Thursdays with Gaits #2

Peter-John's Love · 08-07-2008, 11:51 AM

I sat upon the horse unsure of what to do. Gaits was a young "green broke" gelding at best and I was a "green horn" untrained in riding skills. I knew that I needed to draw on all my horse knowledge.

There was two groups of young riders.

The first group consisted of my friends, whose parents had money to pay for riding lessons. These girls wore fine clothes while mounted in English saddles. Ribbons covered their walls and trophies were placed on every piece of furniture. Parents drove them to meet finely groomed horses masked by the smell of expensive leather bridles and saddles. They would mount and ride, show off a fine trot while they would post in conjunction to the beat and then they would return home with yet another ribbon for the wall.

I was in the other group. I was possessed with a hunger to be near a horse. The phrase "from a broken home" meant there was no money for lessons or riding show horses. I was, therefore, in the self taught group. We were the ones who used the phrase with great pride "I stayed on!"

I looked everywhere for opportunities to ride or even just touch a horse. The smell of a horse was like a sweet perfume to my soul. I sought out ever way possible to learn all I could about horses.

There was TV. 3 channels and maybe a fuzzy fourth if you got the rabbit ears just right. Bonanza, four magnificent horses to watch once a week. The western movies, where men came out of a wood building and leaped onto a horse without ever checking the cinch and took off at a dead run. There were wagon trains and stage coaches that were pulled across the screen as my own mind was pulled to attention. There were Indians riding bareback on horses whose fantastic color showed clearly even on the small black and white screen. Roy Rogers on Trigger and the Lone Ranger on his High Ho Silver were etched into my mind of how to ride well.

Yearly, on the first Saturday in May, there was "The Derby". There were no VCRs, so I would arrange my life to be home in front of the TV to watch the Run for the Roses. This gave me a chance to let my heart run freely. The notes of My Old Kentucky Home gave elated anticipation of watching these animals run. After the horses were loaded into the starting gate, Willie Shoemaker would arch his body toward the horse's ears, with two hands clinching the reins..."Their Off". Those two minutes would have to sustain me for a year, so I breathed every hoof beat. My heart raced with them.

The channels would sign off every night to become a cracklely noised snow. Occasionally, every four years, they stayed on with "extended programming". This offered the joy of watching the Olympic equestrian highlights. One night at about 3 AM for a few minutes of pure delight, I was enthralled by watching this exceptional jumping. I observed horse and rider move as one, leaping over insurmountable barriers. Faults were added as a rail would fall, but those minutes were counted without fault.

With this meager taste of the horse kingdom, I looked elsewhere too.

I read every book in the library about horses. Each horse picture was etched into my mind to hold onto them.

I read and studied my own book that was inscribed "To my daughter who loves horses! Mama" The pages in it soon looked like an ancient manuscript from constant usage. I gleaned all I could from the pages.

Like a file cabinet in my mind, I filed every bit of information that I encountered.

Still I knew the greatest way to learn about these magnificent creatures was to see and be with real horses.

I would go to our small "zoo" and for hours just sit and watch Funny Money, the palomino horse that lived there. Every step he took and every minuet movement that he made was forever in my heart. The soft touch on his nose. The nicker from him when he would see me. The sound of hooves like drum beats called to me like rider and horse of eternal time. I inhaled the smells of horse intermingled with the aroma of popcorn.

The pony rides...My mother knew that the amusement rides in the park would be costly with four children, but on occasion we would go there. It was not the yells of delighted terror from the roller coaster that drew me close. I was drawn by the smell of horse. Ponies of all sizes, saddled and walking the oval track around and around. One, two or maybe even three workers lifting the child at the front of the line onto the saddle as a pony passed by and as it came back around a worker lifting that child back off. Fifteen steps and another child was placed onto the saddle. There was a well timed choreography to pony pace and worker moves. A few lucky kids got three laps before being lifted off. Shorty, the tiny brown and white pony, would speed up at the child placement point to hopefully upset the rhythm and maybe get in a lap without a child. Blackie, at the dismount area would try to exit to the pony holding area, a quick grab of her rein would keep her on track. Even if she managed to exit a stern following by the worker would be an encouragement to put her back into motion and she would resume the rides.

