Once in a Lifetime

   You know those moments that you can't plan for or possibly expect? Those moments that will happen once in a lifetime and be lodged in your memory for years to come? The moments that you so desperately wish to recreate but your efforts only result in failure?
   Last night, Rosie and I had one of those moments. It was beautiful and absolutely amazing. The sky was dark and threatened rain. Lighting was flashing its presence over the distant hills.
  
   A perfect setting for a dance...

   Together, Rosie and I walked back to her pasture. Simultaneously we began to run and then without a word, I was running flat out and beside me, Rosie kept pace in a free and wild canter. We were caught. As I ran, she turned circles around me, spun on her haunches, reared.

   We were dancing...

   At that moment in time, nothing else mattered. A laugh, a cry escaped from my mouth. I could feel the rhythm. Rosie pawed, snorted. She was powerful. Thunder sounded and rain began to fall.
   At the gate, both of us stopped; breathless. As I took off Rosie's halter, she looked at me; just for a second, but I saw it. And it was enough. I understood her and she understood me and that was all that mattered.
   The moment passed as quickly as it had come, and Rosie spun and galloped off to join her pasture mates in the field. It was all I could do not to cry. I stood and watched her run. Her mane, tail and spirit were wild. The sun attempted to peek through the clouds. The weak light danced on Rosie's body. She gleamed and she knew it.
  Her spirit may be wild and free, but together, our spirits are one. Just for a moment but its there. She has given me her heart, in exchange for mine.... And I will be forever grateful.

A Jump Lesson

        Today, at 6:00 p.m. Nancy showed up at my barn for a jump lesson. I quickly brushed and saddled Rosie as Nancy set up a small set of jumps.
        Nancy and I started with a flatwork warm-up. Because I have had minimum actual jump training, I have developed some habits of my own, some good and some mostly bad. So, instead of having my hands down at the pommel of  the saddle, they are kept up on Rosie's crest. Instead of having locked elbows I have "buttery" elbows that maintain a soft but contacted line from Rosie's bit to my elbows.
        An excellent step in Rosie's training occurred today as well. Rosie managed to learn and execute an amazing walk-to-canter transition. We started by first backing Rosie up a couple of steps, then walking forward for a few steps and then immediately asking for a canter transition. It works like this, when a horse backs up, they have to roll back onto their haunches and it requires an inordinate amount of hind leg action in order for them to execute it. So we back Rosie up to get her on her haunches then walk her forward a couple of steps so she has some balance on her front feet but most of her weight is behind. Then as I ask for the canter, she has all the energy she needs from behind to pick up the canter flawlessly! (Well, mostly flawlessly!)  She got it the first time and the entire hour lesson, she could pick it up without having to back up first!! I love my horse!!
         We jumped for half the lesson, and lets just say that was the more frustrating portion of the lesson. She was SOOO grumpy today! I owe it partly because I pulled her away from her dinner, but maybe she's having a bit of PMSing going on! She is a mare after all! We had a cross rail, a 2' vertical and a row of barrels set up. We managed to jump the cross rail sort of pretty. Then we had an enormous amount of trouble with the 2' vertical! She ran out on it two times in a row, so with some frustrating correction, we finally managed to jump it. It wasn't pretty, just the opposite actually, but hey! she went over it! With a few minutes left, we threw together a small course, went through it, managed to jump it clean..ugly..but clean. I do have to give credit to Rosie though. Since we started training with Nancy (I also give a HUGE thanks to Nancy!), Rosie has cleaned up her jump and can jump more than two jumps in a row and never hit a pole! YAY ROSIE!!
        Anyway, Rosie and I have our ups and downs and as frustratingly annoying as they are, they come with the horse world territory. Everything can't and WON'T be perfect. But what would a horse be if they were perfect? Heck, what would a person be if they were perfect? The bond between horse and rider is a journey. At least, that's what I believe. If you didn't have something to work on, or frustrate you, how BORING would going out to the barn be if you knew what to expect?!

My First Show!!

