Those Were The Days

Ed went beautifully this afternoon. Canter both reins, full length of the school without getting tired. Starting to re-introduce a bit of flatwork without tight circles, and he remembers it all. You wouldn't think he'd been out of work for so long.

Watching him today I was choked by the realisation he'll never jump again. He loved jumping - I remember him carting Ian off to pop a filler, with Ian hauling ineffectually on the reins and shouting, "No, Eddie - NO!" and Ed taking him over it anyway, because to his mind it was there to be jumped. There was the time he jumped over into the dairy herd next door, and ran around in a celebratory fashion with Buttercup and Bluebell; the farmer said if he clapped eyes on him again he'd shoot him.  Of course, the most satisfying thing was when people sneered at him doing unaffiliated jumping classes, and said, "That can't jump!" So he took great satisfaction in lumbering in there and beating the pants off  'em all. He cleared intermediate height quite comfortably. He understood jump-offs; he watched the opposition go before him and knew to go up a gear.  Seems sad that we can't ask him to do it anymore - but hey, there are things that he  can do that we didn't expect he would.

Just good to see him regaining fitness and confidence.

Summer's Gone

Summer, as rainy and dull as it was for the most part here in the north-west of England, seems to have finally tucked itself into bed and gone into hibernation. Yesterday, August Bank Holiday, saw the farmers cutting silage early morning before the rains came again, and sweeping Ed's stable last night the swallows in the roof were noisily feeding their final brood. I'll miss their  chatter, and having to duck as they fly in and out of the doorway.  I hope the babies are fit and ready to face the long flight to Africa - it's not long now. There are only eight weeks - ten absolute max if the weather is unseasonably dry come autumn - before the fields shut. I am dreading it this year more than ever, now that Ed needs to keep moving with his arthritic joints.

I'm getting the stable ready  for winter this afternoon. Clearing the cobwebs from the ceiling and walls with my corn broom, and then tomorrow I shall take a trip to Homebase and buy some black paint to refresh the lower part of his walls; the white above can be done at any time. Then when it is dry I shall put down a winter bed - last night Ed was reluctant to go out because the fields were flooded. I always say that Ed tells me when he wants to be in at night, and usually he is happy to go out at night, in all weathers, right up until the fields close. He is, however, getting older. Last night he wanted 'in'.

Where has the year gone?  I can't bear to look at Christmas cards in the shops.

Here Comes The Blog

Yes, I know I have several blogs kicking around cyberspace. One is accessible only on subscription, and the others have fallen by the wayside somewhere. So here I am, again.

Why Bay Horse Tales? Well, 'Bay Horse' has been my internet identity since... ooh... before the turn of the century. The name is taken from our Irish cob, Ed, who has been in the family for 12 years and who is the apple of my eye. (He likes apples, too).  This blog is meant to be mainly about Ed, but also about life in general, and its little ups and downs. :)

On with the blog...