Muck!

Building a Better Seat Part 1, From AdagioDressage.com

2011-02-07T19:01:00.001-05:00

A good seat means a seat that can rest on the horse’s back, feel the horse’s movement, and tells the rider when to time their aids. A good seat is neutral: receives the horse’s movement and follows it as opposed to trying to create movement from the seat (shoving or driving before the forward energy arrives to the horse’s back and rider’s seat. Next I’m going to describe the working components of a good seat…I recommend practicing this

on a lunge line
at the walk
in front of a mirror
If those options are not available to you, use a quiet horse and practice this on the buckle as opposed to on contact. A good seat is independent from the rider’s legs and arms. When you think of a rider’s seat, you generally picture pelvis and “seat-bones” that rest in the saddle but the seat is more complex than that. In order to have a seat that follows the horse’s movement, you must first have an excellent but not forced posture in the saddle. Bring your chin in to stretch your spine and as the horse steps under your seat and moves you, draw yourself up by the top of your head, sternum, base of the rib cage, and belly button. This is referred to as your “front-line” and it draws the seat-bones through the hips as the horse moves. To FEEL the seat resting in the saddle and drawn forward by the front-line, CAREFULLY pick up your legs so they are not laying against the horse’s sides and ask the horse to walk. If your back and thighs are weak, this will be difficult. In order to develop a good seat, you will need to strengthen them. This is possible through practicing this very exercise as well as through yoga, ballet, and other sports that use precise movement to strengthen abductors and abductors. If you can hold them up to the side without bracing yourself for even three strides, you can make progress. You should feel like a weeble-wobble that is moving in the same direction as the horse.

So let’s summarize: You are balancing in the saddle on ONLY your seat-bones. If your legs are not strong enough to lift up and out, then you may rest them on the front of the saddle. You are folded slightly at the waist to keep your upper body in line with the horse’s center of gravity. As the horse moves, your seat-bones are drawn forward by your front-line (belly button, base of rib cage, sternum, top of head).

Be patient with yourself as you strengthen your leg, back and stomach muscles through this difficult exercise. We’re shooting a photo session of this exercise so that you can follow more easily- this will be up Sunday evening at the latest (tricky snowstorm)!!

Ask me your questions, let me know your concerns and roadblocks. I have seen this exercise help many riders learn how to isolate their seat from their legs and unite their front-line with their seat-bones so don’t forget to share your breakthrough stories, too!

New Series on adagiodressage.com

2011-02-05T14:37:00.000-05:00

Hi, friends, hope all is well! I am in the middle of a new series on http://adagiodressage.com/blog/building-a-better-seat-part-1-how-to-carry-yourself/ re: How to Build a Better Seat. Shoot me a message if you have a video or photo you would like critiqued and take a look at http://adagiodressage.com/ so see the new video library!

<3 Rachel

Adagio Dressage is the new home for Muck!

2010-11-27T09:42:00.000-05:00

Hi friends! I took advantage of the time off my feet the last couple of years to start my own training company and have moved the muck blog to my new homepage at http://adagiodressage.com/ . I hope you will join me there for horse world musings, practical horse care tips, and horse training/riding advice.

Love Kisses and Horses (BR shout-out)

Rachel

Where is the Center of the Horse World?

2009-09-27T11:01:00.002-04:00

I am finally settled back in Michigan and schooling has been going famously. Jenny has been graciously letting me help with her pretty mare, Tonka, so I have been spending afternoons and evenings riding one mare and then another.

Oxbow is almost exactly the way I left it. Which is eerie for me.
Remember, it was a pole barn; 30 acres and a chain-linked fence when Kim and I first began back in 2005 so over the years when we established it, I shed pieces of my old skins all over the place.
My dad's filing cabinet from Kelly Office Machines,
my childhood plastic ponies with their little wooden barn,
the first polo wraps I ever owned (which was well before I owned a horse,
the huge barn doors with the logo Casey painted that first fall every evening while the sun went down and Tom and I had a beer and discussed figures.
And all of those things are still there. Except for myself and the figures and Casey. Of course, when you have gone from a place and then return, it is not so much the discovery of the things you left behind that is unsettling as it is the life that has gone on around them. The fact that the office is swept and the bridles are hung. Who does that? It is no longer me.

But Oxbow is still there. And red and expansive and awkwardly offering itself.

