It’s ALL About the Journey

My husband and I made it to the equestrian area with our horses. It was Day 2 ‘back in saddle’ for Leah. I would say it went worse for her, but better for Tumbleweed   

When we started off on the ground at the obstacle course, Leah was the rock star. 

Teeter Totter

Logs

I loved watching them together. Leah had the sweetest eye for him.

In saddle, however, the roles reversed, and it was Tweed who was the rockstar, and Leah wanted to pick up speed (and ignore my husband) back to the trailer.

This led to a mini-lesson on trail work. I’ll try to recap what I told my husband, and feel free to offer your own insights in the comments.

First off, riding a horse on a straight line with a loose rein is the pinnacle of trail riding. It’s the goal. It rewards both them and us.

However, it also takes a lot of personal responsibility from the horse who would prefer to take control and run the hell back home. It’s unnatural and uncomfortable for them to leave the herd and wander down a dark trail. It goes against all their survival instincts. 

I start out on a loose rein, but I look for signals that they’re still with me. Where are their ears pointing? How fast are they walking?

I ‘check in’ with my horse to see if they’re in the thinking part of their brain. The first check in is a light tug on the right or left side of the mouth. If I get an ear that means I still have light communication.

If Yes, I proceed down the trail on a loose rein.

If no, I pick up the reins for contact. If they’ve changed the speed, I ask for the speed I want.

Same questions, and it’s all happening super fast. Do I get an ear? Do they check their speed?

If yes, we go back to a loose rein and proceed.

If it’s a no, as in no ear and no checked speed, I give them a job.

My goal is to always, and I mean always, keep them tuned in and thinking. Every single time I cut a corner and thought, oh, you’re being too nit picky, it has bit me in the butt with something bigger happening.

I told my husband that pulling on the reins alone dams up the energy, and it is going to explode. They’re not trying to be mean, or even disrespectful, they’ve just switched into flight mode for survival and, unless we can bring them back to the thinking, non-reactive side of the brain, we will see an explosion of that energy in a jump, buck, rear, head shaking, kicking, or run away.

I also told my husband that if all else fails and you cannot get them in a working frame of mind, they usually give you a few seconds to dismount with a one rein stop, and there is no harm in that. In fact, it can be a much better option. Not a great one, because they will remember it, but better than some other alternatives.

I broke the news to my husband: hey, we’re probably not going to make it very far down the trail tonight, and that’s okay. We’re going to take the time and do it right. If we need to stop and give them a job, it’s okay. They have to know this isn’t a straight line RACE track. It’s a job that they’re doing with us. It’s unpredictable and they need to stay connected to the human leader and be ready for whatever we ask. No auto pilot allowed. (This is why I have ridden alone in the past. It’s a lot to ask of a friend to sit and watch you school the trails. My husband, however, is happy to do it.)

Off we went. I tried to stay behind to keep an eye on hubby and Leah, but it wasn’t too long and we were riding separately through trees, going our own way and doing a “job.”

At one point, I could barely see Leah, and T was still tuned into me and the work. BIG WIN. I was guiding him in circles, around trees, through brush, up and down little hills, and he was paying attention to his feet and the light contact. 

We were in saddle for an hour and a half, and it was all fun work. 

Afterwards, as we sat and had wine at the trailer and let the horses rest, I reflected on riding the trails with Leah, who has had so much time off, versus a more solid trail horse. I kind of like it. As I watch my husband try to figure it out, all the things my trainer taught me make more sense. It’s so hard to see what she’s saying when it’s me struggling. But a very bright lightbulb went off watching my husband go through it.

Also, there is good and bad to following a steady Eddie down the trail. It is easier to follow, but we also want them to be independent. What I saw from Tweed when he couldn’t see Leah (and didn’t look for her) was that budding independence I’ve been working so hard to foster.

I love this work with my boy. Truly, it’s how heart horses are made. I can see it happening with Leah and my husband, too. MYEI Make You Earn It types. (I wrote about the different types on Gun Divas blog, years ago, as a guest post.)

