Referral Saturday: Adieu

Test run of a new feature.

Where were you when?

I was walking into the college commons when I heard that Reagan had been shot. At work, talking about the Challenger. At home watching the weather channel when all of the US airports where shut down on September 11.

Tails From Provence is in large part a horse blog. For example, the results of her most recent groundwork competition in Equifeel! Yes, go for the 20-pointers! Last week, the author talked about the German plane, which went down in her area:

In hindsight, I heard the crash on Tuesday.  While I was tacking up Flurry, there was a distant rumble.  I thought nothing of it, of course.  Then, as I was driving home an hour and a half later, a military jet flew so low over Reillanne that I couldn’t believe he had missed the tower of the Eglise St Denis.  Military jets fly up and down the Luberon valley all the time so, again, I thought nothing of it.  Later, when I learned about the crash, I realised that the jet must have been on its way to reconnoitre the site.

Yesterday and today, the air is filled with the distant drone of helicopters, presumably ferrying journalists, recovery teams and the families of the victims, up and down the Durance valley from Marseille airport.  As I worked in the arena with Aero today, a military plane flew over the woods beside us – very slowly, and so low that it was practically brushing the tree tops.  Looking for debris?  Who knows.

But, bizarrely, life goes on …

Finish reading at It feels very strange.

RIP 4U9525 Photo by Tails From Provence
RIP 4U9525
Photo by Tails From Provence

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Reblogged with permission. The Internet said better to ask. I don’t see it. I took it as a compliment when Writing From the Right Side of the Stall reblogged my post on Amy Tryon. However, “Others felt that it was something akin to theft.” [The Daily Post: Reexamining the Reblog]. I guess it depends if you think of a reblog as cousin to a Facebook share. No need to ask. Or if you see it as closer to reprinting a magazine article. Ask!
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Ballyloch cover downsizeOn a happier note, Tails From Provence is giving away mugs [Ballyloch Giveaway!], has a short story for sale on Amazon [Lucky in Life] &, for a limited time, the story for free [The very first Ballyloch Story]. Contest ends 18.00 CET 3rd April 15.
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What do you remember?

Leg Lesson Repercussions

Practice two-point! Ride without stirrups! Sit the trot! Build balance and leg strength! Awesome exercises!

Maybe not.

Last week, I joined the group lesson for suit-level equitation riders. All the fancy riders were mounted on amenable lessons horses such as Freckles, Bingo, & Fido instead of their own enthusiastic equines. I rode Natalie. She enjoyed the lesson immensely. Since I was all wrapped up in my leg and seat, she had her head to do whatever. At first this meant jogging around slowly like a Western pony. Then during the pattern, she decided that galloping down the longside back to her friends was more fun than a horse should be allowed to have. Most of the horses behaved similarly, hence the use of schoolies rather than performance horses.

I reverted.

Ask me to two-point. I slide into hunt seat. Ask me to two-point at a canter. I start hallucinating jumps. Ask me to do a sitting trot. I slide into a dressage seat. I could do that all day long, particularly on a smooth-moving American Saddlebred.

At my next solo lesson, Coach had to remind me to sit to the back of the saddle and to get my hands out of my lap. It’s been a while since I was that blatantly non-saddle seat. These leg lessons are meritorious. I do not deny. However, my legs are not my weakest link. Exuding the air of an elegant saddle seat rider is. I’m not convinced that the benefit to the former is worth the damage to the latter.

Trying again today. We shall see.

BTW, what happens if I am riding hunt seat &/or dressage on a regular basis and having saddle seat lessons once a week? I should have such problems.

Freckles & Bingo
Freckles & Bingo

Life Hack: Drains

drain strainers

Any house that has fuzzy creatures needs to have fur trappers on every drain: kitchen sink, bathroom sink, and shower. I am amazed how often I wash an object that has neither horse nor pet contact, only to end up with a stopper full of gunk.

Many years ago, I stayed at a beachhouse that suffered from clogged pipes. I was shown the offending mass of sink, shower, and toilet elements curled in the bottom of a trash can. The clog was the size and shape of a full-grown boa constrictor. Clearly, the sight scarred me for life.