Jenny and I meet up. We discuss our goals ("...I feel like when I compared this week's videos to last week's videos, I benefited from lifting up more...so today, I am going to try to find consistency through that..."), prepare Skye or Tonka or Angus, and ride in shifts. We use the camera she bought when we first moved to Maryland and tape one another. We capture still frames, ride to music, ride to silence.
We comfortably accuse each other of every visible mistake.
We sweat.
We are always thinking: Forward. Straight. Forward. Refresh. Open Up. Relax. Forward. Straight.
And our bodies are sore from- believe it or not- the rigorous relaxation required to allow the horse- and it is with good intention. Misguided premises still join us for a circle or two until we slow down, feel the horse, ingest and regurgitate the process.
She doesn't ride Skye; I don't ride Angus.
Each horse is the absolute best at something.
Each has her or his physical shortcoming.

At the end of each ride, there is no exchange of money. We walk our pretty ponies over to pick out some apples and then slowly break everything down until it is all put away. Neat and ready to tick-on; its gears as steady as when we left it for Maryland in 2007.

Seeing Oxbow this way reminded me that the Horse World, as it is dubbed, is not a Place. It is what you do with horses in your life.
I used to think that the center of the Horse World was a place. A concrete location. Like Karlruh, Germany or Lexington, Kentucky. But it is not. Horse World in the distilled sense is your network of horses and horse people around you and the the horsemanship tools you use to navigate this network is the key to the impact that you have on and in the coveted childhood utopia of the Horse World. It does not matter where you are, just what you do.

Horse Hiatus

2008-12-19T13:07:00.000-05:00

I am on a horse hiatus right now- still home post surgery. I am reading Reina's cache of dressage books. She has a fantastic job as a writer/translator for Dressage Today which is the creme de la creme of industry publications. So she is always getting books in the mail with fantastically inscribed messages like, "...Reina, darling,could you just glance at my work and jot a comment or two for my publicist? xoxo -Anky," etc. So she popped over a couple weeks ago with a shopping bag full of books and excellent training videos. And that is how I have occupied my time. That and:

planned the holiday open house w/Carey
wrote script for parade of breeds show
designing summer camp programs
playing phone tag with the fire marshal re:property inspection
Creating/Editing ads (for January)
Updating Calendar of Events for publication
Editing materials for Crofton Printing.

So the work continues even without the horses. I stopped by Skye's cottage last night and gave her a good ear rub.

Thankful

2008-11-28T19:33:00.000-05:00

My first Thanksgiving as a horse owner, I did not want Red Wing to dine alone. My mom took me to Big Acre where I purchased a brand new blue water bucket (he was in need of a new one anyways), a bounty of treats, and a salt lick. At home, I scrounged the pantry for anything a horse might like for a Thanksgiving feast. I filled the bucket with carrots, granola cereal, apples, oats, and tootsie roll pops.

After dishes were done and our guests were sitting around fat and happy, my mom and I ducked out and headed to Milford where I boarded Red Wing. We groomed him and gave him an obscene (unhealthy) amount of treats. The barn was dimly lit and empty of other visitors. I felt like I was getting away with something: stealing this quiet time with my mom and my horse on a holiday with no interruptions or other obligations.

We were back on time to serve pie.

couch cave

2008-11-22T10:21:00.001-05:00

Knee surgery was Thursday. I'm going to hide out for a little longer.

Rainy Day

2008-11-13T09:04:00.000-05:00

It is drizzling outside. The horses are out on the fields. I have winter blankets in the wash. Carey is going to write a press release on the Christmas Open House. I am working on an article for Chesapeake School Guide on kids with ADD and how horses help them develop a sense of accountability. I haven't left the farm earlier than 10:30 this week. Character building, right?

Horse People are Crazy

2008-11-09T13:15:00.000-05:00

Well, well. What a trip these past couple weeks have been. I have so much to discuss with you! I would like to begin by covering a point that is very important to me and has been since I first thought of getting involved in the horse world.

Back when I first got involved in horses, I was just a teeny little kid with no saddle skills, no horse of my own, but a desire to ride. Which meant that in order to be around horses, I had to be around the people who owned them. The people who worked with them. The people who fed them. So the point I would like to emphasize is this: horse people are crazy. That is all there is to it. If you cannot accept that, read no further. You have been, nor never will be involved in horses if you do not understand fully that horse people are either innately crazy or become so down the road. I am crazy, my staff is crazy, every boss I've ever had has been crazy, boarders are crazy, the lovely little eleven year old pony clubbers who spend their preteen years here are crazy, horse dealers are crazy, vets and farriers are crazy. I've been taught by a dressage queen how to properly sweep a floor (after I had already been a longtime instructor and horse owner and worked for several much larger operations). I have been reamed out as an eleven year old for polo wrapping a horse backwards (and have since reamed out many an eleven year old for the same offense because polo wraps can bow a horse's tendon with improper use). The horse world is full of neurotic, high powered and loud mouthed individuals with the right opinion.

