All In Due Time

I have been noticing lately that there is a time for everything with horses.

A time to work hard and push for the next level.
A time to return to basics.
A time to challenge your comfort zone.
A time to, well, take time off!
A time to relax and listen to your horse.
A time to tell your horse to shut up and put up.
A time to ride with others or a pair of eyes on the ground;
And a time to ride alone.
A time for long periods of rest due to injury, horse or human.
A time for fun, silly games with or on your horse.
A time to take other people's advice,
And a time to figure it out on your own.
A time to watch, and a time to do.

The last two months, it has been a time for watching, listening, and working on the basics as I healed.

Right now it was about freakin' time I got back over some fences. Tonight, I did.

I can't begin to describe how beautiful it was.

We headed out to a small front paddock, my mom and I, where several fences were set up. I warmed McKinna up at a steady, relaxed trot, then did a few laps of canter in each direction. She was feeling good, balanced, attentive; eager to go, but willing to settle down and listen. The months of walk-trot work had clearly paid off. My ankle was doing okay -- a little inflexible, a little weak in the lower leg, but no pain. It was time to take the girl over some jumps, something neither of us had done since that day I fell off more than two months ago.

The sun was low and a perfect fall-evening temperature settled in, cool and crisp, where riding in a sweatshirt is perfect. All I could think of as we trotted up to the fence was how silent we were, her hooves noiseless on the soft dirt. I inhaled, stretched my shoulders up to remember not to throw myself forward, as McKinna pricked her ears at the low fence. Steady, steady, steady; up and over we go, smooth as butter, whisper-quiet.

Somewhere around this point, the grin got stuck on my face and I couldn't get it off.

We worked for maybe five more minutes, adding a short line of fences. Each takeoff was steady and relaxed, no matter what distance we got. For whatever reason, I couldn't stop thinking about how quiet we were as we coursed across the damp ground, each takeoff and landing barely more than a soft scattering of dirt. My face hurt from smiling.

Yup. That "yee-haw" feeling? Still there.