25/03/2026
Every now and then I stumble across this photo of Aston and me during a Stockman's Challenge class up at Loxton Riding Club and it always fills me with joy.
Whenever I rode Aston, I had the indescribable feeling of 'this is my horse'. Not as in 'OK Clare, obviously Aston is your horse', but in a deeper sense of 'this is where I'm meant to be and who I'm meant to be with'.
We were never even vaguely technical and the basis of our groundwork and ridden journey was basically informed through troubleshooting with a whole lot of very patient guidance from Day Horsemanship. Complicated by the fact that I was a very basic rider and Aston was a sensitive sausage who I probably had no business sitting on. A very kind, tough and patient sausage. But also a sausage with big feelings at times.
We drilled so much groundwork, spent time hanging out, focussed on how not to let Clare fall off (it didn't take much at times 😅). Lots of energy up, energy down, breathing into transitions, loads of handwalking trails and raceways suggesting alternatives to overtaking me. A lot of mess, and repetition, and cuddles which he generously tolerated.
I think because we were so head down, bum up about getting the foundations right, I always had the cloud of our inherent imperfection hanging over me and never fully appreciated how literate we became with each other under saddle. I could breathe in a halt to canter or vice versa. Ride out to the forest solo, breaking big branches over his head and wrapping big bushels to the saddle horn to carry home for possum feasts. One of those days lightning struck a fencepost 3 metres behind us and he carried me carefully home, despite both of us being absolutely unsettled. He would take part in any new activity during clinics and outings, gallop against quarter horses in gymkhana games. I could point him at a jump and know he would take care of me, even though I couldn't ride a jump to save my life. Still can't, never will 🤣 He could chase a ball into the goalposts with the best of them. Think and he would do. Don't ask me to achieve anything close to this on any other horse. A well-worn glove fits its hand.
I still remember the period of time where external comments shifted from 'that horse is too much for you' to 'I wish my horse was like Aston'. It caused so many mixed feelings in me. I was so proud of how he chose to participate in his own 'development', but saddened that the horse I loved unconditionally, like so many others, had to prove himself in a very human world in order for his value to be recognised. I adored him, always.
I loved the way he could be the face of Whole Horse, however he came, always willing to let me test out a new toy or technique, and so responsive. Whole Horse is still Aston's business, I am his underfunctioning employee.
Since Aston's retirement, I have been so lucky to be able to ride other people's wonderful horses. Horses I feel infinitely safer on than I ever did on Aston. Horses who are trained to higher levels. Horses who have taught me so much, and who I love with every fibre of my being.
But when a horse is 'your' horse, heart and soul, the flow and the joy is different. Only now do I appreciate what we were able to build together during his working life, and what a rare privilege that was. And how we were still just scratching the surface. I so look forward to building that with another horse someday, knowing more, doing better. Please, always doing better.
Yesterday, I went to see my old friend, and he said, 'let's run together'. So we ran and played. And it was wonderful. It always has been, and always will be. These days, every moment is precious.
This photo of us running together, ears forward, slack rein, matched stride, both having FUN, on a strange oval surrounded by stranger objects, during a multi-day solo camp trip hours from home with my big pony is one of my fondest memories, and a reminder to always cherish the horse you have, and the relationship you have built - you probably have something way more special than you realise ❤️
