The Horsepower Homestead

My horseback riding instructor was old when he started teaching me. I don't say that lightly or to be mean. Nor am I exaggerating. It's simply fact. He was in his 60s when I started riding with him. And now, he's mid 70s. He's funny though, you wouldn't know he's old. He refuses to age. He has however come to terms with the fact that he can't ride anymore. Although it's not so much that he isn't mentally capable, more like his two metal hips, and metal knee making mounting up very challenging. He can't break colts like he used to. He still starts them, but he needs someone else in the saddle these days. That's where I come in. He's had some health issues and family stuff the past few years. We haven't seen each other much. But I always call around Christmas. So I called him last weekend. And he was so happy to hear from me. Because he'd been thinking of calling me. But he wasn't sure I had time for "an old man and hi...

  I didn't show much as a kid. I did one play day type show at a neighboring barn when I was 12. But my first real show wasn't until I was 15 years old. We went to a county level show. My trainer, a few of his other lesson kids, and myself. My parents came along to help. We brought four horses. Barrister, Chesapeake, Precious, and Nip. I was signed up to ride Ches in a Walk-Trot class and Working equitation. She had never been shown before, and needed the experience. Precious, a veteran in the show ring, was my mount for Hunt seat and Hunter. Barrister, also a show veteran, would be in the English Pleasure and my working equitation class as well, ridden by Alex. Nip was doing a few classes for our under 12 years old age group.   The day started off early. We loaded Nip, Barrister, and Precious without a single issue. But then Ches decided that she didn't want to load. We had practiced a million times. She had been trailered in the past. But today, today she di...

My Trainer took me out to an auction house when I was 15 years old. My dad came too. We were there to help my trainer find a new lesson horse. His mare was getting old, and needed to retire. My trainer was also my coach, my lesson instructor, and a dear family friend. We affectionately called him Mr. Bee, as his last name started with a B, and was challenging to pronounce and spell. There were horses crammed into pens. A small round pen surrounded by bleachers and a single wide trailer served as the office. I wandered the pens, trying to find any good options. And there he was. He looked like a giraffe. In a sea of hides and horses, crammed into pens together, his long red neck extended like a flag pole. His head held high above all the other ranch horses, I swear it felt like he was looking right at me. That's the one. That's the one I want I told Mr. Bee. He nodded. He went into the Auction house office and ten minutes later he came back, paperwork ...