My numb fingers grasp the reins as the cold air stings my ears and freezes my breath in my nostrils. My gelding’s hooves beat a steady canter rhythm through the damp footing under the pre-dawn arena lights as we “warm up” with a few other horses and barn friends on another frigid winter morning in the Rocky Mountains.
I have to admit—when I startled awake to my alarm this morning at 5:15, I wondered briefly why I do this to myself. But only briefly. Then I texted my trainer: How’s the weather? Are we riding? Her reply was a thumbs up. I knew she’d already been up for an hour cleaning stalls and would soon be tackling her first round of lessons for the day, bundled from head to toe.
It’s December 2022, and the snow this year has already been relentless. At a training facility full of sport horses with no indoor arena in the middle of the mountain west, my trainer hasn’t had a break from the foul weather in months. She salts, plows, drags, and drains the footing every time the snow even hints at having serious intentions—she’s become a master of mid-winter arena care.
The boarders at the barn—myself included—have become masters at sharing humorous and whiny memes about having too much snow in our lives. Perhaps it’s a weak attempt to cheer her on as we sigh at the forecast, pine for our horses, and try to spend our lost riding time on something productive in our “real” lives while we wait anxiously for the weather to break.
Back in the arena on this blessed moisture-free morning, my brave steed shies at a snow pile that has shifted slightly since yesterday. He’s not the type to lose his mind over much, but he likes me to know he’s paying attention. I have to laugh a little at the extra gear I can detect in his movement this morning—he feels spry and a little frisky. I’m grateful he’s not a bucker.
Soon, a sharper chill settles over us—the sun is rising. The temperature always dips at dawn. Steam rises from well-furred backs and horse breath billows in clouds, backlit by the early morning glow. I stop and warm my hands as another rider takes a turn at our jump course, and I can’t help but notice the golden light streaming in luminous ribbons over the mountain peaks. The view is stunning.
My trainer notices it too. She smiles. “Aren’t you glad we’re not stuck in an indoor arena today?” she says cheerily. After all her hard labor this year, her ability to appreciate the beauty of this season is nothing short of inspiring, and I admire it. I am glad to be sitting exactly where I am right now. I realize that I wouldn’t be without her dedication.
I’m sure most horse owners find ways to appreciate time with their horses and the beauty of the seasons regardless of their circumstances. I know many horse people take longer breaks from riding in the winter, which is also wonderful, and I’m not implying that there’s anything at all wrong with having an indoor arena. But, whether in rain, sunshine, or snow, a morning on horseback is a divine gift. If braving the cold helps me remember that a little more often, that’s not such a bad thing.
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Photo by Magnus on Adobe Stock Images.
