I'll be moving Tuesday out there tomorrow afternoon when I'm done at the old place. I figure I might as well go ahead and move her, since camps start next week and I'd rather not move her in the middle of all that. I'm hoping she behaves herself; there's a couple pregnant mares in her pasture, and I'd hate for her to hurt anyone. She's never been overly aggressive that I've seen, but it only took her a few days to be the boss mare when she moved here with me. We will see...I wish I had a saddle already! Hopefully I have a buyer for the one I'm selling, though, and can replace it pretty quickly. I don't really feel up to riding her bareback in a new place with so much to look at.
It's really very bittersweet to move her...I truly wanted to wait; I'm not ready to give up the old place just yet, and all the dear people and horses there. Moving her means it's really over, and that that home no longer exists. This really hit home on Thursday (I think it was Thursday; this whole week has bled together) when I stopped by after work to sit on the mare for a minute, and when I was leaving, one of my good friends there looked at me sort of sadly and said, "Well...I guess I'll see you...um...Sunday..." And it hit me: I don't go back there anymore. I go somewhere entirely else. The relationships I have at the old place will always be there, but it isn't my place to be there anymore. And I had to run out of there as quickly as I could, biting down on my tongue so I didn't start bawling my eyes out. That era is over...It helps having gone to a place with such nice people, but the part that helps the most is the girls from the old place are constantly blowing up my phone through their text group (Love you, girls) and I know a piece of that era will never change.
I am not writing this very well. Have I mentioned I'm worn out?
Anyway. I've ridden a few horses out there already; NBL wants me to get to know the schoolies I'll be teaching on, so I've ridden a sweet little paint pony named Shiloh, who is just a super great old guy, a slightly more opinionated gray pony named Asher, a three year-old colt named Midnight who is very sweet, and a Chincoteague pony named Salty, who I will be riding frequently to get him over some green insecurities.
That lower lip is always hangin' loose.
Not gonna lie, our first ride was miserable. I got him to trot down the long side once, and after that, his feet literally froze in the dirt, and nothing I did could get him to move. The next day, I aquainted him with a dressage whip, and the notion that a light tippety tap on the flank meant go forward. And that was all it took; a light tippety tap, with a squeeze and a vocal "trot" command, and now, after three rides, he goes with just the vocal command, and doesn't let his anxiousness and stubbornness freeze his feet. He is a pretty bright fellow and seems to be a quick study. I'm having fun with him!
Benny is also doing well; I haven't been able to see him much this week with so much going on, but he and Zaki are pretty good friends now. Hopefully I don't have to work next Friday as I did yesterday, and can ride both of those guys, since they both gave me a hard time last week.
That's it for now...hopefully next time, I'll have something a bit more eloquent! (Have I mentioned I'm tired?)
Oh...and also...
Meet Walter Thaddeus, Esquire.
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