The Horsepower Homestead

Most equestrians when they picture the perfect show horse, they see something bright, flashy. Lots of socks, perhaps a big white blaze. Not me. I think of Precious. Solid brown. The tiniest single speck of white, a penny sized bird catcher spot on her cheek. She was a liver chestnut, brown like a chocolate bar. Only turning the slightest hint of red in the summer sun by mid July. Precious was my favorite lesson horse. She was flawless. Built like an athlete. She'd carry you over anything you pointed her at. Sturdy and fearless. Extremely versatile. She taught me how to jump. She never refused a fence. I also did play-days with her and once did a local pole bending completion with her. I was convinced she could do anything. She wasn't anything special. Very plain to look at. No special blood lines. Not a special breed. Just a simple colored Appendix Quarter horse. But she was special to me. Precious   And now, as an adult re-rider, I wish she was still around. ...

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...

It started off as one thing. Then it took root. It grew and blossomed and spread into something else. First, I just wanted a horse of my own. I was a little kid. The typical little girl who always asked for a pony for Christmas. I never got one. My parents never faltered on taking me to lessons though. I remember when my "dream horse" went up for sale at our barn. I cried and cried when my parents didn't buy her for me. In the long run, they did me a favor. But it was hard for me to see it that way as a teenager. As an adult, with a job and my own money, I though I could finally pull it off. Buy my own horse. I didn't want to rush into it. I wanted the perfect horse and to find a good facility to keep it at. I researched and planned, budgeted and saved. Researched boarding facilities and discussed with my parents until I was blue in the face. I even found some really nice horses for sale in the area. But in the end, I didn't buy the horse. I went back ...

As the winter season blows in stronger than ever this week, with lows of 17 degrees and threats of snow and sleet, I am trying to make the most of my time with the horses. My riding lesson the other night was canceled when the wind chill made the temperature dip below freezing. Even with my gloves, beanies and winter coat; it just wasn't worth it to fight the cold. Winter is my least favorite season. Too much darkness, which equals decreased riding opportunities for an adult like myself, who spends Monday through Friday at the office. Add to that the increasingly cold weather, which either makes riding unsafe or uncomfortable. Pick your poison. To try and keep my spirits up, I often find myself watching Dressage or Hunter videos on Youtube. Listening to fantastic riders give out pointers on maintaining better posture, perfecting the two-point, stride counting between jumps, etc. I also hit the gym in an attempt to fill my riding void with endorphins. I'll be happy when...

This weekend I was fortunate enough to participate in my standard weekend adventure. I had a fantastic ride with Apache. We took a peaceful trail ride through the pasture. She jumped the creek easily this weekend, which is a subtle improvement. Sonny was his normal "old man" self. As for me, I was reminded that horses are great perceivers of emotion. They can sense your fear, your sadness, your frustration, your desperation. And I think Apache could tell that I was not feeling like myself. She was quiet, patient, and let me hug all over her neck. She seemed softer than normal. I felt like she was listening to me, and not from a rider and horse standpoint but as if to ask me, "friend, what's wrong?". It reminded me of those times in high school, when my feelings would be so wounded that I would show up to the barn and spend 10 minutes sobbing into the mane of my favorite horse. They can make fantastic listeners, friends, and therapists. And I'm happy to ...

It's ironic, jumping was the part of horseback riding that I missed the most when I wasn't riding. But as a teen, when I rode all the time. Jumping was what I used to dread practicing. And when I was first learning, I found it terrifying. The fright factor may have had something to do with the fact that might first jumping experience was less than ideal. When I was about 10 years old, I was riding a pony (yes, I know that was my first mistake) named Sassy. It was bareback day at Horseback riding camp. So there I was sitting up on Sassy, bare back with nothing but a halter and some clip on reins. The teenager that was "instructing" us would lead Sassy around the arena and then another kid would get on. Other, older riders, were practicing trot poles and little cross jumps in the center area of the arena while we took Sassy along the rail. When it was my turn, the teen instructor's phone started ringing. She looked at me, decided I was one of the bigger ki...

Dating is hard. And dating as a "horse girl", in my opinion, is even harder. The challenge is finding someone who would muck stalls with you, someone who will video your lessons, someone you can call after every ride, who will listen to you cry through the hard rides and provide comfort, who will cheer you on when you accomplish something good, no matter how small. Ideally someone who loves horses too. Who would never ask you to "grow up". I tried internet dating. I made sure to include a picture of Apache and myself. Almost like I was trying to give them fair warning. But that's the thing about most people. They think that they like horses. Or that they're okay with horses. Until they get into the nitty gritty of it. And I wasn't the type to bring a string of strangers around the horses. They're like my kids. You have to earn meeting them. And the ones that insist that they can ride, because "it can't be that hard". They made me w...