It is a necessary character trait in this business. In order to get up each morning at six A.M. to feed horses and never mind the college degree you earned because they simply have to eat or to teach twelve straight hours with no lunch break because your students have a schooling show the next day or overextend your bank account in the name of hay, you must be crazy. Probably even more than a little bit crazy. And so I apologize for the long delay on this update, but the last couple weeks have been, well, crazy.

Yesterday, when I was down in the outdoor clipping nail heads off of a shoe dangling of off Shadow's hoof so she could walk back up to the barn without stabbing herself, balancing for twenty minutes on one leg with a horse hoof in one hand and a rasp in the other and simultaneously teaching two little jumper riders in preparation for the next day's show, I realized I hadn't peed in thirteen hours (craaaazzzyyyy). On Wednesday, I left the barn with an asthma attack. I went to the hospital, got a breathing treatment, and then came in the next day and taught a girl scout troop of thirty so they could get their Horse Lover badge (pushing psychotic). Kathi wakes up at four-thirty A.M. three times a week, makes breakfast for Victor, drives him to dialysis, comes to the barn to handle business and ride, drives home to eat, picks up Victor, comes back. On the days that he doesn't go to dialysis, she drives to Philmac and runs her second, larger, more soluable company. I am not sure when she sleeps because she sends me emails at all hours, never missing a stride (crazy). Carey, now living on the property, never leaves before the non-required pony club meetings begin, and never passes up the opportunity for a lesson, even if it means that she is riding Romeo at ten P.M. instead of heading home before coming in at seven in the morning. And there is still another horse waiting to be ridden and then walked a half mile out to his field for the night ensuing a brushdown and blanketing (crazy).

Horses are foraging creatures. They are designed to be grazing constantly. They drink between ten and twenty gallons of water a day. They are huge. That food and water comes out the other end in bulk to be shoveled, sifted, bucketed, tossed, composted, rotated, spread about fields. They are filthy by nature- love nothing more than a dusty roll after a bath. Their equipment gets dirty; everything requires cleaning. But in a barn, cleaning becomes more just moving particles of filth from one surface that needs cleaning to another.

The domestic horse is, in essence, helpless. They rely on us to provide anything they would otherwise seek out on their own. Horse keepers turn from interested and kind people to having to play God. It's impossible, in my experiences and observations, to take this responsibility lightly and still be a horseman.

I think it's okay to wonder at what cost we do things. I know that I do it at the expense of my health and sanity but then again, I'm neither particularly sane nor particularly healthy when I'm not responsble for sixty-one horses. They may make me crazy but I am never alone, I can always do better, and they will always need me. And that has been enough.

Hiding Out

2008-11-07T22:43:00.000-05:00

I have been intentionally under the radar the past couple weeks. You will be entirely updated tomorrow afternoon.

The Beginning of the Weekend

2008-10-24T08:00:00.000-04:00

I just stopped home to see if the dog is awake and ready to go out( he is actually still curled up in a sleepy little ball). I taught Joy at 6:30 AM; I followed the hay man up the driveway. I love the sight of a huge truck stacked with hay. I love that there are still people out there growing, cutting, and selling hay. I love unloading hay.

I shivered my way through the lesson and am on my way back to teach Elena. She is gorgeous, one of my most serious riders. In a year, she has internalized a mission for Classical Horsemanship and rides with an almost severe dedication.

It is cold today. I pulled my wool coat out of storage and discussed the possibility with Casey of Jaques, the cat, living with us over the winter.

To Be Done

2008-10-22T21:29:00.000-04:00

I've just come home for the night. The dog is already settled; his front legs don't prance as high when I come in after nine pm. It's like he has already not been surprised by an early arrival so who gives a shit when I come home late? The house feels warm and it smells spicy like Casey is cooking Spanish rice.

Tomorrow we are going to do a rotational deworming on all of the horses. They are on a program called Preventicare through pfizer and are supplied with daily strongid dewormer plus 2 rotations of Ivermectin paste positioned in the spring and fall. The little bot eggs (they look like tiny yellow burrs ont he the longish hairs of the legs and armpits) have been appearing for about a month, so it is time to dose the horses with their ivermectin. I am reviewing the weights of all of the horses enrolled in the program. Paste dewormer is fed in a tube with a weight dosing guide. I have one pony who weighs three-hundred pounds and another who weighs eight-hundred so Ican use the same tube for both since it contains enough paste for a twelve-hundred and fifty pound horse. It's a minor pain in the ass but certainly less wasetfull and that is key to success in the horse industry.

