White Horse Pilgrim

Eclipse week

Friday brought a partial solar eclipse, which we observed in the office using a home-made pinhole camera and recorded using the camera on a phone. I suppose that my team must have stopped work for the best part of half an hour. Each of us needs to release themselves to wonder once in a while.

The eclipse wasn't total so far south in Britain. However the sunny morning darkened to a level; of illumination more like a heavily overcast winter day. I witnessed a total eclipse back in 1999, in southern Romania, an amazing experience that submerged the land in a peculiar blue-tinged near-darkness. Birds landed and animals stood transfixed as I watched the corona through a home-made viewer absorbing the unforgettable atmosphere.

Now it's back to normal. Today brought the first outlier of spring, a bright afternoon that felt warm in the sun. Now the bare fields are being ploughed and harrowed, exposing the rich nuances of a chalky soil.Tractors grumbled across the hills trailing clouds of dust. There's one on the middle of the next picture. In a matter of days a brisk breeze has dried out the mud, leaving the trails firm and the slopes friable.

It was a good day to be out. A day to ride and forget one's cares. From the valley we cantered up the turf of a quiet trail, both of like mind to enjoy a little speed. On a day like this Brena gives out a particularly positive energy, as if she is happy to be out and about. Traversing a ridge I gazed westward across a shallow valley where nothing was happening, the fields gently rolling towards the horizon beneath a veil of silence. I could have remained up there for hours, such was the tranquillity of the scene. However the sun was dipping. The shadows were long and deep when I returned to the barn, carefree and happy. Brena, like many a good horse, possesses the magical ability of being able to strip away worry.

Leisure

Leisure

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad day light,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

William Henry Davies (1871-1940) from Songs Of Joy and Others (1911)

Cirencester Park

Yesterday I took Brena to Cirencester Park, an hour away by trailer. Our venue was the grounds of a stately home, where riding is permitted by the owner daily from 8am to 5pm. The grounds are mostly woodland, around five miles long and up to two miles wide. Some splendid rides are set out, ten of them radiating from a clearing in the woods. Here's a view looking east along the principal ride, which heads towards the Earl's home several miles eastward. I could see the house, a light-coloured speck, which is just discernable in the picture.

I could not help but think of Miklos Banffy's vivid accounts of great houses and their inhabitants a century ago in the Transylvanian Trilogy. Those rides and picnics, hunting parties and trysts, happened so long ago, and so far away too. But, riding across Cirencester Park, I could envisage those period scenes. There are woods in these parts where I could imagine Hobbits and Elves, stony valleys where Romans, Celts or Saxons would not be out of place, and a few places like this where outlandish nobles might appear at any moment. I doubt whether most of them would have passed the time of day with me, but I'd like to dream of a conversation with Count Abady Balint (his family name given first in the Central European manner) who would surely have been more forthcoming.

My friend S came along on her horse, and one result was a rare photo of me riding Brena. By this point we'd made our way along the broad ride in the first photo, and had stopped to take in the view. The day had warmed up to the point where sleeves might be rolled up, and that was welcome after a long damp winter. I'm riding in the Tucker Western saddle that I bought last summer. I do try to ride on a loose rein, however Brena had decided that standing still comprised an invitation to eat. I have quite enough photos of the mare eating!

S circled around us. Her horse is a fit hunter and the clearing made a place for practice canter circles. There's the broad avenue behind horse and rider. I cannot remember why her horse is wearing orange ear covers, however there is a practical reason. Brena nibbled the grass rather than join in all this activity. Whilst she ate, I took in more of the atmosphere of this splendid park.

After all that fun in broad open spaces, we headed down into the valley, taking narrower ways. The land is surprisingly undulating beneath that broad canopy, and we found a quiet valley to follow. In a few spots the horses needed to pick their way carefully across slippery mud. On drier stretches we could trot or canter. 

I hadn't ridden here before, and was pleasantly surprised. Cirencester Park is a lovely place to ride, and it's a rare pleasure to find a major landowner kind enough to allow the public onto private land to ride  There are convenient places to park truck and trailer at the periphery. In three hours we barely scratched the surface of the riding opportunities, and I'm keen to explore further. I shall certainly come back here to ride. 

Return

 

The past few weeks have been very busy indeed. New recruits at work have occupied me. My guitar has occupied me as I've learned more material and prepared my first two (short) public performances. Longer hours of daylight have even led to more riding. Days have passed, and weeks, without a free moment to sit down and write. It's not that I haven't been writing anything. There have been reports to prepare at work, making me think and requiring some creativity.

Then there is the matter of my wife's tax. As a US citizen who has lived abroad for a decade she didn't know that new laws obliged her to declare all savings over $10k. These include joint savings. So now we're in the ridiculous situation that I - a British national who has never lived or worked in the US - has to declare my financial details to a foreign government. We owe no tax. But I need a US tax code and will forthwith be tracked by the IRS. Worse than that, I will probably be fined by a foreign government because my income has taken our joint account above $10k. My income, earned by a British national in Britain. Even though we owe no tax. I object deeply to my income being raided by a foreign government simply because of my spouse's nationality. It's fascism, and an affront to my rights. And we'll probably have to dip into our retirement savings to pay off those Washington fascists. Now finally I begin understand why so many American citizens are alarmed by their government, and why they value their liberty and their guns.

I've done some riding too. It's a good way to take my mind off all the stupid stuff. Riding allows one to forget. Temporarily.

The ground is beginning to dry out, helped by days of stiff breeze. We've ridden fast across the smooth hills, breathing the silence.

A horse gives a fine sense of liberty. There we are, the two of us, free to travel. We're companions on the trail, looking after one-another.

There isn't much more to tell. Life goes by. Work takes a lot of time and energy. There is some stupid crap, as I have told you, and that makes me angry. Sometimes I get out with Brena, and then I can put the bad stuff out of mind for a while. When work is intense, it too drives everything else from my consciousness.

Playing guitar can be obsessive too, and I've learned something about how I learn: repetition. Not tolerating mistakes. Time, and more time, spent at the activity. Self-criticism. Much like I ride, enjoying the activity but also picking at what I do in order to correct faults. It makes me wish that I'd started riding and playing guitar when I was a lot younger.

Anyway, it's time to plunge back into life, the good and the bad of it. The bad won't get any better, but perhaps it will be over soon. One lives in hope.