AlphaBooks, H is for Henry

Graphic Design

 

A Pictorial Life Story of Misty
by Marguerite Henry
Rand McNally 1976, 1977

Bought from Robin Bledsoe, Bookseller.

TBR. Of course, I read the original lo these many years ago. Spent a fair amount of time wanting my own Assateague pony, until I realized you couldn’t jump them. I chose not to endanger my rose-colored memories.

I am not alone in not going back, for whatever reason, “The vast majority of respondents had read Misty of Chincoteague. It was a whopping 92 percent. However, when I asked how many had read Misty as an adult, the result was only about 26 percent.” Saddle Seeks Horse – Misty of Chincoteague: Rereading a Classic Horse Book as an Adult.

Thank you for reading,
Katherine Walcott

In Which I Ponder Reading Horse Books

Writing & Blogging

I like horses. I like books. Given that these are both massive understatements, you would think that I grew up obsessed with horse books. Oh sure, I read more than the average city kid, but not as many as you might think.

I read Misty & Justin Morgan but not Stormy, Brighty or the rest of the herd.

I read Black Beauty, but not The Black Stallion.

I read Dick Francis, but who didn’t? At least until the violence grew overly gratuitous.

My strongest memories of childhood reading are not from books at all, but from comic books: Casper, Little Dot, and the rest. I can recall the visuals and plots of some of them to this day.

After that it was science fiction. Aside from Elizabeth Moon, no one really does horses in space. In fantasy, horses are most often tools of transportation, when they are not people in horse suits. Robin McKinley is one of the few who has real horsehair in her novels. But I digress.

My point, and I do have one, here, somewhere, is that I have had way more trouble than I would have expected coming up with 227 words on horse books for kids. Horse stories avoid the vortex of my To Be Read pile.

Live horses, yes. Literary horses, not so much. You?

Thank you for reading,
Katherine Walcott

Low Key Photo Challenge: Books

Photography

Theme: Books

Misty, out standing in her field.

Badum-ching.

But seriously folks, by rights, this should have been a beach shot. I want you to imagine scenic sand, crashing surf, and the gentle whiff of wild pony poop.

Process Notes
Outside in bright sunlight. Go to see how fast the camera setting would go when one has excess light to play with.

Procedure for Low Key Photo Challenge
1) I post photo(s) 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]
[Travel]

Update
Photo looks weirdly orange on my phone screen. The ‘bathed in golden light’ effect comes off better on my desktop. YMMV

Thank you for reading,
Katherine Walcott

Where Did The Year Go?

Combined Driving

 

Our all but non-existent 2018 CDE season has come to a close. Indiana [us last year] has come and gone, in a modified format. We didn’t go. Nashoba [us last year] is later this month. We aren’t going. Sigh. We had such plans.

The Temper Tantrum in Tennessee [not a post. Yes, it merits capital letters] was a set-back, but was not the end. Milton kept working, including two non-compete appearances [MSSP, NEGA].

In June, right around the trip to Georgia, we had mechanical trouble with the schooling cart and with one of our cars, resulting in logistical problems that we have yet to resolve. We have a bad habit of getting stuck. Our 2-year truck search may have given that away.

This barely ticks the crisis meter. We have next year or the year after or the year after that. If we don’t, we will have more issues than whether or not we are driving a horse. I say we, it really is a group effort, even when I’m not on the carriage.

The problem is my social media feeds. Last year, we were in the thick of it. Thanks to the awesome Bliss & the generosity of Coach Kate. Now, I sit at my computer and watch everyone having fun without us. How is this possible?

It is such a shock to realize that the world spins on without one.

Thank you for reading,
Katherine Walcott

Swapping Back and Forth

Adventures in Saddle Seat

Saddle Seat does not hinder my hunt seat.
Hunt seat ruins my saddle seat.
This is not a surprise.

Saddle Seat -> Hunt Seat
Let’s say I rode two-a-day saddle seat sessions for week. If I simply sat in a hunt seat saddle, everything would snap into place. Center of the saddle. Check. Lower leg on. Check. Pinkies out, whip over the leg. Let’s go.

Hunt Seat -> Saddle Seat
I had two excellent lessons with Milton at Stepping Stone Farm on Tuesday and Wednesday, followed by a lesson with Joanie on Friday. The first half of the saddle seat lesson was spent trying to remember what exactly was involved with this here funny way of riding. I had just been to a show. I had won a class. It was still a struggle.

Legs and seat adjust reasonably quickly, especially with the school horses, who won’t go if I don’t sit right. The hands are a horror show, which is ridiculous, because there is an obvious metric. The whip is held straight down, along the horse’s shoulder. Adjust hands accordingly. The conversation runs along these lines, for several laps of the arena …

Me: Hands up.
Hands: Really?
Me: Yes.
Hands: This?

Me: More.
Hands: Really?
Me: Yes.
Hands: This?

Me: Still more.
Hands: Really?
Me: Yes.
Hands: This is weird.