I still havn't gotten the blankets over to the farm; half of them are dirty in my garage still (they were taking forever to get clean and even longer to dry), but the nights are getting cooler and it's time. The flies have quieted. The cobwebs have been vacuumed. The horses are going out for both the warmish day and coolish night. There has been frost on my little civic three mornings in a row.

The Usual

2008-10-18T00:13:00.001-04:00

There's so much to say right now. So of course there is no time to say it.

How We Do Things

2008-10-12T18:41:00.000-04:00

Wow. It has been one hell of a week. Just one week ago, we called off the horse trials because I blew out both of my knees again. That sounds a little more dramatic than it really was so I feel the need to clarify. First of all, the October 5th Horse Trials were my dry run for a potential United States Pony Club event on November 2nd assuming I have all my ducts in a row by then. I set divisions starting at baby beginner novice (which is like logs on the ground) through only to Novice. I had effectively one to two competitor only in each division. You know, a super small show so I can see how we'll work the logistics ranging from course design to division scoring.

It was a last minute idea. I was in Michigan last month and while I was driving back (alone because I picked up the Civic while I was there), Kathi and I had hour long manic conversations about out big visions for the farm. We have these sort of conversations frequently and then I overcaffienate myself and try to make everything happen all at once. I always have half a check mark next to every item on my overidden, highlighted and underlined To-Do list. The idea for the October 5th dry run horse trials was borne of one of these Penna-Turnpike conversations and thanks to Carey, I've had the wherewithall to complete a lot of my large scale tasks lately. She has the organizational capability to make sure I seriously follow through on things and has been providing the marketing and presentation for the majority of my big ideas lately. My stack of Pony Club membership forms jumped from five to twenty-five in just a couple of weeks due to her assistance and drive. So I decided to take on the trials with only three weeks of planning and ended up with the entire loose sketch of how it was to run outlined only in my head. Carey was underprimed and I was physically and mentally spent. I pride myself on being able to pull things off on a most professional level with very little preparation or support. It honestly has nothing to do with my any of my practical experience in the horse world, and everything to do with the bullshitting ability I inherited from my father (Sometime I'll get real into his history and tell you all about the hundreds of people he has pretended to be while hitchiking Canada or honeymooning with my mother).

Obviously I should have learned in my young school system years the value of careful preparation, but I knew that the morning of the trials I just had to be there to look put together, have coffee going, show the course, time competitors, and configure scores. I figured Carey would be right there learning how to run a horse trial while we went through this simple little one step by step.

Friday night we were out putting up markers on the cross country course. I had been on my feet the last two weeks solid. The dentist and veterinarian the week before, the influx of horses I was riding and lessons I was teaching, the couple of feedings I had taken on when we were short staffed. My quad had been buckling for days now and I there was so much to do I couldn't even give it a thought. This is what my knee does. It doesn't usually even hurt, it just happens.

When it happened for the hundredth time on Saturday, was when I threw out my whole "good" side. So I took off an entire unexpected week of couch rest, television, books, heating pads. We called off the horse trials.

The couch and muscle relaxants did me some good and so I'll lay off complaining to you for awhile but I've decided to get over myself and use a cane because I can't afford that kind of injury to happen again before I get my meniscus and ankle fixed. I'm suffering a House, MD complex, planning on making snarky remarks at the staff and writing symptoms up on the white board instead of lesson times. I"m going to cut back on shaving and walk up to clients in the middle of a lesson without introducing myself. I don't know, he makes it work for him so I'll give it a shot.

Yesterday, Casey and I spent hours downloading and listening to music and then I just haven't stopped listening to it since. When I went out this morning for The Washington Post, I played James Cotton offensively loud and then I went over to Carey's and Margot and Ricky and She and I lounged around in the sunlight in front of her trailer and listened to more music. I've got all kinds of great sounds stuck in my head.

I've got to get tons of work tomorrow. There is a show at the farm this weekend and I need to start planning the cross country clinic and touch base with the community education programs.Carissa starts tomorrow. Jessica is going to train her around the barn but now that the staff is all going to be around, I'll have to hold a sales and services meeting which should really be tomorrow. So planning.

I'm still getting great updates from Oxbow and I'm looking forward to hearing more. Give me a shout out if you're busting your ass in the horse world right now!

2008-10-12T02:53:00.001-04:00

I can't believe I'm still awake.

Big Night In Kitchen Gloves

2008-10-11T19:29:00.000-04:00

It's a Saturday night, I can finally move again, and you are hearing nothing else from me until this house is clean. Oh, GROSS! It's amazing the number of dishes that accumulate on surfaces when I can't carry things around!

