th.

WHAT? No carrots??

To Horses.

To old friends.

To my new friends, Sam & Rob. Thank you for the fabulous care Orry enjoyed with you.

Somewhere...Somewhere

in time's own place.

There must be some sweet pastured place.

Where creeks sing on, and tall trees grow.

Some Paradise where horses go.

For by the love that guides my pen

I know great horses live again.

Poem by Captain Stanley Harrison, 1885-1980

Love Letters to Horses

I just realized, in an "I can't be believe I'm so vapidly profound" sort of way that I write love letters to horses. I should say, I love to write love letters to horses. You might have noticed. I've been known to do so right here somewhere in this blog. NO links provided. Edited to add that my blog is very Schitt's Creek. Start from the beginning, although in my case, you still may not get some of the references, as I was following a deeply disturbed horse blog at the time called "Fugly Horse of the Day", (FHOTD) where the best and the worst and the scammers and the horse-dealers all gathered to hurl anger about what's been going on in the horse world. Crappy breeding, crappy riding, general crap. More Schitt, if you will :) Some of it was relevant, some of it was... interesting. Some of it was sad, of course, and it was that anger and sadness that fired up my writing for horses. The GoLightly fictional story was started after GoLightly sold. 1984 to 2008, almost a quarter century, my horse write-light lay quiet. FHOTD hit, and bam... ANYway, that's all the back story I'll give.

Sorry, you have more time than I do. Anyway, my great and wondrous foray back into horse world is now on standby.. Currently weighing options, and not saying I'm quitting (again) just yet. I did tell my instructor I felt ready for a wee fence. Then, bam. Circumstances being what they were, I felt obligated to curtail (shut UP Moira Rose!!) my activities at the barn.

Hey blogger, labels due not to work.

Weird!

So, without further aboo, yet another LL2Hs.

Dear D, E, S and T,(RIP P and DI) and the rest of the schoolie crew,

I am so sorry I won't be coming back to love on you all. I was obliged to explain to your masters that they weren't being fair to you. You were so tired, over-used with unsympathetic eyes.

D, you grand Iron Lady. They hurt you so badly with their too-tight nosebands, I remember your whimper-whinny (when I finally could notice), at the end of the lesson, when I loosened it for you. It was so terribly, cruelly tight. No wonder you made such miserable faces on cross-ties. I hadn't checked your noseband for our first ride, because of those faces.  I said something then, and continued to check them at the beginning of each ride, and the NoseBands continued to be too tight. I of course loosened them for our rides, and you all remembered me for it. Hope you can come back sound, D. How they could lame you is obvious. Drilling, and a hard arena surface, and an older horse. Tah-freakin-dah.

Horses like people who love them, and notice things about them. It makes them feel special.

T, I hope they start helping your coat improve. You were thinner, but sounder for our second last ride together, the first time you could actually straighten your body out and carry me without pain. It was the first time I could feel the horse you can be. You even liked having your withers scratched, a first for us. I know you love kids and I understand why. Adults hurt you. Drill you, when you do not need any drilling at all. But the last time I rode you, they'd hurt you again, and you were back to tired. So glad I could give you an easy day. My purpose, I believe, was just that. Ride a schoolie easy.

S, you grand old man, you. Your back has flattened, and you're anxious to poles, rushing. Hard ground will do that, and a lack of a softer stall. Your kind face will be with me always.

DI, well, what can I say. A giant GoLightly, once a star, and then a schoolie. You were thin and spooky scared when I climbed on, still exclaiming at how 18 handed you were. I rode you twice, cantered you twice, and knew what a precious gem I was riding. You were only there two weeks, and then you too, coliced. But your owners didn't want to spend the money to try and help, like P, and so down you were put. I thought about how deep your bedding used to be, and how much weight/muscle you were capable of, and how clean and tidy and cared for you had been once. I felt your heart had probably broken.

