#17 Photoshoot!

Recently, we spent a couple of hours on a very cold Saturday afternoon with Mike of Fairbrother Photography, and had a lot of fun taking pictures! Well, I did. Flora could barely mask her disdain at being poked and prodded with brushes and coat shine for over an hour, especially after being brought in from the field an entire 119 minutes earlier than usual (how dare I?). A number of other things really got her goat during the shoot too. But other than that, she really enjoyed herself.

The day began with me heading to the farm much earlier than usual, so that Flora could actually spend the same amount of time in the field as always (she forgot that part). It was a real risk pre-photo shoot, since the field was like the banks of a Tanzanian river after heavy rain and a visit from a herd of parched elephants.

She was first out that morning and went cantering off to the brow of the hill, shouting for her boyfriend, then sheepishly mooched back to graze nearer the gate when she realised she was alone. I imagine it felt a bit like waving at someone when they’ve already turned away and feeling like “a right dick”, as we say in these parts.

Anyway, I turned my attention to sorting her stable, mixing feeds, the dreaded (oh! the dreaded) haynet-filling and some tack and boot-polishing, so that all was done apart from her makeover, then headed home for a shower.

Really, I should have put a lot more thought into this bit. For a start, I look like a hobo with make-up on in a lot of the pictures, and this was because I later realised I spent far more time sorting her out than I did deciding what to wear. As a result, I have now been memorialised in photographic form in a black jumper with a hole under the arm that that I inherited from my husband after I shrank it in the wash. Once back at the farm, I also showered my freshly-washed hair and face with dry mud when curry-combing her, so I’ve included a picture from before this happened, as evidence that I did, at one time, look less filthy and windswept for our lovely photograph session.

At least I was otherwise organised.

An hour and a half before Mike was due at the yard, I brought her in. I was anticipating her walking in the opposite direction as soon as she saw me since it was “early”, and the little b# stard did just that. One mad wave of a carrot, though, and she was caught. A headful of mud, but caught.

Brushing, polishing, snipping, sponging and oiling began, being much too cold and late for a bath, and upon Mike’s arrival, what was the very first thing she did? Roll.

Watching her go down was like watching an Attenborough documentary in slow motion. No killer whales and seals though; no lizards and racer snakes. Just a really clean Thoroughbred and a dusty old woodchip floor.

She spent a good 30 seconds on her back with her legs in the air, then stood up looking a bit pleased with herself. She absolutely did it to be awkward. A full week or more of being confined to her stable when she had a hole in her foot, and not once did she roll when I took her into the woodchip pen for exactly that opportunity. One afternoon’s photography session, after hours of grooming and grazing, and she’s down within a minute flat.

In I rushed with the brush, my perfectionist genes screaming, and she gave my ear a little nibble while I scrubbed her knees. All was forgiven.

 

From this point on, Mike was quietly snapping away. He loves animals and has a special appreciation for the majesty of our equine friends. Despite the freezing cold, the rolling and putting up with me jumping up and down like a moron shaking a box of Tic Tacs in a vain attempt to get a smile on the grumpy cow’s face, Mike made the whole experience very relaxed and good fun. Nothing was too much trouble. Flora’s deep, deep interest in a man in the next field with a metal detector; the other horses tanking round their fields spooking at something; her minor tantrum at being made to stand still - God forbid - on a ‘hack’ down the lane, was taken in his stride. He even put our jump back up when she knocked it down - more than once (it was, after all, her first proper jump since before she was lame).

All in all, it was a great experience. All my reservations about it being a cheesy, cringey, awkward event were put to rest, and we have ended up with a fantastic selection of images to treasure, frame, and bore people to death with on Facebook. My lucky grandparents might even get one on a canvas for Christmas.

If ever I’m asked what material item I’d rescue from a burning home or have with me on a desert island - my response (wine aside) would be photos. I am mercilessly tortured for the amount I take and share, but what a wonderful, nostalgic thing they are. In the snap-happy, filter-frenzied time we are living in, what better than some beautiful, natural images that capture a moment the way it really was? When we lose things, animals, people, our youth… how amazing is it that we can look back with fondness on the precious times we shared, and bring them all flooding back to us with a glance?

 

 

#horsebloggers #equestrianphotography #ladyflora