I would watch the extra unsaddled ponies playing in the pen, observed those hind foot cocked ponies resting at the holding area, and watch the antics of the ponies as they moved around the oval. I knew every pony by name and would pet them. The workers would let me feed them an occasional treat or even let me brush them.

On the days where we got to go on the rides, I would run to the pony ride line and anxiously wait my turn. I would hand them my one lap ticket. The workers all knew me. My hazel eyes beamed of horse love and from every fiber of my body oozed my total awe of just being close to the animals. From my soul, they could see that to me this was not just sitting on the saddle for a lap around the oval.

Over the years, I rode all of the ponies. As they plodded around the oval, I would memorize the unique feel of each pony. Especially on slow days, but even occasionally during the busy Saturday afternoon time, they would place me on Penny. She walked a little faster than the others and often had to stop impatiently waiting for the pony in front of her to move on. Her lack of patterned rhythm made it easy for them to "miss" lifting me off of her, so I could have extra laps. I was ever grateful to the workers for that.

There was the time, when I was six, that we camped for a week in the mountains. It was there, I experienced my first trail ride. Sugar was a young bay mare. Long braids hung by the sides of my face and her long black mane hung over her neck. My sister was intimidated by her horse and the rest of the family was just along for the ride; but for me, Sugar was a living dream.

The lead rider helped me up onto Sugar's back. I took the reins, but first I leaned forward and whispered to the horse "Thank you". It was a sun shiny morning and we started off on the trail. Every step joined Sugar's spirit deeper into my soul. When we came out from the woods of narrow pathed careful walking and emerged onto the meadow, Sugar stepped out of line and jogged past the other horses. She slowed before she reached the lead horse and I used my magnificent horse skills to pull her back into line. Several times with a cluck from me we went at this rapid paced jog. My braids and her mane flapped in the breeze with the same rhythm of movement. My heart knew great joy.

We rode several times that week and Sugar and I became a unit.

All through out the week, I would go over to the barn to groom and help with the horses. The staff loved my help. It would be years later that I understood why these horse people were so accommodating to me. First, horses are lots of work and every bit of help was welcomed. But the second and mostly, when you see a person with a spiritual heart for horses, seeing the horse and human come together is like watching a sunset of colors merging and flowing in a dance of wispy beauty. You never forget a beautiful sunset and you never forget in your own soul that spiritual union.

There are many people who make music, but then there are true musicians. There are many people who draw, but then there are true artists. There are many who have ridden a horse, but then there are those with a kindred horse soul.

I knew as I sat on Gaits that neither of us knew what we were doing. Even from using all this limited knowledge, the one thing I knew of horses, I knew that from the moment of the first touch between Gaits and myself, that we had been joined together. All our adventures would be experienced from that unique spiritual union.

Peter-John's Love · 08-07-2008, 01:44 PM

This is an on going story....hopefully one day it can become a book

Because of everything happening in our lives, I missed last couple of Thursdays...so in case people missed reading the first part...here is the link

Thursdays with Gaits #1

Also just to clarify...I am posting the next part of the story each Thursday - that is why the name "Thursdays with Gaits"

Because this is a work in progress...comments are appreciated...please let me know if you find any errors (spelling especially...as you all know my motto is "Bad Spellers of the World UNTIE"

). But feedback is encouraged to help improve this, just be kind...throwing veggies is fine (saves on the food budget

)

Stormy's Human · 08-07-2008, 02:14 PM

I loved it - sounds like your talking about me - I was always horse crazy as a kid - watched Sky King, My Friend Flicka, Fury, any and all programs with a horse (Bonaza same as you) my bike was my horse outside - but never owned or was really around horses until 7 yrs. ago when we moved to the country - at the ripe age of 50. Now - everyday is a learning experience and all I think about is horses. Horse crazy at 57 - never too late for your dreams!

kyspottedwalker · 08-07-2008, 02:24 PM

Thank you once again. I just absolutly love your stories. They make me tear up and smile all at one time along with goose bumps running up my arms.