E, I'm saving you for last, because the last ride we had together was the best you've ever gone for me. I hope your masters learn that you really don't need a rubber chambon and draw-reins and standing martingale (and tight noseband and flash) to be a good boy. I enjoyed ditching all that (as usual) for our last ride and I think you did, too. You are the youngest of all that I rode, I hope, I hope they learn that lesson sooner rather than later. Thank you for that last ride. You were so good, and tried so hard. Thoroughbred.

I love you all. I'll never forget you. 

Thanks for keeping me safe and sound.

Your biggest fan, Barb

2020, 2020, 2020 - Maybe if we all say it three times...

New Blogger format here, and I'm Terrified with a capital F. Just wanted to do a test run, as it were, let me know in the comments if anything seems weird.

How would I know??

Might be pretty ugly looking, layout wise, which has been the bane of my writing non-career, as I get lost in the type faces and colours and spacing and sizes and who cares??

One of the hazards of being a sign-trades-person-of-considerable-age.

Anyone noticed the world did a complete belly-flop. health-wise? Didn't I predict something to that effect ages and ages ago? No? Well, in my head I did... We crowd each other too much, we herd up way too well, and we cram real good into air-tight sardine cans in the air. So, yeah. Germs are a part of life, I KNOW I've said that before. What we've done to germs is part of our problem. Bacteria & viruses are germs, m'kay? easier to type.

Totally random thoughts... I need some. My brain feels like it's been vacuumed, and only the obvious remains. Or are my remains obvious?

Hey, need a picture...

Off to play with Blogger for a sec.

Hold on.

OH, before I forget, who are all you pingers?? I sure hope you aren't those spammer creeps, who insist he/she/it has compromising video of me. Send $$$ to this BittyCoin account. Seriously.

Read a book called "Daemon", super high-tech science-fiction-ISH thriller. The author's answer to all spammers is something I could get on board with...

My camera is covered up... Should I tell them? Whooops. Too late.

Okay, picture.

Hold on.

Hah, that wasn't too painful. I hope my old blogger pics are still around...

ANYway, here's a grainy, tiny picture of big ol' T, a selle-francais/TB cross, about a zillion hands. DANG, he's big. Gorgeous head, which you can barely see. Isn't he cute? Just squint, you can see the outline better.
Sorry. ProPhotogLittleSis hasn't been able to come up and take anything with details actually discernible.

Okay, where the heck is the publish button...

Aha!

Pennys, from Heaven

As many of you may or may not know, horses were a large part of my life for many years.
My mother always said I wilted when I wasn't at the barn.
When I told my young nephew I was quitting riding, he said "Horses will be sad."

Horses are a tragic love story, every last one of them.
For me, anyway. I tried many times to quit the horse-life, and this last horse-free time was 20 years or so.
On a pure whim (helped by the fact that I passed the barn on my way home from work)
I decided to throw that leg over again.
Okay, maybe not a whim. A prayer. I guess I was starting to desiccate.
I had tried the barn years before, but wasn't impressed. At all.
Ownership had changed, and OH, was I impressed.
Happy, healthy horses. LOTS of them!

ETA - BUT a year later, and things changed back to bad. Very bad.

My first ride on Penny was my first time back in the saddle in a very long time.
My time-line after horses is easily muddied.

Penny was a 16.2+ bright-copper chestnut, the best colour.
Glinting with gold in certain light.
Gorgeous thick tail, multi-coloured, with the darkest shades a glorious red-burgundy.
Her coat was fine and soft. Penny didn't need clipping.
A kind eye, an expressive wide generous mouth.
Long ears, for intelligence, but not overly long.
Lovely long well-shaped neck and an intelligent head at the end of it.
Slightly long in the back, slightly goose-rumped, and oh, I liked her from the start.
Just enough uneven white on her face and good-boned sound legs. Trakhener.
A breed I'd thought was scatter-brained and flighty. Well.

The horses have stall fronts that allow them to hang their heads & necks out and look beyond their stalls.
Penny looked fabulous.

I learned she'd been used for driving, as well as H/J, as well as other divisions.
Penny was 12 years old, and clearly knew what the ropes of riding were all about.
I was just thrilled to be there in her presence.
She surprised me with her tallness, which I think amused her.
Getting on and off, both!
Penny's blasé attitude was just what I needed.
She wasn't all that thrilled about grooming, maybe my arms were weak, and not tuned to her likes and dislikes.
I did try her withers, but that seemed to be no big deal.
Penny was sizing me up.

