I'm missing my horse and equine therapy. Because of this, I was reading through some of my earlier posts, way back when I first started this blog and my only followers were my parents. I thought I'd recycle it since it made me smile today.
One afternoon I was alone at the livery when a small, hatchback car pulled up and out stepped an older lady. At first glance, I estimated her to be in her late sixties; she moved with dignity and spirit, but when I got closer, I realized that she was much older. She leaned on the fence, delight at seeing the horses all over her face. I could tell that she had a kindred horse spirit. I met her at the gate, wondering if she was stopping by for a ride even though we didn't have one on the books.
No, she hadn't stopped for a ride, but saw the horses and they brought back so many fond memories she just had to stop. In her eighties, she was car camping alone at nearby Olive Ridge campground. She explained to me that her kids were grown with kids of their own and didn't enjoy the mountains as much as she did, so she just packed up her car and headed up the mountain. She was too old, she told me, to sleep on the ground so she chose to sleep in her car, which was much more comfortable and if she got cold she could just turn on her heater.
I invited her into the yard to meet the horses, but she declined. She did tell me that one in particular reminded her of a horse she had as a child, so I brought that horse up to the fence. I don't remember which horse it was that I took to her, but I do remember the look on her face as I led the horse to the fence. It was as if the clock had been turned back and she was a child again, the delight absolutely radiating from her. She completely forgot I was even there, she was so lost in her memories. I stood quietly holding the horse watching her go back in time. The horse was as entranced as she was and stood absolutely still while she ran her hands over the horse and murmured her memories.
I'm not sure how long we stood there, the three of us, but it was an absolutely magical time. When she was done with her walk down memory lane, I offered to help her up and just lead her around the yard. She turned me down, but said that she may come back the next day to take me up on the offer then. We chatted a bit longer, then she drove off with a big, child-like smile on her face. I watched her drive away, absently petting the horse, and hoped against hope that she would come back the next day.
I didn't work the next day - I wasn't scheduled - so I don't know if she returned or not, but I'll always remember the look of absolute joy on her face. I can't quite explain the feeling I got from being a small part of her trip down memory lane.
Showing posts with label Equine therapy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Equine therapy. Show all posts
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Falling In Love
After our first ride together, Estes and I got partnered up, she became “my” wrangler horse. None of the other wranglers would have anything to do with her, except for my parents, but they had their own personal horses to ride. Riding Estes was a lot of fun once I mastered the running mount and learned to relax. I realized that when she was “acting up”, she wasn’t about to hurt me, she just felt good and wanted to go. At fifteen years old, you would think that she would have learned to stand quietly, but that just wasn’t in her. If she couldn’t go, she’d dance in place. Standing still just wasn’t her thing. The first few times I rode her, I’d get stressed out by her jigging, but then I’d set her to a job and she was rock solid. I could tighten cinches from her back, adjust guests, pass things back and forth between guests and nothing would disturb her, she’d just stand quiet as a lamb.
The more we worked together, the more in tune to each other we became. I was slowly falling in love with Estes, but she just tolerated me. Her daughter, Meeker, was also one of our ranch-horses-turned-livery-horses and looked just like Estes. When they would get muddy, we’d have to scrape the mud from their hocks, just above their hooves, to tell them apart. Estes has two socks, Meeker has three. Meeker may have inherited Estes’ looks, but certainly not her temperament. Estes was very stand-offish, she tolerated people, but never showed any affection. Meeker, on the other hand, loved everybody. I don’t know that Meeker’s ever met a stranger. If I ever needed equine therapy, a horse just to cuddle with, it was Meeker, not Estes that I spent time with. Estes could take me or leave me, it seemed.
There was one ride that I was working with my mom. I was riding drag and knew that there was a wedding scheduled. Whenever we had a wedding scheduled, we knew we’d have to be on poop patrol. Brides don’t like having to avoid horse droppings, no matter how quaint it was to have horses riding by outside the tent. We normally did poop patrol in the evenings after the livery closed, but on days with weddings scheduled, we cleaned up almost before the poop hit the ground. Of course, on the return ride, less than a half an hour before the wedding was to begin, one of the horses had to go. Right in the middle of the “Bridal Path”. Knowing that I had to get it cleaned up, Estes and I peeled away from the ride and trotted ahead to the livery. I tied her to the fence, grabbed a manure fork and headed out through the yard to the scene of the crime. I ran past the returning ride, cleaned up the mess, raked the wood chips back into place and ran back to the livery. I pitched the manure fork through the fence toward the barn and went around to the staging area to help unload the ride.
Imagine my surprise when I turned the corner, looked over at Estes and saw that she was standing at attention, ears forward, watching for me. As soon as she saw me, her eyes softened, her body posture relaxed and she nickered at me. That was the most affection she’d ever shown anyone and it about brought me to tears. My heart filled with joy, the Heavens opened up and the Angels sang. At that instant I knew I was head-over-heels in love with that little bay mare…and that she might have a place in her heart for me, too.
