Rodney’s Semi-Permanent Gold Star

Home Team

Every time we ship Milton off the property, Rodney gets a gold star. Granted, we are easy to score gold stars from. We give hand them out like elementary school teachers with fistfuls of sticker sheets. Still, Rodney deserves his.

As I said yesterday, the horses are cool with the three of us going over to Stepping Stone Farm.

Milton ships well and has learned to auto-load. That means we toss the leadrope over his neck, point him at the trailer, and he walks on by himself. I’ve said before, I may be a hot mess under saddle, but I know from ground manners.

Rodney is totally fine with Milton leaving, even when we are gone for days. He gets the run of the place, speaking metaphorically as the whole point is that he doesn’t gallop about. We leave the stall door tied open for the express purpose of letting him wander in and out, which he seems to enjoy. He gets a large hay snack and his toy/treat dispenser [Cookie Ball!]. His response? ‘Via con Dios. Don’t let the gate hit your fluffy gray tail on the way out. Now where is that cookie ball.’

As anyone with horses knows, this could so not be the case. Most horses don’t like to be alone. Easier to become cougar bait that way. Milton used to have trouble when I would take Rodney out of the field and around to the other side of the barn for the blacksmith. Milton could SEE Rodney, was five or ten feet away, and still got upset. He’s getting better, but still doesn’t let Rodney take a lap of the field without screaming &/or galloping over to find us. That is closer to normal.

Yay, Rodney!

Thank you for reading,
Katherine Walcott

Milton Canters

Home Team

 

Video taken at a walk. I’m happy to be cantering. Cantering one-handed will have to wait.

Not much to add beyond the headline. We shipped over to Stepping Stone Farm. Milton and I cantered around the big ring several times on both leads. Progress. We’ve cantered before, both at SSf and elsewhere [MSSP]. This time was more proper transition and less run and hope.

A lack of an enclosed space has been more of a rate-limiting step than we had anticipated. The day after the lovely work at SSF, Milton cantered at home. He had a hissy fit and ran back to the barn. Husband Greg was lunging. Milton may find it hard to maintain his balance around the smaller diameter of a lunging circle. Cantering under saddle would allow me to make a bigger loop. It’s possible that Milton would canter in the pasture just fine with more room. Possible. It’s not a theory I am willing to test quite yet.

So, we continue to ship over. Yes, it would be more convenient to have a ring at home. However, the ring is close, the people are supportive, and the horses are cool with it.

Onwards.

Thank you for reading,
Katherine Walcott

AlphaBooks, K & J are for Kenrick & Japan

Graphic Design

 

Horses In Japan
Vivienne Kenrick
J.A. Allen 1964

Book. Long-term resident of my TBR pile.

Writer. Japan Times: Clips List, Japan Times: Obituary

Letters. K. Can one hate a letter? I have been saddled with K all my life. I’ve never figured out how to make it look good. J. I had no idea that Romans had swashes. “The letter J originated as a swash letter I, used for the letter I at the end of Roman numerals when following another I, as in XXIIJ or xxiij instead of XXIII or xxiii for the Roman numeral representing 23.” Wiki

Thank you for reading,
Katherine Walcott

Riding Abroad

Tackbox Tales

 

I’ve ridden abroad twice: once in Italy, once in France. Although I had independent control of my mounts, both occasions were basically glorified pony rides. Both occurred during my semester abroad in France.

Piccolo Americana
My father came over for business in Italy. I went to visit him. (This all sounds terrible jet-set doesn’t it? Really, my teen and college years were as well-off, white-bread suburban as one can get. Comfortable, fortunate, but not the slightest bit exotic. But I digress.) One of the paralegals(?), junior lawyers(?), at the Italian firm exercised racehorses in the mornings. I was brought along.

It rained, so we were limited to walking and trotting in a small, covered exercise shed. I have no idea what I would’ve done had we been sent to the track. It’s possible I wasn’t completely tuned into what was going on until they heaved me up on the horse. My Italian was even more nonexistent than my French, which was pathetically abysmal after 10 years of French class.

What I remember was that the horse was a dark bay, and reasonably well-behaved, at least at a walk and trot in a closed space. The woman I came with was at the opposite end of the herd. I could see her but not talk to her, nor have her translate.

The guys around me kept mentioning the ‘Piccolo Americana’, which even I could figure out meant Little American. I was tall – my adult height of 5’8″ – but thin – less than 120 pounds. I would not put on adult weight until I married my personal chef. Little wasn’t a far off description. On the other hand, I have no idea what they were saying about the piccolo Americana. They could have been marveling at my flawless equitation, or saying, Dear God in Heaven what is she doing up there? We can’t let the lawyer’s daughter get hurt.

That was riding in Italy.

