Boots, walking
Mid-morning down at the riding stables on another cool grey summer day. No terriers to greet me with a cheerful bark - they were all curled up on the chairs in the office.
"The fresh air will do you good..."
The riding stables put me up on Boots, a hairy-footed grey cob, short-coupled and apple-bummed. I'd only ridden him in the school before, but wasn't too daunted; he's a youngster and a little distractable, but seems a sensible sort. He's quite straight-shouldered and I find his walk rather choppy and uncomfortable - but he's a willing soul and keeps up with much bigger horses quite happily, no nagging required.
Just the three horses on the hack today; T. leading the ride on a huge bay cob, me on Boots, and a member of staff exercising one of the liveries, a slightly daft young dun.
Along the deep dark shaded lanes, under trees in full leaf, with the ring of ironshod hooves on tarmac echoing back from the estate wall. Along stony tracks lined with greenery - roses on the briars and beetles on the heads of hogweed. Across wide hay fields under low cloud, with the air full of light drizzle and swooping swallows. Green hills and fields and woods fading into soft grey distance. Meadow brown butterflies fluttering low over the damp vegetation.
Some of the fields we rode through had been cut for silage, and the big black plactic-wrapped bales were still standing in the field, with trailing edges of plastic waving a furtive hello in the breeze. Boots gave them a look, and took one small pace sideways in suspicion; nothing like the huge sideways spook my old girl Charm would have put in.
Other fields had been cut for hay, and the grass was lying flat and green in the drizzle. Not a promising start to the haymaking, but given a few dry days to turn the grass, a bit of drizzle after it is first cut won't harm it.
We had a canter along the edge of the hayfield. I was nervous since it's the first time I had ridden Boots outside the school, and asked if we could have a steady trot first before going into canter, which we did, and Boots was good as gold, went into a very neat canter, tucked himself in politely behind the bay lead horse.
In fact Boots didn't put a foot wrong on the ride, went very neat-footed on the steep stony tracks. His only bad habit is that he is a sneaky snacker wherever the vegetation overhangs the track - tucking in his nose to snatch at the hogweed, or lifting it to snatch at hazel leaves.
We only had one small moment of drama on the ride. Coming down a track between two high hedges, we found the way ahead blocked by a landrover with its arms stretched wide to catch a horse both doors open. The lead horse - who is a big fellow but not particularly bright - took great exception to this and danced and spun and plunged around generally. Boots just stood still and calculated his chances of snatching a bit of hogweed to keep his strength up. A most sensible cob, in short. The occupants of the landrover appeared shortly afterwards, got back in with waves of apology, and drove off, and we were able to proceed.
***
I have lost so much fitness in a month without riding (having had to cancel all my hacks last month to fit in emergency dentist visits). It was good to be back in the saddle again, even a saddle as uncomfortable as the one I rode in today - a real bumcruncher. But oh, did I ache afterwards...
"The fresh air will do you good..."
The riding stables put me up on Boots, a hairy-footed grey cob, short-coupled and apple-bummed. I'd only ridden him in the school before, but wasn't too daunted; he's a youngster and a little distractable, but seems a sensible sort. He's quite straight-shouldered and I find his walk rather choppy and uncomfortable - but he's a willing soul and keeps up with much bigger horses quite happily, no nagging required.
Just the three horses on the hack today; T. leading the ride on a huge bay cob, me on Boots, and a member of staff exercising one of the liveries, a slightly daft young dun.
Along the deep dark shaded lanes, under trees in full leaf, with the ring of ironshod hooves on tarmac echoing back from the estate wall. Along stony tracks lined with greenery - roses on the briars and beetles on the heads of hogweed. Across wide hay fields under low cloud, with the air full of light drizzle and swooping swallows. Green hills and fields and woods fading into soft grey distance. Meadow brown butterflies fluttering low over the damp vegetation.
Some of the fields we rode through had been cut for silage, and the big black plactic-wrapped bales were still standing in the field, with trailing edges of plastic waving a furtive hello in the breeze. Boots gave them a look, and took one small pace sideways in suspicion; nothing like the huge sideways spook my old girl Charm would have put in.
Other fields had been cut for hay, and the grass was lying flat and green in the drizzle. Not a promising start to the haymaking, but given a few dry days to turn the grass, a bit of drizzle after it is first cut won't harm it.
We had a canter along the edge of the hayfield. I was nervous since it's the first time I had ridden Boots outside the school, and asked if we could have a steady trot first before going into canter, which we did, and Boots was good as gold, went into a very neat canter, tucked himself in politely behind the bay lead horse.
In fact Boots didn't put a foot wrong on the ride, went very neat-footed on the steep stony tracks. His only bad habit is that he is a sneaky snacker wherever the vegetation overhangs the track - tucking in his nose to snatch at the hogweed, or lifting it to snatch at hazel leaves.
We only had one small moment of drama on the ride. Coming down a track between two high hedges, we found the way ahead blocked by a landrover with its arms stretched wide to catch a horse both doors open. The lead horse - who is a big fellow but not particularly bright - took great exception to this and danced and spun and plunged around generally. Boots just stood still and calculated his chances of snatching a bit of hogweed to keep his strength up. A most sensible cob, in short. The occupants of the landrover appeared shortly afterwards, got back in with waves of apology, and drove off, and we were able to proceed.
***
I have lost so much fitness in a month without riding (having had to cancel all my hacks last month to fit in emergency dentist visits). It was good to be back in the saddle again, even a saddle as uncomfortable as the one I rode in today - a real bumcruncher. But oh, did I ache afterwards...