So, winter was spectacularly crappy. And then it morphed into the longest, most drawn-out version of “spring” that ever existed.
Winter left us with multiple layers of ice….which then got rained on.
When I say rain, I mean torrential rain. Which, because it had nowhere to go [see: layers of ice] it flooded our indoor arena and a few of the stalls in the barn. The stalls dried out quickly (and there were spares to house the flood victims) but the arena? It was reduced to soup and it took ages to dry out.
I mostly don’t want to relive the horror, suffice it to say, we were all feeling pretty defeated by the whole scenario at that point. A few of us (me) even lost the will to ride.
Did I mention the rain?
There was lots of it.
By then, though, I had got to the point where I simply couldn’t bring myself to ride indoors anymore — the footing was all weird and hard post-flooding and I was sick as shit of Buzz’s ridiculous spooky nonsense.
Is that a sunbeam? The horror!
Is that pole in a different place? The apocalypse is nigh!
I wish I were kidding.
All of that meant I barely rode for the month of March and into April. The jumper schooling show that was scheduled for March never happened — not sure if it was because the weather was so horrific and/or lack of interest (probably a combination) but it was cancelled — and I fell into a sort of doom-spiral of feeling a bit thwarted. Heaven knows, I don’t need much prodding into a doom-spiral by March and I freely admit that I succumbed to a low-grade depression that meant I was functional but spectacularly unmotivated.
Buzz was totally fine with being a slacker throughout my period of existential despair.
Eventually, because it’s sort of inevitable, things slowly started turning around. There were still more grey and rainy days than sunny ones, but that just made the bright days feel so much brighter, y’know?
But the mud.
Oh. My. Gawd.
And it just kept on raining.
His paddock turned into a literal quagmire…..I actually lost a boot on one occasion and would’ve gone down in a mud-soaked heap if not for lunging to grab onto Buzz’s foreleg while he stood helpfully by as I flailed. It got to the point where I had to plan every step I took as I went out to fetch him. Of course it would’ve been mighty great if he’d come to meet me at the gate but he’s all about not doing that.
Still, there’s something about surviving the winter – and then spring – from hell that makes me even more determined to wring every last ounce of joy from even the barest trace of good weather. It makes me so much more grateful, I think, and less likely to take it all for granted.
Which isn’t a bad thing, really — and a silver lining in the gloom.
I’d say it was all worth it, but that’s a bit too rainbow-stardust even for me. 🙂
And despite the multitude of challenges we’ve put in some solid work over the winter and I’m starting to feel like it’s all coming together.
It’s starting to feel like it’s actually going to happen.