Centaur

I've channeled all my horse adventures into a weird western I'm writing. I would like one thing I've written to get out there and be important to other people. Or entertaining.

I still get on the horses everyday, even tho my body kind of hurts like my skeleton isn't too happy with my bones on horse bones. But I ignore that as much as I can, and with Maggie I've been able to forget I have legs and just use her legs as my legs. Centaur? I think? It's weird as a rider, how I've ridden now for like 40 years, and I'm just starting to figure out my body and the horse's body working meshed together. It takes so long to forget yourself, and trust you horse, and then you kind of flush yourself down into the horse and then the horse moves better because you're not resisting so much, you're with her. It's just I'm SO GOOD at resisting anything good for me. Maybe because resisting keeps you safe, keeps you scrutinizing, keeps you keeping everything else OVER THERE so you can function in your little way, just nicely, right here. In your tiny circle. But letting yourself NOT know what you're doing, that's also a freedom. Allowing things to be.

Anyway, things are blowing open, I guess I'm crossing through something. The horses are easy to trust, they are idiots but they are always interested in going a new way. As long as eventually they get to go home, and they didn't have to work too hard, and there are carrots or some kind of treat. They make me happy and they never, ever talk.

They just feel.

Mares Are a Pain in the Ass

Maybe not beating the horse. Is what I'm learning.

I've never had a horse that slowed down when you ask her to trot. Maggie will actually slow down.

So I get off, put her on the lunge, and she does everything I ask, like of course I'm perfect. Then I get back on and ask for a trot, and she gives me the finger. So I'm thinking, well, maybe she's sore. Maybe she doesn't enjoy balancing a rider. But we've been riding together for a year now.

The last time this happened in the arena, I thought I was going to make her into sandwiches, and feed the neighborhood, and be done with her. But then we went trail riding the next day, and she was perfect. She is bold and fearless pretty much on the trail. She'll go through anything except hesitating at muddy water for a minute, or getting startled momentarily if something jumps out from behind a bush. But 90% of the time she has the mind of a cigar chewing Cuban mafia boss. Judges carefully, and then just busts right on through regardless.

My great trainer friend told me to make the desired trait easy, and the undesired trait uncomfortable for the horse. And to use forward motion, and variety, to keep the horse's mind fresh and focused and happy in her training. And, she said, mares are a pain in the ass.

So that is turning out to be exactly true, every word.

I'll try and ease up in the arena and figure out what makes her go. On the trail she seems to have less problem with go. I have to figure out her mind, and work from her softest part.

Mares make you work harder. But she is also the most curious.

Squirrely

Squirrels with their tiny doll hands.

Squirrels think they're so smart because they can flick those puffy tails.

They lock eyes with me in my mind. They are getting those eggs. Those are my eggs. Go eat nuts or whatever else you eat.

Lay off my eggs. Ha, get it. LAY OFF

I'm in a battle. 24 hens, and only two eggs yesterday. They took advantage of me, because I was working and couldn't guard the henhouse.

I'm here today. There will be explosives.

Watch your asses, squirrels. Me against squirrel nation.

At the Speed of Maggie

Maggie the new horse is reliable as crap, which is amazing since she's only 5 and we've only had her 10 mos. But she's a worker, she just walks right into anything you point her toward, she's ready to explore. That's why today was surprising.

Today we were heading back through the woods after going through the water, and when you turn her to go back she does turn slightly into a 5 year old horse, with more speed and a yippee attitude. I was ponying Dewey behind us and we were on the sort of bushy woods part of the trail and I don't know if she got poked in the stomach by a stick or if Dewey bumped her too much from behind all I know is one minute she was walking along and the next minute we were rocketing forward at the speed of light. The world, when surprised and on horseback at suddenly high speed, is a carnival ride. Time blurs upwards, and everything feels like it's upside down. I lost Dewey's rope, because we were hurtling forward and all I thought was what's going on, oh crap, Dewey is going to come zooming behind us, I will be in a steeplechase. I also thought hey Maggie has a really smooth canter. I also thought shit how do I stop this thing.

All this happened in about 3 or 4 strides of her running. Then I got her stopped (always a miracle, especially if you're still on top of the horse). And I looked back and there was Dewey just standing in the bushes where his rope dropped. Relaxed. The perfect gentleman.

I don't know why horses have to be idiotic, they just are. I got off Mags and got on Dewey since it was time to switch, riding back home. Maggie was fine and silly the rest of the ride home. She likes to bite at Dewey when we're going down hill so I spent a lot of time trying to hit her in the face when she tried to nip.  But even that is business as usual.