As we talked, my husband said how much he enjoyed it, too. He said he could do this kind of trail work for the rest of the summer and be totally happy. 

That’s good, because I don’t want to put a time limit on setting a solid trail foundation. Every journey is totally unique to the horse and rider. 

And it’s all about that journey, not the destination.

Extra credit:

This is my trail training in stick figures:

Figure (A) says Kentucky Derby, Preakness and Belmont wrapped into one. First horse around the loop and back to the trailer wins the triple crown. All you need is someone to shoot off a gun and open the gates.

Figure (B) says we don’t know where we’re going, maybe into the woods, maybe back home, but we sure like walking around trees. Ultimately, the trees, “the work,” are the destination. 

First Trail Ride with Leah

I had a busy two weeks entertaining family. Lots of family. In fact, almost our entire combined family. Everyone traveled at once, and converged, at various times, upon our house. 

That meant the horses were off for two weeks because I did not have even one spare moment to play with them. At one point, the grandkids asked if we could have horse time, but that day I was making a brunch and then dinner for 25-30. 

It was a super fun whirlwind of activity, and I was tired, but as the last guest was pulling out, yesterday morning, I hooked up my truck to the horse trailer and headed out to meet Regina with Tweed and Leah. 

Tweed was amped up after that much time off, but Leah knew her only job was to stand and look pretty, which she did so well that I had to snap this photo. 

There was some huge group of kids right behind Leah in that photo. They parked themselves there all day and were running all over the place and being super loud and unpredictable. It was an organized group of some sort, but I don’t know what their goal was there or why they chose the equestrian area.  At any rate, they made a good training opportunity. 

We worked on all the same stuff we usually do, seeing how long Tweed could maintain his frame on a loose rein (2-3 steps) and then collect him back into vertical flexion. Regina found that turning him in a wide circle (in vertical flexion) then immediately asking for the canter as we ended the circle, set him up best for collection. She was telling me to do that, but I kept confusing her directions and trotting onto the circle for a bit, then asking for canter. When I finally understood her, we had beautiful trot to canter transitions. 

I had plans with my husband after our lesson to ride Leah and Tweed on the trail. In retrospect, it was a dumb idea since he had never rode Leah (she was only ever ridden by me) and Leah hadn’t even been ridden AT ALL in 2-3 years. You can imagine her shock when her job description quickly shifted from looking pretty to figuring out what in the hell this new rider wanted of her. 

And off we go!

Leah walks out fast. She’s a big horse, I always had her ride lead, and she was amped up with my husband. Tweed could barely keep up, and we often had to trot to catch up. 

We went along pretty well for a while, but eventually we ran across a party of four horses and riders and Leah wanted to follow them home. She started to pull that direction and escape my husband’s control. I was paying so much attention to them that I couldn’t focus on Tweed, but he was getting equally amped up. I asked my husband if he felt safe enough to dismount and walk the rest of the way with her so that I could school Tweed in the trees. 

My thinking is that Leah is already a trail horse, I rode her all over for many years, but she and him need time together in a controlled environment. Tweed, on the other hand, is somewhat new to trail riding, and his schooling takes priority. 

With my husband safely on the ground and Leah back to only looking pretty, I began my work. I would check in with T, but if I didn’t get a response, I’d ask for vertical flexion, if he acted upset about that, we’d circle into the trees and work, then go back out on the trail and repeat. It worked really well, and he got back into his thinking brain. 

The ride was about 45 minutes, which is rather short (but eventful) and I didn’t want them to think coming back to the trailer was a reward, so we went to work again—for Tweed it was a repeat of the morning class, plus riding over the obstacle course, and then in the arena with a new horse (a friend of mine arrived) and Leah (who my husband had finally figured out with my direction) and for Leah, it was round pen work, then arena. 

