It seemed like yesterday when the car chugged down the seemingly empty road, black smoke pouring from the overheated exhaust pipe. We were only ten minutes away, not like I was counting, but this was a big moment for me. The car suddenly slowed, pulling onto a bumpy gravel driveway, I knew this was it. I slid my door open with ease and excitement, thudding my feet on the firm ground as I enthusiastically awaited what was to come. As I entered the serene landscape, nature filled the misty air with a fresh, invigorating fragrance. I saw an array of colours, from the beauty of the autumn leaves to the blossoming flowers. This is where I would spend the day. The time to put aside my tickling nerves had come, although my exuberance towered over me, leaving no space for them. My hands gently pushed open the squeaky, but durable gate. I soundlessly walked over to the tack room, making sure not to disrupt or frighten any of the stabled horses. To begin saddling Charm up I reached for the scruffy purple blanket, the rough leather bridal and the saddle that permanently had Charm’s scent through it. She was a beautiful horse, with a mane like silk and fur like a puppy. I carefully …show more content…
As I placed one foot in the dangling, metal stirrup I lunged myself up and then swung my other leg over swiftly. In the meantime I held the rough leather reigns in my small hands, already feeling it scratch my soft skin like sandpaper. I was now in control. I began warming up Charm’s stiff body and soon our calm walk turned into a bouncy trot and then to a wild canter. The sensation was magical as I cantered around on trodden grass. I felt like the only one in the entire world as I became one with Charm. Her hefty hooves would fearlessly fly up, kicking dirt proudly into the air creating a dirty, choking mist that followed behind us. Her long, tremendously thick mane would whip around as her head was held high. Charm was ready. I was
e dress in our work clothes, loose and baggy as we slip on our boots, and stroll to the barn. Kim is tall and lean, but strict and firm and expects perfection. I recall many memories while in the horse barn, The taste and smells so violently invade your senses. You can taste the hay dust and smell the grain the moment you enter, slowly but surely I hear the sounds of pounding hooves running from the pasture just waiting for feeding time. The moment I see Kim grabs a halter, I suddenly can feel the tension in her voice and feel the aches in my hands. I slowly catch a horse and brought to Kim, " Go gets/got the Hoof Cleaning Hook and now. " I slowly grab and fight over the tools trying to find what tool is what. In the background, I hear " to hurry the Fuck up. "
Contrary to my achievements, my first tryst with horse riding wasn’t smooth sailing. Distinct images of the first day at the stable flash before my eyes every time I reflect upon my humble beginning. I was helped on to the horse by my trainer and instructed to take the reins in my hands when suddenly the horse spooked and charged towards the fence. I fell off and lay still; the
The arrival of winter was well on its way. Colorful leaves had turned to brown and fallen from the branches of the trees. The sky opened to a new brightness with the disappearance of the leaves. As John drove down the country road he was much more aware of all his surroundings. He grew up in this small town and knew he would live there forever. He knew every landmark in this area. This place is where he grew up and experienced many adventures. The new journey of his life was exciting, but then he also had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach of something not right.
I wasn’t even outside but I could feel the warm glow the sun was projecting all across the campsite. It seemed as if the first three days were gloomy and dreary, but when the sun on the fourth day arose, it washed away the heartache I had felt. I headed out of the trailer and went straight to the river. I walked to the edge, where my feet barely touched the icy water, and I felt a sense of tranquility emanate from the river. I felt as if the whole place had transformed and was back to being the place I loved the most. That day, when we went out on the boat, I went wakeboarding for the first time without my grandma. While I was up on the board and cutting through the wake of the boat, it didn’t feel like the boat was the one pulling and guiding me, it felt like the river was pushing and leading me. It was always nice to receive the reassurance from my grandma after wakeboarding, but this time I received it from my surroundings. The trees that were already three times the size of me, seemed to stand even taller as I glided past them on the river. The sun encouraged me with its brightness and warmth, and the River revitalized me with its powerful currents. The next three days passed by with ease, I no longer needed to reminisce of what my trips used to be like. Instead, I could be present in the moment, surrounded by the beautiful natural
As I opened my car door to make my way to the livestock barn, my nostrils filled with the mixed smells of hamburgers, funnel cakes, cheese fries, trash and manure. I always forget how the fair grounds had that unique smell on hot, windy days. The annoying sounds of hungry sheep and pigs echoed in my ears as I came closer to my destination. When finally reaching the old rustic barn, I began to make my way down the long cement alleyway, hoping that I would escape all of the chaos and end up at pen number thirty-five. This is where I would find my chubby pink pig lazily sleeping. My feet dragged, as the agonizing thought ran in my mind that I was once again going to have to go back into the show ring. Every time I set foot into the open arena something always ends up going wrong, and the huge crowd is always there to witness the event.
