Third Weekend in November

Half a century ago, in 1972, the annual Bridlespur Hunter Trials were held, by tradition, on the third weekend in November. That year, I rode Tré Awain Tourbillon, the beautiful gray Connemara stallion on whom I jumped many big fences, and from whom I learned courage and joy.

Before I was fortunate enough to get the ride on Tourbillon, he was ridden by Laura Carpenter (now Balding) on another third November weekend, several years earlier, as part of a Hunt Team (three horses competing together against other teams). Here is a photo of Laura on Tourbillon in the middle, flanked by Betsey Lewis (now Johnson) on darker gray Nameless and Jenna Johnson on another Connemara, whose name has escaped my memory this evening. Their picture became the iconic logo for the Tré Awain Connemaras. The Tré Awain Hunt Team was undefeated for many years. We all took the competition very seriously.

51 years ago, I fell with Tre Awain Brian Boru, a son of Tourbillon, in a class before the Hunt Teams, after practicing for weeks for my chance to ride on the team. My collarbone was broken, so I had to wait another year to ride on the Team (they won without me in 1971). My mother never came to watch me again, after our miserable trip from the Hunter Trials to the hospital. But my friend, Kevin, memorialized the accident with a sketch and his magnificent calligraphy (St. Louis Priory Benedictines required it in those days, along with Latin and Greek). I have that memento still.

Eventually, with November weather sometimes quite cold (as it is this week, actually), the Hunter Trials moved to an October weekend. Here is Harry, in 1987, on his magnificent hunt horse, Willi, competing at the Hunter Trials. Sadly, the Hunter Trials have faded into the past, stored now in fond memories of we old fox hunters.

We have had a pleasant, but uneventful few days, as I continue to follow doctors’ orders and rest. I feel completely recovered now, but will refrain from work for one more week. I am diligently attending to easy household chores while I heal.

To my delight, some blue jays have returned. I enjoy their loud discussions and their flashy color. We had a blue jay nest in the pine tree outside the kitchen this year, but after they reared some young, they all left for a while. I am reassured to see several back here.

Cedar and Nettie were investigating something in the pasture (probably a fresh pile of horse poop). Cedar came home with a deer leg on Friday. Yuck.

Cedar and Weedy were very picturesque on the bed after a morning adventuring. Photo by Harry.

Cedar put up a racket, and I looked out to see two deer that had escaped deer season intact.

Roscoe is always picturesque, of course. I went out to snap a picture of ice on the stream, and he was waiting for the camera. He really dislikes Tom Morris, who has taken to sleeping on the porch. Tom Morris doesn’t care a whit about Roscoe’s growls and complaints.

Be safe, be well, sweet dreams. Slava Ukraini! Peace.