Leah’s issue was speed. She wanted to control the speed by breaking into a trot and taking control. My husband kept pulling on the reins and asking her to “walk.” I rode Tweed over to them and gave him a mini lesson on my old girl. When she speeds up, turn her in a wide (keyword: WIDE) circle and back the other direction. Do it immediately when she picks up the trot. 

Of course, it worked like a charm because Leah is inherently lazy AND smart, and she knows the drill. When we went into the arena, he did the same thing and it didn’t take long before he had a solid citizen. They looked really good together at the end, but I didn’t get a photo. 

My husband had so much fun with her that he wants to go again this afternoon and work on those basics and a little trail work. I think it gave him a new appreciation for foundational work, since he is so used to riding the dead broke grandkid horses who you just point down the trail while you drink a beer. Leah has been that horse for me, but after so long a time off, he has to earn it with her. 

By the time we were finished, Tweed had been working for 3 hours, and he was more than happy to cock a leg and fall asleep. 

My husband had brought a bottle of wine, which we also shared with the friend who had showed up. 

I am so happy my husband is enjoying horses again and is excited to ride with me because the next phase of making Tumbleweed a full fledged trail horse is going to take a lot of riding WITH another horse, and a lot of Leah looking pretty while we work out the kinks. I think she’s going to love her new job. It will require a lot of standing around watching Tumbleweed do all the work. Every horse LOVES to be in that role. Haha.  

Two Years Later: Thank You

On the two year anniversary of “the day our life changed,” I choose to celebrate the wins. There are so many miracles and “wins” that I will only cover a few, but just know that despite the adversities, we have been blessed beyond what we deserve.

1. I’m alive! We’re all alive! That might seem an easy accomplishment, but it really isn’t. I’m so thankful we’re all alive! And, as an addendum, my body is healed up, too. Yay!

2. Though my time with Tumbleweed became rarer, and my mind was in survival mode, I didn’t give up. I reached out for help, and we kept growing together. Now we are ready to fly.

Sometimes in life we might be forced to take *seemingly small steps, just never stop taking steps. “The journey of a thousand miles…”

3. I picked up the flute again after 40 years and began to breathe my stories & songs into that magical instrument I had never fully appreciated. 

I had my first recital last Sunday, and was not afraid to play in front of others. The song I chose was Amazing Grace, which was perfect. 

When you are tense, and life throws so much at you at once, much of it out of your control, you really do have to stop and breathe. A lot. Often. Always. 

Playing the flute reminded me to breathe everyday, and from that breath, even find beauty (and healing) in the musical vibrations coming back to me. There are several studies about how music heals at the cellular level. I felt it happening in me these last two years. Thank God for music! It has saved me, body and soul, more than once. 

4. I have a deeper love for my husband, deeper respect, deeper trust, and deeper thankfulness. I didn’t think that was possible after 23 years. Hardships have the power to draw you closer or break you apart, we drew closer. 

5. I am thankful for my barn and barn garden, the sanctuary that was started two weeks after it all happened, and finished as daughter and grandson moved home with us, just in time to further help the healing process. 

The last two years have taught me, yet again, that you can’t escape suffering in life. It happens to everyone, no matter how perfectly you try to organize your life, or hide from it. Suffering, and sadness, will find you. 

But in your suffering and sadness, you can also find an otherworldly grace, …and miracles, many of them, all over the place, everywhere you look. 

They are our love notes from the universe, saying you can do it! You have everything it takes! You are glorious, and you are loved, and you were created for this moment. 

Embrace it, breathe, cry, and let yourself feel. 

Then look around and say thank you. 

Thank you. 

Another Fun Lesson

Today is expected to be in the 90’s, maybe even 100, so I met Regina early for a lesson at the park. We will both be busy for the next two weeks, and won’t be able to meet again until after that, but I will have several opportunities to work with Tweed while our grandkids visit and get their horse fixes. 

Because of my broken toe and back issue, I have been happy to make up for lost time in saddle, especially rebuilding my core strength. I continue to take flute lessons and had my online recital yesterday, (Sunday.) It is amazing to me how important core strength is in producing clear tones and sustained breath. A strong core is essential to so many things in life.

