The price we pay for love...

This morning we took our final dog walk. I figure we've done around eight thousand in almost fourteen years. It was painfully stiff and slow, and the skies opened up and poured on us.

I've been nursing my dear Sweetpea through end stage Cushing's for months. She had wasted away to nothing and lost control of her hind end in the last weeks. When I had to persuade her to eat and drink over the weekend it was obviously time.

Sweetest Pea was the runt of thirteen pups. I took her in at three and a half weeks, while she could fit in my hand, otherwise she would have starved. She caught up quickly, at one point reaching eighty five pounds, and until her ninth year, was healthy, strong and beautiful.

Her dad was a local lab romeo, her mom a pit bull. As a puppy she would hang out in the back of my pickup truck down at the marina waiting for me to get off of work. When folks would ask her breed I'd say - Gulf Stream Retriever,  and usually get a nod and a knowing look. It was hard to keep a straight face. It was better than having the "pit bull discussion".

Despite her breeding, a strong prey drive, and an arch enemy dog in the neighborhood who had to be put in his place now and again, Sweetpea was very gentle, even maternal with the various strays that showed up at our house.

Favorite activities were beach walks and swims. I would help her out past the breakers, and then we'd swim and swim parallel to the beach. She would let me prop her up for a bit when she got tired, and eventually ride a wave back in to shore. She could dig to China to hunt up a ghost crab in the sand, and quickly learned to snap off the pinchy claws asap so she could torture the crabs safely.

Sweetpea was smart and persistent with a smattering of sly. Add agility, and this was a dangerous combination. I once caught her dropping the last piece of a just out of the oven, cooling on the kitchen counter bundt cake on the living room rug as I came in the front door. Guilty as hell look standing over the pile of crumbs with an already bulging belly... nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

She went very peacefully this afternoon. I think she was relieved. I know I was. It was a blessing to see how calmly she breathed after receiving the preparatory sedation. I realized it was the first time I'd seen her relaxed in literally years.

Sweetpea was a loyal, loving companion. She is buried in a lovely spot on the farm. I will miss her terribly.

RIP Sweetpea 

1/21/99 - 7/31/12

In the Arena # 128 - Being all that we can be...

I must confess - I absolutely love when the Olympics roll around. Witnessing athletes culminate a lifetime's worth of training, dedication and focus into an ultimate performance on a global stage... It often moves me to tears. The nationalism and annoying television coverage I could do without.

Anyhow, in honor of the upcoming opportunity to witness world class equestrian events, I propose a contest. As I very young equestrian, I dreamed of riding in the Olympics. I can remember being mesmerized the few times I caught the broadcast of the musical freestyle dressage performances. I knew that one day I wanted to share that kind of experience with my own horse.

Though none of us will be medaling in our chosen disciplines this go round, I'm quite sure our equine partners all have an extraordinary quality worthy of celebrating... and prizes!

Over the next two weeks, I invite you all to share your horses' special talents here. Photos and / or video, plus a written description will do for your entry. You can provide links for me in the comments, and I will take care of embedding. If you have any trouble, we can use email.

At the close of the Olympics I'll announce the winners - chosen at random with the help of my lovely assistant Val. There will be three - who will receive an awesome, official, "Dressage is #1" foam finger. If you aren't a dressage enthusiast yourself, I'll bet you know one or two... Christmas will be here before you know it.

✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥

To get the ball rolling I submit Valentino. Though an energy conserver by nature, he can multi-task with the best of them.

Occasionally he's seen busting a move like this...

but mostly he gets plenty of beauty sleep, and makes an effort with his nutrition - two keys for healthy living. :)



EDITED TO ADD: 
Contest and entries also located here on their own page 
Let the games begin!

At the Barn # 61 - Load stars + notes from the farmette...

Settling up on some teasers from the last post...

Last week it was time to clean out the trailer, which had been serving as overflow hay storage. Val was cool and comfy, having enjoyed a post work rinse and a tasty grazing session. On a whim, I opened the ramp, placed a treat on the chest bar, threw the rope over his back and in he went, not a moment's hesitation. I've encouraged a self load or two after leading him in before, but this was the first time I just pointed him at the ramp and he complied. What a goooood boy. I love my horse. :)

The next day it was Cowboy's turn. Cowboy hasn't voluntarily entered a trailer since the fall. We believe some very bad trailer driving may explain his reluctance. His people schooled him furiously for a while. Feeding him in the trailer (without ever closing the bar), and chasing him with a broom were some of the strategies. Then they got discouraged and gave up.

