I am a late comer to the horse world. My Mom would never shell out for riding lessons, and a horse of my own was out of the
question. But when my daughter asked for riding lessons at age 9, I quickly scraped together the extra $20 a week to get her up on a
horse. I watched her ride and served as faithful groom at shows for the next six years. In our fourth
year, we got a pony. Charlie has consistently been a live wire (i.e. pain in the butt) since he first arrived.
We love him, though, and even though my daughter has graduated to a Thoroughbred for dressage, she will never part with him. He is
her first horse.
At 35, with a few years of observing lessons under my belt, I decided it was time for me to get off the
fence. I popped a helmet on my head and got myself some lessons. I discovered that my daughter was working pretty
hard in the saddle and it only appeared effortless because she is a good rider. But for me, it was love at first
ride. I kept at it and gradually collected some riding gear … everything but a horse.
I came to Infinity Farm, having heard that Standardbreds are affectionate, hardy, and smart. On my first
visit, two big brown horses snuggled right up to my daughters and me. Penny and Sam proved the rumor about affection right away. I was in
love. I could not just adopt the first horse that sweet-talked me out of a carrot, though. Being a new rider, I needed an experienced horse.
I went home, raving about big beautiful brown sweet ponies. I came back a few times. It was on one of these return visits that I met Diana.
Diana is my first horse. I think her name is kind of silly for a horse, when I hear "Diana", I think of a lady in a business suit with a perm
and pumps… probably glasses too. I heard it's bad luck to change a horse's name, and I also think that if a horse comes with a name, it's
a matter of respect to keep it. Diana doesn't care, though. I mostly call her my little pumpkin pie any way.
Diana was adopted by someone before me, who did cavalry re-enactments. She's done a lot of charging around with other horses,
flags, cannons, and guns. This means a little partridge fluttering out of the trees on the trail is no big deal.
Perfect for a first horse!
I have to admit, the first time I saw her, I was not wildly impressed. She’s small, just a little more than 15 hands.
She's not a bay like most of the others. She is a gorgeous, gleaming chestnut. Her red is so vibrant, she turns heads. She stands in the pasture, with
her ears flopped out looking dorky. When I first saw her, she was not only dorky looking but quite
muddy. I only glanced at her and stood drooling over Penny's lovely physique.
Terry recommended Diana, based on my riding level and our facility. We don't have a barn, just run-in stalls. These suit Diana well, since she
dislikes being shut into a stall. We had only a small stall for Charlie, so I excitedly built a Diana-sized stall. (Now, of
course, she prefers the small pony stall). During the building process, I realized that I was building Buckingham Palace for Charlie and Diana.
Before I could bring Diana home, I had to fill out the application to adopt and submit photos of the new paddock. I was
officially approved and we trucked Diana home.
For our first trail ride, the pony was screaming for Diana to come back as I lead her down the driveway and she was hollering
back. I was nervous about getting on. I had previously only ridden a nice school horse. I decided to walk
beside her until my nerves were settled and she quit screaming. I walked for about a mile. When my knees stopped shaking,
I looked for a stump to mount from. I found one conveniently next to a lush patch of
grass to distract her while I swung my leg over. It worked…long enough for me to
get my behind on the saddle. Then we headed for home at top speed. Standardbreds are racehorses! Luckily I had one foot
in a stirrup, one hand on the reins, and the other hand clinging to the Band-Aid of a saddle. I held on,
alternating between panic and admiration for her gloriously fast gallop. She stopped a 1/2 mile from home. I told her what a good girl she was to
have spared my life and walked the rest of the way.
I kept at it all summer. At times I dreaded getting on her. This was work! She never bucked or reared, but we had
arguments on the trail when she would swerve to the side and try to head for home. Over the course of the summer, I perfected the art of turning back
on purpose and urging her forward. Okay, Diana, so let's get on with it! By the end of the summer, my pushy mare and I were a dream team. I still
remember the day we took a new trail and something clicked between us. I leaned forward to dodge the branches and gave her a squeeze. She surged
forward up the trail. We moved as one creature, like a wind through the woods. We were right there for each other. I came home babbling about our
awesome ride. I didn't realized until now how significant that ride was. It was like graduation or marriage or birth. I can still remember the quality of
the light, how the air felt, how my heart felt. Now Diana and I are inseparable. (Well, okay she probably likes my daughter's new
gelding a little more than she likes me). We are preparing for a competitive trail ride in the fall. We know each other's quirks, and
deal with it. She knows that we'll come back home to the rest of the herd after our ride, and doesn’t spin around and head for home.
She is ready to walk, trot, pace, or canter up the trail. All I have to do is ask.
I frequently sing of the virtues of Diana's gaits when I can find someone who will listen. Her walk is eager and forward. She has a fast
trot that I can't resist posting to, just to celebrate the glory of it. Her pacing is always a pleasant surprise. And her canter!!! Ahhhh...
I grin uncontrollably when we canter. I grin fiercely when we gallop and break into peals of laughter. Diana! Goddess of the hunt!
Diana is part of our family. My youngest daughter is just starting to ride this season. I see her on tiptoes,
fumbling to get the halter over Diana's ears. Diana patiently drops her head just enough to help. She waits while my daughter
sorts out the straps and buckles, then quietly follows her to the stall to be groomed and tacked. She stands on three legs for as long as it takes
the girls to pick out her hooves. She slowly walks and trots on the line with a young rider. She slows from a trot to a walk when
she feels her losing her balance. Is this the same horse I rode that first day? Yes indeed. Her spirit has been polished with trust. She
gleams in the sunlight. She stands while I throw my arms around her neck and kiss her.
Diana is the perfect horse for me.