New Year, New “Eve”

I was once a very young, very good rider. I was horse obsessed from the very beginning, day dreamed about horses constantly; it was all I wanted in life.

I took a few lessons when I was in elementary school, but I think money was tight and I was spending most of my time in dance classes, and it wasn’t until I was in middle school that I made my way back to taking riding lessons at a nice show barn not far from our house called Fieldstone. I was able to mostly have my pick of their lesson horses, and even became good enough to ride the most ornery of barn ponies; but oh how I wished for one to myself. I studied under a really strict, and even sometimes unkind trainer, who took no nonsense or complaints. His teaching style was intense, and while there were plenty of times I didn’t have much fun during a lesson, I quickly advanced in skillset. I developed a really solid seat, good instincts, soft hands, and a lot of bravery. I learned how to care well for horses, and how to not quit when things got maddeningly hard. I learned how to fall off without landing on my head, and I developed calluses between my pinky and ring fingers, and scars on my inner shin from friction sores from cantering in a two point seat for so long and training my lower leg to stay still. There were many days the stirrup leathers would rub so much through my breeches that my skin would bleed right through (years later i discovered how glorious half chaps were!) I have very few photos from this time in my life. We didn’t have cell phones or cameras, but I have vivid memories of how much I loved being there, the horses names I rode, and that militant trainer that laid the foundation for me to be build from.

A few years later, after I started high school, we moved to a new barn called Cobblestone and I began taking lessons there under a new trainer. The fall after I turned 14, my parents surprised me by buying me a pony. I honestly can’t remember where we got her from, some place about an hour from our house. She had been broke around 2 years old and turned out for several years, so she was super cheap and knew nothing, but she was beautiful and quiet. I named her Annie.

During this season, my mom got back into riding too, and we sort of shared Annie and she also started riding a few of the horses there that the trainer owned. In my memory, Annie was perfect from the beginning. I don’t really remember feeling how green she was (probably because I was still learning too!). She was so willing to try, so honest, and very much became my heart horse. She learned consistent flat work, became so dependable under saddle, and was very natural when we started taking her over fences. She was brave and took care of me, let me love on her any way I wanted to, let me groom her and fuss over her mane and tail, and never did anything silly or put me in danger. I would take her out on the trails behind the barn with my friends, and we would gallop at full speed, racing each other and living our best lives together. The time spent learning and growing with Annie are the memories from my childhood that are my most treasured. I lived out there during the summers, spending every single day from morning and until whenever my parents would come pick me up after work. We had no cell phones and very little adult supervision from our head trainer, and we logged hundreds of hours on horse back. We would spend our weekends at shows, and our weeknights taking group lessons together. I ate hundreds of carrots, and this is probably why they are my favorite vegetable even as an adult. They were just…always within reach!

Late into my junior year, my parents bought me a larger horse. I was always a little big on Annie who was technically just a large pony. Cyrus was off the track, lean and gangly, standing at 16.2 hands, and by size at least, was better matched for me. He was squirrely and unsure of himself and everything else, and in many ways it felt like starting all over, only this time my horse was stubborn, lazy, and would spook if the wind blew by. Before my senior year ended, we moved to a much fancier barn a bit closer to our house called Showtime Farms, and I trained with Cyrus briefly there under a different set of trainers. Mostly still hunter jumper, but a little bit of early level dressage basics. We sold Annie to the owner of the barn who used her as a lesson pony, and while I understood why things needed to change, it made me very sad. Just before I left for college, I made the conscious choice to stop riding. I felt burnt out with a horse I never really clicked with, and pulled in other directions typical of being 18. So I told my parents that I wanted to step away, and my Mom happily took over Cyrus (who became HER heart horse) and I moved on entirely.

Briefly, in early 2013, I found a stable here in Huntsville called Flint Ridge Farm, and started taking lessons for about three months. I thought I should give it all another try, to see if there was still some spark left there for me. And while that short experiment didn’t wholly rekindle any magical flame for horses, it did change my life dramatically, because I was inspired to get in better physical shape after that. I felt heavy and weak (terrible combination!) and so I decided that rather than spend my time and money flopping around on a horse, I should do something with fitness – and so I found Crossfit Huntsville and spent the next near decade chasing the best version of myself and developing a genuine passion for holistic health and consistent workouts, becoming a way stronger and fitter version of myself than I really ever imagined.

And yet…I find myself coming back again. To the familiar, nostalgic place of needing to be near a horse. And so we welcomed our new adventure on New Year’s Eve 2023 – and named her Eve (“Evie”). An HMA Mustang herded in the fall 2022 round up out of Devil’s Garden Northern California. Lightly started with a trainer specializing in Mustangs, foaled a filly in June of 23, and then made her way to us. So far, she seems to waffle between being sweet and curious, and then blazingly indifferent. Having been a wild horse for over 11 years, I think this will be a slow burn. But, I have high hopes that she chooses me as her person eventually.

Here are some of the photos from the Modoc corrals just after her herd was brought in:

It’s been about three weeks of having Evie, and already I’ve had to learn to just go with the flow. Initially I had hoped to dive right into conditioning and work under saddle, knowing she and I both would be learning together. But she was really underweight and had very little muscle mass due to foaling a baby, and I realized she needed down time to simply eat, get healthy, and adjust to being a horse in this new environment. My hope now is that as we move out of this brutal winter and into Spring, when the days start to lengthen and warm up, we can gradually begin doing some work together. I hope that with the time I’m able to be at the farm, she will begin to relax and trust me, and welcome my approach and enjoy my company. But, until then, we still very much enjoy hers.

It’s comforting to be at the farm, down in the big bowl of Sharps cove where there is virtually no sound. To feel swallowed up magnificently by the backdrop of trees in every direction. It’s energizing to walk the hilly pastures back and forth taking care of these creatures, and to spend time away from how fast everything else in my life seems to go. At Grassmere, everything slows down and simplifies. The hum in the air is like a metronome; easy, constant, soothing. There is so much that I need to re-learn about being so close to horses again, but I’m not anxious by any of it. I feel… satisfied to have found my way home.