Mud and meeting

We went out to the barn yesterday. It's been raining for days, so I can't really walk around most of the fields at the barn. But I needed some horse time, things remain pretty stressful in life right now.

Because of the layout and the deep mud in the paddock where Cibolo runs, I could only stand at the gate and hope he would come over.

He was close to the gate, off to one side. QH Amigo ambled over to see me - he's alpha and greets everyone. Then he walked over to Cibolo and nudged him away since he doesn't like it when we pay attention to the other horses, then QH Amigo came back to me.

Great.

Cibolo looked at me. I called him over. He stood in place, lifted his tail, and after he was done, he walked over to me, daring a rebuke from Amigo - who knows better when I'm right there.

Cibolo dropped his head into his halter and we stepped out. Together.

Crib notes - Lavendar Ladies

Shopping is always better when you're in taffeta.

Saturday (two weeks ago) was the day of the big ballet recital, one of the most important and eagerly anticipated events in our house.

When Mireya got her fancy schmancy outfit for her part in the Lavender Ladies part of the recital, she nearly came apart when I told her she couldn’t wear it outside a climate controlled area where there were no sharp objects, including the cat. It hung in its bag in the closet for ages, torturing her every day.

There was a brief reprieve for picture day, when the dress came out of the bag. We smoothed out her unruly curls, got out Mommy’s make up, wore the really red lipstick and, before a ruffle could get caught on a door knob, snapped a picture, and the dress went back in its bag and into the closet.

I’m pretty impressed she didn’t actually implode from the weeks of anticipation.

Finally the day arrived, and the recital was a great success. It’s interesting, some sort of magic seems to come over ballerinas when they hit the grand old age of seven. and there seems to be actual dancing involved. When Mireya was five years old the title of the class was “creative movement,” a title clearly meant to manage parent’s expectations.

Back then, our little ballerina (to use the term loosely) plucked a flower from a stage rose bush and got from point A to point B with a little bit of tip toeing and only one wave to the audience.

At the time we cried as if she’d danced the lead in Swan Lake.

This time the Lavender Ladies were a sight to behold, dancing their routine flawlessly, as far as we could tell. Again, we cried. Afterwards Mireya accepted her post performance roses from Daddy graciously. Then she turned to me.

“Now can I wear it outside?” she asked.

“Absolutely. You can wear it every day, if you want,” I said.

Which is why we went to an early dinner with a ballerina and a Lavender Lady was in the produce aisle at the grocery store, demonstrating first position when requested.

So, if you happen to spot a Lavender Lady in full regalia on a trampoline, at the gas station, or in the toy aisle, you’ll know why.

And feel free to ask to see her first position. Or even second. It’s a sight to behold.

Finding our way in the rain

I went to the barn on my own this evening, just in time for someone up above to knock over a bucket and dump an inch of rain.

But I'm not scared of rain. After my clinic experience I have the gear to deal with rain. Me and rain, we have a thing now. It says "can you handle it?" and I say "pour it on!"

Besides, in my life I have to ride when I have time, not when the Chamber of Commerce weather hits.

I pulled Cibolo away from his herd just prior to the downpour, and he came with me with all the enthusiasm of a sullen teen. I wonder when we'll get back to the place where he's semi enthused to see me. It makes me sad that we still aren't there.

When the deluge started he began to get worried - the rain was ridiculously loud on the roof of the barn. Getting dressed in my gear he was briefly curious and gave a a good sniff over. I wonder if he recognized the gear from our clinic, or if it was just interesting the way the nylon sounded.

When we walked out in the rain, he was a mess. You'd think he'd never stood in the rain before. "You live OUTSIDE, you nutcase."

He tucked his head in and his ears pointed back. He danced around on the lead line like he never has before (he usually has impeccable ground manners). He was completely mentally disconnected from me.

So we walked out to the round pen. We had the longest session we've had there in ages. Took me forever to get him to listen to me. I think part of it was the rain, part was what was unwound from the ranch ride. But, after a good 20 minutes we were doing okay. Not perfect, but at least he was listening, dropping to a walk, then going in a trot.