So mucky

2008-10-08T11:28:00.000-04:00

I'm still not feeling far enough along as I should. the pills are makinging it difficult for me to hunt and peck at this keyboard, and the pain is making it impossible to forego the pills. I got an update from Kimmy this morning. Jenny is back in Michigan (for good, as far as we know), and Jenny, Km, and Dani are headed to Pearl;s for a lesson. Pearl is one of the only respectable coaches in Michigan, in my opinion, She is a jumper, but it's obvious he knows her subject matter, I love the more frequent updates from my Michigan girls. I need to talk to Melissa, though. I recieved a brief and disturbing email from her a week ago and haven't been able to get a hold her since. I think I must have storted her number incorrectly when I got my new phone.

Carey is running the farm by herself right now. I move and get nauseous. Jessica is off. I keep trying to get over there and then backing off my decision. I tried bracing both my knees and my back but discovered it takes at least one good leg or some core stabilityt o use crutches. How obnoxious. I'm going to stop feeling sorry for myself now.

Carey is still waiting to gind out if and when Gui is returning to the states and in the meanttime misses him like crazy. We spend several nights in a row hanging out at her new trailer. It is absolutely adorable but I can't get uo the steps right now. Going to sleep off these meds so I can hopefully see some horses and students today. I apologize in advance for the unecessary typos.

yow

2008-10-07T14:35:00.000-04:00

The first incoherent blog. Good God. I know I have been away, and trust me, it's not for lack of happenings. Saturday was the high-intensity day I had expected it to be, and when I was still on my feet at midnight finishing x-country course jump markers with Casey and Carey (and Sophie, Carey's beagel shepard cross), my right knee gave out for about the hundredth time that day. It happens often, really; my quad doesn't fire as a result of my previous injury, and I just sort of let myself crumple as it generally seems easier than trying to grab onto something solid last minute. This time, I strained my entire left side. It's the right knee, mind you, that doesn't work well whatsoever. And my right ankle and heel with the torn tendons. So this time around, I've compounded it with a pinched nerve in my back, a strained muscle in my left hip, and a brand new locked meniscus tear in my once upon a time good knee. And a second ankle that won't hold me up. I am so glad we invested in nice new comfy couches, I can't think much beyond that right now.

I have started my list of major plans for the week and with the convenience of text messaging and emaill, have been okay running a virtual office so far. It definately leaves more room for communication fall throughs but I'm sure it's good practice for the team for us to have to get things done this way.

I miss the gorgeous weather that is just on the other side of these windows. I am concerned about who is going to ride Bandit (he is doing so well; I hope Kathi will help some of my w.s's on him). Carey is exhausted. She closed on her trailer last week and hasn't had a day off since. Now I am completely incapacitated so instead of having me as a backup while she is stressed, she is having to take on a load more. Jessica is overwhelmed because she planned on going home to Tennessee this week to pick up clothing and see her family but is having to postphone it til I can get around at least a little. She and Carey could back eachother up a lot easier if they had the time to communicate with eachother but instead I've been holding a four-way seventy-two hour blackberry conversation between them and Kathi.

Casey moved Cloudy into the living room to keep me company. His cranky little birdie face is watching everything I do and he's trying to decide if he is petrified, amused, or both.

Codeine and Valium are making me spin and I need a break from the worries. I know the horses are well cared for and that I've done my fair share of work via net today so I'm just going to curl up and sleep until my back stops twitching.

Choo Choo

2008-10-03T10:21:00.000-04:00

This week has flown by like a freight train (I cannot emphasize the speed and force quite enough). I am going to work straight through the weekend running a horse trials but I'll finish out the day on Sunday with a dressage test on Nickel. That's going to be my little reward if I make it there.

Today, I have to mark the courses (which involves schlepping metal numbered posts around the x-country field and through the woods), have the show fliers re-printed for the United States Pony Club meeting tonight, pick up shirts from the embroiderer, get the fliers out for the upcoming events around the property so that all of the show traffic this weekend will see it, get to the MVA to get a plate for my vehicle, teach, run aforementioned USPC meeting, plan Saturday, sleep.

Running Behind

2008-09-29T20:57:00.000-04:00

As it turns out, I did not get back to the farm on time. I rolled up the finally smooth driveway at 4:02. It is that strange time of year when we are between routines. It is not yet time to have the horses out all day (the flies are still too nasty) or in all night (the lows are still quite warm). Since it had been raining for so many days in a row, the horses were now all still out in the bright, shining sun. Including James, the chestnut gelding I needed for my now running behind four pm lesson.
I noted that Jessica had already intercepted my student and procured a saddle, so I grabbed a halter and headed directly for the field.

