I have barely posted anything these last few weeks. That is partly cause I have done barely anything with the horses. (Yes, I know. I fail.)
Well in an effort to make it up to you let me share with you this blog. Its my writing blog.
Also let me share a story I wrote. Its short.
The Big Top
I stood fiddling with the leather popper on the end of the lead rope, shifting from one foot to another and trying not to listen to just how loud the applause was from the crowd inside the Big Top. Someone came up and tapped me on the shoulder and said that I was up next. They said “Don’t be nervous, just let the Big Top work its magic.”
I took a deep breath and looked up toward the horizon. There lay the bold and beautiful Colorado Mountains. I was here, finally.
I heard Neil Pye introduce me to the crowd and I clucked to my partner at the end of the lead rope. We took the few steps into the arena and all my worries washed away. I took in the crowd with a smile as I took off the black rope halter after giving my Haflinger a big hug. River stood by me, waiting patiently for my signal.
We started out simple with some Stick To Me at the walk, trot and canter that transformed gracefully into circles that began close and slowly spiraled outward till River was cantering along the rail. I showed him with my body language to weave through the comes that had been placed along the long end of the fence. With only a couple steps back and forward, River followed my body and weaved the cones to perfection. The applause resonated off of the ceiling
and the walls.
Then I raised my energy and clicked a bit and River sprinted at a full gallop along the outskirts of the arena. After one lap I lifted my stick ever so slightly in front of him and he came to a sliding stop, causing the curling and twisting dust to envelope him and the audience near him in a large cloud. The applause seemed to echo.
I waited for a few moments and then as if in slow motion I saw River’s proud face emerge from the dust, his ears pricked asking me what was next. I welcomed him back close to me and gave him a small kiss on the nose before swinging up onto his back. He turned his head to look at me through his thick forelock. I gave him a small smile before asking him forward. He took off at a graceful trot. He arched his neck and picked up his feet like he was a large fancy dressage champion, descended from generations of careful Warmblood breeding rather than a Haflinger pony abandoned at birth by his mother and by many people after that.
We performed a number of figures, including the Clover Leaf pattern, the piaffe and a sliding stop. I noticed a group of 4 girls who looked about 13, 14 years old sitting by the fence watching us with big eyes.
We ended the performance with spinning around both ways. As River laid down after bowing, the applause was almost deafening. I looked all around me, soaking it in.
We were here.
The magic of the Big Top did work.