The grove awoke in a thin, earthy glaze. Rain battered through the night with its endless rhythm and in the morning a light sprinkle still tapped outside.
As Southern Californians, slate skies and damp air served as a much-needed respite from the year-round summer’s endless browns and sunshine. Fog, haze, and a general sense of cold were a spectacle seldom observed. This fact manifested itself in a sudden obsession with sweaters, rain boots, scarves, and other garments that would collect dust the rest of the year. As equestrians, the rains proved to be...disagreeable. Mud rebounded from the drumming rain and made a thick crust along everything; footing was reduced to a watery slush. Even the horses seemed restless, whether from the temperature dipping too far below 70 for their liking or the soft rushes of thunder.
Spoiled SoCal brats.
She never thought much of it but Ingrid had only known summer. It was summer when she learned to skateboard; the asphalt was hot when she fell but it was fun. It was summer when she got her ears pierced; the other kids laughed and the hot air felt suffocating. It was summer when she decided to go out in that dress; the weather was nice though the stares were not.
The end of 2019 gave Ingrid a cute mare named Honeybee and an autumn adventure in Canada that was still on her mind months later. There they won a third place ribbon for a show Ingrid wouldn’t have entered had it been any other week. It left her feeling buzzed for Bee’s first real show season. Ingrid wanted a round of at least all red and gold ribbons—red and gold, like those autumn leaves in Canada.
FAIT ACCOMPLI /fād əkämˈplē/ noun a thing that has already happened or been decided before those affected hear about it, leaving them with no option but to accept it.
yeah dw i’ll put up my hair later
- adeline's last text before the show
It was a charade.
Adeline felt washed up, but feeling washed up implies previous success. “You can’t say Monterey was a fluke,” she had once said to Irene, but they both knew it was. Yet there she was at some other hunter show that Saturday, buttoning her blue show coat, tacking up Milkshake, running her fingers through her mare’s mane.
She was nervous, of course, and it showed when she tapped her foot to the rhythm of the song stuck in her head, but she wasn’t counting on a ribbon. She gave in to that feeling often—before a test she couldn’t study for, at a rehearsal she didn’t practice for, during a speech she never prepared for. It was like walking a tightrope. “I don’t think I got this at all,” that feeling said, “but I’d like to not fall off.”
The show at Aspenfield was the other riders’ culmination of countless hours training, and it showed when they glossed their fingers over their horses’ perfect plaits. Adeline respected them for that—for the discipline they put into a shattered dream. When they were all little girls, hadn’t equestrianism seemed so romantic? Perhaps girls could brush off equestrianism’s muddy reality as it seeped through their rose-colored glasses, but they could not ignore that it was there. Or perhaps it was a new romance: a romance in the dark mornings and musty barns, in muddy boots and worn leather. It was not a sparkling, shining thing like in the movies.
Tight-roping seems cool and all, except when yours is made of thread.
(And Adeline never remembered to put her hair up.)
Post by Marquis Moulin on Apr 2, 2020 18:11:22 GMT -6
To be fair, I forgot to put my fly up when I was preforming in a musical, so I can understand the forgetting of putting up hair smh- lemme just say, I love Milkshake sm, I usually am not a fan of horses with a lot of white but AGH she is such a gorgeous and unique girl * sobs * this whole little story is adorable AGH
~Darling, I can barely remember you beside me / You should come back home, back on your own now~ Ragged Wood - Fleet Foxes