On my un-broke, no-stop-no-steer-green baby.
This is not recommended. Her second time under saddle on the trail. But following in someones steps, she’s just fine.
Perching on top. Waited for her to lose it. But no.
The 9-year old eccentric trainer set the pace. A quintessential dressage trainer in the making. European accent, color coordinated, spry legged, and a flaring temperament.
– “Stop flailing!”, he ordered the paparazzi, tumbling behind us on the narrow, soft, mud trail. 11-year old calf veal legs, a wonder he doesn’t fall over on his camera lens.
– “Practice Halting!”, was his next golden nugget of advice. I didn’t even bother to ask him how. He’s not much for two-way communication.
Back at the farm, he whispered sweet nothings to my baby horse, and stomped off hastily for something else. Something better.
Now that school is back in session, we’re on our own, Valiosa and I. No more trail. Unless you care to come out and join in the fun…