The Eternal Optimism of George Morris

Its been a few days since finishing the George Morris Clinic in Windsor Nova Scotia. I'm STILL exhausted.  Bone deep, dragging, exhausted in mind and body.

Every rider had two choices: improve (within his framework) or leave.

I listened to him preach and bark orders. He rode rough-shod over people up one side and down the other, and today I realize the miraculous. George Morris is an optimist, an eternal optimist.

He believes you can do better.  He believes your horse can go better. He believes you can do it classically, without flash or gadgets.  He believes everyone with the courage to step in front of him can be better.  He will do and say whatever it takes to demand, convince, bully and march you kicking and screaming into being more than when you first appeared in front of him.

Every horse and rider that I saw went better by the end.  The riders rode more classically, the horses went more softly but more bravely.  Every horse he sat on went better during that time.
And through it all, he wants you to rise to the challenge.  Dig deep and try harder.  Give more, be bolder and take risks.

At 79, George Morris doesn't need travel teaching clinics in random places anymore. Most don't. Denny Emerson certainly doesn't, and I admire him to no end.  George doesn't need to hop on strange horses to feel them out and work his magic. Hell, he'd be better off not doing so.

So, for all his bluster, bravado and curmudgeonly demeanor, why bother?  Optimism. Eternally believing that there are riders who want to rise to the occasion. Eternally believing that he can make riders glimpse the greatness in their horses and themselves is the only answer.

And if George Morris, the man himself, believes you can be better?  Who are we mere mortals to argue?

Immense thanks to DMF Productions for bringing this clinic to our neck of the woods.  It has changed my perspective in ways I have yet to process.

The Return of the T-Rex

So, its been a while.

The Hippo and I are still here, but there were plans in the works that required serious attention. (Pause for dramatic effect)  End result?  We just bought and moved onto our own farm.

Yes, you read that correctly.  We bought a farm for the horse that was SUPPOSED to have been a resale project.  Well played, big mare, well played indeed.

This, of course, expands the cast of characters and also the potential for mayhem.  So, let me introduce:

• Aaron, my infinitely patient husband, farm caretaker and baker.  Animals love him but don't respect him, there's a LOT of animals...
• Elliot, the English Cocker Spaniel aka 'The Tiny Tyrant'.  He tries to loudly rule the world but really only rules Eddie and annoys the cat.
• Eddie, the English Setter aka 'The Spotted Dork'.  He's an adolescent whirlwind of fur, hugs, chewing and enthusiasm; when he's not sound asleep on his back.
• Klein, the ancient cat aka 'Mr Peepers', who REALLY wishes the Tiny Tyrant would stop with the flying tackle pounces
• Jasper, Essie's companion, aka 'The Ghetto Unicorn'  Mashing burrs into his mane and forelock isn't just a game, its a calling. He won't stop until he has a giant burr-filled dread lock that stands up on its own in a strong wind. 

And now?  I need a truck, a trailer, and a farm name

Aaron?  He needs a ride on mower, and soon