Sunday, June 15, 2008
Dressage and an Apple Tree
Doesn't he just look eager to hit the arena? I got up early and managed to be out at the barn and tacked up by 7:30, so I had the whole arena to myself. We worked on transitions, the bane of my existence. Dressage is supposed to be one smoothly flowing river, but I am more of the mind where life comes in segments. "Done!" "Next?" Kawhump. We got some good leg yield though, and all the other horses in the pasture came to the arena door to watch and make snide comments.
Since it is Father's Day I am thinking of my dear dad and my grampie, who taught me to appreciate flowers. When I was 3 years old, Grampie told me to look carefully into the face of a pansy and listen hard, because it is telling me something. I remember reaching up to hold his work-rough hand, and staring intently into the pansy's face, and listening for all I was worth:
I never heard the message, which was probably something W.C. Fields-ish like "Go away kid, you bother me". But it started me looking at flowers. And my dad was a rose gardener extraordinaire.
So I have planted a new apple tree, in spite of my unbroken streak of bad luck with fruit trees. If you look closely and listen you may hear this little tree saying something too: