09/12/2026
I encourage my riders to keep a journal of their lessons, too! It allows them to see their progress, ask questions for next time, and set goals that are achievable, and measurable.
Every day in the saddle—be it the regular same-old same-old, after hauling to a show, or out for a lesson—I’m still coming into the house, kicking off my boots, washing up and putting on the kettle. I’m reaching for the latest journal, writing an entry, the seed stock for what you’ll see here on Keystone.
So, it has been, since 1973 and ever since I began sharing with all of you, back in 2012.
Yesterday, I sat on my pony—who feels like an overstuffed sofa, with a wild mane curling every which way in the humidity of the arena—watching people who have put in years of dedicated work on truly lovely horses. They are now reaping the rewards, making it all look easy, when we know it is anything but!
I was there on the snorty pony with the big, hairy feet. The one who still offers surprise moves when I least expect them, along with no moves at all, when I’m looking for some sign of betterment. We’re at the other end of the spectrum than most of these other riders... but I’ve been on this path enough times that I know the journey goes way quicker than anyone would ever want.
Before you know it, you are riding your old faithful through bittersweet tears, knowing that each moment together is something rare and precious that can be taken from you, at any time.
I have tried to remember this, whenever I've been the one on the c**t. Looking on my tally sheet, I noted that Lyric was my 58th youngster. That surprised me. But rather than have a sense of wonder at all they have taught me, I began to feel hopeless, as though I should know more things for sure, by now.
So, there was a just a hint of a pity party on the long drive home. That is, until I opened my journal and began to recount the day’s lessons and where we’d struggled but also, what we’d learned these last three months. I turned back a few pages to earlier this summer, sometime in June.
Lyric had been snuffy, even though now greatly improved from the pony prior. She’d been sticky to load and a little humpy and jumpy to saddle. I’d been wise and had lunged her and worked with her a bit on the ground, in private, before entering the public arena and joining the group for our lesson.
I’d warned my teacher that if she was tailgated or startled, she’d likely buck. He's pretty used to me showing up on such horses, by now.
We did a lot of one-rein stops that first lesson. Working on them, practicing them while she was amenable because twice in that hour, we’d needed the skill for real when Lyric had scooted ahead and ran, fly-bucking, into the wall. She’d actually kicked out at a passing horse and overall, this old cowgirl had her hands full.
It wasn’t a whole lotta fun, if I’m honest.
About all I accomplished that first lesson was that I’d begun. And just as importantly, I’d made a vow that I’d be back there, with this same pony, the week after and the week after that.
That was twelve weeks ago. Yesterday, I hauled in a pony who was easy to handle but gung-ho to go to work. We calmly saddled up in the wind and rain in the parking lot. I can’t haul her saddled, which I really like to do with my c**ts and young horses, especially, for the saddle settles in and their backs warm up during the haul. It’s just cowboy wisdom, is all, especially if one has a roomy stock trailer.
But I found that this is not a wise move with Lyric, for when I opened the door of the trailer one day, my saddle was underneath her belly! She just doesn’t have the build to stand for an hour saddled, without being practically cut in two with the cinch and I don’t like to do that.
I was lucky; she stood stock still while I went in with her and gingerly got the cinches undone. They’re always twice as tight when the saddle is upside-down and it’s really awkward, not to mention dangerous, so I’ve not hauled her saddled, again.
I’m not moving her around much, any more, before I step on. This is a changeable thing, of course. On early frosty mornings, we’d all be wise to take a few precautions with a fresh horse, no matter its age or mileage.
Lyric sidles over to the mounting block, pronto. We open and close the gate while mounted, just like she's an old feedlot horse and away we go. Some walk, trot and lope through the warm up and we’re ready to learn.
Yesterday, we worked on backing into turnarounds, which she is still finding really awkward. The pony is just not designed to be light on the front end, or to reach sideways and step across. But it is slowly coming, simply because I believe that with time and good work, she will get better.
We schooled on ‘cutting the pie’ at the lope, with all the turns straight across the circle. To change direction, we loped to a walk across centre, added a few steps of side-pass, then picked up the new lead the other way.
We actually managed to do a loping drill across the diagonal, where the horse shapes up and leg yields a bit towards a point on the rail, comes down to the trot and picks up the new lead… or just stays in counter-canter around the end, depending on the level of the horse. Can you even imagine it for this pony who, a few months ago, barely possessed a third gear? Then, we gamely worked the flag.
Lyric and I shared an apple back at the trailer and matter-of-factly loaded up for the trip home.
This last bit means everything to me but without my journal, I wouldn’t have been able to leaf back through a few pages and see how far we have already come.