Chevalier Ferdinand
A group of us went down to the Camargue for a guided horse tour. Since I was the only equestrian, everyone expected me to dash about in a vivid display of horsemanship. Meh. I have plenty of opportunity to gallop nut-case Throughbreds at home. I’d never been to France. I was perfectly content with my happy little stroll through the pretty marshland. Horse and I trailed the field the entire ride.

That was riding in France.

Or It Didn’t Happen
This was long before cell phone cameras or cheap photography. So, no pics. Photos were taken of our French ride. I did not buy mine, although I wanted to. I can still pull up the image in my mind’s eye: a vertical shot, taken with a long lens from a low vantage point by the horse’s left shoulder, so that horse and rider dominate the frame at a three-quarter angle. The white horse is surrounded by green plants and blue sky. I am smiling at the photographer. A nice image quickly printed on incredibly cheap paper.

One member of our group took it up themselves to engage in a heated discussion with the photographer about the photos we had supposedly “ordered” and the outrageous price being charged. I didn’t overrule my friend because, the price was indeed outrageous, it was clearly a tourist trap, and I wimped out. Now, 36 (!) years later, it would be a fun photograph to have.

Halt, Salute
I’ve never ridden seriously, much less competed in another country. I wouldn’t go so far to say it’s on my bucket list, but it would be cool. Have you ridden abroad? Tell us in the comments. Better yet, write me a guest post [Riding in Reykjavik].

Clip art via Inkscape import, Go Inkscape!: Free Commercial Use Clip Art for Inkscape, openclipart.org: share

Thank you for reading … and possibly writing,
Katherine Walcott

Low Key Photo Challenge: Travel

Photography

 

Theme: Travel

Stepping Stone Farm loads up for a horse show.

Process Notes
When going through the photos, I had a hard time staying on task. I kept getting caught up in content. Many of the photos were of Dottie adorably sticking her head out the window, but were not particularly interesting photographically. Technically, this one was taken on manual, but owes more to random luck and button pushing than to thoughtful manipulation of the medium. Plus, it could just as easily been taken on auto. Between a moving subject, the dark trailer interior, and the light sky, I could not adjust the numbers quickly enough. I swapped to Auto for a handful of shots. Actually, for a while, I moved the dial to A, which is aperture-priority mode not auto. Whoops.

Tire track & trailer photos were manual. No moving targets, no tricky lighting.

Procedure for Low Key Photo Challenge
1) I post a photo/photos on a given theme.
2) You comment below with a link to your photo(s) on that theme.
3) We all click over to see what you have.

That’s it. No prizes. No rules. No submissions. For more explanation, see [Inaugural Edition].

Previous Challenges
[Hello!]
[Labor]
[Toys]

Thank you for reading,
Katherine Walcott

G-G-G-G-Greg and Sn-Sn-Sn-Sn-Snippy

Pleasure Driving

 

Driving lesson at Stepping Stone Farm.

We also put out the CDE cones (no photos), which Snippy seemed to enjoy. After giving them the side-eye for being in his ring. So far, all of the ASB have liked their taste of CDE. Like us, horses enjoy the occasional chance to change it up.

Title inspired by Max Headroom, an 80s icon bought back into currency by Ready Player One [Being Happy].

Thank you for reading,
Katherine Walcott

A Day At The Barn

Adventures in Saddle Seat

 

Since the Fiat [What’s In Your Stocking?] has gone to join its ancestors, we are a one-car household for the moment. Therefore, I was dropped off at Stepping Stone Farm in the morning and retrieved in the evening. Much joking was done on the subject of adult day care, bringing my nap mat, and getting a good report at the end of the day.

I watched the cycle of the barn. A morning lesson for an adult. Training work-outs. Afternoon lessons once the kids got out of school and adults got out of work. Amongst all that, we went out for lunch. I had my lesson. I regretted not bringing that nap mat.

The more things change … After six years, we have a new crew of barn rats. The kids I met when I first came to the barn have grown up and gone off to college, marriage, and other life choices. Some of them still come out as work or school allows. Others, I only see on Instagram.

Neither could I identify the new horses. In my defense, they are all variations on a theme. A field full of bay Thoroughbreds? No problem. A barn full of chestnut Saddlebreds? Um, which one is Sam?

… the more they remain the same. Horses. Kids. Training sessions. Riding lessons. Yes, we are all unique intersections of the time-space continuum. The roles we fill repeat over time.

If I’d had a car, I would have gone home. Being dependent on a ride meant I stayed to watch the entire day unfold. Limitations can have interesting benefits. I still want my truck back.

Do you work with kids? Is it weird to watch them pass through on a endlessly-renewing conveyor belt?

Thank you for reading,
Katherine Walcott