To head into the pony field is to enter another world. It's huge and rolling, and enclosed by one of those dreamy real wood fences that just follows the curve of the land. The pasture itself is reams of spongy orchard grass, it looks as rich as spinach. Perfectly conformed, party colored Shetland and welsh ponies dot the hillside and search out clover under the trees. The clouds overhead have ceased moving whatsoever and are frozen overhead like great blimps.

James is easy to spot. He's the only horse in the pony field. He wants nothing to do with me. Each time I approach, he shows me his flank and pins his ears. I crouch down in the grass. I use this technique to diffuse the threat so that he will let me approach or to increase curiosity so he will look to see what I found, and when all fails I pick some clover and offer it to him like I had a yummy treat all along (and bank on the fact that he won't put it it together and realize it's the same clover to which he already has full access). The clover I pick this time turns out to have four leaves. I resolve to catch James and get this lesson started. The pony field still seems enchanted the whole way back but James and I both know we're soon to be far from it.

The lesson went fine. It was straightforward. All of them were, really. Rhonda is an athletic young entrepreneur with two kids and not a lot of time to herself. She sweats it out on horseback two hours a week and runs the most prestigious landscaping company in Annapolis the rest of the time. My next lesson was a semi-private with two middle-schoolers. They both sneak in extra laps if cantering whenever I have to duck out to answer the phone or grab a crop. I have to promise them the moon in order to keep their attention. Next week they are bringing tennis shoes and vaulting. I told them I'd scrounge up a surcingle and teach them how to stand on a horse.

Erin showed up in the middle of the evening. She had finished all of her homework and had earned her fourteen year old self some barn time. She was still wearing her blue jeans and dangly earrings from school but had zipped her half-chaps on overtop paddock boots. I really wished I could tell her to just go for a hack. If wanting was having, she'd be off like a shot through the fields on Prinz or Harry. I set her to work tacking horses for lessons and being generally helpful. I remember how it felt to not take riding for granted. I used to think I'd simply die if I didn't have a horse. Nothing could replace it. Not ice skating, not Christmas, not puppies. Not being around the barn day in and day out, wishing one of these horses were yours.

"Figure out exactly what it would cost," my mother had stated when I told her I wanted to bring home Red Wing, "Take an interest in the dog. Groom him every morning before school. Do that for a year and I'll know you can take care of an animal. Get a job. Get A's and B's. Show me you can make time and save money."

I imagine she meant it to make me realize I was in no way ready for a horse, but I took everything she said in earnest. I called dozens of stables and asked my prepared questions. I set appointments to look at the places I thought I'd like best. Many stable owners were put off by such questions from a fourteen year old and figured I was wasting their time. But one offered me a job, and a few shorts months later, I had permission to bring home my first horse. That was the best fall. I never even bought a saddle, just rode him bareback all over the place.

At the end of the night tonight, I come up from the outdoor exhausted. I had walked down instead of driving and my ankle felt like silly putty. Erin was waiting in the office. Her parents, she said, were thinking of buying Prinz. But they would need to know exactly what it would cost and how she expected to manage his care. I pulled out a blank piece of paper and began writing down everything I know. About trying to convince your parents that there is anything practical, safe, or even sane about buying their fourteen year old daughter a horse. It felt good to make that sort of list. A list convered in expenses but really not touching on the cost. It makes what I do everyday seem light and easy and fresh and idyllic all over again. Erin takes the note and carefully folds it in her pocket. She is off to groom the dog and go to bed, I guess.

James is back in the pony field eating clover. I am back in my living room with Casey. Lessons are through. The air is still dry. Some things come just in time.

From Morning to Mid-Day in Sixty Seconds

2008-09-29T15:21:00.000-04:00

I am only home for a half of an hour...Rhonda has her first private lesson with me at four. Mondays are so chaotic; I jump awake at five am on Mondays without fail. The rain finally stopped. My deck at five-thirty was covered in ice cold puddles. The humidity was gone. The air was clear. The horses were turned out.

At the farm, each barn entrance had developed a muddy barricade filled with hay and gnats. The flies were everywhere. Carey brought in coffee and doughnuts and they swooped in like their breakfast had been served.

The answering machine was blinking the number '3', the driveway was ridden with potholes. This was not going to be a Monday morning spent in the arena on horseback or working from home on the sofa with Ernie.

I set out returning phone calls. Most of them were working parents confirming the day camp tomorrow. We host them each time kids are out of school on holiday. The parents love it because they don't have to worry about daycare. I was about halfway through my messages when a woman who is bringing her scouts troop tomorrow stopped by. She has been out several times before but her family had horses and a big riding stable out west so she has some pretty particular ideas about how she wants tomorrow's event to go. Carey, Ricky, Kathi and Jessica tackled the stalls in both barns while Miguel ran the box-scraper over the driveway to smooth out the potholes.

