It was a bright high spirited day. The sun was beaming down. The air was brisk and biting with a teasing breeze. I got on the horse and knew that it was going to be a tail up yahoo kind of ride.

We worked around the arena, seeking power with control. We would move out at the trot and come back to a walk, some go, but remember the whoa. Time came that we could have a little gallop. We had a nice depart, with an easy rhythm. We made a calm circle, and came around the end of the arena. We moved smoothly through the corner and looked down the straight stretch of the long side. It was too much for him, mud flying out from his feet, he pounded down it like a freight train. We went into the corner with way too much speed and lost the rear end, sliding out from under us. Spleurch, down we went.

I stood up. He stood up. Both of us mud head to foot on the left side. I had to laugh; he looked so stupid half covered in mud that way. Looked a bit like one of those cookies that is half dipped in chocolate. Of course, so did I. He shook off like a dog, mud flying. We looked at each other a moment. I gathered the reins, swung back up on his back and we turned and rode out of the arena. We sauntered in all our mud covered glory up the long hill to the barn, where a figure was standing watching us drag along. As I swung down, my British friend said, “I thought that was quite graceful. Here is a towel and I’ve made you a pot of tea.”