The more we worked together, the more in tune to each other we became. I was slowly falling in love with Estes, but she just tolerated me. Her daughter, Meeker, was also one of our ranch-horses-turned-livery-horses and looked just like Estes. When they would get muddy, we’d have to scrape the mud from their hocks, just above their hooves, to tell them apart. Estes has two socks, Meeker has three. Meeker may have inherited Estes’ looks, but certainly not her temperament. Estes was very stand-offish, she tolerated people, but never showed any affection. Meeker, on the other hand, loved everybody. I don’t know that Meeker’s ever met a stranger. If I ever needed equine therapy, a horse just to cuddle with, it was Meeker, not Estes that I spent time with. Estes could take me or leave me, it seemed.
There was one ride that I was working with my mom. I was riding drag and knew that there was a wedding scheduled. Whenever we had a wedding scheduled, we knew we’d have to be on poop patrol. Brides don’t like having to avoid horse droppings, no matter how quaint it was to have horses riding by outside the tent. We normally did poop patrol in the evenings after the livery closed, but on days with weddings scheduled, we cleaned up almost before the poop hit the ground. Of course, on the return ride, less than a half an hour before the wedding was to begin, one of the horses had to go. Right in the middle of the “Bridal Path”. Knowing that I had to get it cleaned up, Estes and I peeled away from the ride and trotted ahead to the livery. I tied her to the fence, grabbed a manure fork and headed out through the yard to the scene of the crime. I ran past the returning ride, cleaned up the mess, raked the wood chips back into place and ran back to the livery. I pitched the manure fork through the fence toward the barn and went around to the staging area to help unload the ride.
Imagine my surprise when I turned the corner, looked over at Estes and saw that she was standing at attention, ears forward, watching for me. As soon as she saw me, her eyes softened, her body posture relaxed and she nickered at me. That was the most affection she’d ever shown anyone and it about brought me to tears. My heart filled with joy, the Heavens opened up and the Angels sang. At that instant I knew I was head-over-heels in love with that little bay mare…and that she might have a place in her heart for me, too.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Memories
One afternoon I was alone at the livery when a small, hatchback car pulled up and out stepped an older lady. At first glance, I estimated her to be in her late sixties; she moved with dignity and spirit, but when I got closer, I realized that she was much older. She leaned on the fence, delight at seeing the horses all over her face. I could tell that she had a kindred horse spirit. I met her at the gate, wondering if she was stopping by for a ride even though we didn't have one on the books.
No, she hadn't stopped for a ride, but saw the horses and they brought back so many fond memories she just had to stop. In her eighties, she was car camping alone at nearby Olive Ridge campground. She explained to me that her kids were grown with kids of their own and didn't enjoy the mountains as much as she did, so she just packed up her car and headed up the mountain. She was too old, she told me, to sleep on the ground so she chose to sleep in her car, which was much more comfortable and if she got cold she could just turn on her heater.
I invited her into the yard to meet the horses, but she declined. She did tell me that one in particular reminded her of a horse she had as a child, so I brought that horse up to the fence. I don't remember which horse it was that I took to her, but I do remember the look on her face as I led the horse to the fence. It was as if the clock had been turned back and she was a child again, the delight absolutely radiating from her. She completely forgot I was even there, she was so lost in her memories. I stood quietly holding the horse watching her go back in time. The horse was as entranced as she was and stood absolutely still while she ran her hands over the horse and murmured her memories.
I'm not sure how long we stood there, the three of us, but it was an absolutely magical time. When she was done with her walk down memory lane, I offered to help her up and just lead her around the yard. She turned me down, but said that she may come back the next day to take me up on the offer then. We chatted a bit longer, then she drove off with a big, child-like smile on her face. I watched her drive away, absently petting the horse, and hoped against hope that she would come back the next day.
I didn't work the next day - I wasn't scheduled - so I don't know if she returned or not, but I'll always remember the look of absolute joy on her face. I can't quite explain the feeling I got from being a small part of her trip down memory lane.
No, she hadn't stopped for a ride, but saw the horses and they brought back so many fond memories she just had to stop. In her eighties, she was car camping alone at nearby Olive Ridge campground. She explained to me that her kids were grown with kids of their own and didn't enjoy the mountains as much as she did, so she just packed up her car and headed up the mountain. She was too old, she told me, to sleep on the ground so she chose to sleep in her car, which was much more comfortable and if she got cold she could just turn on her heater.
I invited her into the yard to meet the horses, but she declined. She did tell me that one in particular reminded her of a horse she had as a child, so I brought that horse up to the fence. I don't remember which horse it was that I took to her, but I do remember the look on her face as I led the horse to the fence. It was as if the clock had been turned back and she was a child again, the delight absolutely radiating from her. She completely forgot I was even there, she was so lost in her memories. I stood quietly holding the horse watching her go back in time. The horse was as entranced as she was and stood absolutely still while she ran her hands over the horse and murmured her memories.
I'm not sure how long we stood there, the three of us, but it was an absolutely magical time. When she was done with her walk down memory lane, I offered to help her up and just lead her around the yard. She turned me down, but said that she may come back the next day to take me up on the offer then. We chatted a bit longer, then she drove off with a big, child-like smile on her face. I watched her drive away, absently petting the horse, and hoped against hope that she would come back the next day.
I didn't work the next day - I wasn't scheduled - so I don't know if she returned or not, but I'll always remember the look of absolute joy on her face. I can't quite explain the feeling I got from being a small part of her trip down memory lane.
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