{"id":1936,"date":"2017-04-19T02:43:22","date_gmt":"2017-04-19T02:43:22","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/pumpkinvinefarms.com\/?p=1936"},"modified":"2017-04-19T10:23:21","modified_gmt":"2017-04-19T10:23:21","slug":"communication","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/pumpkinvinefarms.com\/?p=1936","title":{"rendered":"Communication"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a>He’s a high double swirl. I can’t say I didn’t know what I was getting into. Complicated, intelligent, and sensitive, instead of being warned off I decided he was my kind of man.<\/p>\n

This ride was a bad idea from the beginning. I hadn’t touched him in weeks, I had hardly seen him other than to say hi in passing. Why did I think I should even try? Still here we were. The clouds hung low overhead, not warm but not cold, the wind finally quiet. My sweatshirt left me feeling clammy but I hated to take it off. Next to me he was walking on eggshells already, not the attentive, responsive horse I had last ridden but one who wanted nothing to do with me his only interest in the lush green grass at our feet.<\/p>\n

In my husbands beautifully worked garden plot we stopped. Surely as long as we stayed out of the part so meticulously marked\u00a0 he wouldn’t be too mad. It makes such a nice arena and I would appreciate a soft place to land. After a brief, absentminded warm up I climbed on. It was a new place, a different mounting routine, I was doing everything out of order and\u00a0 backwards.<\/p>\n

Rusty was concerned. His tippy ears were flicked back, straining to catch my every move. His neck tight, jaw tense. Trying to remember to breath, deep long breaths, I thought calm into the back of his head. Trying to ignore my nerves I breathed out my fear and let my muscles relax. With a squeeze and a cluck and a firm “walk up” I urged him on. Remembering his lessons he moved forward. Immediately I clicked and fed him his cookie. He slammed on the brakes to take it. We fluttered about our makeshift arena like a butterfly or perhaps the unicorn his delicately tufted fetlocks proclaim him to be. No straight lines or clear circles, just a question and his flittery response so light and quick. Until it wasn’t.<\/p>\n

He was done and he was leaving. No running, just a simple refusal. He was going and there was no turning him so there we sat, him unwilling to go back as I sat and tried to think what I could give him so we could both win. I want him to have opinions, a mind of his own. I hope he will be like Coyote, a thinker, strong willed, a partner instead of a servant. Then I think of all the trouble that causes and wonder why.<\/p>\n

So we went. He wants to go, out and about, a big country horse who can’t stand fences closing him in. I knew what he wanted but his small leaps of enthusiasm discourage me from giving the freedom he craves. I had meant to go out through the corn field today, hurry and make use of it before they plant. We should have gone, my caution gets in the way. I fear what the excess of enthusiasm could lead to, not that there is a mean bone in his body. Rusty would never purposely hurt anyone.<\/p>\n

Instead we wandered around the yard, a delicate balance of wills. Holding tight while he demanded his direction then asking diplomatically for a concession. We circle to the right, always hard for him, his nose tips in as his shoulder drifts off in a different direction completely. But we are moving and to the right.Should I ask for more? What aids do I give without a bit? I hesitate only briefly wondering about technicalities, then tighten the outside rein and tighten my calf. A light aid on a green horse but he straightens and gives a step on the circle. For a moment in time we think as one connected by through my seat, his back. I click and the moment is gone as he stops to receive his treat.<\/p>\n

Finding a good spot I exhale, breathing out a soft whoa. With a flick of an ear he stops. Feeding one last cookie I slide off. Against all odds and good sense we rode. Searching through the differences of opinion and our fears we found a place in the middle where we could both agree. A place where we could communicate.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

He’s a high double swirl. I can’t say I didn’t know what I was getting into. Complicated, intelligent, and sensitive, instead of being warned off I decided he was my… <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1936","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-rusty"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/pumpkinvinefarms.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1936","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/pumpkinvinefarms.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/pumpkinvinefarms.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pumpkinvinefarms.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pumpkinvinefarms.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1936"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/pumpkinvinefarms.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1936\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1942,"href":"https:\/\/pumpkinvinefarms.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1936\/revisions\/1942"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/pumpkinvinefarms.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1936"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pumpkinvinefarms.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1936"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pumpkinvinefarms.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1936"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}