Back to today’s lesson.

The equestrian area hosted an obstacle clinic last weekend and there were still some wet spots where they had water obstacles. The variations of shade versus light, and wet versus dry, made a great spot to work Tweed.

Here’s how things went down today, in order:

1. No groundwork. Tweed was relaxed right out of the trailer, so I tacked up and mounted.  

2. I chose spots on the fence to ride towards, and after 3 strides, would ask for another direction and another and another. Eventually, I rode more strides, but if I lost his attention, I’d choose another spot and immediately turn him. 

3. He did very well, but no surprise, he lost a little of his attention around Leah—so after awhile we rode circles around her. I used one rein, and brought it up for vertical flexion when he sped up, slowed down, or looked around to spot trouble. I was controlling his body through space and time. Taking the reins, and giving them back fast when he softened. 

4. The dark, wet patch caught Tweed’s eye. The time in which it would take a horse to process that change in footing, however, was not consistent with maintaining our trot through space and time. Of course, he’d have liked to have stopped and looked at it, but that’s not always practical on the trail. They need to trust us and Regina wants that level of acceptance in our work. 

5. Regina told me to maintain the trot & collection, point him toward the dark patch, and sit my butt way back in the saddle. If he moved around it, don’t make a big deal, just turn him back towards it and go the other way. When I turned him, she asked that I sit even further back, like going down a hill on a trail ride. Really free him up to turn. Back and forth. Up and down. Maintain speed. No slowing down. No speeding up. It didn’t take long at all before Tweed was treating that patch like any other part of the arena. (Regina commented that it would be good to do the same thing through certain water patches we will find on the trails.)  

6. At that point, Regina had me stop and rest him in the wet spot. He almost cocked a leg and relaxed, but then he got that ornery look and started pawing. Regina said he was preparing to roll, so go back to trotting along the fence line, then try again. The second time he rested and cocked a leg. 

7. At the end of our hour, we practiced work to rest transitions, because sometimes you have to stop and wait on the trail. We rested away from Leah who, by that point, he wanted nothing to do with.  He figured out Leah means work, and he wanted to be far away from her. But if he reacted to the outside environment while he was supposed to be resting, we went back to work on transitions and eventually came back to rest. 

It was another fun morning with my boy that ended on a positive note. He is getting it big time. No groundwork needed and very little correction, just consistency in directing his body and speed. Regina said though, that the beginning exercise, choosing a spot to ride to, vertical flexion and releases, for a few strides, was actually much like the groundwork exercise of having him move out a little and then face up. It was engaging his brain in the same way.  

That will be our last lesson for awhile, but we will have some great training opportunities around here in the meantime. 

Trying to Save the Unsavable

There are two plants that I am trying to save, the orchid given to my mom in March 2022, when my dad died (she left it here at my house), and an azalea my daughter brought with her after her heartbreaking divorce, in December 2023, when we sold her home. 

First, the orchid. 

Full confession: I am a killer of orchids. Having received many as gifts from friends, I never found out how to keep them alive. They come in small plastic pots, perhaps, a little moss shoved into them, but that’s it. 

When my dad’s orchid started to die, and it took a year for that to happen, I went to the internet to find out what I was doing wrong. 

Turns out, the sitting water was rotting the roots of the orchid. I purchased an orchid pot, replanted it into mostly moss, watered it once a week, pouring off the excess water, and prayed it would survive. It has been over a year, and so far it is still alive, and I see NEW growth. Yay!

Now, for the azalea. 

We moved our grieving daughter out of her home in December 2023. She came here with her 2 year old baby boy, our sweet, sweet grandson, and currently the joy of our lives, 2 cats, a dog, and an azalea. 

The azalea wintered in the garage, occasionally got watered, and flourished. It clearly had a will to live, despite the neglect.

In spring 2024, I planted it into my barn garden. It survived, but didn’t thrive. Winter came and almost killed it. 

Almost. 

