Tell me about where you live. Are there any frustrating things about your area? What is the weather like? How does the cost of keeping horses compare to where I live?
Tell me about where you live. Are there any frustrating things about your area? What is the weather like? How does the cost of keeping horses compare to where I live?
Oh yeah. I’m going there.
I have long held the conviction that Vermont is simply the Best State (TM), and despite the neverending winter, I’m going to make an argument why it is also the best horse state.
1. Four Letters: G.M.H.A
2. That Hillwork Though, or, Let the Green Mountains Condition for You
True story: a former eventing trainer of mine grew up on a horse farm in Vermont, and moved out of state to pursue his riding goals. He took his horses out to their first few events and their conditioning was terrible and he was flummoxed. And then he realized: he had been doing the exact same fitness work he’d grown up doing in Vermont, but there were no mountains in other places like there are in Vermont.
The trouble here is in fact finding level ground. All of our pastures are on hills and even when I boarded and lived in Addison County, part of the Lake Champlain basin and the flattest part of the state, it still wasn’t what you’d call flat. It rolled quite a bit, just not as dramatically as most of the state. So even just going out on a hack on the roads works those glutes. And with 70% of the state’s roads still dirt, you’ve got a lot of territory to explore.
3. We Have Our Own Breed of Horse: Justin Morgan’s Figure and the American Dream
4. Olympic Density
5. It’s a Way of Life, or, When Your Local Ice Cream Shop Is Ben & Jerry’s
I am a little lacking in words, so here, have our most recent trail ride, possibly our last with any kind of fall foliage, because it has rained on and off all week and the high on Sunday will be thirty nine degrees.
Anyone who has complained about how hot it is out west/down south/places that are not New England: I say this lovingly, but you can bite me.
Sunday, it rained on and off all day. We were predicted to get thunderstorms, but it seemed to rumble and rumble without any real payoff other than a few brief showers. At about 6:45, when I headed out to the barn, it was clear and not too cloudy, though damp from a passing shower.
I got to the barn at about 6:55, and it was already raining hard. By the time I got inside – and mind you, I parked right next to the door, so we’re talking a distance of ten feet – it was raining as hard as I have ever seen it rain in my life.
Not too many words here, just the beautiful place that is Vermont.
I borrowed the barn’s bareback pad to keep those short summer hairs from working their way into my breeches and I’m thrilled with how it worked out. I’ll ride a few more times in it and then see if I can find one with more of a cutaway for his withers.
We got somewhere between 14″ and 18″ in the snowstorm yesterday. Business more or less as usual. In fact, people were mostly thrilled – good skiing this weekend! Some schools canceled, and for me work closed an hour early when it became clear the snow would impact the evening commute as well. Since I walk to work, I stayed to catch up.
I wish I could ride in it, but we’re heading out of town tomorrow to visit some friends. Hopefully enough will still be there Monday…and I can finagle a way to hold the reins without really using my right hand? Hmmmm.
In the meantime: have a cool photograph. This was taken near Crystal Lake Falls in Barton, VT in 1941. Before snowplows, rolling and/or scraping snow was the order of the day. The idea was not to get ride of the snow but to make it a smoother surface for sleighs to travel on. In the 1940s, Vermont didn’t have an interstate highway system or really even much in the way of paved roads – or electricity. It’s still a very rural place, but not quite like this anymore!
(Photography courtesy of the VT Agency of Transportation/Department of Highways: Vermont State Archives and Records Administration)
A typical winter day:
8:15 am: Leave for work. Decide on the fly whether to pack riding clothes and drive, or set aside riding clothes and plan on walking home to change, grab a snack, and pick up the car. Check work email on phone, start swearing, decide to walk in case I get stuck at work until very late and there’s no chance of heading to the barn.
8:30 am: Arrive at work. It wasn’t that cold, right? Not too bad! The last 2-3 minutes were not a lot of fun but the end was in sight then, so totally do-able.
9:00 am: Check the weather forecast for the barn. Maybe it will be warmer and less snowy another day this week? Yeah…not so much.
1:00 pm: Start to feel caught up and on top of things, even caught up enough to properly eat lunch and read a non-work book for a little while. Victory!
1:15 pm: Wow, it’s snowing a lot. Like, a lot.
1:45 pm: Ha! It’s almost stopped entirely. Pfffft.
2:15 pm: Re-evaluate goals of making it to the barn, pending resolution of current work crisis.
2:30 pm: Crisis resolves, but it’s snowing again…cars look like they’re moving just fine down State Street, so if they can do it, I can, right?
3:00 pm: Hmmm…snowing harder…
4:00 pm: We’re good! It’s stopped!
4:45 pm: Declare surrender and shut down computer mid-composition of another email, pack up as quickly as possible, walk home in the dark; it’s snowing again.
5:15 pm: Changed, fed, car is dug out of the snow, even feeling motivated and hale and hearty. Text boyfriend dinner options.
5:16 pm: Run back inside one last time to retrieve another pair of gloves/warm hat/snack.
6:00 pm: Arrive at the barn. Realize that wasn’t the safest drive ever and reflect on the way in which you can tell the exact inch where town lines end and state roads crews take over. Oh well, there now.
7:30 pm: Finish ride, sweating underneath layers, frozen at extremities, close up the barn just as the sweat starts to freeze.
7:35 pm: Drive back to barn and triple-check all stall doors, all lights, and front barn door.
8:00 pm: Arrive home, start dinner, change into pajamas and, if really lucky, relax for an hour or so with a cup of tea and a book before bed. If unlucky…open up the computer and back to work!
I could stomp and fuss and wail about the state of Tristan’s hind feet (definitely white line disease) or the fact that I got back from a few days away on Tuesday night to find his last remaining non-problematic leg swollen up to the knee, but I will save those stories in favor of some comforting pictures of my Wednesday morning work trip up over the mountains. I live in the very best state.