Grandma came to pick up her groomed dog and left with our kid so we mounted up before the sun went down.
Slickers respectively donned to repell threatenIng rain, we hit the nearby quarry. Having trotted the mile to reach the bush trails that surround the oasis, and then canter said trails like prancing Peppi Le Pues, the boys were only too happy to scale the steep declines into the cool waters.
After some exploring of the pits and dunes, we climbed out to the most perfect stretch of dirt road on which to stretch their legs. Max suffers from "Disappearing Bum Syndrome". That's to say that once he realises he just might be left behind, it suddenly becomes a Race Of Wild Aandon to catch up, at all costs. We took this opportunity to work on Politely Cantering In Hand While Abreast. This is quite a feat with Bill The Stinker, who likes to egg his competit-er
companion along. We did manage 3 trips back and forth, with improvement every time. Max never did quite develop trust with one shadowy spot along the road and insisted on throwing himself over the massive (6") hole, mid-canter, each run. Whoop!
Back into the bush trails after that, Max proving his growing bravery by leading the (cantering) charge. He did better than when he's bringing up the rear, probably due to his taskmaster not requiring a quality trot before allowing departure to catch up, again with a quality canter. The trails ejected us onto this lovely swath harrowed ever-so-kindly by a farmer around the perimeter of his gorgeous wheat field. We quickly took up a sedate trot through the soft turf, approx a mile around to the another road. It was quite a nice bubble in time, sky darkening above, but withholding it's rain for us, the soft green wheat carries sing the bottom of my right boot as I rode the track beside it, my horse jogging so beautifully that I could comfortably sit into it and absorb the motion, my hubby and his steed jogging right along with us in companionable silence.
The evening ended with the most glorious red sunset we've seen this year, and just a whisper of a tall, singing rainbow.
Today's ride was more about exercising the brain than the body. We set out on a 6 mile round trip, toward the dreaded highway. We've been working Max's confidence with traffic, and with exception to one knob who blazed us on the gravel doin 100kms (really asshole?), he's been doing very well with sharing the road with polite motorists. The road allowance that runs in front of the Penn, parallel to #7 hwy was our ultimate goal and test of mettle, at exactly the 1/2 way point of our journey. His head came up as we approached the moving cars, but came back down as he realized they weren't headed for him.
Setting foot on the grassy stretch, with cars and semis zipping to and from him ignited his light, alright. Our dressage coach would have delighted at the airs we were pulling! Beautiful, deep trot with hinds curled RIGHT under us, neck arched as tight as it could possibly be, and the best half-pass at a trot we've never before attempted! Even as I admired his development, I tried to push the right buttons to undo it, to get him to relax. It did work for about a third of a mile before he just couldn't handle it anymore. Rearing and backing down the other side of the ditch, he very clearly said 'I'm done!" Sissy that I am, I conceded and stepped down. Not that I couldn't use the walk, but I'm just not sure where his limits are... Does he know enough not to flip over onto me? Didn't want to chance it and ruin all the good we have. He did stand very politely for me to remount once we were pointed back home, and continued on like nobody's business.
Boys.
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