Neep mea languet anima

[dancinghorse]

Spring and I, we don't get along. This has been my theme song for years. We medievalists, we know from emo. In Latin, no less.

It is absolutely gorgeous out there. The air can make you drunk on the scents of citrus blossoms and chinaberry (deep and rather thick, a little like heliotrope) and Arabian jasmine. Wildflowers are blooming, the ocotillo are about to burst into flame, the cacti are getting ready to take over after the flowers start to fade.

I've been--well, see the song. The translation is at the bottom. I ran out of me for a while. Interestingly, and a little bit wonderfully, the Muse came back from an extended expedition to Outer Mongolia. Or the Oort Cloud. Somewhere both mythic and distant. We languish, but we write. This is a good thing.

The horses are shedding ferociously. Some days the grooming takes so long, the riding doesn't happen. This week was supposed to be a weeklong clinic, but that didn't happen, either. I admit to being relieved. I'm rather virulently allergic to people at the moment.

I did however keep my own lesson appointment for today. Pook and I both needed it. I've been drastically low on energy and have had to force through exhaustion to ride--frustrating because I want to do a lot of riding before the heat rises. But we do what we can.

Pook has been having his own spring fever, of a much more dramatic variety. Lots and lots and lots of testosterone. One day he charged me as I went to feed lunch hay--mouth open and teeth bared. That was most emphatically not on. We came to Jesus, yes we did. Hallelujah.

Stallions. Not for the fainthearted.

Not that the mares are so easy, either. At the moment, the lone island of blessedly nonhormonal sanity is keed. He may be evil, but as we all know, geldings are from heaven. Especially in the spring.

So. Today I had a bit more energy, and I'd been writing all morning. S. got the measure of us and had us do the legyield in hand again, but this time made sure I got the whole point of the exercise. That is to rock him back onto his hindquarters, encourage a bend, and ask him to move freely sideways through the shoulders and haunches. It has to be zen. No cranking him around or shoving him over. He got overeager--rush-rush-rush--and wanted to blow through especially the right shoulder. S. persuaded him, basically through superior moral authority, to curve smoothly around and mirror her as she stepped sideways--and to stop when she stopped rather than charging around past her.

It took me a while to get it. He was more resistant going right (with left bend) than left. It was easier for me to go in that direction, and this was reversed in the other direction. But we finally did get it when it was impressed on us that it's just like riding the movement--connect the small of my back to his hindquarters, literally through the power of my mind, and just step sideways. Expect him to mirror me. And he will. Try to force it and he fights back. Duh. Same lesson as always.

The fascinating thing was his reaction to this simple exercise. When we paused to go over what to do, his head dropped and his eyes got dreamy and sleepy and he turned into a puddle. This was affecting him in a deep way--he was really connecting with his back half, and zoning out on endorphins. He looked as if we'd drugged him. When he started licking and chewing, S. said, "There! That's what we want." That in a horse indicates that his brain is processing data.

When he was a fairly complete puddle, I had to expand operations to work under saddle, in walk and then in trot. No slacking off on that left bend. Make sure he's connected through his whole body, and that his changes of bend are smooth and balanced. Keep rocking back onto the hindleg (half-halting) and be sure not to lean back or brace the back. Keep outside rein in position, and going left, no pulling or trying to position anything--though he might need the rein up or slightly open for support.

After the last lesson I'd been paying attention to how I tend to fold up over the sternum, and trying to stay really up and open in the torso. S. warned against squirting up in the saddle while doing this, but I find I get deeper in the lower body when my upper body is lighter. This is what we want.

We have photos. Here I am collapsed in the sternum. This isn't bad relative to last lesson, actually.



Here's the same point in the stride with sternum up:



Getting closer to collection there.

He's asking for piaffe in hand btw--lynnesite, that wasn't (just) Oreo he was talking about. S. said experiment with and see what he does. He wants to sit down more and get that front end up. It's sort of visible in the photos, but his loin is visibly broader and deeper than it was even two weeks ago. He's getting stronger. All these stallion hoo-ha's along with the riding are making him one fit pony.

And, yeah. Big gaits. Really big.

He was, throughout, Perfectly Behaved, but we were able to demonstrate to S. during unsaddling that he is not a tame lion. Pandora came to the gate behind him. He let out a peal and went all archy and dramatic, and she fluttered her nostrils at him and whispered sweet nothings. It can be a little disconcerting if you're not used to it--especially that aria he sings. He's a Heldentenor, of course.

There were no unseemly incidents, operatic volume aside. But it was educational.

Comments

[sea-pony.livejournal.com]

Ahh ... neep. ^_^

[wolfsilveroak.livejournal.com]

Ahh, this reminds me, I need to get tix to the Lipizzaner Show here next month before they invariably sell out.}:P

[miintikwa.livejournal.com]

Operatic volume... I can almost hear it.

[raithen.livejournal.com]

has S talked to you about the wind and the wave? I worked with Mandy on the weekend, and remembered that. and your neep makes me think it's an image you might like.