It took about an hour, but we got him in calmly. No bribing, no head throwing, no bolting out backwards, no flying off the side of the ramp. Planting on the ramp was his evasion of choice. Out of respect for his owner, I waited him out with her, though I must confess, I finally shook a bucket with some noisy pellets in it, ending the session when suddenly he walked all the way up to the chest bar. Next session I'd like to turn up the pressure just a tad, get the butt bar up and take him for a very short, very slow, very safe ride, followed by excessive praise and lots of treats.

Cowboy's owner has been very discouraged about not getting to travel to lessons, or go to shows. She had signed up for several last year but didn't make it off island because he refused to load. I worry about emergencies, and Cowboy's well being. I think we're on our way to solving this problem - wish us luck.

✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷

I've learned some important lessons about gardening this season:

Leave half again twice as much space as you think you need around tomato plants, especially when planting in composted manure.

Even though you don't usually see deer until the fall, you need a very tall fence around the garden. Plan on it. When there is drought, the deer come out of the woodwork trying to find moisture. I don't even think it's about food as much as water.

The giant plants that result form the fab compost need serious support. Your run of the mill tomato cages are not sufficient. For next year, I am designing a model made from pvc that can be broken down and put up in stages. Easier to store in the off season.

No matter what you do, the majority of the harvest will come in at once. This weekend I will be processing tomatoes. All weekend long.

 

 

✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷

Deja vue.  The other day I brought a sheet in that had been drying outside. As I spread it out on the sofa, a wasp lurking in a fold in the fabric stung me three times on my left hand. My usual response to wasps in the house is trapping them under a glass and letting them out. This wasp ended up in the vacuum. Hello giant baseball glove hand.

The one bright spot was the next day, Val sniffed the sting hand all over, then licked and groomed it thoroughly for me, nibbling the super swollen back of my hand especially. I have no doubt he knew it was a hurt, and was helping.

fat hand 2012

fat hand 2011

✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷

And then there's snakes.

I'll have to tell a tale on myself. I found a rat snake under Cowboy's manure bucket. His people are likely to kill a snake reflexively, so I had the bright idea to relocate Mr. Rat Snake to my tack room. There is an obvious rodent issue lately. Why not let nature take it's course rather than resort to poison or traps?!

There's no need to be a smart ass though, by trying to multi-task while transporting a snake. The only thing stupider would have been trying to photo document the procedure as well. As I attempted to hold the snake in one hand, the feed bucket in the other and open the gate, Mr. Rat Snake saw his opening and bit the tar out of my thumb. I'd be lying if I didn't admit to having a fleeting thought questioning my snake id-ing skills.

Val was also interested in this injury, suspiciously sniffing the bite, then my arm where the snake had been wrapped, then the bite again, then the hay I was trying to stuff into his hay bag. I'm pretty sure he was letting me know that I better not be getting any snake juice in his dinner.

Not the snake bite snake - just a junior water moccasin by the manure pile.

 A lovely amphibian

 ✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷

In the works - A CONTEST! With prizes and everything. Stay tuned - details to come...

In the Arena # 127 - The swing of things...

Fair warning - long catch-up post ahead...

Sorry for the extended absence. I missed posting to our blog, but I really needed the break. It's been dreadfully hot here, the humid air thick with flies and mosquitoes. Not inviting riding conditions for horse or human. Once you've spent most of the day working outdoors, it's hard to get excited about riding in the hot sun. Wedging the riding pants on in the sweltering tack room holds zero appeal.

The lack of rain has made our arena footing super deep. Val's feet slide down to the coronets with every step, and I can barely push the wheelbarrow through. To compound the situation there was no air conditioning in the Shimmy Shack until about a week ago. Cold well water rinses and watermelon in the afternoons have helped us get through.

Then there was a little problem with my ego. I'd been reading too many glowing posts about show successes, excellent test scores, informative clinics and began to obsess about the blog-ability of my riding. Instead of my priority being what's the right decision for Val in this training situation, it sometimes became I have a plan to accomplish this particular thing - canter departs, x amount of trot work, incorporating ground poles... I wasn't in the moment with my horse, making decisions based on how I could help him. I was concerned with the end result, but not always focused on the process or what was best for my horse. And where did that get me? Sitting on my butt in the dirt - that's where.

