It was hot and sunny today. I rode my bike out to Mac. Amanda was playing outside with her baby. We talked while I got Mac. Groomed him and tacked him up. He didn’t like the saddle being put on. Fair enough. When I brought him out of the paddock, Amanda put her baby in the saddle. He was smiling, happy to be on a horse. His legs were too short for the stirrups, even when they were rolled up. The baby smiled, and then he cried when she took him down. He liked the horse. I got on Mac and rode out to the edge of the property, where the round-pen will someday be. We walked around. He was better at being alone. He trotted and I let him, tried to keep a rhythm. He seemed a bit stiff, I hoped he was sound.  Then he cantered, and I grabbed mane. It was fun. Simple as it was. The ground there is uneven. Here we are in the country. I, riding a western horse, in dressage tack, and cowgirl boots, with sunglasses and no helmet. A mix of both worlds, English and western, so different from where I came from, to here, the foothills of Alberta. I realized then, that at that moment I was living my childhood dream, that this was it, riding a horse with no rules, in the wide open- God’s Country.

After the canter, we trotted around. I tried to get him to loosen up, to relax. We walked around in circles, small ones, to get him bending. And then we went for a walk down the road. Away from home, and he trotted yet, and cantered. It was fun, to canter down the road. When I tried to slow him the second time, he bucked. I laughed. We walked a ways and then turned back. That was a good ride.

thoughts from a horse