Bushwhacking

Started out in the sand ring, did a few laps at the walk and trot, half-volte changes of rein, booting Clover in front of my leg. Left the ring, saying we could only stand so much ring-work (ha, short attention span).

Decided to go bushwhacking. Went up the snowmobile trail behind Carriage Hill, bypassed the dressage ring, through tall grass that Clover kept trying to eat, over boggy trail (Clover: You sure we have to do this? How about I use my big shoulder and wheel around the other way? No?), past house foundations to a dirt road. Up a driveway, past the house, alongside a fenceline, more long grass, back down the driveway, up a steep hill, down a steep hill (I was impressed with Clover's handiness during all this exploring). Turn around, trot back up the road, back track to Meadow Lane. Bugs weren't too bad. Lots of development going on.

When I was a kid, I'd ride on trails for hours, following logging paths, sometimes winding up in yards or hunter's camps; sometimes at ponds I even found the way to Silver Lake. Nowadays, I'm afraid of a landowner flipping their lid, even though I ride courteously, a byproduct of our litigous society and disappearing land.