Snap-shots of my day

Making kind eyes to the thing I love the most...

"The key to a truely splendid day is to begin with a lovely breakfast.  There's not much that can go wrong in a day if you have a full tummy and sunshine."  ...Flint

...Grapes!

Exhausting work... need a nibble to keep me going!

 "The key to staying on splendid form is to stop for lunch.  Take your time. Don't rush. There's always going to be someone around doing the rushing for you."...Flint

That's no way to ride!

I spy more nibbles!

                                                                                                                                                                 "The key to a splendid evening is spending it  with good company; possibly at the local watering-hole."...Flint

Nearly home.

Dodger the lost foal at Redwings

Dodger the lost foal was found byPolice Horse, 14 year old Jeeves.  Jeeves alerted rescuers to the tiny foal who  had been abandoned (or lost) in a field close his own paddock on Sunday in South  Norfolk.



Redwings are now caring for Dodger and the charity said the foal, estimated to have been less than 48 hours old, was close to death.  Redwings Horse Sanctuary is appealing for the foal's owners to come forward and are concerned for the mare's welfare.

I'm a Pie-bald Pony

Quiet road, but ears at the ready!

I'm a pie-bald pony
I'm short, fat and round
but I possess about me four legs
that reach the ground.
They're not at all uneven
and take me to and fro.
Wherever you will lead me I will always go.



I''m a pie-bald pony
and my character's quite strong.
I'll go where you take me
through fields or traffic throng.
There's not a pony like me

who can read and write.
I'm a pie-bald pony,
which means I'm Black and white.

The first Maytree/Hawthorn buds are out!

The Eight Stages of Horse Riding ... and when to stop!

Flint and his merry mares

Flint

Stage I: Fall off pony. Bounce. Laugh. Climb back on. Continue your ride.

 Stage 2: Fall off horse. Run after your horse. Climb back on. Ride until sunset.

Stage 3: Fall off your horse. Use the sleeve of your shirt to mop up your blood. Apologise to your horse. Mount your sympathetic ride and go home. Take two pain-killers and go riding the next day.


State 4: Fall off your horse. Refuse advice to call ambulance; drive self to A&E. Entertain nursing staff with tales of previous dare-devil stunts on horseback. Back to riding before cast comes off.

Stage 5: Fall off yourhorse. Temporarily forget name of your horse and the name of your husband/wife. Flirt shamelessly with paramedics when they arrive. Spend a week in hospital while the titanium pins are screwed in place. Start riding again before the doctor gives the official "Okay".

Stage 6: Fall off your horse. Fail to see any humor when hunky paramedic says, “You again?” Gain firsthand knowledge of advances in medical technology thanks to stint in ICU. Convince self that permanent limp isn’t that noticeable. Promise husband you’ll give up riding. One week later purchase older, slower, shorter horse.

Stage 7: Fall off your horse. Feel relieved when the artificial joints and implanted medical devices seem unaffected. Tell your other half that the scrapes and bruises are due to a gardening accident. Pretend you don’t see them  roll their eyes and mutter as they walk away. Give the horse an apple.

Stage 8: Go see your horse and momentarily consider riding, but suddenly remember that your arthritis won't let you lift your leg high enough to reach the stirrup; even with the aid of a mounting block! Share a beer with your grateful horse & recall the "good old days".

Ne'er cast a clout till May be out!

Where is the May flower?  It's late!

While I was standing tolerating the traditional Bank Holiday downpour the other day it occurred to me that the seasons seem to have lost their rhythm. There is a distinct lack of good grass growing and there is an abundance of cold wind and rain.

The seasons are simple in the equines world. There is no-grass (autumn and winter) and green-grass (spring and summer) and green-grass is late! Surely the Hawthorn blooms should be filling the air with their scent by now and the grass should be growing so fast that if I failed to eat it on time it would poke me on the nose!

A few weeks ago the sun was shining and the young fillies here were getting over excited . Merrylegs said she couldn't wait for the fresh (spring) grass to grow and to roll about in her dust bath every evening. I told her to hang tail as it would be a mud bath she'd be getting for the Hawthorn bush hadn't bloomed yet. We Gypsy Cobs know the Hawthorn Bush by another name. It's called the May Tree and the flowers themselves are the May. I should know, because I was born in May and I also know you can't expect good grass and good weather 'til the May is out.

You Twolegs think that this old saying is related to the month of May, but that is utter nonsense. You listen to an old Cob. .....“Ne'er cast a clout till May be out!”

T'is an English proverb. And if you're faintly doubting the word of this worldly wise old Cob then you'll find that the earliest citation can be found in a rhyme from a twolegs called Dr. Thomas Fuller, Gnomologia, 1732, although it existed by “word-of-mouth” well before that: i.e. - "Leave not off a Clout Till May be out!” So now you know and I think that the lateness of this flower is a matter of some concern and you should be paying attention to the rhythm of the seasons and the seasons are “out of kilter”.

*NB: We shouldn't be able to miss the the Hawthorn in at this time of year as it is an extremely common tree; especially in hedges. Hawthorns are virtually synonymous with hedges. As many as 200,000 miles of hawthorn hedge were planted in the Parliamentary Enclosure period, between 1750 and 1850. The name “Haw” derives from “hage”; the Old Tongue for “hedge” and it should be displaying it's beautiful flowers by now (in late April/early May). Using that allusion, 'till May is out' could mean, 'until the hawthorn is out [in bloom]'.