Escape from Winter
Originally published in Horse Directory, May,
2014
By Tom Gumbrecht
It felt like something of a shock to the
system: that first ride of the season after an unusually
severe and
repressively long winter, mercifully interrupted by a teasing, late spring.
 |
| The snow seemed endless and was our sole focus for weeks on end |
It had been many months since I had climbed
into the saddle, many months of non-stop mucking of stalls, chopping ice from
feet, endless plowing and shoveling of snow, and thawing pipes that were
electrically heated but froze anyway.
Chipping away at sheets of ice so that the cart could get the manure to
the dumpster and the manure truck could take it away. Digging out gates,
multiple blanket changes, pulling icicles from manes and huge electric bills to
get water in front of the horses and keep it from freezing.
Now, I am one of those people who can
honestly say that I have never minded walking down to the barn to take care of
my horses, but I will admit that I came close this winter. Not that I wanted to skip caring for them, but
fighting a fever and chills, bracing each step against the wind while shielding
my face from cutting shards of ice and blowing snow, feeling the thousand
knives of crystallized breath inside my nostrils …. I did think, once or twice,
“Can someone please come and do this for me, just tonight?”
Then the barn door opens and the air is filled
with welcoming nickers and the comforting relative warmth of the hay-fueled,
hooved, barn heating system. The horses
know that it’s cold, but they
place no value judgment on it. It’s not horribly cold; it’s just cold.
 |
| A few moments recalling the racetrack on the longeline make for a more productive first ride |
The first few warmer days are a cruel
tease; a little thawing of the arena footing followed by more snow and freezing
temperatures. But one afternoon the arena
looks perfect, the sweatshirt comes off, the shirtsleeves get rolled up, and…. It
is time. I still second-guess myself
after a winter’s hiatus from riding. Can
I still do it? Can my recently senior-citizen qualified body still take
it? I really only wonder about such
things when I’m not actually on my horse; when idle periods let thoughts of “what
if?” permeate my generally positive resolve.
Fifteen minutes on a longeline dull Lola’s
memories of the racetrack and I am awestruck once again at the poetry of a Thoroughbred
horse in motion. Then a boot finds an
iron, a leg swings over a horse and everything finds its familiar place. Reins
fall perfectly into place between gloved fingers. Boots fall into irons at the right depth and
angle, all by themselves. I feel tall,
physically and spiritually. We walk the
freshly groomed arena and get comfortable with all of the sensations
again. The rhythm of the rising trot takes
hold, her ears go forward and the partnership has been renewed for another
season. I wasn’t going to canter but we
both silently agreed to alter that plan. A slight leg pressure behind the girth
and we take wing. I love where I am, and
I love who I am here with. I love who I
am when I am one with my horse.
 |
| The girls enjoy a long awaited spring day. |
Spring is a time of renewal and I am again
renewed. More accurately, perhaps, I am
born anew. Why is this so? Perhaps, as expressed in the words of
horsewoman/ writer Pam Brown,
“A horse is the projection of peoples’
dreams about themselves – strong, powerful, beautiful – and has the capability
of lending escape from our mundane existence.”
This winter, we existed. This spring, we soar…
