Okay, dear mother,
Now what do I do?
You know that I take
All my signals from you.
The wind is a’gusting,
It’s rattling the walls.
The roof is a’quaking
From tempestuous squalls.
It’s bad in that corner.
Your tension is mine.
Just give me an aid
Everything will be fine.
A little bit spooky
I feel, it is true.
But I’d rather be happy
In motion with you.
So, lead me, dear mother,
In my moment abide.
And together we’ll have
A safe, happy ride.
* * *
Another missive influenced by the weather ... what can I say? It happens every day, the weather. Yesterday was particularly blustery, and the sense of this was particularly heightened while mother (aka the "Scribe") and I were flexing our collective muscles in the arena. As winds from the north west pummelled the walls it was easy to feel unnerved. Mother was not feeling 100% to begin with -- I know this because I can feel everything she's feeling as her body tries to direct my every move, even before she gets in the saddle. If she spooks, I spook; if I spook, she spooks. ("Let's call the whole thing off ...")
For some reason she was particularly spooky yesterday and the gusting winds really played this up. She was so spooky, in fact, that before getting on me she gave me the run of the arena (an exercise commonly referred to as a "Yahoo!) to get the spooks out. But I really think it should have been her running around in there. Really I felt fine. I had simply been reacting to what was going on inside of her. Some how, though, I don't think she'd go for that.
Copyright Aimwell Enterprises 2010
* * *
Another missive influenced by the weather ... what can I say? It happens every day, the weather. Yesterday was particularly blustery, and the sense of this was particularly heightened while mother (aka the "Scribe") and I were flexing our collective muscles in the arena. As winds from the north west pummelled the walls it was easy to feel unnerved. Mother was not feeling 100% to begin with -- I know this because I can feel everything she's feeling as her body tries to direct my every move, even before she gets in the saddle. If she spooks, I spook; if I spook, she spooks. ("Let's call the whole thing off ...")
For some reason she was particularly spooky yesterday and the gusting winds really played this up. She was so spooky, in fact, that before getting on me she gave me the run of the arena (an exercise commonly referred to as a "Yahoo!) to get the spooks out. But I really think it should have been her running around in there. Really I felt fine. I had simply been reacting to what was going on inside of her. Some how, though, I don't think she'd go for that.
Copyright Aimwell Enterprises 2010
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