STBlover · 08-07-2008, 02:35 PM

What a wonderfully written story!! It made my skin crawl & had to wipe some tears away... It made me think back of when I was in those same 'shoes'.
My mom always knew where to find me, she just had to follow the horse smell...

Let me know when that book is published. I WILL buy it!

southernkissed · 08-07-2008, 02:54 PM

I love your story, it makes me feel like I'm right there with you. I remember the days of only 2 channels and how much we loved the westerns and still do. I completely understand the horse soul and the feeling of being a team with this kind special creation from God.

99horses · 08-07-2008, 03:26 PM

If you publish a book I too will buy it. I loved the story and it almost makes you feel like you are right there and can see and feel it all. I love your stories.

Harmonyhill* · 08-07-2008, 09:41 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Peter-John's Love

But the second and mostly, when you see a person with a spiritual heart for horses, seeing the horse and human come together is like watching a sunset of colors merging and flowing in a dance of wispy beauty. You never forget a beautiful sunset and you never forget in your own soul that spiritual union.

That is just beautiful......

I love your stories.

Thank you!

horselady · 08-13-2008, 06:53 AM

Love it. You do have a way of telling the story like I were there with you. Can not wait for more.

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08-07-2008, 11:51 AM
Peter-John's Love Yearling Member Join Date: Apr 2007 Location: Missouri Posts: 756	Thursdays with Gaits #2 I sat upon the horse unsure of what to do. Gaits was a young "green broke" gelding at best and I was a "green horn" untrained in riding skills. I knew that I needed to draw on all my horse knowledge. There was two groups of young riders. The first group consisted of my friends, whose parents had money to pay for riding lessons. These girls wore fine clothes while mounted in English saddles. Ribbons covered their walls and trophies were placed on every piece of furniture. Parents drove them to meet finely groomed horses masked by the smell of expensive leather bridles and saddles. They would mount and ride, show off a fine trot while they would post in conjunction to the beat and then they would return home with yet another ribbon for the wall. I was in the other group. I was possessed with a hunger to be near a horse. The phrase "from a broken home" meant there was no money for lessons or riding show horses. I was, therefore, in the self taught group. We were the ones who used the phrase with great pride "I stayed on!" I looked everywhere for opportunities to ride or even just touch a horse. The smell of a horse was like a sweet perfume to my soul. I sought out ever way possible to learn all I could about horses. There was TV. 3 channels and maybe a fuzzy fourth if you got the rabbit ears just right. Bonanza, four magnificent horses to watch once a week. The western movies, where men came out of a wood building and leaped onto a horse without ever checking the cinch and took off at a dead run. There were wagon trains and stage coaches that were pulled across the screen as my own mind was pulled to attention. There were Indians riding bareback on horses whose fantastic color showed clearly even on the small black and white screen. Roy Rogers on Trigger and the Lone Ranger on his High Ho Silver were etched into my mind of how to ride well. Yearly, on the first Saturday in May, there was "The Derby". There were no VCRs, so I would arrange my life to be home in front of the TV to watch the Run for the Roses. This gave me a chance to let my heart run freely. The notes of My Old Kentucky Home gave elated anticipation of watching these animals run. After the horses were loaded into the starting gate, Willie Shoemaker would arch his body toward the horse's ears, with two hands clinching the reins..."Their Off". Those two minutes would have to sustain me for a year, so I breathed every hoof beat. My heart raced with them. The channels would sign off every night to become a cracklely noised snow. Occasionally, every four years, they stayed on with "extended programming". This offered the joy of watching the Olympic equestrian highlights. One night at about 3 AM for a few minutes of pure delight, I was enthralled by watching this exceptional jumping. I observed horse and rider move as one, leaping over insurmountable barriers. Faults were added as a rail would fall, but those minutes were counted without fault. With this meager taste of the horse kingdom, I looked elsewhere too. I read every book in the library about horses. Each horse picture was etched into my mind to hold onto them. I read and studied my own book that was inscribed "To my daughter who loves horses! Mama" The pages in it soon looked like an ancient manuscript from constant usage. I gleaned all I could from the pages. Like a file cabinet in my mind, I filed every bit of information that I encountered. Still I knew the greatest way to learn about these magnificent creatures was to see and be with real horses. I would go to our small "zoo" and