I rode a horse today.

For the first time in... years. It was incredible. 10 years of riding beats out 4 years of down time. I mean... It was like coming home. Settling back into the saddle and let it flow. And I rode better today then I have... ever! i dont know how, or why. But the minute that little paint pony tried to kick me off today, it was like a switch was flicked and the passion came flooding back.

Now how to find a stable in Vic that I can get down with.

Riding is the best.

It was a gorgeous day today, we walked out through the fields to bring the horses in. I took Painter, the barrel pony. He was a proper gentleman walking back through the sun. He seemed nearly as excited as i was. I threw myself into grooming his coat, smelling his sweet warm scent as i brushed him down. The leather and hay smells of the tackroom are the most comforting smells i've ever know and i know now, that i need it. We rode western, settling back onto our tailbones to ride out the trot. I felt Painter under me, let his gait loosen until we were trotting so slow we couldve been walking. It felt like a boat over waves, graceful and relaxing.

I kicked him into a canter and he tried to kick me onto my ass. It was the most empowering feeling to just ride through his naughtiness. I laughed and he flicked an ear back to me, let out a bigger buck just to let me know who was boss and gathered himself into a gorgeous controlled canter, arching his neck like a high priced show horse, instead of the slack cow pony he is.

We were such a team for a minute there. His large, muscled, gleaming body in perfect rhythm with my smaller, more awkward humans body.

We left the arena then, prancing out into the sunlight. Both our faces lift to the sun as He danced over puddles, being a princess, not wanting wet hooves. We slowly trotted along the path, as i talked to the other rider, and he vocalized his feelings about the weather.

we leapt over a small stream, sidestepped along the road, kicked and bucked our way through a field.

I felt like i was glowing from the inside out. Like connecting with this animal had grown a sun in me. Our own personal light and heat, shining out to match the day.

This is my passion. I cant dance, paint, sing or draw. I dont move with grace or dress with style.

But when I am near a horse, I am graceful. Our bodies create an intricate dance, weaving and ducking, matching our rhythm. When I ride, I am beautiful, timeless. I am intelligent, and He understands me. We speak without words, using pressure and unspoken commands to reach a mutually beneficial understanding. We understand that we are a team. We work together, play together and rest together.

We are in love. Painter and I. We are both rewarded, me with sore legs and an unshakable smile, He with treats and a warm stall.

It is an ageless relationship.

I rode a horse today.

For the first time in... years. It was incredible. 10 years of riding beats out 4 years of down time. I mean... It was like coming home. Settling back into the saddle and let it flow. And I rode better today then I have... ever! i dont know how, or why. But the minute that little paint pony tried to kick me off today, it was like a switch was flicked and the passion came flooding back.

Now how to find a stable in Vic that I can get down with.

Riding is the best.

It was a gorgeous day today, we walked out through the fields to bring the horses in. I took Painter, the barrel pony. He was a proper gentleman walking back through the sun. He seemed nearly as excited as i was. I threw myself into grooming his coat, smelling his sweet warm scent as i brushed him down. The leather and hay smells of the tackroom are the most comforting smells i've ever know and i know now, that i need it. We rode western, settling back onto our tailbones to ride out the trot. I felt Painter under me, let his gait loosen until we were trotting so slow we couldve been walking. It felt like a boat over waves, graceful and relaxing.

I kicked him into a canter and he tried to kick me onto my ass. It was the most empowering feeling to just ride through his naughtiness. I laughed and he flicked an ear back to me, let out a bigger buck just to let me know who was boss and gathered himself into a gorgeous controlled canter, arching his neck like a high priced show horse, instead of the slack cow pony he is.

We were such a team for a minute there. His large, muscled, gleaming body in perfect rhythm with my smaller, more awkward humans body.

We left the arena then, prancing out into the sunlight. Both our faces lift to the sun as He danced over puddles, being a princess, not wanting wet hooves. We slowly trotted along the path, as i talked to the other rider, and he vocalized his feelings about the weather.

we leapt over a small stream, sidestepped along the road, kicked and bucked our way through a field.

I felt like i was glowing from the inside out. Like connecting with this animal had grown a sun in me. Our own personal light and heat, shining out to match the day.

This is my passion. I cant dance, paint, sing or draw. I dont move with grace or dress with style.

But when I am near a horse, I am graceful. Our bodies create an intricate dance, weaving and ducking, matching our rhythm. When I ride, I am beautiful, timeless. I am intelligent, and He understands me. We speak without words, using pressure and unspoken commands to reach a mutually beneficial understanding. We understand that we are a team. We work together, play together and rest together.

We are in love. Painter and I. We are both rewarded, me with sore legs and an unshakable smile, He with treats and a warm stall.

It is an ageless relationship.