Horses, singing, and painful shyness

"Was there ever a time when you were not woofy?" asked cowboygreg. Here's another photo I found while looking for those sailing pictures the other day.





But this is particularly for ruralrob, who loves horses, too. I was eight years old when I started taking Western riding lessons from Kim Woodbridge, a grade eight student in my school. The horse's name was Sonny. He had a mind of his own, but a steady and even-tempered one.

A year later Kim got her first job at the grocery store, so I had to find a different teacher. I started going to Kathy Peterson's riding academy, where I learned English style. I took lessons until I was 13, when a horse named Bunny Bounce bucked me off and I fractured my radius. The doctor ordered no more riding that summer. I never mounted another horse for years and years, but not for lack of loving them.

I never performed especially well at horsemanship, as was true of most physical and athletic endeavours. I used to blame it on poor hand-eye co-ordination. In fact I have excellent eyesight and a good sense of balance. I'm beginning to realize I have no difficulty with co-ordination.

As in so many other aspects of my life, the real problem was concentration. In leading the horse to a jump, for example, I couldn't master the timing and sequence of cues I should give the animal.

On the other hand, I was gentle and patient with horses, and they liked me. They're more like people than any other animal, sensitive and stubborn, but if you know how to handle them, they can be wonderful friends. It was a pleasure to break my long riding hiatus during my visit with ruralrob and emjaybaxter last July. I have pleasant memories of that trail ride and of their hospitality.

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I'm having a hectic week. This Saturday evening is the Waterloo-Wellington Rainbow Chorus's spring concert. We had a sectional rehearsal on Monday and our tech rehearsal last night. Friday evening is the dress rehearsal. I'm not as nervous now about my solo, but I've run into another problem.

( A jittery silence )

* bellwether: the sheep that leads the flock.

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On top of this I'm processing a barrage of new information about anxiety disorders and insight into my own life.

( Avoidance and acceptance )

I don't want to become a well-adjusted cog in the wheel. I want to have enough food, clothing and shelter to live comfortably but simply. I want to have a community around me in which I play a meaningful role and my individuality is accepted.

One reason we resist accepting our quiet side is that it doesn't match the cultural ideal. How many times have you seen a television show or a movie where the main character was reserved, cautious, and thoughtful, and where this was seen as positive? We can't think of a single example.

I can. One movie that comes to mind is Amélie. Or my favourite off all: The Joy Luck Club. I never understood why I loved it so much, but maybe part of it, along with the amazing stories it tells, is the understated character of June.

You have best quality heart. You have style no one can teach. Must be born this way....I see you.

~The Joy Luck Club

Leatherwood

Today was so lovely it brought out the Scarlett O'Hara in me. I used my shirt as a curtain....

( And my arm as a curtain rod. )

The purpose of these antics was to provide a backdrop in an effort to photograph one of my favourite plants, leatherwood, otherwise known as Dirca palustris. This native shrub is difficult to photograph because it is so modest, blending into the forest understorey. There is no glamour in its beauty, but it has many characteristics that would make it desirable for a landscape plant. For starters it has delicate yellow flowers that bloom with the earliest wildflowers, before the leaves emerge. The foliage is pleasant but unremarkable. Outstanding, though, is the shrub's elegant form: though usually only one metre tall, the graceful trunk and branches immitate the shape of a full-grown tree. A little forest of them under some maple trees would make a lovely feature in a woodland garden. In fact that is exactly what exists in the woods across the river.

My Scarlett curtain pictures might as well have been gone with the wind. The camera read the black background, of course, so they were all overexposed. Fortunately this image gives a hint of leatherwood's understated beauty.





Another image is posted in texture.

Trying to photograph the shapely trunk and branches in the high texture and dappled light of the woods was another matter.

The other interesting thing about leatherwood is the reason behind its curious name.

( Read more... )

Finding Dirca in full blossom this afternoon was a delight. It's easy to overlook and some years I have forgotten to go searching at the right time.