BJD Beleive
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Home on the Range a ride the does not like me..
my thoughts about this up coming ride:
Spot was conditioning great all winter... but as the HOTR Gods would have it: she fell off a Hugh rock on Sunday..she hit hard, fell with me jumping off at the last minute, hit her shoulder, hip then head...as a true war roir..she jumped up and went on down the trail. We finished the ride still sound...maybe..I know her, she holds back. Come Monday, she is two legged lame, Come Later that day after a chiropractor helped..one legged lame, Come Tuesday, just fine, but the red head bitch has lied o me before...so do I believe her?
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Friday, March 18, 2011
I ride
Only Women Who Own Horses Will Understand
Below from an 87yr old very active horseback riding mother
Other days just the act of mounting and dismounting can be a real
accomplishment. Still I ride, no matter how tired or how much my seat bones or
any of the numerous horse related injuries hurt. I ride. And I feel better for doing so.
The beauty I've seen because I ride amazes me. I've ridden out to
find lakes that remain for the most part, unseen. Caves, dark and cold beside
rivers full and rolling are the scenes I see in my dreams The Granite Stairway
at Echo Summit; bald eagles on the wing and bobcats on the prowl add to the
empowerment and joy in my heart.
I think of the people, mostly women, I've met. I consider how competent they all are.
We cook and keep safe. We understand and love our companions, the horse.
Your hands are a little rough and you travel without makeup or
hair gel. You do without to afford the 'sickness' and probably, when you were
a small girl, you bounced a model horse while you dreamed of riding a real one.
"My treasures do not chink or glitter, they gleam in the sun and neigh in the night"
Below from an 87yr old very active horseback riding mother
Subject: I Ride I ride.
That seems like such a simple statement. However as many
women who ride know it is really a complicated matter. It has to do with power
and empowerment. Being able to do things you might have once considered out of
reach or ability. I have considered this as I shovel manure, fill water
barrels in the cold rain, wait for the vet/farrier/electrician/hay delivery,
change a tire on a horse trailer by the side of the freeway, or cool a gelding
out before getting down to the business of drinking a cold beer after a long ride.
The time, the money, the effort it takes to ride calls for dedication. At least I call it dedication.
women who ride know it is really a complicated matter. It has to do with power
and empowerment. Being able to do things you might have once considered out of
reach or ability. I have considered this as I shovel manure, fill water
barrels in the cold rain, wait for the vet/farrier/electrician/hay delivery,
change a tire on a horse trailer by the side of the freeway, or cool a gelding
out before getting down to the business of drinking a cold beer after a long ride.
The time, the money, the effort it takes to ride calls for dedication. At least I call it dedication.
Both my ex husbands call it 'the sickness'.It's a sickness I've had since I was a small girl
bouncing my model horses and dreaming of the day I would ride a real horse.
Most of the women I ride with understand the meaning
of the sickness'. It's not a sport. It's not a hobby. It's what we do and, in
some ways, who we are as women and human beings.
I ride. I hook up my trailer and load my gelding. I haul to some trailhead somewhere, unload,
saddle, whistle up my dog and I ride. I breathe in the air, watch the sunlight
filter through the trees and savor the movement of my horse. My shoulders
relax. A smile rides my sunscreen smeared face. I pull my ball cap down and
let the real world fade into the tracks my horse leaves in the dust.
Time slows.
of the sickness'. It's not a sport. It's not a hobby. It's what we do and, in
some ways, who we are as women and human beings.
I ride. I hook up my trailer and load my gelding. I haul to some trailhead somewhere, unload,
saddle, whistle up my dog and I ride. I breathe in the air, watch the sunlight
filter through the trees and savor the movement of my horse. My shoulders
relax. A smile rides my sunscreen smeared face. I pull my ball cap down and
let the real world fade into the tracks my horse leaves in the dust.
Time slows.
Flying insects buzz loudly, looking like fairies. My gelding
flicks his ears and moves down the trail. I can smell his sweat and it is
perfume to my senses. Time slows. The rhythm of the walk and the movement of
the leaves become my focus. My saddle creaks and the leather rein in my hand
softens with the warmth. I consider the simple statement; I ride. I think of
all I do because I ride. Climb granite slabs, wade into a freezing lake, race
a friend through the Manzanita all the while laughing and feeling my heart in my chest.
flicks his ears and moves down the trail. I can smell his sweat and it is
perfume to my senses. Time slows. The rhythm of the walk and the movement of
the leaves become my focus. My saddle creaks and the leather rein in my hand
softens with the warmth. I consider the simple statement; I ride. I think of
all I do because I ride. Climb granite slabs, wade into a freezing lake, race
a friend through the Manzanita all the while laughing and feeling my heart in my chest.
Other days just the act of mounting and dismounting can be a real
accomplishment. Still I ride, no matter how tired or how much my seat bones or
any of the numerous horse related injuries hurt. I ride. And I feel better for doing so.
The beauty I've seen because I ride amazes me. I've ridden out to
find lakes that remain for the most part, unseen. Caves, dark and cold beside
rivers full and rolling are the scenes I see in my dreams The Granite Stairway
at Echo Summit; bald eagles on the wing and bobcats on the prowl add to the
empowerment and joy in my heart.
I think of the people, mostly women, I've met. I consider how competent they all are.
Not a weenie amongst the bunch..
We haul 40 ft rigs, we back into tight spaces without clipping a tree. We set
up camp. Tend the horses.
We haul 40 ft rigs, we back into tight spaces without clipping a tree. We set
up camp. Tend the horses.
We cook and keep safe. We understand and love our companions, the horse.
We respect each other and those we encounter on the trail.
We know that if you are out there riding, you also shovel, fill, wait and doctor.
Your hands are a little rough and you travel without makeup or
hair gel. You do without to afford the 'sickness' and probably, when you were
a small girl, you bounced a model horse while you dreamed of riding a real one.
"My treasures do not chink or glitter, they gleam in the sun and neigh in the night"
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Dressage Show
Night Riding
Up on that mountain there are no screaming crowds or adoring fans to reach out and touch you as you start that climb. Seems like there’s nobody who cares whether you live or die, make it or don’t, over the top of that tall tall hill. Out there it’s just you and the dark and one of your finest animals making your way to a distant impossible summit while the wind shrieks against your burning face and blood pounds in the roots of your teeth and overhead a frozen river of stars pour out of the heavens to splash the naked firmament.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)