When I arrived at my stable today I knew what to expect. During the last week the warm, almost summer like November had turned into the dark and grey month it should be and temperatures had dropped below the freezing point. Eventually it had started to snow last Saturday. So it was no surprise to find the riding corral covered under a thick white blanket. No biggie. My riding instructor believes that her students should learn to handle difficult weather conditions.

Alison, the nineteen year old Hanoverian mare that teaches me riding, was… let’s call it excited. We know each other for three months now and she has started to follow my finger gestures. Back, turn (your butt), stand. Today I had to lift my finger quite a few times, while I groomed and saddled her. The winter wonder land seemed to be so much more interesting to her than me.

Once we were on the riding corral everything was fine. Alison was a little startled when I mounted her. Poor thing; a little bit of the snow was hanging from my pants and she clearly didn’t like cold legs at the sides of her belly. But after that we went along quite fine.

I am still a beginner. So my task today was to forget about the snow and work on the way I am holding the reins. Alison is very patient with me but shows me by nodding violently when she’s unsatisfied with the movements of my arms and my pull on her reins. My riding instructor is very strict here. She told me that it is no use to start with trot or gallop as long as I haven’t got a certain amount of feeling on how to hold the reins. It’s the long and slow way. But I like it, compared to what I have experienced before.

When we eventually left the riding corral the snow was no more a smooth blanket. It was more like a wasteland. I think there was not an inch we hadn’t set Alison’s hooves on. She had been patient with me once more. But I was a little discontent with myself. Do I really make progress?