Someone Make It STOP...

No sooner am I thinking maybe, just maybe we're heading out of the storm, than it blows back in. Darling had a friend come over and spend the night this weekend. When I left the house to bring her home, it had just begun to snow. 15 minutes later when I returned, the ground was white...again...

The roads were, in my estimation, a bit too icy to travel this weekend so Steve Holt! and I stayed home. On Saturday I led him to the round pen and it was, as I'd suspected, hard packed and slick. As such, I didn't spend anytime warming him up. Being brilliant like that, I then decided to go ahead and climb on his back. Now tell me, does this make sense to you? Too slick to lunge, but not to slick to climb on? Some days my thought process amazes even me. However, up and down I went, three times, and on the third time I asked him to walk once around. Because he has no whoa, we made an extra lap before coming to a stop. That was good enough, I decided, as neither one of us appeared to be real comfortable on slick footing. Not to mention, I need to get that whoa button working.

Sunday's training was nothing more than going for a walk. We went behind the barn and crossed the creek for the first time...running water a foot deep is not an issue, happily. We walked through the neighbor's field and out to the road where he was mildly on edge, but whether it was the new place, sights, sounds or just the howling wind, I did not know. I led him 20 feet down the road, then back into the snow packed field which hadn't had any horses, people or even dogs in it since the snow began. It was just white, crisp and deep. Steve Holt! decided it was perfect for a snow bath and dropped down to roll. First one side, getting up to shake, then a moment later the other side. This time shaking took all four feet into the air and he lept sideways, finding himself at the end of his rope. He threw me a dirty look and tried again to jump and play, but again found himself with a mother not allowing any fun. He's a good boy, and minded his manners as we finished walking home.

Darling and I walked down to the neighbor's arena both days so that she could ride Sandy. Snow melt has made a mess in there, so only half is usable. Half is enough, though, to learn to lope. The lighting is poor, as always in this particular arena, but you can see a happy girl on 'her' mustang. The wind was blowing and the arena door was slapping around; you can see Sandy spook at one point but Darling just sat and rode through it. I was very pleased with them both; she kept him relaxed and he decided there really wasn't much to get upset over.