dancinghorse | Happy Camping

We are in the middle of Camp Lipizzan, and true to tradition, our Camper has already booked the next one. We're the potato chips of writers' retreats (you can't have just one).

Our unseasonably non-toasty spring weather continues. There is an occasional flirtation with the high 90sF, then the wind comes roaring in and we drop down to the 80s. Or even the high 70s. This can continue, minus the wind, please.

And of course, because this is Camp, we've had lessons. I hadn't had one since January, what with six weeks of rain and accompanying ankle-deep mud, then Pooka throwing a tire (stone bruise), then me flat-stanleying with the worst attack of CFS and fibro since I first moved to DHF. When there was Camp, either there was so much mud the arena wasn't usable, or so much wind there was danger of people getting blown off horses. This time we saw the forecast for high 90s and high winds, and cannily agreed to do a morning session, since the winds tend not to hit gale force until around 11. And the heat, even in the dead of summer, generally doesn't get unbearable until then, either.

I decided, somewhere amid all this, to ride Camilla. Pook has been going nicely in our rides, and Camilla just kept, you know, hinting. And yearning. And indicating. Her last lesson had been three years and a month ago, and was so bad, and so misguided, that it turned her into an unridable mess and taught her to loathe and despise the concept of Trainers. It did about the same to me, but it took a while longer.

So we had been working intermittently together, and making some progress. But I hadn't been riding her consistently, and lessons do tend to focus my mind and get me working on a particular horse with a particular emphasis.

I opted to ride last, as

tcastleb is on the night shift and 8ish is her shank of the evening, and that would give me time to finish the morning chores and get Camper set up with Pandora for the second lesson. I'll let

tcastleb explain what happened when she rode keed. (Very very good thing. No more keed-on-sales-list. Or lease list. No.) And Camper had her usual grin from ear to ear and Pandoralove, though Pandora decided no more babysitting, this time there was going to be a real lesson. With trot and everything.

When I went to get Camilla for the lesson, first I had to peel Ephiny off with the sound of ripping velcro. Ephiny is now a classic workaholic, looooves her sessions, and is thisclose to being ready to sit on. Just a bit more ground- and bodywork for her, and a little more security on the longe, and a tiny bit more confirmation that she cares about where I am when she expresses an Opinion, and she'll be there. (Three months, it's adding up to. Just about right.) But there was Camilla stretching her head over Ephiny's back (Ephiny is a fair bit taller) and pushing her nose into the halter.

Clearly she was in favor. But I was losing steam rapidly--still a little CFSed, though it's quite mild now, and starting to regret that I hadn't decided to ride Pook after all. Still, I'd effectively made a promise, and if all else failed, S could do bodywork and massage with Camilla, so I went ahead with it.

And S said, "Since you're low on energy today, and you're not sure how Camilla will feel about a lesson after the last one, why don't you get on and I'll do bodywork with her while you sit on her. You tell me what you feel while I do that."

Sitting on a horse who's getting a massage is just incredibly cool, as I've known through my Pooka lessons. So of course I agreed.

Camilla wasn't totally sure about that.

Then again...

So, what do you really think, Camilla?

That really wasn't so bad now, was it?

Now let's try this in motion--let's connect the back to the front and get the whole body together:

BUT I CAN'T DO THIS! Camilla said. I never did this before! I'll DIIIEEEEEEEE!

Well. Maybe not:

Then we had to--ZOMG--trot! And I have this awful habit with small horses of trying to replicate the "knee in the flank" error that is infamous in song and story:

Which Camilla answered with a capriole, but

tcastleb missed that one. I did however make a correction, and hey! Looky!

Sometimes she needed some encouragement (and I needed more correction)

There we go:

But now and then, when we got it together, we had something:

And here, in the rough and the green and the not so sure, and the rider who seriously needs to get over those bad habits, is the Ultimate Collectamatic, and the Pure Dressage Machine:

Best part of all, Evar? It was a totally normal Green-War-Mare lesson. Opinions, Airs, fusses, and all. No PTSD. No sign of trainer-aversion or any kind of problem with the concept of a lesson. She was totally in favor of doing it, she let me know exactly where I was being a dork, and she generally acted just like the young Capria or the slightly younger Pooka. S said she could see where the Toxic One went astray, and why a trainer might be tempted to "master" her and accuse her of being resistant or lazy or "too loose with her joints." She's a tough horse with a core of pure marshmallow, and she pushes hard so you won't realize how soft she is underneath. I was falling into it in the lesson, and thanks to the photos, I'll be a lot more aware next time I ride her.

She's very thinky now. I'll ride her in a couple of days, after she's had time to process, and see what she says. But one thing's for sure. ZOMG That Trot. Oh it is heaven to ride--even unbalanced and unsure and tending to fall apart and get stuck. It's pure soft power. Lovely, lovely, lovely.