Despite the weather, we have had a few decent rides, mostly bareback. One was in order to try out a new bit. I found a really good source for plus sized bits -  after an exhaustive search. We had been riding in a 5 3/4" french link eggbutt, rather than the 6" he really needs. There seemed to be no options for larger sizes in the style I wanted, other than KK Ultras special ordered, and custom bits. I now have a curvy copper french link eggbutt, much like the KKs, but reasonably priced. Val loves it. He eagerly accepts it, and mouths it as I remove his bridle - taking his time letting it go. Wishing I had done this much sooner. And if anyone sees a 6" eggbutt french link with a copper half moon (more room for big ol' tongues) please let me know, as that bit I think would be ideal.

Our most recent ride was wonderful. High points were - staying focused on correcting my position, and Val offering forward, reaching into the bridle, and using his back. Captain Outburst was going to town next door with loud machinery punctuated by curses, and it didn't even phase us.

We've also done quite a bit of ground work, especially revisiting longeing and yielding the hindquarters. I've kept the sessions very brief and outside the arena on firmer ground. I used a rope halter, which gave me the leverage I needed when Val tested me. I refined my position, aiming my body more toward his shoulder than his head. I knew that once he got his head pointed to the outside of the circle I could lose him. Off he would go, bucking and rearing, tearing the line out of my hand. Instead of feeling him looking out of the circle, I had been watching his head. Now I'm concentrating on feeling through the contact of the line, and watching his movement instead.

It's been a good time to lay still and read in the heat of the afternoons. Mary Wanless' Ride With Your Mind - An Illustrated Masterclass in Right Brain Riding has been absolutely blowing my mind. It is the most inspiring, uplifting writing about riding I've read to date, besides Erik Herbermann, whom Ms. Wanless quotes several times. Think classical ideals conveyed through the prism of biomechanics, with an emphasis on acknowledging different learning / thinking styles, and written with a thorough understanding of the physics of riding. I will be doing a series of posts about this book.

Upcoming blog topics: Val self loads, trailer 101 with Cowboy, garden update, deer + gardens, fence building, tomatoes - why must they all come at once, tomato recipes, wasps in the laundry, wasp stings, snakes, snakebites...

Back soon...

In the Arena # 126 - No time left for you + words to live by

"...how important it is to build softness of intent and feel, and correct breathing, and good posture, into your life, every day and in every circumstance.  

Horsemanship cannot be separated from your life - it's all the same thing - and you can't be and act and hold yourself differently in only your horsemanship and expect it to be effective.  

If you build it into your whole life, it'll then be there and available in your horsemanship without your even having to think about it."


Apologies - for the long post + photo spam. I've had little time to blog. It's taken me days to finish this.

So I looked up from the grindstone to see that half of 2012 is already gone. A good time to assess, and revisit the game plan... (was there ever a game plan - my head is spinning)

There have been many ups and downs for Val and I so far this year:

Tangible progress over the winter - establishing connection and contact. Followed by saddle fit issues which stopped forward in it's tracks. Then months of bareback rides while I played the saddle search game. More improvement! Saddle success - new saddle bliss carries us into experimenting with the canter. (!) Gradually we find ourselves in all canter / all the time mode... aaaaand it's just a matter of time before I hit the dirt. (insert needle scratches the record sound effect here)

I know that my dressage struggles go deeper than physical limitations, constant delays in setting up our new arena and lack of proper any instruction other than books and the internet for several years now. Practicing is great, but it needs to be correct practice. Not trying to sound whiny. I am so thankful for what I have, but I feel stuck and a little bit frustrated.

Riding well / being a good horseman is something I want to achieve more than just about anything. Sadly, I do not have natural talent at horsemanship and riding. Believe me, I wish I did. A good work ethic, enthusiasm, and a tendency toward perfectionism are what I have an abundance of.

✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸

Val and I have worked four times this week.

One ride, which started off with a 180 spinning spook. Stayed with him, ignored the scary area, and continued the ride. Position - sitting in the saddle and loosening my hips, steering - not with the inside rein,  and contact - more and consistent, were the focus. Val came back to me,  even clowning around picking up and swinging the cones when we halted at them. It ended up as a productive ride.

We also lunged for the first time in ages. Not traditional lunging standing still in the middle of a circle, but lunging where I moved with Val. He was very attentive, gave me some lovely big walk and volunteered the trot work. Glad I tried this method. Very satisfying.