I had planned on doing some direct marketing but it's going to have to move to Wednesday's agenda, as is the stack of release forms that Carey was going to enter into the database.

If I head back to the farm NOW, I can get my horses tacked for evening lessons, teach my ass off, and hopefully still have the energy to ride Bandit or any one of the other horses on my list.

The week will fly by.

Monsoon

2008-09-28T11:49:00.000-04:00

The hurricane from the south presented itself to Crofton in the form of endless rain. It rained all night Thursday and the horses were in. On Friday morning, we turned them outside so we could power clean the stalls before the arrival of the vet and dentists. I met Joy Hoover, an eleven year old dressage student, in the indoor. She rides each Friday before school. Her mom is a cytologist at Johns Hopkins who holds a busy schedule and we both agree that the early mornings are good for anyone looking to be involved in horses. I sent a text to Carey to see if she can print out a stall chart and horse use log for the dentists. I managed to clean two stalls after Joy's lesson and before Elena's. Everything is right on track.

Once a year, two dentists come from Spain. They bring power tools, look inside every mouth, and have heated discussions about the technological advancements in equine dentistry. Dr. Mende, the vet, sits on an overturned muck tub and reads up on journals. She is just there to administer and moderate sedation, so "dental weekend" , as we call the two full days of annual dental work, is basically just a chance for her to catch up on reading and follow-up calls on her patients. I take full advantage of this and try to spend as much time as I can picking her brain in between staring between the incisors of horse after horse. It's like a living classroom.

This year, since there isn't much else for her to do, we decided to have Dr.Mende administer fall shots the same weekend. She went through and checked weights and temperatures while giving each horse a 5-way vaccination. She saved time, and we saved a barn call fee.

When we were through with the vaccinations, I started in on the first conversation I had planned to have with Dr.Mende while I had her on my turf. The subject was Bandit, my new training project whom we recently purchased for the lesson program. Bandit is a little paint pony with a medicine cap. He is eight years old but has a swayed back which is an indication of spinal trauma in his young years. His back legs stick too far out behind him, and his fetlock joints are closer in to his body than his hocks (sickle hocked), but he is really quite a nice little horse to ride. His ground manners are impeccable.

Dr.Mende thought with the correct riding (that we emphasize at the center) that his back would continue to strengthen and he would develop into a nice little school horse.

When his teeth were done later (under sedation with the power tools), the dentists took care of the sharp hooks he had developed. The hooks could easily have had an influence over how he carried his head and therefore his back.

The rain broke around six in the evening, and I called for the horses to be turned out. Even with the predicted rain, the temperature was estimated to stay in the mid-sixties and they really hate to be cooped up.

Around four pm, the evening lessons are in full swing. Kids are out of school, working adults have skipped out of the office an hour early. Four pm at Equilibrium means that the horses have been fed, brushed and tacked. The arena is sectioned off, instructors are shouting over each other ("Get off the rail! How do you know you are keeping that horse straight if you are using the rail for balance!"/"That's not a twenty mete circle, that's a ten meter olive pit!"/""Exactly, Erin! Now he is reaching!"/"RED LIGHT....GREEN LIGHT...Hannah wins!").

This Friday, I ran to my car before lessons began. I had a saddle in the back seat that one of my students was going to try. She wanted to buy her very own (what eleven year old rider doesn't want their own saddle), and I thought she had ought to try this one. As I neared my car, I found Bandit at the fence. His head was dropped, his nostrils were dilated, his muscles were trembling. I called to my student to come get the saddle herself, and fashioned a halter for Bandit. He couldn't wait to get inside. I was afraid that with his breeding he could be HYPP positive. His muscle trembling seemed characteristic of what I had seen when Magnum had a full blown attack back in the spring, and even though I hadn't seen Impressive in his bloodlines, quarter horses tend to be interrelated and it can be difficult to trace. I had Karo syrup on hand so I grabbed a bottle and squeezed it right into his mouth. He was happy to swallow that up. Kathi paged Dr.Mende (who had left only an hour before), and we took his temperature. 98.1. Which is low. Average is 100.2. Kathi found Angus' s old blanket and put it on him. All said, it could just be that he was feeling cold. The fall feels a bit more foreign at its head than it does in the midwest. The wet days with their wind and clouds made it take hours to feel dry again. Bones are sore this time of year. Feet are perpetually soaked. The horses are beginning to develop a winter fuzz but it is barely noticeable. You'd have to be away for a week to notice the difference in their coats at this time of year.

