Past seasonal nadir

At last: a bright midwinter day. Of course I was out like a shot: drive to the barn, hitch the trailer, trudge through a quarter mile of mud with Brena, hose down her feet, load, then away. As quickly as possible. It was a slick operation. I didn't even get too dirty from the mud.

I parked at a high open place on the Ridgeway, a spot busy at the weekend but quiet on a working day. Heading south we enjoyed lovely sunshine at the price of a cool breeze: not an excessive cost. The hills rolled away at our feet into a misty distance, soft and beautiful behind the inevitable thorn bush.

We slipped into the folds of chalk, vanishing from sight amidst a warren of dry valleys, bare copses and secretive thorn hedges. Now we had a little realm to ourselves, Brena and I. Downhill we picked a careful way for wet chalk trails can be slippery. Along the flat waterless bottom and away up the far side we cantered, Brena unimpeded thanks to a loose rein and a forward seat. For short bursts such as bouncing out of a downland coombe, that mare has considerable power on offer.

A rare combination of topography, season and weather created an atmosphere quite different to stereotypical England. The chalk hills are unusual and therefore special. To journey here is to experience places pastoral yet subtly exotic. The wanderer will be surprised by colour and by texture. The artist might love the vast smooth sculptural quality of these hills. as for me, I appreciate all of these things. Plus, to see the hills bare and stony in winter is the next best thing to witnessing them covered in snow: which is unlikely at what promises to be a mild Christmas.

By parts the ground is soft or firm, grassy or studded with flints. Over a little more than a year Brena has progressed from conventionally shod horse to confident comfortable barefoot horse. That's ten or so trims, the most recent earlier this week. A seaweed-based supplement has increased Brena's rate of horn growth, replacing old hoof more quickly and giving the trimmer more material to work with rebalancing the feet. Her front feet are good however her hinds need a little balancing at each trim. Currently she's scoring a respectable 7.5 out of 10 for feet, and that from a trimmer who never awards more than a 9.

We walked on in silence, meeting just one rider: a teenage girl on a little warmblood that clearly had been exercised thoroughly. A solitary cyclist pushed his machine uphill through the mud: at such times one is especially grateful for a horse. Alone, a hiker trudged, with splendid views to enjoy. Each of us was right: on such a day, with such vistas to take in, when a peculiar atmosphere of timeless remoteness envelops the hills, it is best to be alone. Then one can fully take in the magnificence of the place and become absorbed with ones reaction to it.

We stopped, me to take photographs (as usual) and Brena to graze (of course). Something caught her eye and she looked up. Was it our shadow that looked like a centaur upon the flinty slope? Or perhaps something even stranger and more distant? Brena is a great one for taking a good look at horses a mile away or moving vehicles even more distant. Does that stem from having grown up in a land where there really are wolves and bears?

It was a pleasant ride. What a memorable way to enjoy the first day in half a year offering more daylight than its predecessor.

Comments

[lytha]

oh, that first photo is amazing!

"little warmblood" hehe

[White Horse Pilgrim]

I'll post a couple more photos, Lytha.

There are some quite petite sport horses around. an acquiantance has a retired showjumper who was rather successful despite standing around 14.2hands (about 1.45m). Just what a small-ish teenager wants, I suppose. The horse I saw looked like a speedy chap too, and he was barefoot - such timy hooves that would fit in the palm of one's hand (or so it seemed). Anyway not as broad or stout a horse as a Noriker-Lipizzaner cross.