Killacky: Summer At The Barn

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(Host)
Every season has its own rituals. Commentator John Killacky, executive
director of Flynn Center for the Performing Arts, observes summer
activities at the farm where he drives his Shetland pony with a cart.

(Killacky)
In the summertime, daily life at the barn overflows with young
children, ages 7 and up, terrified and thrilled simultaneously, up on
their first mounts during pony camp. I love the end of the week ‘show’
when everybody wins something and every child is successful.

As
for the regulars, the teens and young women spend weekends traveling
around the state competing in dressage and jumping events. I’m amazed at
how fearlessly they navigate horses ten times their weight over
cross-country fences. One friend had what is called a "double clear"
with no faults in either timing or jumping, but then a disappointment in
dressage. Failures are almost as important as successes here – life
lessons learned early.

The adult boarders prefer to acquire new
skills at clinics or simply ride through the hay fields. In the world,
they’re doctors, scientists, lawyers, teachers, veterinarians,
therapists, accountants, and administrators. At the barn we’re defined
by our equines. Here, I’m Raindrop’s dad.

Mundane chores unite
us: mucking stalls, cleaning water buckets, picking out hooves, and
polishing tack. Grooming tips are shared. Then there are the fly masks
and sprays to protect our loved ones while grazing – some have homemade
‘all natural’ concoctions. I’m always learning: from teenagers to one
friend in her 80s who rides her 24-year old gelding every day.

Recently,
my Shetland pony Raindrop and I went off-site to a driving clinic in
Waltham. First though, we had to practice loading on and off the trailer
and then bring along buckets of her water. Anything new throws her.

Jeff
Morse, who led the two-day event, encouraged us to "create the horse
you want, rather than fix the horse you have." He had me drive with my
eyes closed to feel the connection of my hands on the reins to the bit
in her mouth. It was transformative.

Back home at the barn in
Williston, my eyes now open to where I want to go, I try to see the
arena as my pony does. Human vision is focused straight ahead; horses
see at 350 degrees, encompassing peripheral vision. I practice this
perspective and vast horizons of fields, mountains, and clouds
feathering the sky unfold.

My favorite time is after driving her
on a hot day, when I rinse my pony down with cold water. This took some
getting used to, but now Raindrop loves it when I turn the nozzle to a
light spray, point it heavenward, and give us both a shower. We are
giddy with delight.

 

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