On Riding Sweet Lily of the Selle Valley

I took my life in my hands yesterday and kept it in one piece.

"You didn't take your cell phone along with you?" my sister asked last night.

No, I didn't, and nobody was there to pick up the pieces should catastrophe prevail.

It's downright stupid for a nearly 62 year-old woman to climb on a coming 4-year old mare and take off for a ride down a country road. Might not sound like a big thing, but most horse folks will agree when the mare is basically green broke and hasn't been asked to do anything for four months besides eat, my actions yesterday were stupid.

Nonetheless, I came home alive, free of blood, sweat, aches, pains and any tears, so I'm feeling pretty good about the afternoon ride on Lily. And, I feel really good about Lily. She's a keeper.

It was a stunningly beautiful day, all day long. I had cleaned house and gone to town for groceries. It was Gonzaga game day, and the Tibbs and Filipowski crowd were coming to watch the 8:30 match-up between Gonzaga and Pepperdine. I finished my preparation by 2 p.m., so there was time to enjoy being outside.

Bill had already taken off for Fisherman's Island on Lake Pend Oreille with the dogs. He took with him the specific details about a geocache there, where most of the year would require a boat. The lake is still frozen, and that's where a lot of ice anglers hang out, so he knew he could walk to the island.

Lily watched me walk from the driveway to the barn, with a longing look on her face. Lily loves attention, and I knew she'd be happy when I selected her from the trio of attention-loving horses in the barnyard. Saddling up was on my mind, but I still wasn't too sure if this was a good idea, especially being alone with no one to pick up the pieces, should she dump me.

The more I groomed her, the more I wanted to ride. Giving her foretop, mane and tail a nice combing, I reached the point of no return. It was going to happen. Out came the saddle and blanket.

Over to the barn wall, I walked for the snaffle bit and training reins. Lily grabbed the bit willingly, although I knew she wouldn't be happy cuz I hadn't warmed it up. Horses don't like cold metal on their tongues.

The next obstacle would be walking to the driveway past the gauntlet of screaming barnyard mates. After all, the old witch who keeps them on the run was leaving home, and herd-bound youthful underlings can't deal with such a thing.

You'd think they'd be happy.

Once in the driveway, I decided the barn shoes were gonna have to be the footgear of choice. It was just too muddy to go get my good boots; plus, I had a horse in hand. I tightened the cinch, grabbed the stirrup and lifted my left leg, which did not even come close to the stirrup.

Lily grew over the winter.

That meant going back to the barn and finding something to stand on so I could get on. The small stepladder was the only reasonable tool. Lily didn't like my bringing it next to her side, but after a couple of "whoa's," she stood still and I climbed on.

The feeling was supreme, and we hadn't even left the barn. She walked out, fiddling at her bit as those young Arabians kept screaming and racing the fence. She walked on through the driveway. I stayed on. We turned on to South Center Valley Road. I stayed on.

She kept walking, and the young 'uns kept screaming. The first hint of youth from my big powerful mare appeared quickly and kept moving alongside on the road to Lily's right.

Her shadow.

I don't think she's seen her shadow very often, and it had her concerned. Still, we inched our way down the road. Gary Finney's big mare and foal would not be in the winter pasture, so I knew we'd be okay past his field. She hesitated from time to time but kept going forward, surely wishing that shadow would quit mimicking her.

The best part for most of the ride was that I was still on her back. Down toward Eva Whitehead's place, she got some ideas. It wasn't fun to fiddle with the bit anymore, so let's crow hop. That was fun---a couple of times, and she made a couple of protest noises, but we kept on going.

When I saw some people and dogs walking down the road a ways, I decided we wouldn't push things on this ride, so I turned her around. She was naughty for about a minute, crow hopping once more and prancing for about 200 feet. That was the only time I really wondered if I had made a BIG MISTAKE by taking her out without any groundwork.

Suddenly, she stopped the prancing and settled down into nice ground-covering walk. The rest of a ride was a breeze, and I felt like a million dollars sitting atop that big pretty mare who was behaving more like an adult than a green colt.

No need for a cell phone to call 911 from the middle of a mud puddle.

As we came within view of the Lovestead, and the barnyard screamers saw us, they continued their chorus. Lily could have cared less, and I was thanking her profusely for giving me a pretty good ride for the first day out in 2009.

She enjoyed her grain and her grooming, while I enjoyed the thought of many good rides on Sweet Lily to come.