Cowfeathers Farm to Foxcroft Farm: Heritage Farm Horse Trials....trial?

Are you all tired of my equi-centric postings? Well, that and the FPP. Here is my interpretation of my blog... "horse, family photo, horse, horse, band, horse, family photo..."
EYEROLL.
That truly isn't all we do, just that is the stuff that is fun to share. I also go to work (fun for me, but maybe not for blogging... or maybe so, I'll have to think on it), I pick up a lot of poop, do a lot of laundry, gardening, cleaning, and a whole lotta driving. I read books in the bathtub, and watch snippets of late night Jimmys while stirring my morning eggs. I listen to podcasts while painting fence and weeding. I run errands and build stuff and dig up mulberries. I stress about what to make for dinner, or that I still haven't made dinner, and pray for my friends who are suffering, and the patients I can't fix. I occasionally vaccinate pigs, or get dressed up in challenging gowns that require careful fitting and high heels. I watch my kids grow into really cool people, and watch Youngest do his homework, and have a glass of wine.
YAWN.
But, then I pursue my curiosity, and my drive to challenge my abilities on this big, sometimes unsettled dark brown horse, and that somehow speaks to me enough that I want to share.

I've used this photo in my blog before, but it is an old favorite. This is me, best pal, Tommy, and my first pony, Peanut. I bought him for a dollar. They say "you get what you pay for" and Peanut was an early lesson in economics.
"Riding Peanut" consisted on mounting and riding him across the Little River, and staying on until he bucked me off, chasing him back to his stable, remounting and repeat. There's the rub. Repeat. I don't recall giving up. I recall crying, and feeling battered. I don't recall thinking "This is NUTS. I could just play with Tommy." That would've been most sensible. But I loved Peanut devotedly, deeply and without reserve. It never occurred to me that a pony should be any more than what Peanut gave me daily. I was more likely to question Tommy's actions than I was to doubt Peanut.

Note the great ridge of Connecticut rock in the background, and the Gram sweater and the goose feather. I think the main thing that has changed in my ensemble is the rock.

And, now, 40 years on, I see that might be an essence of my person.
I fall off a LOT less. Thanks to Peanut, and his even more accomplished successor, Frosty, for teaching me how to stick to an unstickable spot. But sometimes I still do part ways with my horse. And sometimes, even when I stay astride, I still dismount feeling a bit battered. Mostly ego. Horses have kept that well within margins my whole life.

This past weekend, I headed off, once again to test my mettle in an unrecognized horse trials. On paper, it went really well. We had a decent dressage test, with ( I thought) our best free walk, ever, in competiton. We jumped clear in stadium, and then clear, again on cross country.
I wish it felt that successful off paper and on horse. But, my partner stopped dealing well in the environment right around when we began our stadium round. He got, shall we say, "nervous."

But, to start, we warmed up for about a thousand hours. By "warmed up" I mean, "walked around looking at stuff, with occasional moments of trying to concentrate." And, it went fairly well.

He was somewhat obedient in the dressage arena. Our biggest issues have been around relaxing into a free walk, and being resistant after the free walk. So, we worked hard on getting that to start turning around, and he did relax, and stretched his head and neck out.

Now, he did not "track up" in the hind end, or, step farther forward with his hind legs which would mean he was engaging his hind quarters and flexing through his back, but he was at least strectching out, and I was sure it was his best free walk score yet!! I carried that piece of loveliness forward into the rest of the day, trying as it was, because I was proud of him. That is, until the competition wrapped up and I recieved my dressage test and found the free walk had garnered a "4", and the comment "no stretch". A "4" in dressage is like being on the Circleville Bible College Football team, and never getting off the bench. It is not a score that inspires you with your accomplishment. Sigh.
Go team.
Rah.
Ego Bash.
Still proud of the moment, just the only one that witnessed it. ( And my photog, Eldest)

Stadium was clear, as I said, and fortunately, un-timed, as we had some moments of major distraction looking at the horses out on cross-country. He did manage to remember to pick up his feet, and I was able to guide him through the course.

I can't tell you what I'm saying to him, but it's along the lines of "You're okay" or "You're fine" or "CHILL OUT."....

Here, I am smiling so big because he remembered to jump, but look how worried he is about what could be potentially happening elsewhere in the world. This jump is right after he came to a full stop to shoot dragon breath flames.