Soft Landings, Hard Lessons
On this sunny October afternoon, I’m celebrating my 64th birthday with one last canter up a gentle slope. Four strides in, my 16.3-hand Dutch Warmblood gelding begins drifting left. I feel Bindigo’s back muscles bunch beneath the shallow, unpadded saddle I’d pulled off the tackroom wall. Hauling his more secure custom saddle from my house to the boarding stable had seemed too much trouble. But oh, to have my usual duck—but not for long.
