Recently, I’ve been thinking about my
childhood passion. Horses appealed to me from a young age; consequently my
parents kindly signed me up for riding lessons when I was a child. Horse riding
continued to be a passion until I was about 13 years of age, spending time
after lessons at the stables. Frequently taking care of the unappealing
but necessary jobs. Climbing up the horse manure pile and jumping up and down
on it to flatten it on a regular basis. Often, the pile was enormous and I'd return
home smelling terrible, to my mum's disgust.
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| KB's First Riding Lesson |
One beautiful, summer day I
rode my favourite horse, Count. Often
high strung but I'd always been able to handle him. Something spooked him and I
could feel myself losing control. Galloping towards the road was terrifying
because there was nothing I could do but hold on. Count raced across two lanes
of traffic before coming to an abrupt stop in front of a red convertible; I can
still picture the driver’s face. The driver shook his fist and swore several
obscenities at me. I don't blame him as it would have been a shock to see a
horse coming out of nowhere.
After I finally calmed down, I
said to myself, 'just give yourself a few weeks and you can get back on the
horse'. Two years later, a family member surprised me with a riding lesson.
Lesson day arrived; I was
terrified until I saw my pony. He was more like a stubborn old mule really.
Everything was going fabulously, I felt confident, and so we decided to try a couple
of small jumps. 'This will be fun,' I thought but the stubborn old nag had other
ideas. Pulling up short before the jump;
I flew over the top and landed on my head.
Consequently, I was finished with
the horses, but lately I’ve been thinking of riding again. Even if it's just
the once, so I can say I got back on the horse.
Post bumped up to share with Saturday Critters
Love KB
x