Finally, we went on two trail walks off property. Down the road to the woods trail, and then over next door where there is some good grazing as a reward for bravery.

The first walk went very well, just a little looky. Yesterday though, we had to have a come to jesus meeting on our way out the front gate. My dog Sweetpea jumped up suddenly as we passed by the trailer, and Val overreacted, stomping on the back of my barn shoe, tearing it, and glancing off of my foot. He needs to be aware of my location in every situation - no excuses.

Val still isn't 100% about my leadership. He still doesn't trust me completely when the chips are down. Death dealing noises from next door... geriatric dog behind a sturdy gate... leaving your buddy in the next door paddock for any reason at all...

✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸✸

The quote above is from Kate's blog A Year with Horses. She recently attended another clinic with Mark Rashid. I don't know how she manages to ride two horses in a clinic, and finds the time to capture the essence of the experience and share it, but she does. Thank you Kate.

I believe it pretty much sums up what is lacking in my dressage efforts, and is also a road map to my goals.


And now on to the photo dump...

They are well overhead now, a few days later. Yep - I planted way to close together. I will never learn.

First full sized tomato. What does it remind you of?

Porch garden is in full bloom

Sweetpea eats a sweetpea

Maybe I see why Val was scared...

The land of plenty...

Refreshing!

In the Arena # 125 - We shall overcome...

Our big excitement this week was the first tropical system of the season - Beryl. Say what?! No, not even kidding.

The beginning wasn't too bad - several hours of blustery winds and torrential rain. Eventually the eye / center of circulation passed directly over us. The moment it cleared us the winds went from 0 to gusts of 70. Tide came roaring out of the sound, and up the streets. People were scrambling to move vehicles to higher ground and attend to their boats. As usual the forecast hadn't called for any of the drastic-ness...

All I can say is if my tomato plants had gotten killed I would have kicked that storm's ass! (I parked my truck to block the main winds from the garden, and it worked.) Actually, all I can say is that if this had been August instead of May, I dread even to imagine the destruction we would have suffered. Island life can be dicey.

✲✲✲✲✲✲✲✲✲✲✲✲✲✲✲✲✲✲✲

Weather and subsequent footing issues kept us out of the arena until this weekend. Yesterday afternoon I dragged the arena, groomed and tacked up for our first ride in a week. Val tried to convince me that the part of the arena beside Captain Outburst's property was a no-fly zone. I persuaded him differently by practicing leg yields into the area in question. I concentrated on my position, namely opening up my hip angle and getting my leg more underneath me, as well as all the usual non stop self reminders and adjustments.

This morning dawned with bright sunshine and cool breezes. After morning chores and the usual preparations, with extra attention to repelling flies, we got to work. Again, I paid attention to my alignment - ears, shoulders, hips, heels, as well as keeping my elbows at my sides and my eyes straight through Val's ears. As I have no one on the ground and no mirrors, I must rely on Val to let me know when I've got things right (or wrong!), which he gladly does.

Also, I put the cones back into the arena. They really help me to focus on keeping the school figures accurate. After picking up contact and achieving a nicely forward walk, we worked on trot transitions. There was a halfhearted canter stride the first ask, and after that I got the trot when I asked. Once again feeling the rhythm of the new gait was the first go at the transition - leg and crop only if necessary. Overall I think we gained some ground. Apparently it's going to take a while to restore confidence - mine and Val's. We'll chip away at it.

Afterwords Val got a scrubby bath plus a relaxing pick of grass. Then he helped me reinstall the stall awning that got trashed in the storm. He oversaw handling of the tarp, inspected the tools and licked my legs while I was on the ladder. It was a perfectly lovely day with my horse.

 

 

 

 

 

If you turn up the volume, you can hear Val happily snatching away at mouthsful of grass right in front of poor, poor Cowboy...

 and groaning with pleasure - there's nothing like a good roll in the sand.

 

In the Arena # 124 - Redemption song....

An almost perfect Saturday. I could have used about three more hours squeezed in - (my most recent to do list is outrageous) but I'll take it. After feeding, walking and cleaning up after all the other residents of Edgewood Farm while savoring a tasty iced cappucino, I hitched up Orange Crush for our weekly mowing session.