for hours just sit and watch Funny Money, the palomino horse that lived there. Every step he took and every minuet movement that he made was forever in my heart. The soft touch on his nose. The nicker from him when he would see me. The sound of hooves like drum beats called to me like rider and horse of eternal time. I inhaled the smells of horse intermingled with the aroma of popcorn. The pony rides...My mother knew that the amusement rides in the park would be costly with four children, but on occasion we would go there. It was not the yells of delighted terror from the roller coaster that drew me close. I was drawn by the smell of horse. Ponies of all sizes, saddled and walking the oval track around and around. One, two or maybe even three workers lifting the child at the front of the line onto the saddle as a pony passed by and as it came back around a worker lifting that child back off. Fifteen steps and another child was placed onto the saddle. There was a well timed choreography to pony pace and worker moves. A few lucky kids got three laps before being lifted off. Shorty, the tiny brown and white pony, would speed up at the child placement point to hopefully upset the rhythm and maybe get in a lap without a child. Blackie, at the dismount area would try to exit to the pony holding area, a quick grab of her rein would keep her on track. Even if she managed to exit a stern following by the worker would be an encouragement to put her back into motion and she would resume the rides. I would watch the extra unsaddled ponies playing in the pen, observed those hind foot cocked ponies resting at the holding area, and watch the antics of the ponies as they moved around the oval. I knew every pony by name and would pet them. The workers would let me feed them an occasional treat or even let me brush them. On the days where we got to go on the rides, I would run to the pony ride line and anxiously wait my turn. I would hand them my one lap ticket. The workers all knew me. My hazel eyes beamed of horse love and from every fiber of my body oozed my total awe of just being close to the animals. From my soul, they could see that to me this was not just sitting on the saddle for a lap around the oval. Over the years, I rode all of the ponies. As they plodded around the oval, I would memorize the unique feel of each pony. Especially on slow days, but even occasionally during the busy Saturday afternoon time, they would place me on Penny. She walked a little faster than the others and often had to stop impatiently waiting for the pony in front of her to move on. Her lack of patterned rhythm made it easy for them to "miss" lifting me off of her, so I could have extra laps. I was ever grateful to the workers for that. There was the time, when I was six, that we camped for a week in the mountains. It was there, I experienced my first trail ride. Sugar was a young bay mare. Long braids hung by the sides of my face and her long black mane hung over her neck. My sister was intimidated by her horse and the rest of the family was just along for the ride; but for me, Sugar was a living dream. The lead rider helped me up onto Sugar's back. I took the reins, but first I leaned forward and whispered to the horse "Thank you". It was a sun shiny morning and we started off on the trail. Every step joined Sugar's spirit deeper into my soul. When we came out from the woods of narrow pathed careful walking and emerged onto the meadow, Sugar stepped out of line and jogged past the other horses. She slowed before she reached the lead horse and I used my magnificent horse skills to pull her back into line. Several times with a cluck from me we went at this rapid paced jog. My braids and her mane flapped in the breeze with the same rhythm of movement. My heart knew great joy. We rode several times that week and Sugar and I became a unit. All through out the week, I would go over to the barn to groom and help with the horses. The staff loved my help. It would be years later that I understood why these horse people were so accommodating to me. First, horses are lots of work and every bit of help was welcomed. But the second and mostly, when you see a person with a spiritual heart for horses, seeing the horse and human come together is like watching a sunset of colors merging and flowing in a dance of wispy beauty. You never forget a beautiful sunset and you never forget in your own soul that spiritual union. There are many people who make music, but then there are true musicians. There are many people who draw, but then there are true artists. There are many who have ridden a horse, but then there are those with a kindred horse soul. I knew as I sat on Gaits that neither of us knew what we were doing. Even from using all this limited knowledge, the one thing I knew of horses, I knew that from the moment of the first touch between Gaits and myself, that we had been joined together. All our adventures would be experienced from that unique spiritual union. __________________ Love is a visible gift of God like when you see Peter-John's and Darlin's souls touch Last edited by Peter-John's Love : 08-07-2008 at 03:19 PM.