Sigh, does anyone else get backtalk from their body parts?

Thank you for reading,
Katherine Walcott

Kitten Report, Round Up

Home Team

 

Week 18, as of 9/29/18. We enter the teen years weeks.

A month since the last kitten post?! Hardly seems possible. Looks like I spent September talking about Heathermoor [Show Report, 4 posts] and Southeastern [Show Report, 2 posts]. Plus packing for, attending, and recovering therefrom. Too much horse show? Not possible.

They grow. In the space of week 16 to week 17, their paws went from wee adorable kitten pawlets to paws belonging to small cats to I-can-see-the-shadow-of-the-adult-cat paws. When picked up, they are now an armload instead of a single handful. So far, they still tuck conveniently under one arm.

Their jumping ability has increased dramatically. The vault over obstacles they used to clamber up and over. We have several knee-high barriers that we use to keep dogs (*cough* Basset Hound *cough*) out of various rooms. I draped fabric over these to give purchase for little claws. Now they jump the barriers.

OTOH, their eyes sometimes bigger than their jumping ability. There have been several occasions when the front end gets high enough, but not the back half, leading to scrambling, clawing moments, the success of which depends on their ability to dig in. A shiny metal surface ends with a ignominious backslide & thump. They are not old enough to adopt the ‘I planned that’ look, yet. They still can’t make the top of the fridge.

I try to keep the big cats out of the protein-rich kitten chow. Years ago, we had a cat who gorged herself to the point of illness. In the past, I have used a cardboard box with cut-out, kitten-sized entry. These can be a pain as they get pushed around or upended. This time, I got clever. I tied the door of their travel box so that it would only open a little. Worked great until I found the adult Blue stuck inside, unable to push his way back out. I need to make a new box.

Until then, I am engaging in food gymnastics, depending on who is in or out. Adults cats in? Kittens have access to cat food but not kitten food. (Yes, I know many believe cats should be indoors. Part of their brief is to de-rodent the barn, a task on which they are falling down to a shocking extent. I’m waiting for this lot to get big enough. I’m hoping that being born to a barn cat conveyed a genetic advantage in mouse-hunting abilities. But I digress.) Orthogonal to the cat location is the dog location. (They have an outdoor pen.) Dogs out? Food can go anywhere. Dogs in? Yes. Daytime? Barrier up to keep dogs out of hallway. Nighttime? Hallway needs to be clear, so that the German Shepard can come do the loyal dog thing at the side of the bed. Cat/kitten food trays moved into bathtub. That makes six permutations of food choice & location. Not my most efficient plan.

Names remain uninteresting: Long Tail, Princess, Stubby & Stubby. They don’t care. The only name that matters to them is “Kitten! Kitten!” which means chow time.

I’m sure they think I am obsessed with their hind ends. Whenever I pat one or pick one up or pretty much do anything with one of the kittens, I have to check the tail. It’s the only way I can tell who I am dealing with.

I have discovered that Princess and the female Stubby have little hooks on the ends of their wannabe tails. Long Tail and the male Stubby have tails that come to a smooth point. This helps me distinguish between the two Stubbies in the dark, without rooting around with the more obvious bits.

While the are similar in looks and are obviously siblings, there are a few differences. Long Tail and the male Stubby have sleeker, lighter brown coats and more pointed faces, marginally. Princess and the female Stubby have fluffy, darker coats and rounder faces, marginally. Male Stubby is the heaviest; female Stubby, the lightest, again marginally. Apologies for the blurry and erratic photos. Clearly, we need to work on our kitten photography.

They remain frolicsome & adorable.

[Kitten Report, Piles O’ Kitten] 14 weeks
[Kitten Report, No Toe Games] 11 weeks
[Our New Four-In-Hand] 9 weeks

Thank you for reading,
Katherine Walcott

The Poop-O-Meter

Home Team

 

Milton has stopped pooping on the trailer. Well, he still poops if the trip is long enough or if a sufficient amount of nutritional by-product has reached the end of his digestive tract. He has stopped pooping because he’s on the trailer.

Poop-O-Meter points to relaxed.

When I groomed for or rode the crazy opinionated jumper mare [photo, story], she knew what it meant when I was the one getting her out of the field. Horse show! Horse show! She would start pooping immediately and continue at regular intervals. It was a masterwork of resource management. No matter how much she had generated, she could always squeeze out a few more balls. She did not do this in her daily life. It was a performance reserved for competition mornings.

Poop-O-Meter points to excited.

Milton still has trouble peeing anywhere other than at home. It is often his first act after getting off the trailer. Even before getting back into the field. I’m sure he’d prefer to make it over to his preferred pee spot in the pasture, but needs must. At least he held it until he got home. Or so I assume he thinks.

Piddle-Meter points to bashful bladder.

Horses are weird. But then, I’ve just spent an entire post considering horse poop and pee.

Thank you for reading,
Katherine Walcott