Home on the range
Don't think because I never post to this blog that I have no life! Well, really I don't but I'm very busy at not having one. Still working at Hunter/Jumpers-R-US. Some days are great, some not so much, other days--lets just leave it at that. Though I've been riding a lot more this summer and fall on my own horses I am beginning to feel landlocked. Attempted to ride to the trails at Alum Creek with my reluctant riding buddies in tow (they have no faith in me). Alum Creek has a reputation for being very challenging and very muddy--not for the faint at heart--which us gals are.

Here's one way to get to the Alum trails and the story of our adventure:
After encouraging our horses that yes, (even though we're lying) it's really ok to cross the highway which borders the front of the barn where the traffic averages 50 to 65 mph. we hurry across the slippery pavement and ride along the grassy berm of the road with corn rows flanking our right, speeding traffic to our left. We then turn right and ride between the same cornfield which is now adjacent to someone's very nice yard where they always have a little brush pile smoldering and this day is no exeception. My horse Wyatt and I ride by this all the time but typical for Wyatt, he tries to capitalize on the FIRE! hazard and glues his back hooves into the ground so he can hopefully surprise me while he whips around in a type of rollback manuever, which will allow him to head back to the barn at full speed. Of course, this same manuever he finds he's incapable of doing when you ask him. It doesn't help that Lady, my arab, can see us from the pasture, though it's quite far in the distance, and we can hear her calling and calling for us to "come back, come back oh, please come back!" I'm always prepared for this scenerio to come up so Wyatt's ploy is foiled yet again as I remind him that ok, we'll either go round and round in tight, uncomfortable circles until we proceed ahead or if we do go back you'll work your horsey BEhind off.
Anyway, we ride along until we get to the treeline where we turn and try find some break in the corn rows to get to a meadow, while at the same time hoping we can avoid that very deep hole that we can't see but know the estimated location of (could that be a fox den, or maybe something bigger?). We manage to locate a possible break and away we go crashing through the corn stalks which our horses have now learned to grab and carry as a souveniers everytime we ride here. Ok, so that now we're in the meadow with our horses still carrying two to three foot long corn stalks in their mouths, we mosey along the wide grassy paths cut through wide groups of trees and brush and eventually arrive along the property owner's drive. Here we take a small feeder road which will then take us briefly to the southern edge of Kilbourne on SR 24. We make it to the entrance off Old State and step about three feet onto the woodsy trail which is pretty, but abruptly descends down into a ravine. Never Mind! Although my horse was rather excited about being in the woods again as he is supposed to be a trail horse, I try to contain his excitement while we all have to manuever in a very small space and pick around in the undergrowth just to get ourselves turned around again, which is an adventure in itself considering my claustraphobia and agoraphobia thrown into the mix. Wyatt is rather disappointed about the human whimp factor. Treasure and Dancer--well they just seem a little perplexed but obediently await the next command from their mounts--which is of course, mission aborted, c'mon, lets go.

So, back we go the way we came and as we arrive at the driveway that we will follow back to the meadow, the property owner has saddled up and is just getting on her pretty red quarter horse to go for her ride. My friends and their horses want to stop and chat, but Wyatt has no time for that. From his perspective he didn't expend any energy picking his way along a trail so he may as well use it to get home faster. None of this nonsense of walking along pleasantly and gawking at all the nice scenery because he's seen it before. While my friends are shooting the breeze with their unsoured and perfectly behaved horses, mine is prancing, pawing, and jumping up on his front feet trying to torque around so that maybe he will lose me. Wyatt and I end up just turning round and round in tight little circles once again while my friends finish their unhurried conversation. Eventually Wyatt decides it's too much bother to fight and is ok on the way back home, but I ride him a little bit longer when we get to the paddock at our barn, just to add my 2 cents.

Now if my friends and I could get it together, we could get someone to trailer us to the better parts of the creek, but our schedules hardly ever mesh. Oftentimes we just miss each other when we've come to the barn to ride. We are so busy with the demands of the non-equestrian world. Trying to fit our horses into our schedules more often than not is a stolen moment from family, jobs and other responsibilites. There are people involved in our lives who are also competing for our time and attention. Often will come a reminder, sometime subtle sometimes not, that they think we are being selfish, that they are not as worthy of our time, we maybe prefer our expensive, high maintanence "pets" over them. The guilt factor adds its influence to the not-enough-time-as-it-is factor, always worming its way into our conscience and warrented or not, imposing a sense of urgency to our equine activity which is supposed to be our way to relax and slow down in a hyper-drive society.

In closing, what could be viewed as a disappointing ride since we had to abort our plans, was not disappointing at all I remind myself: I spent time with my horse and my horse friends and took in some beautiful scenery, found yet another way to get to the trails which opens up new possibilities, found out what my limits and Wyatt's are and am encouraged to find a way to minimize them. I had to be creative, take chances and be brave. These are are valuable pursuits and allow for not just wasting time riding around and having fun and ignoring responsibilities, but avenues towards self-examination and improvement. I am still feeling landlocked, but rather than giving up and accepting it, I vow to continue to find new ways to pick my way around the barriers and perhaps new paths will open up. I have my horses and my horsey freinds to thank for this.