Christmas on Horseback

Photo By Hubertushof

In 2008, my family and I moved to Vienna, Austria, where we lived for two years. I soon found a small barn that I liked, and there I started riding a somewhat wild pony, Prince Charming (see left). He was a ton of fun, but he would take off all the time with me on his back and just run. He may have been small, but he could run. Just the tiniest noise or movement would set him off; I would feel him scoop his hind legs under himself and then he was gone. We would race around and around the arena, he never getting tired and me secretly enjoying the thrill of the speed. We made a good pair.

Around Christmas every year, the barn would put on a Christmas show. There would be cookies and hot apple cider, lots of people all in good spirits. The riders would participate in Quadrilles, sometimes in twos, fours, tens. That's right, tens. For one quadrille, all the kids from the barn would participate on their ponies. We would ride simple patterns to cheery Christmas music, all dressed in shades of red and green. This quadrille was always the highlight as well as the most chaotic part of the day.

I, of course, rode Prince Charming. The crowd and music would drive him crazy. We all had to go at the same speed, and the other ponies all trotted along at a comfortable pace. I was sitting on top my little one pulling on the reins as hard as I could, doing everything in my power to keep him from exploding. It would work, until someone in the crowd laughed too hard or another pony sneezed. Prince Charming would tear off, causing half the other ponies to do the same. Pretty soon the whole arena was filled with galloping ponies and terrified kids. Our trainer would have to step in and bring everybody back to order, and we would exit the arena as fast as we could. The crowd. of course, loved it, and there was no doubt in anybody's mind that the same quadrille would be performed the next year. To tell the truth, I miss it
.

From Sunny Skies to Snowy Rides

I'm always cold. I'll be at the barn at 8 am shivering in my down jacket, complaining about how freezing I am. People laugh and say that I live in Southern California, I don't even know what cold is. That's where they're mistaken.

When I was ten, my parents and I moved to Vienna, Austria. We hadn't even moved into our new apartment yet when I started barn hunting. It didn't take long until I found the perfect place; The kids were nice, the teacher was great, and the horses were fun. It didn't seem all that different from the barn I came from.

Photo from Wikimedia Commons

Needless to say, our first winter in Austria came as a bit of a shock to me. At first, I loved the cold. I loved the rain and the snow. My barn had two indoor arenas, so I didn't see how it could be a problem. After about a month, however, I started missing California's blue skies and sunshine.

Riding in the cold presented more challenges than I expected. Grooming and tacking up was made difficult by the fact that my fingers were numb, and I could hardly hold on to a hoof-pick let alone actually pick a horse's feet. The horses were always frisky in the cold, and the loud noise of raindrops on the tin roof of the arena didn't do much to calm them down. Every now and then a crack of thunder would ring through the sky, causing all the horses in the arena to take off galloping in different directions.

That wasn't even the worst part though. The worst part was getting off. Your body would generally warm up pretty quickly riding. That is, every part of your body except for your toes. I remember dismounting my pony and trying so hard to land gently on the floor. Every now and then, however,  I would swing off with too much force, and land hard, right on my toes. I remember feeling sure every time that happened that that was it - one of my toes had fallen off. My eyes would fill with tears and I would bite my lip in pain. Then it would go away, just like that. I would later on discover that all my ten toes were still, in fact, all attached.

The hardships of that day were soon forgotten, and an hour later I was already looking forward to my lesson the next day.

Horsing Around

Photo by Rison Naness

Usually, I'm all business when it comes to riding. Usually. This weekend I did some horsing around. On Saturday, I rode my friends old horse, Sly (see right), bareback.

I hadn't ridden bareback since my jumper days, and it felt great to just get on and mess around. Back when my parents and I still lived in Austria I would do things like that all the time. I rode a little black and white pony, who I would fall off at least once a week, and my friends and I were always getting on without saddles, trying to keep our balance as we jumped over cavalettis. Before that, even, my friend and I used to double up on her pony bareback. We were both so small that we could fit comfortably onto her mare's back together. In fact, I doubt she even realized there were two people sitting on her instead of just one!

Riding Sly on Saturday brought back all those memories, and reminded me why the seven year old Stella wanted to take up riding in the first place - to have fun with the horses. And I still do. Little did I know then that dressage would become my passion!