We were soon interrupted by a visitor, one of my landscaping clients, who dropped by to pick up a load of Val's Super Dirt (composted manure). After a quick tour and filling his buckets, we chatted. I thought that the clouds of mosquitos would keep the conversation brief...

It turns out that my client was very well placed in the banking world before his semi-retirement. If his palatial beach "cottage" is any indication, this is true. He gave me lots of encouragement about my plans for the property, and offered to be a resource to help find financing when it comes time to build my house. This will be a fair exchange for my continued never ending consulting on his landscaping, (consulting is when people get my work for free) so the numerous bites were worth it. Who'd have thought horse manure would have anything to do with high finance?

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Once the grounds keeping chores were completed, I threw Val a few flakes of his new hay. I gave up on forcing him to eat the last bales of this winter's hay. For a week now he's pushed it around, stomped on it and yesterday dropped a pile and peed on it. I got the hint. With him munching in his stall, I dragged the ring.

Apprehension built as I rode around. I try always to have a positive attitude, but falling off the other day just sucked. I had, after a long time, gotten to the point that I was excited to ride again. I looked forward to it. Ending our sessions was disappointing - I wanted to just keep on riding. We were finally working on the canter for heavens sake. My fall set me back six months confidence-wise.

By now it was hot enough and I was sweaty enough to make pulling on my breeches challenging. As I groomed and tacked up, I focused on my breathing, as well being a stickler for Val staying put. At first I had to physically touch him, but as we moved along all it took was a step towards him to make the correction. My experience has been that Val starts out with small tests of my leadership. If I let those go, it escalates under saddle. Things go more smoothly when I patiently correct him, as many times as is necessary, on the ground.

We worked on the buckle for quite a while. Forward seemed to have gone out the window. We had to do lots of transitions to get Val moving off my leg at all. It's likely that I may have been asking for forward with my aids, but saying not forward with my posture.

I could feel the negative impact the fall had on my body, as it took forever before my whole seat was down in the saddle, not perching. I used to think that perching was more like being in two point... your butt physically out of contact with the saddle. Yesterday I (finally) realized that you can perch with your seatbones and pubic bone too, while technically being on the saddle. If your butt muscles aren't relaxed, it's not possible for your "triangle" to be in contact. My not being on my seat is the main reason I fell off.

The revelations about seatbones continued. While focusing on maintaining outside rein contact through the turns, I zoned in on the outside seatbone as well. Our turns were better balanced and deeper when I really felt my outside seatbone. I'm not sure if this meant that both seatbones were finally equal, or if more weight was on the outside, but the results were good.

Now on to the main event. We got our act together enough, that I decided to ask for the trot. In out most recent rides since working on the canter, I've been getting canter departs when asking for the trot. This is exactly what we were working on when I fell off last week. My first ask resulted in the canter. I let it go a few strides, and returned to the walk. I made sure I was not holding my breath, not anticipating cantering, and asked again - this time with very little aid - instead visualizing the tempo and feel of the trot. Voila! Perfect relaxed trot transition.

Kate at A Year with Horses has been such an inspiration to me. Her thorough and honest assessments of her riding never fail to resonate. Lately she has been posting about softness, bracing, and how the quality of aiding can either lead to softness, or result in bracing.

Struggling with the trot transitions yesterday helped me realize I had been way over aiding, because when I just literally thought the trot - no leg, no voice and no whip - I got the most beautiful soft transition. I'm sure now that my over aiding + perching + bracing resulted in Val being confused about what I was asking of him lately... "When she gets all bent out of shape like this - I'm supposed to canter!"

I hugged my horse, told him what a gooooood boy he is, and ended the ride there, on a very positive note.

preferable to working...

also preferable to working...

In the Arena # 123 - Getting my head around it... At the Farmette # 8 - No rest for the weary...

There have been two rides since my less than elegant dismount last week. The bumps and bruises have healed, but I'd be lying if I said that I didn't feel some trepidation when mounting up again.

I threw on the bareback pad a few days later for the first ride. Val wasn't particularly calm. I reckon I wasn't either - surprise! Nonetheless, it was a decent ride. One little scoot, and then things went smoothly. I focused on sitting deeply, in my horse.

The next evening, after doing some effective ground work, I impulsively led Val over to the mounting block and hopped on, sans tack. I'm lucky Val is relatively comfortable even without a pad. No shark fin withers on my boy, so no wither wedgie. We motored around the arena, relying on legs and seat only. An un-pulled mane comes in handy sometimes. It was a divine ride. I felt close to my horse, physically and mentally.