As you can see, there is still a little green. And where there is green, there is a possibility of life. 

It is at the barn garden, but now back in a pot, and if it survives summer, I’ll overwinter it inside. (Because I am determined to hand it to my daughter one day, ALIVE and thriving, when she is healed enough to move out, and on). 

So, say a little prayer for saving the seemingly unsavable souls we are given. 

Life has no shortage of such beautiful things. 

Peonies

This morning the green fists of the peonies are getting ready

to break my heart
as the sun rises,
as the sun strokes them with his old, buttery fingers

and they open–
pools of lace,
white and pink–
and all day the black ants climb over them,

boring their deep and mysterious holes
into the curls,
craving the sweet sap,
taking it away

to their dark, underground cities–
and all day
under the shifty wind,
as in a dance to the great wedding,

the flowers bend their bright bodies,
and tip their fragrance to the air,
and rise,
their red stems holding

all that dampness and recklessness

gladly and lightly,
and there it is again–
beauty the brave, the exemplary,

blazing open.
Do you love this world?
Do you cherish your humble and silky life?
Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath?

Do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden,
and softly,
and exclaiming of their dearness,
fill your arms with the white and pink flowers,

with their honeyed heaviness, their lush trembling,
their eagerness
to be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are
nothing, forever?

Mary Oliver

Side by Side Comparison of the Ground Work

A friend came by yesterday and offered to take a video and photos of the lesson. I uploaded two of those clips to share with you. They demonstrate two different techniques. One, the first,  where Tumbleweed is allowed to move his feet, and a second where he is asked to face up, under the same scenario, Leah leaving his line of sight. 

You can see how is energy is up and only building.  

Then I remembered what I was supposed to be doing. Engaging his brain by facing him up. (I would usually only allow him to walk until his tail passed the object in my line of sight, but I couldn’t see where Leah was since she was being walked around.)

What a difference under the same scenario—his buddy leaving his sight. There’s no big emotions (from either of us) and I’m only meeting his energy—meaning, I keep going, keep asking for the same thing, until he gives it to me, then he’s rewarded.

I was able to saddle up after that and work through three horses who arrived and were being flagged together in the round pen, Leah leaving, and barrels being pounded and rolled around.

This work is transforming our relationship at home, too. I went out to spray them last night, and Tweed just came to me and laid his head on my hands. The togetherness is there now. I have this deep feeling of, I’d go anywhere with you, because I LOVE you.

I hope he feels the same towards me. I certainly think he’s getting there, trying to be brave and trying to trust, even in scary situations.

Getting The FEEL

Lessons with Tumbleweed continue with the same basic theme, learning how to bring him back to me under stressful situations.

There is the issue of being herd bound, which all horses have to some degree, and the dynamics of other horses, which you can’t escape riding in groups, but there is also the scary thing that presents itself out of the blue. 

Today, we had a little bit of everything  

New horses arrived at the park and we got to work on getting his attention by controlling speed through space, lengthening him through vertical flexion, and releasing when he was able to maintain it himself.

Of course, Leah was also taken in and out and around during this. 

 

Regina added in some scary noises, pounding the barrel, and rolling barrels, as we were working, and I was to maintain speed and soften him through vertical flexion.

She says he is an agile horse who can think about a few things at once. We want to keep his focus on me by being proactive. Very proactive. 

Tumbleweed wants to speed up and build up energy, so we’re doing the opposite—slowing him down, yet trying to maintain an energetic forward.

Engage, soften, listen, and move with energy and consistent speed.

She wants us to ride in half beats—which means a slower time. 1,2 2,2, 3,2, etc. 

Part of slowing down, engaging his hind end motor, and with that, more control, is sitting on my butt back in the saddle. I feel like I’m slouching, and I am, but she wants that exaggerated seat for now. If he bounces me out of it, that is a sign he isn’t carrying himself. 

We got some beautiful work done today, and were able to maintain it all for longer sections. I also got more of a feel for what I should be looking for and when to release and reward. We will meet again Monday for more.