May 3 week: pt. 4

Chaz, in another of her wild and amazing hats.

Fairies, horse-valuting.  I love the way these girls run – like high-stepping flowers.

This lovely, dappled boy was once a carriage horse, rescued from a bad situation.  He was badly head-shy and nervous when the girls found him.  But they loved him into happiness, and now, he’s a steady old rock of a horse.  Note the fancy braid on mane and tail both.

A leaping fairy.

Posing fairies.

This horse is like a poem.

Here is how the fairies do their dance – one leaps off and runs away, the other runs up to the already cantering horse, takes hold of the frame –

runs beside him,

then swings up on his back.

I have to laugh.  Never one time did I successfully vault onto the gymnastics horse in gym—and that thing was holding still.  I had NO IDEA that the thing was standing in for an actual, real horse.  If they’d told me this was an ancient, equine-type skill, I might actually have put my heart into it.

Next came the jousting.  This was actual jousting.  A small faire, indeed, but boasting an exhibition by the (are you ready?) Heavy Weight—Full Contact Jousting Champion of the World.  Now, tell me you knew that there was actually such a sport?  The man lives in Eagle Mountain.  The men he was jousting with that day had come from Michigan and  – was it California?  Evidently, they have tournaments all over, a mix of theatrics and death-defying competition.

The horse he rides, we are told – and I do not doubt it – is the number one jousting horse on the planet.  I will not tell you his name, because I can’t spell it.  Not unexpectedly, every one of his stable is named after some kind of German beer.  He is wearing real armor.

A sweet tempered horse to haul such a weight.

The dashing Master of the Tourney.  2nd place Champion of World Middle-weight Jousting.

The contender.  Also world ranked.  But not nearly so high a rank—though he, too, rides a fine horse.

Feet like dinner plates.

And getting down to business.  Note, the stretched out neck and extended legs.  This horse is really moving.

The noble spectator.

Lances crossed.

And shattered.

Point one for the Champ.  The other guy was actually injured during this tournament—the champ’s lance having caught him under the crupper (??), catching an arm and tearing the shirt beneath.  But we are still not sure whether this was true, or just part of the drama.

Now – can you tell what I liked best about the day?

Here is the snooty Florentine woman (in Fleur de Lis) and her sober retainer.  The lady looks old.  And contrary.

But no.  She is thrilled.

And suddenly fat.  The retainer is charming.

This was my birthday present from the Chaz, the long, lovely dress.  The snood and hair ornament, purchased at the faire.  I don’t know where that face came from.  But it looks used.

Oh, yes.  She is dashing.

But I can’t maintain any dignity for more than a moment.  Especially not in a full skirt that swishes.

Ole!