On the way back in I saw Lisa my  trail buddy and we held our arms over our heads in victory at seeing each other on the trail. The universal Life Is So Good on Horses greeting. I also saw our preschool neighbor friends, even though our kids are all more than 10 years past preschool. It's a good way to see the neighborhood, nothing but happiness comes when you ride by on a horse.

I figure I've done about 280 rides on Maggie in 10 mos. She's had about 3 times she's done something idiotic. So she gets to be 5 years old sometimes. Pretty good odds.

The Horses Lead Us to Everything

The horses lead us to everything.

They lead us to the new girl who is renting the guest house next door. She came to ride and fell in love with the magical forest we rode in.

Now she lives next door, and takes long walks with our older son, in the twilight, like it's the 1880's, and they're a young couple.

They lead us to the water, where all the troubles are dumped out and washed downstream. I come back from the trail, cleaned out and ready for more.

Farmland and French Fries

Today was the last day of summer even though it's only August 14th and some idiot thinks that's now the beginning of fall.

I took Bess and Becky to the beach, the only willing volunteers.  Bess is a beginner surfing maniac, and it turns out when you take Becky the dog and both get in the water, she is a surfing maniac too. Not to be left on the beach, she charged right in with us and swam and attempted to surf. Which meant I had to stay in the pretty shallow water until she got tired out so she didn't drown in her enthusiasm to not be left behind.

Seeing the dog tossed about, and leaping over waves, and seeing the 10 year old almost fifth grader managing the surfboard that is feet longer than she is, in her mini wetsuit, with her long California blonde hair and summer tan - and the ocean herself, washing machine tumultuous, full of sand and freezing and churning us up - this was our last grasp of summer. We played knowing there was frozen yogurt directly afterward, our tradition. French fries and farmland waiting as we drove home, our tradition. Swimming and hair washing and the long night before school ahead.

I'm not sorry I spent the summer with my babies, the tall and the short, the four leggeds and the furry. I got to see them sprout surfer's legs, I got to wrestle through the heat and the boredom of long days. The real reason for summer is to give your mind that long stretch off, to think nothing, to find other things to do, books to read, skies to watch, cousins to sift through, water to float on and contemplate your life.

This is as important as AP classes. It may in fact be the Real World. The fertile soil and the tan skin and the French fries on the way home.

No More Fat Chicks

So a fat lady rode my horse and now he's limping. She wasn't fat really, just she must have had bones the size of those big round poster tubes. If I had ten more of her I could have a killer football team. I have no idea how many guys are on a football team. She was a hard cardboard poster limbed giant, 5'11 (which I used to be til I shrank to the shrimp boat 5'10 that I am and my six foot son looks down on me. In every way.) But wait back to the lumbering giant.

I kind knew we weren't perfect for each other because on her website she makes candles and she quoted some bible verse from the Cornelius or the corndogs or something. Homemade candle making church giant. But she had $35 dollars and she wanted to come give it to me, she was in fact kind of insisting and I was just gonna take my horse over to the arena anyway, might as well get paid to do what I do for free.

I had in the back of my mind this thought: your horse will be flattened. Your round stomached, pin legged horse who is built for racetracks and tiny baby chick sized men in the Kentucky Derby is not going to like to heft around God's chosen heavyweight. But $35 dollars kept sounding so good, and it was hot and I was tired. And I like to meet these weird horse people who hand me money and then entertain me with their psychosis while the horses and I just listen and walk our dusty trails just the same.

This month so far it's been Courtney, who's finishing up at USC and has flossed her mind into a nice, sanitary situation where there is no original thought. But at least she weighed like nothing. And then there was Andi whom I liked because she told me about thru_rider on Instagram who is a badass girl riding the PCT trail alone with two horses up to Canada from Arizona. But Andi never came back, andi, why? She was too smart for me. Then there's Amelia, a tiny Australian with a bawdy sense of humor who likes to knock back a few and sells pet medication out of her car. Amelia and I are the shit. She's come three times in a row.

But I got this huge mom on Dewey, and she had no idea what she was doing, but I did what I do best, which is pretend she was the best rider ever. Because really, when people get on my big horse, they relax, and slow down, and that's what I'm here for. To spread that Dewey peace.

It was dark when we got all untacked and done, but the money was in my pocket, and my kids are expensive so that helps. It feels good to get paid for something that feeds your heart. But then this morning there is Dewey holding his foot carefully out like he's been speared, and giving me the tired eye like 35 dollars? Really Jule?

I will respect my meaty horse with the delicate ankles of a 9 year old figure skater. No more fat chicks.