I climbed on, and settled in, and felt...  home.
My stirrups were the right length (miracle, at a riding school).
I had no idea how my body was going to react.
I sat up, and asked her forward, and away we went.
No drum rolls, no fan-fare. I am not wilting, in the saddle.
I am not wilting, as I smell horses.

Walking, long strided, easy swinging gait, lovely for my old back, which did say a few surprised words.
I ignored those words, as most of my spinal cord was applauding.
My legs felt right, my body said "ah, yes. good."
All because this bright-chestnut mare knew just what to do.
I felt safe. We tried a trot, which she gently shuffled into.
I surprised myself again by posting on the second beat, and then knew what diagonal I was on.
Penny plunked along as my scrawny old frame slowly adjusted/stretched/relaxed into her movement.
You know I kept my reins loose, don't you? I did.
Penny didn't do the time honored school-horse duck-in-to-the-centre-of-the-ring trick.
Penny stayed close to the wall, while I sorted myself out.
The minute I heard louder words from my spine, I'd collapse a bit, and Penny would immediately walk.
She knew when I needed to take a break.
At the half-hour mark, the end of the first ride, grinning from ear to ear, I forgot how far away the earth was.

Subsequent rides were about 40% Penny, and the other lessons were on S. and T.
Those great geldings are wonderful in their own right, but that's another story.

Penny was quite (sorryPenny) lazy, during some of our rides.
She'd let me wiggle my legs ineffectually against her sides, while she maintained a minimal pace.
I finally asked for a "stick" (little bat is my go to "weapon"), and OH, Penny said.
Okay then. One should always carry a stick, taught Penny.
I had cantered both Star and Tucker by my 12th ride, but I hadn't cantered Penny. Ride #13.
I wasn't given much direction (and yeah, I probably wasn't listening, sorry, K).
I figured Penny'd be lazy about cantering, so I asked her from a walk, going towards home, from the far end of the arena.
It was lunch-time, and she'd been in all day for the farrier. Yeah. Talk about lighting up her life.
What should have been 10 or 12 strides was transformed into a galloping 7 strides, before I could aim her at the next wall for a whoa.
I had pulled on her mouth as soon as she started to Not-canter, saying whoa, but she was sure I'd asked for a gallop, and pulling was fine during a gallop, anyway!
Funny mare. Kinda killed my confidence, but a learning experience nevertheless.
I was glad my 13th ride was on Penny.

I rode Penny twice more, Not cantering, thank you very much, before C was able to convince me I COULD canter Penny.
C explained I needed to "throw the reins at her".
No arguing allowed as she started to canter, and it would be easier from a balanced trot.
And lo and behold, with a little pin of her chestnut mare ear, she "tiny-bucked" into the canter.
When I say tiny-buck, I mean millimicronic. Adorable.
We cantered both ways, with circles! Easy-peasy, because she was left alone to listen to what I wanted her to do.
She had a lovely, slightly-stiff-backed, canter. Easy to sit to.
My 17th ride. On a Friday.
Now, don't forget, it's my horse story, and you just know how they turn out.
Be prepared, because with horses, tragedy is always waiting.

My next lesson was Tuesday. Arrived, blooming with the thought of horses.
My heart twisted when I saw people surrounding Penny's stall, looked at seriously/sadly/tearfully by her owner and the vet and other barn workers.
Penny went to Ontario Veterinary College, where their track record was excellent with colic cases.
One week later, the decision to free her from her pain was made.
My heart, which I had truly believed was finally tough enough to withstand horses (otherwise why go back?) broke.
Again.

Thank you, Penny.
I'm so grateful I rode her first. I hope Penny liked me.
I didn't know I loved her, but she did.

Rest easy, sweet girl.

I will ride again, because I think Penny would want me to.
Her last lesson to me.
Horses are transient spirits on this earth, and the time we are given with them is a gift.
Never take them for granted.
Ever.