The plan is to do a real schooling ride this weekend. Tacked up, and revisiting the trot / canter transitions with equanimity, and intention. After processing what happened leading up to my fall, I believe the issue was me being thrown (no pun intended) by sticky transitions, becoming frustrated and most importantly getting off of my seat. When the shenanigans started I was already unbalanced. A good but hard lesson to learn.

The rest of my week centered around the weather and the garden.

There have been the most intense skies happening along with the numerous thunderstorms lately... thankfully, as we were getting a little drought-ish in April. Seems like we may be returning to a more normal pattern of late afternoon and evening thunderstorms relieving the excess moisture and energy built up in the atmosphere. A dicey pattern when ventilating your home depends on crank up vents on the roof...

In the gardens, weeding and picking off pests is a never ending process. One benefit to the early spring and moving my beds around, the tomato / tobacco hornworm caterpillars have struck out. Suckahs! Also, I found a newly hatched hornworm moth, wings not even pumped up yet, which was promptly relocated.

The hose came in handy to jet away aphids attacking my (delicious) sugar snaps. The radishes are harvested. Note to self - next time succession planting would be a good idea. My carrots are coming up nicely. I experimented with transplanting some of the thinnings - supposedly not possible to do. We shall see.

The mighty Kubota spent the weekend again, so I was able to turn all the manure piles. The new bed is going gangbusters. Thank you Val for making some awesome dirt. I swear you can (almost) watch the tomato plants growing. I have been saving those plastic-y feed bags, with the plan of bagging up composted manure for sale next year. I thought I'd turn them inside out, leaving a clear space to put some kind of logo label.

Enjoy some photo spam...

 

 

wee little carrots

no one needs this many radishes

this kind of cloud formation (wall cloud) usually makes water spouts...

isn't he lovely...

In the Arena #122 - If it doesn't kill you...

Val and I parted ways this week. Unanticipated dismount.

I've spent the last couple of days eating ibuprofren like candy, and moving around very gingerly. Well, if I don't sugar coat, I feel like I got hit by a truck - but it could have been so much worse. Happily, I had my helmet on, as I might not be capable of typing this, had I not. Helmets are good.

The first giant horse flies of the season? They were buzzing us during grooming. Captain Outburst next door shooting something out of his mower as he rode up and down next to the arena? His timing is uncanny. Me paying more attention to a visitor to the farm, than to my horse? Probably. Me blocking my horse as I tried to get a trot transition rather than the canter? Definitely. I had second thoughts about riding when both horses spooked violently at my visitor's dog as she arrived - Val bolted, losing his saddle that I hadn't quite girthed up yet. (Hated, hated, hated watching my new saddle hit the dirt!)

It doesn't ultimately matter. After a nice warm up, I rode out a warning buck, but a few minutes later lost my seat as Val bronced across the arena. I remember me coming down and him coming up, and then knowing I was about to hit the dirt, just like my saddle.

I landed on my side quasi rolling, but still very hard. I turned over. Everything seemed to move okay. My vision was blurry for a few minutes though (concussion?), as I collected my bemused horse. I remounted, and rode for a half hour or so on the buckle.

I haven't fallen off for a couple of years. I've come a long way I guess. My reaction this time wasn't doubting my horsemanship or fearing my horse, but obsessing over what I could have done differently. Even though my former trainer isn't in the area for me to get lessons from, she generously makes herself available for telephone debriefing. Thank you E.!

Our conclusions were that falling off is inevitable, and more importantly, cannot be prevented. Falling off is a moment in time - the horse isn't obsessing about so neither should we. Our horses deserve 100% of our concentration and attention when we work with them. Anything less is disrespectful, and occasionally dangerous.

E. gave me some good advice (again) for how to move forward with our trot / canter issue, namely never let your horse know that what he's doing isn't what you wanted. Don't get upset. It's more productive to go with the wrong gait and then ask for the downward transition. Never let them see you sweat. Keep a light heart.

Bright side. I didn't break anything, or miss any work. It wasn't as bad as the anticipation - nothing ever is. If statistics mean anything, I'm a lot farther away from my next fall, than I was the other day. :)

Probably need a new helmet

Wish my ass had stuck to the saddle

Hand needed attention

Shiner on my hip

Later that evening - it's all good...