Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Wet horses smell good.
Riding in the rain-- there's nothing like it.
Today I loved the faces of my neighbors --whose house is adjacent to the heavily wooded trails on which I ride-- as they watched Chester and I gallop past their pasture: a soaked girl clinging onto the saddle-less back of a drenched, wild-eyed horse.
Back story: Max was very wet-- he isn't locked in his stall and can walk in and out, taking advantage of his shelter as he chooses. Being about as contrary as I am, he chooses to stay outside and get wet.
Chester, however, had been in his stall all morning and was eager to play in the rain with his buddy. I grabbed a bridle and squelched through the mud to reach him, then, after slipping the bit into his mouth, I unfastened the stall door and hopped on.
We were up to our ears in rain and bliss, hanging out bareback. We headed down to the woods for a bit of riding.
He surprised me when he started galloping-- I'd only asked him for a canter. It was so ...plummy, to borrow a word from Laurie... that we couldn't stop.
Plummy. Just plummy.
Thank you, Chester, for the ride today.