Horsey Hols

Just in time, too.

I think the cold weather had something to do with it, but everyone was kicking up their heels this last week of term.

Now, as far as Tuesday was concerned, the wind didn’t help keep the lads settled down. We’re fairly used to the wind, up there on that big hill, but this was like nothing we’d ever heard. It was relentless, and the clatter on the steel roof crescendoed upon crescendo until I was sure someone was going to go ballistic. At one stage, Winston and Rebel seemed determined to have a bit of a race, but it didn’t come to much. Spuddie broke out into a canter, unasked, as well. We made it through, though, even if it did sound like the roof was going to fall in.

Saturday: too cold to watch the first lesson, so it was with some surprise that Connell came back to the indoor carrying a different rider. Seems he did that squealing/bucking/galloping thing, and it necessitated a switcheroo.

I wasn’t bothered. Still cresting the confidence wave, it didn’t even occur to me to be bothered. Or if it did, it didn’t even last the length of the thought. So I got up there and we made our way down to the indoor, where the wind was still blowing from Tuesday, and the horses in the field we had to pass were going mennnnnnntal. Connell did a little muscle bunching, precipitate to reacting, but we managed to get past without incident.

We had a good, solid flat lesson, and I don’t care if it was because he was hopped up on the notion of two weeks of freedom, Con was positively springy, and felt great. When we got to the canter, there was the usual right-rein power struggle, and when I did get it off him, there it was, that little squeeeEEEEE and a buck and the first two steps were like wooHOOOOOO — and I just sat back and had none of that. Fantastic.

We were meant to get a little more cantering in towards the end, but the horses in the field decided it was New Year’s Eve or something and were racketing all over the place. They were far enough away that the humans didn’t notice them until we noticed that the horses we were riding noticed and that they wanted to join the party. Or were freaked out. Or both.

As we were queueing up to leave, I said to the instructor, ‘Hey, I’m nervous.’ I’ve got a streak going here, and I’m not going to wreck it. She grabbed Con’s bridle and walked with us until we were well past the critical juncture.

It takes a lot of confidence to admit you’re afraid. That’s kind of awesome, isn’t it?