The lovely and talented Lauren Sprieser, my fellow blogger and online friend, is trying to tell us all that the seasonal relocation of her barn to Florida ain’t all that it’s cracked up to be.
Greetings sports fans from the frozen tundra that is Vermont. I continue to hibernate, coffee cup in hand, looking out the window, thinking about going to the barn to watch the girl ride, but it’s really cold!
The girl continues to put in long hours at the barn, ever the faithful and committed young horseperson. I shamefully admit that over the past several weeks, I have only done drive-bys—picking the girl up at the end of the day, not even getting out of the car. The only real barn time I’ve put in is my regular Saturday afternoon barn chore shift.
The holidays are over and we’re settling in for our remaining five months of winter. As I read about Lauren’s seasonal relocation to Florida, I assessed my own state of mind and find that I am (surprisingly) OK. There will be no trip to Ocala this year. There are no business trips on the horizon to warm weather locales. It’s just winter as far as the eye can see. It’s cool. I can handle it. Just check on me every couple of weeks, OK?
‘Tis the time of year when people give you a gift, and you don’t have one to give to them. When you receive a pink fuzzy sweater that you’d like to exchange. And perhaps there’s a coffee maker, a box of chocolates or a bottle of wine you’re thinking of regifting.
How’s a polite barn girl to handle these situations? It’s also the time of year when we want to thank the folks who work hard all year to care for our beasts—the barn workers, the trainer, the farrier, the vet. What’s an appropriate gift?
Pink’s not really my color…..
Each horse show season, if you’re lucky, you’ll witness a few golden moments. The short-stirrup rider at her first horse show winning a ribbon. The kid who never pins finally getting a blue ribbon. The junior in her last year of eligibility qualifying for the finals. These moments send a shiver up your spine and bring a tear to the eye. They’re all the more poignant when you know the kid, the family, the trainer or the horse involved.
Today is August 2. The fat lady is not singing. Elvis is still in the building. However, many of my fellow Vermont barn mates are lamenting the inevitable end of summer. I will not tolerate this heresy.
It’s not atypical. Summer in Vermont is short. Winter is long. Riding outside is a precious gift, one that we lose in mid-November if we’re lucky. We won’t get to experience outdoor riding again until late April or early May.
We’re back from the summer GMHA hunter/jumper horse show. You’ll remember that our first outing of the season to the lovely grounds in Woodstock, Vt., was deemed an “estrogen nightmare” by my husband. He didn’t make out too much better at this horse show. When our StoneHaven group gathered for dinner on Saturday night, we numbered 15: 13 women, plus Paul and the boy. When the other dads finally showed up on Sunday, they got an earful from Paul.
Recently returned from a horse show, I reviewed the pictures I had taken. I was planning to share them with the usual suspects: grandparents, friends, the owner of the horse we’re leasing, the parent of the other rider I had taken to the show, etc.
I downloaded the photos from the borrowed camera (a very nice Cannon) and was excited to view the results of four days of snapping away. I knew the results would be good, because the mom who owns this camera always comes back from horse shows with excellent pictures.
Our trip to Northampton, Mass., is over, and we’re back from the 24th Annual Northeast Benefit Horse Show. The girls (Samantha and Rachel) started off their show week by competing in the “Hopeful Jumper” division. What a great name. These two 12-year-old girls couldn’t have been more thrilled to compete in the jumper ring. Many riders were feeling hopeful—there were 29 entries in each class.
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