Facing reality isn't always fun

Beau (formally known as Crescendo) and me on our last day together.

There comes a point in time where you have to assess your personal situation and then act accordingly. That's the adult or mature thing to do. But, as the kids would say, it sucks.

I know I have physical limitations now, some related to age, some due to injuries and a misspent youth. Regardless, the combination of all those things means that I am no longer able to ride a horse - either safely or well.

For the past two years Beau has been living at Geary Hill Stables near Oromocto, NB, working for a living as a well cared for and pampered school horse (his riders all spoil him rotten - which is a good thing and the lifestyle to which he was accustomed!). According to Kem, one of the instructors at GHS, it didn't take Beau long to train his riders to bring carrots to be humbly presented - not as a reward for a lesson well executed - but BEFORE the lesson, just to get on his good side!

I still owned him - not yet ready to make the final concession to my situation and give him up entirely. But yesterday I made the trip up to watch him and his buddy Bonnie compete in their first hunter/jumper show together (Beginner Division) and to sign over his papers to Deanna, the owner of the stable. Beau looks great - shiny, well muscled and healthy. Not bad for a 17-year-old horse. He carried Bonnie around the course safely and even did a few flying changes of lead to impress me! It worked.

Anyway, I did the dead and handed over the papers. Driving down the lane from the stable I looked back and could see him, happily munching grass outside the barn, and wished him well. Although I'm sad (for myself) I'm glad that Beau has a good place to live out his life.

Does this mean I am (finally) mature and have faced reality? Or perhaps just life has caught up.

Either way, although I can go and visit Beau, it'll never be the same. I do miss him; but that's life.

A beautiful summer morning

Sometimes you just have to leave the camera home, no matter how strong the urge to focus on pictures. Hoover and I walk very early in the morning and today it was an exceptional experience.

The sun was rising, slowly burning off the lingering ground fog. In the distance you could see the three towers from the potash mine, which are hundreds of feet tall, just poking through the mist. There were three ducks swimming in a large puddle at the side of a big hayfield at the edge of the road, protected by a lone sentinel pine tree on the rise above them.

They, who know everything, say it's going to be a scorcher today - and I suspect they are right. But, in the meantime, it was nice to just walk with the dog and enjoy the experience of the morning.