Well, I got “that” one out of the way pretty quickly.

I “was” worried about what would happen when four artificial joints splatted with their geriatric owner on the ground, from the saddle of a tall horse.Phew!  Don’t have to worry about THAT one anymore.

What a relief.

 

That worry was weighing on me……………….but not anymore!!!

So, we’re good?

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This last weekend I went trail riding with Lola and Sapphire (pssst……………….Sapphire is not her real name…………………..it’s an alias). Sapphire was on her new, young horse—–NewCastle.  Lola was doing me a favor and was riding Ruby (my younger Clyde).  I was on Violet.

Originally we were each going to ride the other Clydesdale.  But when Lola arrived, Ruby was doing donuts in the front yard all by her lonesome and she looked like the WORST choice for a safe/controlled ride.  Lola was originally going to ride Violet (as Violet has her very own insulated, embroidered, double-stitched bag of tricks, which she calculate-ably pulls out when it’s least expected and best exploited).

BUT, THIS morning Violet stood there looking clean and demure;  while Ruby was acting like an ass doing cartwheels all by herself all around us…………….any logical, wise person would say “no” to the horse doing wheelies and “yes” to the quiet one standing/tied off at the hitching post.

Which is exactly what I did……………..I fobbed my idiot, donut-spinning mare off on my friend Lola……………..and I took the sensibly, quiet Clydesdale………………the steady-Eddie……………….or so I thought…………………Dah…Dah…Daaaaaaah!!!

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Now you imaginary people in this cloud-thing named Pascal (with whom I journal) might be saying:  Hey!  You dumped the problem horse on your friend, Lola.

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And I would say:   Yes…  Yes, I did.  And I would additionally point out that I did it without any hesitation whatsoever.

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But………………..to my defense, Lola is an impeccable rider.  And she’s the one who rides Jezebel.  And Ruby ain’t no Jezebel………………by a long shot.

So, tra-la………………..into the woods we go.

All was fine for quite a while.  All was beautiful.  Mother Nature’s flora and fauna was on display, and NewCastle didn’t turn himself inside out once!  Sapphire has a good seat (she’s a very graceful rider), and NewCastle has a kind eye (both very good things in horsemanship).

He didn’t flinch with the Saturday morning’s multitude of mountain/x-country bike riders that were out there.  The stealth-bombers on two wheels.  Before you know it they are whizzing past you, and you didn’t even know they were there to begin with…………………….(memo to self:   next ride, take an old broom-stick.  One especially designed for the spokes of the silent/bi-wheeled/bi-peds.  HA!  Cardio This!!!)

But NewCastle has now been indoctrinated to multiple-geared bicycles.  Oh, but wait, there’s more.

Violet and Ruby are doing their plow-horse mosey.  The girls are completely non-plussed about bounding deer.  The deer are actually constantly bouncing in and out of their pasture at home on a daily basis anyway.  But NewCastle, maybe, not so much…………………..but again he was a trooper and marched right by those does who would stand “hidden” in the palmettos and stare at us as we would go by.

Phew, no wild boar sightings today.  (Why do some of the “wild” boar look a lot like Hampshire pigs?)

Then there were the well-head pump-houses.  They were semi-acceptable to NewCastle………………..unless the pumps would switch on just as we were passing.  But honestly, that would be expected from any horse.  But not our semi-comatose, work horses.  They continued on with their mosey.  NewCastle followed suit.  (Did I mention he’s half Clydesdale too?  The other half is Thoroughbred.  Just a little hotter. HA!)  So we had this Trio-Clydesdale-Thing going for our trail ride.

But then…………………………..Dah…Dah…Daaaaaaah!!!!!!!!!!

Violet pins her ears at baby-NewsCastle!  For No Reason!  No Reason At All!

Soooooooooooo, I smack her between the ears with my hand (because I had dropped my crop in the front yard at home)-(maybe not the best of choices)-(probably not the best of choices).

Violet decides to transform from her work-horse-mosey-mode to cutting-horse/barrel-racer………………..

 

Sadness for me.

 

Somewhere in the 540 degree spin—–I came off.  Just like a germ in a centrifuge.

I’d like to say it was at the 420 degree mark.  Or maybe smack on the 360 degree point………………….it was probably around the 198 degree zone………………I don’t know, I was flying. And then I splatted.

So I got that one out of the way.

Sapphire catches Violet (who immediately transformed back to her previous mosey)-(Sapphire is agile with long legs—–good for a runway model, but even better for reaching high stirrups).  I have stiff/chunky/old legs. High stirrups?  You’re joking, right!

According to Sapphire’s GPS-thingie, we are tens of thousands of miles from home………..

I begin my walk of shame.  (I’m used to it.)  Now, I’m grateful for Hurricane Irma and her previous swath of high-winds.  We are looking for a tree……….a downed tree that’s appropriate for re-mounting Violet.

And we are walking.  And we are walking.  And we are walking some more.

I’m mentally mulling over why the nearest slaughter houses are now across the borders, while I’m tripping in hog-rooting-ruts.  Violet is following me nervously.

AND THEN!!!  After about twenty-seven miles, we find the “perfect” fallen pine.  Again, Sapphire gets off to help me.  (Lola has to stay put because Ruby is taller than NewCastle and Lola is shorter than Sapphire—–it’s just basic geometry.)-(and besides, Lola scares us.)

The tree is great, the bark is slippery, it’s skidding off when I climb on it (my orthopaedic surgeons would be pulling their hair out)-(don’t tell them).  AND surprise, Violet’s being a butt and won’t get close enough for me to reach the stirrup iron with my stiff (new) knee.

So we try the end of the pine where the root ball is exposed.  I climb up onto whatever root is close enough to the stirrup.  I make a mental note of the tap root hole left in the ground when the tree went down.  I silently hope Violet falls in it……………….another mental note that I don’t have my .38………………….it’s her lucky day.

And then along with some hearty chanting from Lola, I get my stupid boot high enough to push it adequately into the stirrup.  And I heave.

“Houston, we have a landing.”

Don’t I have good friends?……………………………………and I’m not talking about Violet.