Waterfall Equestrian – summer morning and winter morning
The time of dawn at Waterfall Equestrian bring a soft, homely feeling, or it might just be the warm summer. Opening the gate to Rippon My shorts flutter in the small spitting breeze, and only brushing through the hair loose off my shoulders. It always tends to be a dirty day out there, kicking up the dust on the dirt road is easy as cutting cake on a tropical day. Skies shine a baby blue without a cream puff cloud in sight. Tickling rays from the blistering sun gently stroke the scenery, taking over and flowing down the face of the hill. Gigantic poplar trees stand as giants centered in the paddock, casting a deep dark shadow behind. The trees almost feel like they tackle the paddock making everything fall smaller to them, like a mouse to a cat. Big boulder like rocks sit sharply in the paddock below them, making good things to jump when riding. Grass is usually greener and more luscious where it is hidden and where the horses ignore; They typically do choose not to the meet the shadow, but to soak up the easy warmth. therefore the horses’ coats shine immaculately in the rich baking sun, and none share a resemblance. Each and every-one stand uniquely. Some radiate a red tint through their hair; some glow a eye-catching cream, thick, golden colour. Obviously the main attraction there are the horses themselves; summer connecting them to days of enjoyment. It excites them like a teenager leaving school last period on a friday. Almost like they age backwards, they rip around in a blazing gallop kicking their hooves in the air, like young offsprings playing. A tease of warmth just nibbles on my skin, and i know i’m going to have irritating tan lines with my socks, like light strawberries dipped into dark chocolate. So many things figure to intrigue and distract me, like the smell of freshly baled hay. One single thing keeps my attention constant, and that’s my horse sparky. His colouring on striking appearance, and his charming face looking right at me.
Sunup at Waterfall Equestrian comes across as unpleasant, and I tend to not enjoy them, or it might just be the cold winter. Flares of sunlight sits somewhere else, with heavy smoke like clouds overthrow the blue skies, buried deep above the clustered mountains. The gate screeches as the frozen pieces of ice breaks off, falling like breadcrumbs off crispy brown toast. The dirt turned to mud, mud turned to ice; a heavy thud claps with the ground each step I take. My black rugged gumboots are fattened with thick wooly socks, attempting to defeat the crisp ice beneath my feet; the freezing cold ground get to my toes, creating a swelling tenderness. Looking around everything feels bare and incomplete. Poplar trees stand like single sticks with splintering branches, making the paddock feel bigger and them just a small part of the overall scenery. It’s an unusual sight seeing the horses clustered around such bare shelter, and them not showing a single hint of energy. The morning is frozen, and so are the horses. They probably couldn’t stretch out much anyways; all their bodies captured by covers, suffocated with warmth and protection from each night’s harsh conditions. My mare Lucky’s cover is a dirty purple, and is genuinely dirty; she must have rolled in the wet mud this morning after a nights cry. The air is dead and cool, not a whistle to be heard but the frost to be felt when it pierces my nose and ears, turning them a cherry red. It’s an outlandish sight seeing the horses’ stand like statues, nothing clouting their nerves. It seems the cold keeps me on the nose, maybe even a little too much. Sometimes it feels like I don’t take a breath, or take things in. However one horse stands in my paddock looking like Gold and graphite; He has striking black legs with a whipped cream coloured body. However his colouring is hidden by the mud caked to his legs, disturbing the night. His body cloaked by a rug beating the hazardous cold, hugging him like a mother would her child.