     After one year of hard work to prepare Rosie for a show (plus about 14 more years of dreaming about showing), Rosie and I finally attended our first hunter/jumper show. On Wednesday evening, my trainer, Nancy, Rosie and I packed up and headed to the horse park. After 2 hours of elbow grease, shampoo, conditioner and dollops of bleach shampoo, Rosie gleamed as she backed out of the trailer and stepped down onto horse showing grounds!! After checking in and claiming a stall, I saddled Rosie up and we all headed down to the arena for our warm-up. The jumps were just as I had imagined them. Fresh coats of paint and new fake flowers adorned the jumps. Rosie and I had never jumped anything like this in our lives! At home, we jumped barrels and hay stacks. In the warm-up arena, a HUGE bay horse was jumping several large jumps which didn't help the feeling of "patheticness" as Nancy and I lowered a few of the jumps to cross rails and 2' verticals. After a somewhat frustrating start to warm-up, Rosie and I managed to pull ourselves together and finish on a good note. As the sun set on the Nampa foothills, Rosie settled in for the night and Nancy and I headed home.
             At 7:30 a.m. on Thursday, I greeted Rosie and threw her hay, which quieted her hungry nickers. While she ate, I groomed and braided her long mane into a gorgeous Spanish braid, which managed to stay in just long enough until we reached the show ring at around 8:30 a.m. Horses of all sizes and colors patiently waited for their class. As we waited for the Jumper ring to be set up, we watched the Hunters in the far ring clearing the course one by one with clean jumps. My first class was the 2' jumper; third on the list. My butterflies were fluttering so fast that they were literally bumping against the walls of my stomach. Finally, my class started and I was 4th on the list of competitors. As the third rider was finishing her course, Nancy and I walked to the gate of the arena. Nancy gave me a quick run-down about, "Keep your hands up, remember those half-halts and most importantly, have fun. You guys are gonna' do fine!" Those were the best words to hear before, "In the ring we now have # 152......" Rosie and I went through the course of 8 jumps with flying colors and a clear round. Then we went directly into the Jump-off. On jump # 5 we knocked down one pole. Disappointing but not heart-shattering. We finished and were congratulated with ample compliments and a HUGE smile from Nancy. The last competitor did her round and her jump-off and then we all waited to hear the placings. I GOT THIRD!! I could barely speak I was so amazed that Rosie and I did that well and on our first show!! Nancy picked up my yellow third place ribbon from the announcer's table and brought it back over to our "ring-side" set-up spot. Of course as a mother, Mom had to take a picture, I admit embarrassing at the time, but looking back through the pictures of the show, I'm happy to have it! There was a quick pause in between classes while the jumps were being raised another 3" for the (my) next class; the 2'3" jumpers! Butterflies were still goin' at it, but not as bad. I'd done it once and I could DEFINITELY do it again. I was second to go in the class order and again, Nancy walked me to the gate and said, "Good Luck" and then off I went. First round was clear, and again to the jump-off we went. This time, Rosie and I cleaned up some turns and pinched time where we could. Finishing clean, we waited again until our class finished. With a collective breath from all the riders in the class, we waited for our names as the placings were called out. Rider # 152 and Desert Rose...4th!!! We got 4th!!! This time, I went to collect my ribbon, and again Mom took a picture (which I am delighted to have..NOW.. and is actually one of my favorites.) With smiles and congratulations from friends and family, we headed back to the barn, packed up and headed home with grins on our faces!
             Now, Rosie and I are keeping in shape and preparing for the next show in August. I must make a special note to my friends Rebecca and her mom, Lisa, for trekking down from Idaho City to come watch me. I would also like to extend special thanks to Rebecca for taking some AMAZING shots of Rosie and me as we jumped our courses. My mom says that my great experience at a show could be a bad thing. The reason? Means I am hooked on showing and I am CERTAINLY gonna' do it again!!!!

Rosie

       I wanted a horse for as long as I could remember. I dreamt of having a stunning freisian or a prancing arabian, or something along that line. Finally on Friday, April 16, 2009, after nearly 14 years of constant asking, begging and waiting, my mom and I went to the Idaho Horse Expo to look for MY horse. Inside, I felt anxious, excited and uncontrollably happy. I remember stepping into the sale barn, people were roaming looking for prospects, horses were neighing nervously and some were being "test-driven" in the many round corrals. I scanned the sale program, looking at the multitudes of horses for sale, I chose one that sounded like a possibility and off we went to find his stall. The horse was a HUGE cremello paint. His black mane and tail had been primly shortened to the preferred show length and his goregous fur had been shaved for the summer. His magnificent head watched as I talked to the rugged cowboy selling him. When I finally did mount him in a round corral, I realized how ridiculous I looked in blue riding breeches, brown leather chaps and an McU T-shirt on this, without a doubt, western horse. Nonetheless, I rode him both directions, in all three gaits, and instantly knew he wasn't the one. I politely thanked the weatherbeaten cowboy and continued on. For three or four more hours, I conversed with nearly every owner and rode nearly every horse there. None "clicked" and I became more and more disapointed and worried that I would come home that evening back at Square numero uno. It was 5 o' clock in the evening, horses were being fed and blanketed for the night. As I sat at a table over looking the now empty round pens, feeling quite upset, a cute little brown and white paint horse was led in front of me. I watched her and then turned to my mom and asked, "Did I ride that one?" Mom said, "nope." I quickly got to my feet in a renewed hope that came with finding one more horse. Mom followed behind letting out a barely audible *sigh* no doubt thinking, "Great. Just as I thought we were leaving." I approached the owner and again began the routine of friendly hello's followed by an informative succesion of questions and answers about the horse. After some gentle persuading I was allowed to ride the little paint. Holding the lead rope to her halter, I threw on my old english saddle and mounted up in the deserted round corral. The sun radiated light on the plumes of dust billowing out behind us as we circled in the arena. The wind gently blew through the open-ended tent filled with the sounds of muffled chomping and contented and tired sighs of the stabled horses. I brought the little paint back to a walk and then stopped and just sat for a moment. Her ears shot foward and she let out a neigh to the silent world around us. It felt right. As the sun set and I leaned foward to wrap my arms around the little mare's neck. I quietly turned to the owner and said, "She's the one."
            It was a fairy tale ending to the day. Im not one to believe in decided fate but that one moment, I do believe was fate. I just happened to be sitting at that one table at the right time. She isn't a purebred friesian, or a stunning arabian with a gleaming coat. She is a stocky, brown and white paint with a little bit of black in her mane and tail and a cute brown spot right in the middle of her white back. Her gentle eyes clearly enjoy the rubs behind her ears and underneath her forelock. She is absolutely perfect.

        On Saturday she was checked by a vet and cleared with flying colors. Then on Sunday, I rode her once again but this time, she was MY little paint mare. Outside the round corral, mom signed the bill of sale, paid the $1300 for her and she officially became mine. My Desert Rose. My Rosie. My dream horse.