Like probably 90% of those of us who actually experience the season, I struggle in the winter. My (picky vegetarian) diet means I’m constantly cold. I’m beyond grateful to have an affordable indoor, but my desire to ride plummets with the temperature. The stalls are harder to clean – both because everything freezes and because the horses are in and aren’t getting worked. Riding itself isn’t as fun – lack of turn out makes crazies, much longer warm-ups and cool-downs must be budgeted for, and there’s about ten times as much hair to groom.
The worst of it, for me, is the lack of sunlight. When the sun sets at 6 so does my desire and motivation to accomplish anything. I can’t even read or watch Netflix – all I want to do is sleep…Sleep and sulk.
Even my non-horsey hobbies suffer. I can’t get motivated to go to board game night when the sun will have already set before we get there, so I’ll just yawn my way through the evening, half asleep. I can’t stay awake long enough to read a novel, and I can’t get up enough motivation to craft or sew.
Obviously writing is out of the question, as evidenced by the last three months of radio silence from An Amish Warmblood.
When Robbye came home from training early last fall, I thought we had finally crossed the hump – the three years it took for us to find a loving and a workmanlike relationship.
The show, where we won our dressage class, was one of the high points of my life, as sappy as that sounds.
I felt like, at that point, I had accomplished what I had set out to do with Rob. We had completed this test which was submissive, brilliant (as much as a Training level test can be, anyway), and undramatic. We had won a class of more than ten people! We had proven to the world that neither of us were failures, and that we could do more than embarrass ourselves!
So that was nice. Very, very nice. But…what do you do after that?
The correct answer is: make new goals and start working on them. Look for the next “hump” and get over it. Improve, improve, improve!
But this show had happened in mid-November. As winter began and I desperately needed goals, excitement, and motivation, I had just achieved what I’d been struggling with for three years.
So I did nothing, and spiraled lower.
I know it’s such a first world problem. I accomplished my goals with my HORSE, and now I’m as depressed as I’ve been in years! How silly it sounds.
But there I was burning money, gas, and precious precious energy every day to go to the barn and do…nothing. Clean my stall. Hand out treats. Sulk.
At the end of January I sent Robbye back to training, happy that I wouldn’t have to clean her stall every day anymore.
In mid-January I put her up for sale.
I wrote a long list of her favorable qualities – and wow, what an experience that was. Virtually bomb-proof. A happy trail partner. A decent, if green, jumper. Extremely tolerant – a “pony club” mount. Broke to the harness and cart. Great at giving newbie rides and taking treats and pats from non-horsey people.
Above all, a talented, promising dressage horse.
I collected an album of photos. Here’s one where you can see her impressive build – one that would be great for a man, a growing boy, or a larger AA. Here’s one where you can see her flashy wide blaze and her gentle eye. Here’s one where she’s jumping beautifully while I flail on top of her.
Here’s one where you can see how god damn pretty she is.
The interest poured in (not to me – thank goodness – but to my trainer). One woman was particularly interested and wanted to talk to me. She was a mom and wanted a mid-level eventer for her teenage daughter.
And so I took the mom’s call and sang Robbye’s praises for half an hour. I told her about how she can go out in the field alone or in a group and is happy. How she doesn’t like to roll and is dirt colored anyway, so grooming is a breeze. How she can be tough to get round and forward but once she gets there – oh boy is she there.
I told the mom how much she loves people. How she nickers every time I walk into the barn, and watches me walk around the barnyard if I leave her in her stall or the crossties.
I told the mom how I had taught Rob everything. Cross-tying and putting on a bridle and jumping ditches and walking through tarps and crossing creeks and doing carrot stretches.
The next day, I cried, talked to my barn owner, talked to my trainer, and then took Robbye off the market.