I've always had a thing for pintos. Big colorful messes of fur. Some people love them, some people hate them. Some people think they're wild. Some say the ones with blue eyes are crazy. But in my opinion, a good horse is never a bad color. (That's also the name of a great natural horsemanship book by Mark Rashid  if you're ever looking for an easy read but still solid equestrian piece of literature). My first real riding experience as a kid was on a paint. Her name was Sandy, she was an older mare at a horseback riding camp for kids. She was big and a little lazy. My legs were so short I could hardly kick her into a trot, but I did. I thought she was the best thing ever.  Sandy, Circa 1997   The next paint horse that I got myself involved with was Chesapeake. She was a Registered Paint. Her mom was a QH, she was a palomino named Nip. My dad and my brother rode Nip quite frequently. Chesapeake's brother, Ret, also spent some time at our barn prior to ...

There are many things in the horse world that correlate to love and dating. Don't fall in love too fast. Don't put all your eggs in one basket. Relationships take time and effort. And with horses, just like with people, be careful who you fall in love with. Ducky. OTTB. Grey. 6 year old Gelding. 16.1 hands. And I thought I was falling in love. He was trained, so I had been told. He had been turned out to pasture for the past 2 years. Previously to that, he was mostly ridden by jockeys. The only physical flaw of his, the reason he never made it on the track, are his coon feet. His back pasterns drop a little low. They don't bother him. He's just not cut out for heavy work or intense athletic sports. But for flat work, he's sound. The first day I rode him, one of the other girls said " Are you riding Ducky? I thought he was lame." To which my witty response was, "You're lame." He's easy to catch. He's sweet. He would nuzzle my...

This time last year, things were very different. I was slumming my way through lousy internet dates that never went anywhere. My riding was mediocre, held back by lack of time, and inadequate practice.  The whole year had been lack luster. 2016 was rough, it was a lot of bumps and bruises. It was a full year of falling off the horse and getting back on again. There were frustrations, and unattainable goals. There was sickness. Loneliness. Loss of friends. Even death. And then January of 2017 really wasn't any better. I was at an all time low with my job. Frustrated, angry, over worked. I set some goals for myself. My New Year's resolutions were big for this year: 1. Get into a Master's Program 2. Find a better job. 3. Get back into Hunter/Jumper riding. My birthday rolled around in February. All of my friends skimped out on my birthday party (With the exception of 2 sweet souls, you know who you are). I started to feel really sad. The weather was cold, dreary. I f...

At the Hunter/Jumper barn that I take lessons at during the week, there are over 15 different horses. I've only been there a few months. I'm still learning them all. I've ridden about 5 different horses so far. They wanted to offer some variety, make sure they found the best fit for me as a rider. Yesterday, I rode Mickey. I didn't know much about him previously. Even though I've ridden him quite a few times now. He was actually the horse I rode during my first lesson at the barn. He's a very tall, 17 hand, stocky Appendix Quarter horse. He's about 13 years old. Bright red chestnut, thick white blaze, two white socks on his hind legs, and bird catcher spots sprinkled over his back and rump. Mickey  From what I've learned of his bloodlines, he's a very well bred horse. His dad was an OTTB. His mom was Champion AQHA Jumper. He used to do shows. But he got hurt. He has a chip in his back right knee. And an occasional sore back (Ki...

I remember the first time I felt that nasty gut wrenching feeling. I was in college. I had joined the Equestrian team. And as I mounted up for my first practice, the feeling settled deep in my belly. "They're better than you." The other girls wore pristine breeches. They were thin, with custom saddles, fancy tall boots, and embroidered saddle pads. I was wearing skinny jeans with half chaps pulled over old paddock boots. I had a synthetic saddle. And no one new who I was. I didn't train under fancy trainers. I didn't win world class shows. None of the people I trained, rode, and otherwise "horsed" with were famous or important. And these girls, they were the real deal. And I was a little bit scared. I'd been riding since I was a kid, and now, after all these years, I was finally scared. The coach told me I had quiet legs and a steady hand. That seemed like a compliment. The other girls never invited me to hang out with them, they didn't t...

I remember the first time I got back in the saddle. May 1st, 2016. I hadn't ridden a horse since 2010. Maybe late 2009.  Previously, I had ridden horses for what felt like my whole life. It doesn't really sound like that much time now. Six, maybe seven years.  But for me, it was like not breathing. I had stopped doing something I loved because it became too hard. Life was busy. I was injured. I was in college. I let life get in the way. Then one day, when I was sad and watching my relationship with my boyfriend fall to pieces in slow motion, I knew I had to go back.   I scoured Craigslist, I called stables, I researched lesson prices, I called all my old friends. I pulled my saddles out of storage to clean and oil them. I bought a new Troxel helmet. I cleaned my paddock boots. I tried on my breeches. Which to my surprise still fit. But at the end of the day, all I had to show for it was a guest bedroom that looked more like a tack ...