Equestrian bingo

Hardly a week goes by without some kind of equestrian quiz crossing my Facebook feed. Most of them are pretty silly, but I always take a moment to see how I rate. Today, I am going a step further and posting the whole thing here. Sorry/not sorry.

B1: Ridden while pregnant. Early in my second pregnancy, I drove up to Wellington to spend a day with my friend, Trisha. As I was leaving, Seth asked me if I was going to ride. I shrugged and said, "Probably, but just walk-trot. I'll be careful."

What I actually did was walk-trot-canter and jump little cross country jumps. 

In my defense, I was riding Trisha's good boy, Phoenix. Neither James nor I was ever in danger.

Phoenix with Trisha and Russ, late 1980's

I1: Been thrown from a horse. I actually hate the phrase "thrown from a horse". I have slid off, fallen off, been bucked off and gone down with the ship, but I've never felt like the horse picked me up and threw me. Well, except for this one time.

Cherokee before and after

N1: Ridden in the moonlight. Night rides are magical.

Olive and I

G1: Swam with horses. When I was a freshman in high school, my friend, Laura, and I were given riding rights to a group of unleased camp horses who were boarded at a small stable in Duarte, California. Our trails criss-crossed the San Gabriel River, which occasionally was deep enough for swimming. Whenever that happened, we made the most of it!

deep but not deep enough

O1: Ridden bareback. Forever my favorite way to ride.

B2: Ridden in multiple countries. Check! Check! Check! Check! Check!

I2: Competed in multiple disciplines. Although I've ridden multiple disciplines, formal competition hasn't been a big part of my riding life. The best I can do for this one is to share a photo of Cinnamon and I at a 1983 schooling show. We rode in a number of hunter classes in the morning, then swapped out the snaffle for a Western curb and showed gymkhana in the afternoon.

N2: Cancelled plans to ride instead. Enough said.

G2: Ridden on the Beach. Four beaches, four countries.

O2: Shown a horse that wasn't yours. Until five years ago, none of the horses were mine.

Cinnamon again at that same schooling show

B3: Peed in the trailer or stall. Except for Eleanor, we've all done that.

some of us have done worse

I3: Shared your food with your horse. Some of my fondest memories of Olive are the two of us sharing watermelon after work.

G3: Had a horse take off on you while riding it. This has happened a lot in my youth. The first time was on Chalk Dust.

O3: Been sent to the hospital because of a horse. There have been three horse related hospital visits. This was the worst one.

B4: Ridden anything taller than seventeen hands. If I remember correctly, this guy was 17.1.

I4: Full-out galloped. Many times. This was the most recent.

N4: Ridden bridleless: Again, many times!

Ridden English and Western. I've never been particular.

O4: Slept in the barn. I've spent the night at a barn, but no sleeping was involved.

B5: Picked up poop with your hands. This can happen for a lot of reasons, one being when an otherwise perfect pony consistently used her feeder - which was permanently attached to the wall - as a toilet. Not naming names.

Sprite

I5: Vaulted or trick riding. Officially, I have not done either, but I did try vaulting on a barrel at Zorthian Ranch. Also, my teen years were filled with various attempts at trick riding. Standing up, sitting backwards, crazy fancy mounts and dismounts, Roman riding... We did it all, and we did it badly!

G5: Watched a horse give birth. Although I've yet to see the whole thing from beginning to end, I've spent a lot of time in foaling stalls.

O5: Ridden sidesaddle. Not only have I ridden sidesaddle, I've ridden English, Western and Spanish sidesaddle!

I am giving myself credit for every item on this list except one.

It doesn't seem possible, but I have racked my racked my brain and I can not come up with a single memory of sheath cleaning. Perhaps I have blocked it out, but for now, this one remains on the to-do - or not to-do - list!

Emotional support pony

We all miss Emma.

I miss her so,

so,

so much.

Sigh.

And, of course, it's not just Emma I'm missing.

I still miss her sister.

And James, who is alive and well, but so far away.

It's been a hard month.

The weather has been unrelentingly hot,

work is depressing...

and people I know keep dying. RIP Roxy, one of my favorite servers at my favorite post-ride watering hole. I'm so sorry we never got your girls out to the barn.

RIP also to Carol's neighbor, Mike, that nice man with whom I walked lap during my visit last summer. He passed this morning after a short but intense battle with pancreatic cancer. I know Carol will miss him so much.

It's been such a hard month.

On Sunday, I had a not -terrible but also not-very-good ride on Sage. We worked through it, but by the time I dismounted, I was not feeling very optimistic about my ability to see her through this stage of training.

Because of that and the heat and everything, the last couple days have been grooming days with just a little in-hand work. I did not feel like I could handle another Sunday.

Today, Karen asked if I was going to ride. I said, no. I didn't have the spoons. Then - kind of inexplicably - I tacked her up, led into the ring and climbed aboard.

Sometimes it's like that.

Fortunately, Sage was as good as she could possibly be. I really needed a win so I didn't stay on her long. Still, I am just so glad I decided to ride her today.

This has been a hard month, but Sage has - mostly - made it better. Slowly but surely, she is turning into the horse I need.

Ap-polo-loosa

Once or twice every summer, a big group of polo ponies spends the night at my barn.

They arrive late and leave early, which means I usually miss them entirely.

Not this year!

Most of them look the way you'd expect polo ponies to look: athletic,

lean,

bald,

solid colored.

Hold on a second!

Two of these things are not like the others!

Mixed in with all the greys, bays and chestnuts was a very interesting pinto...

so pretty!

...and tied to the trailer was my favorite type of Appaloosa.

Hello, handsome!

We were told this one was a "bad boy."

Instead of going in the field with the others, he needed his own separate run.

That run ended up being near Sage.

Excellent.

Naturally, I spent some time with him,

drinking in his details...

and taking photos.

So many details!

So many photos!

Ours was a brief acquaintanceship, but I'm really glad I got to "meet" him.

I hope he comes back next year.