More Memoirs
I met some really cool people at the All Florida Meet.
I rode with a lady from a New York Hunt who rode her Connemara gelding. She’s had him since he was two months old.
They really had a great friendship. It was obvious they both looked out for each other.
Kathleen is her alias.
Kathleen had the BEST “something” in her flask. It wasn’t a recipe, it was neat…………..but, I can’t remember what it was. I’ve done some computer searches since then to find out what it might have been, but nothing sounds like “it”………………such sadness…
It was some sort of an Irish liqueur (I think)…………….honey tasting-ish…………….one word name………………can’t remember it for the life of me.
But whatever it was, that libation was good……………..it kind of slapped you on one side of your face going down & then felt bad for you while you were trying to catch your breath and were temporarily blinded with tearing eyes.
Did I mention that it was good?
It made my Black Russians seem like a toddler’s YooHoo drink box.
Not only did Kathleen have an incredible gelding and mysterious flask-content, but she was a contemporary……………….and a much better rider than I am……………….everyone is.
To the exaspiration of our Field Master, we had a blast talking about similar but different pasts. But the Field Master never got tired of holding up her index finger and glaring at us pointedly.
I was in my best (worst) library-mode……………………….(I giggle in libraries with no control).
Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh……………
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Then there was another incredible woman from a Virginia Hunt, on a big gray, riding sidesaddle!
Sidesaddle? SIDESADDLE!
One less stirrup than the rest of us!
She was wearing a period habit and a riding apron to make things even more cumbersome and difficult————–plus, a pretty derby———–(which had NO impact-rating from the ASTM/SEI, whatsoever, I might add).
They were a beautiful sight!
…………………AND she stayed on! Wow!!!
I was impressed!
Only one stirrup…………………………….(and my toes repeatedly go numb in two stirrups, because I am continually so panicked and have them jammed down so hard in both irons).
I asked her which Hunt Club she Hunted with in Virginia. She mentioned about three different names. Wow.
I can’t recall which names she said, I was in awe……………………….the state of Virginia is like the Mother-Ship for Fox Hunting………………I’m sure I was wearing my best slack-jawed, dialated-dull-eyed expression………………….and there was probably a little bit of drool involved.
I was over-whelmed.
She said she’d been Hunting side-saddle since she was eight.
I think that’s when I started twitching a bit.
When I was eight, I had just gotten my donkey, Phineas.
I was regularly being dragged by him up and down the sides of Penitentiary Gully at that age.
(…………….it’s since become an Ohio State Park and has had a name-change/face-lift to Penitentiary Glen……………..but, more on that later.)
But side-saddle at eight years old?
I’m still twitching and drooling at the thought……..
The two of them were just amazing to watch.
Riding sidesaddle is truly an art.