08-07-2008, 01:44 PM
Peter-John's Love Yearling Member Join Date: Apr 2007 Location: Missouri Posts: 756	This is an on going story....hopefully one day it can become a book Because of everything happening in our lives, I missed last couple of Thursdays...so in case people missed reading the first part...here is the link Thursdays with Gaits #1 Also just to clarify...I am posting the next part of the story each Thursday - that is why the name "Thursdays with Gaits" Because this is a work in progress...comments are appreciated...please let me know if you find any errors (spelling especially...as you all know my motto is "Bad Spellers of the World UNTIE" ). But feedback is encouraged to help improve this, just be kind...throwing veggies is fine (saves on the food budget ) __________________ Love is a visible gift of God like when you see Peter-John's and Darlin's souls touch Last edited by Peter-John's Love : 08-07-2008 at 01:51 PM.

08-07-2008, 02:14 PM
Stormy's Human Long Yearling Join Date: Sep 2007 Location: Seville, Florida Posts: 1,230	I loved it - sounds like your talking about me - I was always horse crazy as a kid - watched Sky King, My Friend Flicka, Fury, any and all programs with a horse (Bonaza same as you) my bike was my horse outside - but never owned or was really around horses until 7 yrs. ago when we moved to the country - at the ripe age of 50. Now - everyday is a learning experience and all I think about is horses. Horse crazy at 57 - never too late for your dreams!

08-07-2008, 02:24 PM
kyspottedwalker Halter broke Join Date: May 2008 Location: Clarkson, ky Posts: 150	Thank you once again. I just absolutly love your stories. They make me tear up and smile all at one time along with goose bumps running up my arms. __________________ www.freewebs.com/blueclearsky/ Life ain't always beautiful, but it's a beautiful RIDE!

08-07-2008, 02:35 PM
STBlover Newborn Member Join Date: Mar 2008 Posts: 33	What a wonderfully written story!! It made my skin crawl & had to wipe some tears away... It made me think back of when I was in those same 'shoes'. My mom always knew where to find me, she just had to follow the horse smell... Let me know when that book is published. I WILL buy it!

08-07-2008, 02:54 PM
southernkissed Halter broke Join Date: Jun 2008 Location: diamond p longhorn ranch, texas Posts: 120	I love your story, it makes me feel like I'm right there with you. I remember the days of only 2 channels and how much we loved the westerns and still do. I completely understand the horse soul and the feeling of being a team with this kind special creation from God.

08-07-2008, 03:26 PM
99horses Greenbroke Member Join Date: Jun 2007 Location: Pennsylvania Posts: 3,226	If you publish a book I too will buy it. I loved the story and it almost makes you feel like you are right there and can see and feel it all. I love your stories. __________________ Janet I'm your huckleberry.-Doc Holliday

08-13-2008, 06:53 AM
horselady Greenbroke Member Join Date: Aug 2007 Location: albany new york Posts: 3,316	Love it. You do have a way of telling the story like I were there with you. Can not wait for more. __________________ www.rainbow-horse-retirement.com We love and take care of your companion for the remainder of his lifetime