I got a call back from Dr.Mende. She thought my diagnosis seemed highly likely. She thought that since the muscle tremors seemed to have stopped with either the karo (if HYPP) or the blanket (weather, shot reaction), we need not medicate and we agreed she would look at him in the morning.

An hour later, I took his temperature again. 102.8. SHIT! I called her back. A high temperature is not an indication of HYPP. It is a symptom of a shot reaction. Bandit had been under sedation for his teeth, he had also had his 5-way vaccination. I had no previous medical records on him, as he came from a downtrodden backyard farm. I gave him 2 grams of bute and went home to watch the presidential debates with Casey to give it time to kick in.

We went back at eleven pm. There is a secret utopia which exists in a barn after hours. We arrived at the time of evening just when the Society of Dignified Feline Mousers was meeting in Marisol's empty stall just outside the office. The now-still and puddled rain was rising up in great tufts of slumbery smoke to haunt the air around the white house. If you don't look too close and just allow yourself to be a little scared, you can hear the voices of the ghosts we speak of during the day without much belief. At eleven, the feed room is at quorum with mice chittering over new business and leaving behind the old. A forgotten, overturned wintec saddle is covered with droplets in the dirt outside the schoolbarn. A light was left on in the hayloft. Victor built the school barn and designed the loft to look like that of the homes he built in the neighboring suburbs. We drive right up to the long and low building which is the boarder barn combined with riding hall. Casey's compact 2005 focus fits perfectly over the bridge just before the entryway. We cut the lights and exited the vehicle.

Bandit whinnied loudly (which I took as a great sign). We helped ourselves to Odwalla from the fridge in the office while I prepped the thermometer. Jacques crept down from the hayloft and flashed his one eye around. I refilled his food dish.
I had switched Bandit's blanket from Angus's overly large one to a cozy plaid Baker blanket. His body temperature felt normal to the touch. His eyes were alert. He had one piece of quivering hay stuck to his lip. I pulled the end. It came in one long string from deep in his esophagus. I battled disgust. Poor guy. His temperature was down to 101.5.

We tucked him back in and walked the long way down the aisle. The emergency lights which were always on spun a strange candlelit cavern effect. Each horse in its orange-cast box looked majestic or imprisoned. I wasn't sure which. I showed Casey Arrazzo. Arrazzo was Amir's new horse who was estimated to be worth a fortune. He was a beautiful, 17hh chestnut gelding with three pure gaits. He had his butt turned to us and had managed to unlatch his own stall by rubbing against it.

The rain began again in earnest as soon as we reached our cars. As we drove down the driveway, Macaroni pony's tiny head was visible through the lower two fence slats, eating the richer and greener grass on the other side. We were drenched running up our front steps and into the house. Rain in Maryland is unlike anything I was used to in Michigan. Everything else is the same. Same inability to sleep at night when you are worried about a horse. Same short period of time between when I lay down at night and wake up the next morning. Same nagging pain. Same constant weighing out of decisions, panic, sense of responsibility, of vulnerability. Bandit seemed okay. Should I check again? Was his temperature high or low when Dr.Mende did his physical early in the day? Had he ever had a vaccination in his life? Is he a registered paint or quarter horse? Should I go and check on him again? Would more Karo syrup harm his system if it's not HYPP? Does he need more in case it is?

Saturday mornings always tend to seem dark. Maybe because I get up so much earlier, but this Saturday, in addition to being particularly early, was still cloudy and wet. It felt like night. I went over to the farm with mismatched socks, a formless grey turtleneck, and a fuzzy ponytail. I was so tired. I walked into about fifty inanimate objects.
Bandit's temperature was back to normal. We deduced it was a shot reaction. We decided to keep dental weekend vaccination free to avoid stressing the horses. Dr.Mende looked at Jame's feet. The thrush was gone. Nick, the farrier, came by and did eight horses on the trim/shoe schedule.
I plowed through my lessons. Zach tore up the stadium course with Keynote. I cut Skye's mohawk. Carey and I stopped at Leo's Vacation Center to look at her new trailer, and then I finally ended up at home where I crashed on my couch. I didn't wake til Casey came home at eight. He made dinner and rubbed my knee. He asked about Bandit. Bandit was doing okay. I felt there was a chance I'd get some sleep.

Today is Sunday. I slept like a baby. The heavy rain prevented our scheduled hay delivery. I am at home with just my bird and my dog. Casey is at work. The house is quiet. Tomorrow morning everything will start again, but today I will just read books, listen to music, and lose track of time.