| | Today the weatherman decided that I'm getting too big for my boots and decided to tone me down a little. So, he very kindly decided to shower a massive rainfall upon me - just as I'm walking down that long country road to my barn in my jeans and trainers - and because he tricked me into thinking it would be sunny, I didn't bring spare clothes or a jacket. I'd brought spares every single week, except for this one, this particular one that just happens to rain on me, cold, chilly, biting cold windy rain.
Yes, weatherman. I am humbled. Are you happy?
Anyways, it was me and Midnight as usual, plus my first massive bounces at the canter. Let's note once again that not jumping in three months has covered me in more rust than any old construction nail ever possibly could, so I was rusty. I was practically sprouting tetanus with every stride. The funnier thing was riding in the wind and gale and rain, I was giving Midnight a shower with the water droplets bouncing of my helmet visor with every shake of my head. He fought to keep his head down, forelock flying, bracing himself against the wind as I encouraged him to Fight the Wind, m'boy, fight like you've never fought before!!
Anyhow, we jumped and it was all sorts of great. Lori's starting me on calculating and judging the jumps and man - it's hard. No wonder only a select few are good enough to participate in championships. I got left behind a fair few times too, poor Midnight. Sorry boy, I'll work harder!
We took shelter in the stalls after the lesson, paying our respects to the weatherman for the rain had eased. Midnight stood and showered me with little kisses, then proceeded to massively head-butt me just as the other horses got their feed, clearly demanding his well-earned apples hidden in my bag all the way in the tack room. Ugh, that horse is all sorts of intelligent. He got his apples, but only after I heartilly threathened to head-butt him back if he should try and break my jaw like that ever again. I think he understands, judging from the way he goes back to showering me with little kisses. One can only guess.
So I took him back out and Christine asked me if I'd like to let him graze a little. Midnight - see, he's got this illness where if he eats grass, it attacks his nerve system and it's really dangerous. So he's kept in an empty paddock with no grass all the time, and pretty much survives off hay and feed and my apples.
The rain had brought with it a fresh patch of nice, green grass - and luckily for Midnight, it was the kind that he could eat, that wouldn't make him ill. So I led him over by the swings, underneath the leafy oak tree, where he dropped his head, let out a hrrruuummpphh of pure bliss and started munching away. The sky was clearing up, the wind was dying down and the birds were singing again, so it was lovely. The grass was so green and it was so peaceful.
I stayed there with Midnight, sometimes standing, sometimes sitting, sometimes kneeling, and sometimes leaning contentedly against his back with my eyes closed - just listening to him munching away in surprised contentedness. It was blissful. It was only 30 minutes (I sneakily allowed him ten minutes extra), but it felt like an eternity. I didn't say anything to him, I didn't chatter away to him like I usually do. I was silent. On short intervals, I hummed a little song, but that was it. He didn't nuzzle me or head-butt me or kiss me, but he ate, keeping close to my feet all the time, raising his head at intervals to stand still and munch with his eyes half-closed, gazing at me.
It wasn't anything special. It was just grazing. Nothing happened. I just sat there while he ate. I've sat with him while he eats hundreds of times before. But this was different.
This was the sweetest 30 minutes of my life.
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| | Posted 3/16/2007 6:00 PM - 4 Views
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