I have totally lost my riding mojo.  It has gone.  I don’t know why but it has.

Today, I kicked myself up the arse and rode out.

(this is Iacs trying to eat the carrots he thinks I keep in my pocketses)

My normal view.

Daisy and I decided it would be a slow old-man Sunday morning plod – as we cantered out of the gate!

We set off down the road.

It was ruddy cold – a fresh northerly wind making it two degrees celsius.

As usual, Haakon and I were left behind.  These days, no one waits for us.

But we both went belting up the canter track to the top.

And beyond…..

Onwards to the “top of the world”.

It was here that Haakon, fed up of being at the back, made his bid to overtake. He snuck up on the inside!

Once leader, Haakon got to make all the decisions – like when to turn and go home.

Me? I am just a mere passenger who sits aloft with my hands in my pockets trying to keep warm.  And I am also working the camera!

It was a good ride.  We laughed, we galloped and we were, as usual, fairly out of control but it didn’t matter – these are old horses we were riding and they know their job.  They’ve been doing it for years.

And yes, we did canter home like the British Horse Society say you should never do!

I think my riding mojo has returned.

The wind it doth blow.

Rather a lot at the moment.

So, after I took photos of the croft house yesterday, I went down to the field to spend some time with my Minions and the three old ladies.

Tiddles was first up.

He seems to have got over his horrific ordeal (when he fell in a sink hole, this time last year – I shall never forgive myself).

Next up, were Storm and Silver.  Always hopeful for a pocket-carrot.

Darling Waffle.  Ever the Grown-Up and so easy going.

Delia is doing well. She almost flattened me for her carrot.  This winter we are adopting the natural approach – no rugs, miles to walk about in plus unlimited grass.  Obviously, we will continuously assess her and if she needs rugs and extra feed, then it will be given without question.

The day she stops flattening us for her food, is The Day.

Although it is barely winter, I think Delia is looking good – her usual self – ears flat back demanding her calorific dues.

That’s our Delia.  We wouldn’t want her any other way.

Fivla and Vitamin with their Abba impersonation!

Fivla is trying to slim down.

To be perfectly honest, one good Shetland winter should shift that muffin top!

Vitamin is happy enough ruling her world.  She tells herself the Minions do her bidding and they let her believe that.  It is a fragile, yet working, balance.

So, having dished out the statutory carrot and kissed each nose, I sat down on my rock to be mugged.

Trying to take “selfies” in a gale is a hopeless task.  The result was Storm eating my jacket – he sees it as an activity centre – the zips and velcro.

I gave up and went home.

No one seems to care about the wind.

1. 1.

   a small rented farm, especially one in Scotland, comprising a plot of arable land attached to a house and with a right of pasturage held in common with other such farms.

   Oxford Dictionary

The boys were at the far end of Lyradale happily munching in the lee, or shelter, of the surrounding hills.

Ponies = dots that you can barely make out somewhere in the far distance.

The grass that surrounds the house is for the needy later on this winter.  The Minions and their lady friends are not considered thin or needy and thus this grass is not for them.  Not now and possibly not never.  They is fat little ponios.

Almost every day I walk past this derelict croft house and yet, today, I saw it through different eyes (or camera lens settings, depending on your outlook).

I scrambled through the blocked front door (on the other side of the porch).

Typical Shetland, and maybe they do this elsewhere, but there are two front doors – one each side of the front porch.

I guess it depends on which way the wind is blowing.

I haven’t been inside for a while.  I tend not to but it is interesting to look through the windows and see the same views that the original residents would’ve looked at.

Front View

Back View

I don’t know when the last inhabitants of Leradale (original name) moved out.

You can see they had good facilities.  I think that using large stones mean someone spent money.

One day, I will try and do something with this house.  It has a special feeling.

It is my dream.

Anywho, after wafting about taking photos of the house and imagining the occupants and their way of life, I went to see the more important residents of Lyradale.

I have spent most of my morning setting up a friend’s computer so didn’t have the chance to go outside to talk to anyone.

After the computer marathon – why is nothing ever simple? – Daisy and I went to work at Turriefield.

Knowing I hadn’t taken any photos for today’s Blog, I gave Floss my camera and asked her to go out and take some pics.

First, she went to see the sheep who were all out the front, chewing their cud.

Happy little Boyzenberries all back to normal.

‘Ster was practising his Winning Smile.

Lambie was not (obviously practising his Filthy Look).

Next up, Floss went into the field to see if the Icelandic horses and Shetland ponies wanted to talk.

Little Newt looking very strangely proportioned – I think it is the camera angle. I sincerely hope it is!

But he has a cute face.

Albie is doing fabulously.

Flossie was then spied by the others.

And that was that.

She was theirs!  This is Klængur (apparently).

I love Iacs sneaking around the back of the shed.

There is no hierarchy according to size.

Haakon stayed well away – there is grass to eat.  Nuff said.

Taktur and Kappi were also stuffing their faces.  Food = central heating and it is getting gradually colder each day.

They are all funny little boys. A happy herd.  We love them to bits.  They are our family.

Today was a day for the Icelandic horses.  Not the Shetland ponies.

Bjørn, our trainer and farrier, shod Haakon’s front.

I was tölting down the road last week when I heard a ping, a flash of iron out of the corner of my eye, and suddenly we were one horseshoe down.

I haven’t ridden Haakon since then as it is not fair to ride him lopsided.  It does neither of us any favours.

So I was glad to have my old boy shod again.  We can get back out and about.

Next up, Bjorn gave Flossie a riding lesson on Klængur.

Their aim was to manage the “pocket rocket”-ness, to get Klængur’s engine into the back and to find a more four-beat tölt.

First up, half halts.  The basis of everything.

(everyone was enthralled)

Then Bjørn had a shot to see what was going on inside Klængur’s head.

As usual, he got him going beautifully (so not fair – that depressing moment when someone rides your horse better than you do!)

But Flossie got back on and achieved so all was good.

A quick break and then Bjørn brought in his new gelding, Elvar.

Bjørn wanted a horse to ride while Elvar learned to be a hand-horse.  This is a common training technique in Iceland.

If you want to do something different, Haakon is your man.  He is brilliant at this.  He never flickers. He never says no, he is 100% trustworthy and reliable.

And after a slight uncertain start from Elvar, they were all happily circling the school in walk, tölt (and piggy pace)!  We decided the indoor school was the best place to find out if this method would work.  Next, they will go outside.

I am always very proud of Haakon when he does a job well for someone else.

**** sniff **** coz I am his Mum and I trained him since he was 3 years old.