Sliding the barn doors open, I step into a warm, comforting environment. Musty straw mingles with the sharp aroma of pine shavings, complementing each other. A warm glow from sporadically placed incandescent lightbulbs richens the leather tack, all cleaned and hanging ready for the day's use. From it wafts the smell of a new pair of shoes. The fruity essence of "Show Sheen", applied after yesterday's baths, still lingers in the air. Even the harsh stinging scent of urine and manure is welcome at this early morning hour. Breaking open a bale of hay, I sense the sweetness of the dried timothy as it engulfs my olfactory system, making me wish my queasy stomach had not made me skip breakfast. I am nervous, as are many others. I know that the day ahead will bring excitement, dread, triumph, and defeat. The unpredictable nature of horse shows causes frenzied questions, like salmon spawning, to run constantly though my mind. Will the judge like my own particular style? What if the red flowers bordering the first jump spook my horse? What if a piece of paper on the ground blows into the ring? Will this horse show be a success? The outcome depends not just on me; but a...
As I am staring off on the horizon I realise how much I had allowed myself to get consumed by everything crazy in my life and how in all that I lost what truly mattered to me. I pulled over into the pipes parking lot and changed into my shorts and went down to the water. I began to walk down the creaky wooden steps as the ocean breeze hit my face for what felt like the first time. I set my stuff down and walked into the water to go swim in the waves. The second I jumped into the ocean and was floating there, I felt at peace once again.
Standing on the balcony, I gazed at the darkened and starry sky above. Silence surrounded me as I took a glimpse at the deserted park before me. Memories bombarded my mind. As a young girl, the park was my favourite place to go. One cold winter’s night just like tonight as I looked upon the dark sky, I had decided to go for a walk. Wrapped up in my elegant scarlet red winter coat with gleaming black buttons descending down the front keeping away the winter chill. Wearing thick leggings as black as coal, leather boots lined with fur which kept my feet cozy.
It was a winter morning. The mountains were covered with white snow and they looked beautiful. Thirty minutes had passed and still no announcement was made. The stream of sun rays filtered through the curtains, showering my room in its brilliance. I had butterflies in my stomach.
The car was hot and stuffy when I slipped back into the driver's seat. I found the most depressing music I owned and drove out of Glenwood as the sun started to set. Two more hours until I was home, two more hours of thinking what a terrible day I had gone through, and two more hours of cussing myself for being so naïve. The drive was a long one.
Walking, there is no end in sight: stranded on a narrow country road for all eternity. It is almost dark now. The clouds having moved in secretively. When did that happen? I am so far away from all that is familiar. The trees are groaning against the wind’s fury: when did the wind start blowing? Have I been walking for so long that time hysterically slipped away! The leaves are rustling about swirling through the air like discarded post-it notes smashing, slapping against the trees and blacktop, “splat-snap”. Where did the sun go? It gave the impression only an instant ago, or had it been longer; that it was going to be a still and peaceful sunny day; has panic from hunger and walking so long finally crept in? Waking up this morning, had I been warned of the impending day, the highs and lows that I would soon face, and the unexpected twist of fate that awaited me, I would have stayed in bed.
I have, um, stuff to do.” My heart was beating wildly in my chest, and I could still feel his eyes on me as I walked away. I had only been walking a few moments when I heard the trotting of a horse. “Wait,” called the prince. “Can I offer you a ride home?”
I slowly trudged up the road towards the farm. The country road was dusty, and quiet except for the occasional passing vehicle. Only the clear, burbling sound of a wren’s birdsong sporadically broke the boredom. A faded sign flapped lethargically against the gate. On it, a big black and white cow stood over the words “Bent Rail Farm”. The sign needed fresh paint, and one of its hinges was broken. Suddenly, the distant roar of an engine shattered the stillness of that Friday afternoon. Big tires speeding over gravel pelted small stones in all directions. The truck stopped in front of the red-brick farmhouse with the green door and shutters. It was the large milking truck that stopped by every Friday afternoon. I leisurely passed by fields of corn, wheat, barley, and strawberries. The fields stretched from the gradient hills to the snowy mountains. The blasting wind blew like a bellowing blizzard. A river cut through the hilly panorama. The river ubiquitously flowed from tranquil to tempestuous water. Raging river rapids rushed recklessly into rocks ricocheting and rebounding relentlessly through this rigorous river. Leaves danced with the wind as I looked around the valley. The sun was trapped by smoky, and soggy clouds.
It was a maddening rush, that crisp fall morning, but we were finally ready to go. I was supposed to be at State College at 10:00 for the tour, and it was already eight. My parents hurriedly loaded their luggage into the van as I rushed around the house gathering last minute necessities. I dashed downstairs to my room and gathered my coat and my duffel bag, and glanced at my dresser making sure I was leaving nothing behind and all the rush seemed to disappear. I stood there as if in a trance just remembering all the stories behind the objects and clutter accumulated on it. I began to think back to all the good times I have had with my family and friends each moment represented by a different and somewhat odd object.
As I stared at the horizon, it seemed as if the sun had risen in the west. My life felt like a question mark. Everything was a blur to me. The soft and moist grass felt like a bed waiting for me to jump into. As I carried the canoe through the deep woods, I felt nothing.