Still I had a feeling he wasn't quite there. Sure enough when I went to bit him, he refused. So I took off the reins and sent him out, this time at a full gallop. Then, there it was. A crow hopping bucky thing. A horsey raspberry, as it were.

So we did some quick turns. It really seems like I have to go to this place with him sometimes. Not with anger, but really, really firm. Turn, then turn again.

I thought of the time Kathlyn was working with the gaited horse that was so rude to his rider. She would occasionally really up the pressure on the horse during ground work. Somehow, though it seemed angry if you looked at just the motions, it was just an intense energy. That horse needed that to "get" it, for some reason.

I think Cibolo has this part of his personality too. It's not a huge part of his personality, but it's there. I slowed him down, got him to go into each gait, then stopped. Then we bitted up easily.

I wonder if I should have gotten into high gear immediately, but I really think we had to work through his weird rain anxiety first. If I had gone all out immediately, I think he would have injured himself. That was my gut, anyway. We had to open the doors to the church before we could have the come to Jesus part of our program.

After that I was confident he was with me all the way and we did a few trot runs in the round pen to make sure I had my balance and he did too. Then we went on a great trail ride around the barn. No issues.

So I'll take his ad off craigslist. (JUST KIDDING! LOL)

Seriously, though, I think this is what I will be working on in October. I want to find the partnership with this horse. I want to understand where I'm getting too soft that I can't see, that I'm missing. I need to be more consistent so he doesn't feel the need to take over. I get the sense that he's looking for something that I'm not giving him consistently. I would like to get our relatioship back on the right track, but can't figure out what's making it jump the rails.

Hopefully I can make my own discoveries along this path...




(Okay, quick diversion - go check out the blog by a dog here, and you can get a picture of our new kittens! Yes! We are crazy! and please leave a comment... It'll make my kid's day.)




BTW, someone asked about my Cavallos. I have to say, I've been nothing but pleased with these boots. They stay on - even in thick mud and water at the endurance ride - where easy boots were falling off all over. They are easy to put on and take off. They do a great job protecting his feet - Cibolo seems happy to put them on. I'd say they are tough to clean with all the velcro, but that's the only down side. I imagine I'll need a new pair every year - it's so rocky out here, I doubt I'd ever feel completely comfortable riding him barefoot over some of the terrain.

And things were going so well

What would Pokey do?

Cibolo and I had a really lousy trail ride the other day. I partially blame myself. I didn't listen to the voice inside that said "you are too tired to do this."

We have a great deal of stress, had gotten some bad news, and lost a big battle (as an industry) at work. Everything seemed to be pressing down hard. I wanted to see my horses, but truly was too tired.

So I decided I'd just go and at least lay hands on them.

When I got there the barn owner said "we can ride on the ranch!"

We never get to ride on the ranch next door (with over 600 acres), so I felt like it was something I really needed to take advantage of. Even if it would be nearly a 2 hour ride.

But I hadn't seen my horse in a week. I had no time for even the most basic ground work. We were riding with a teenager who rides a hot, hoppy OTTB, who she loves to canter over rocks and such. Right away I found that I kept missing my horse's signals. Signals that he was taking charge. And by the time I did catch on, it was too late. I missed that 5 minute window.

At one point he gave me one little buck, which I found darn discouraging. I rode through it, but I was really, really ticked. I really don't want a horse that'll buck, even if I AM tired. Who the heck was this horse?

And my foot hurt from all the trotting.

And I was still tired.

I learned what the term "ride my ride" means.

And I know now that I need to listen to myself. When I'm too tired, I'm too tired.

Yesterday I took a pass on riding yet again with the teenager on the ranch. Instead we worked in the round pen, I got my horse reconnected, and worked on my bareback riding for a bit. Slowly the trotting is coming along. I almost felt competent for 3 steps! I'm committed to working on it this week.

There's lots of news around here, and it'll take a few days to tell it all. Part of it you can read here, from our dog. I'll try to catch up, I've sure missed everyone!

You wouldn't buck on me, would ya, Pokey?