My heart aches fort he 21 horses that died a week or so ago, in Wellington , Fl not far from where we are. A human error, it was senseless, and makes you stop and think.
We decided to go to the last Polo match of the season, last Sunday. I was more than excited, and then even doubly s when a customer gave us tickets.
Staring out at Jen and Kevin's house, we had a brunch of Champagne and a nectar of some kind ( a Bellini perhaps? ) and I made pork roll and cheese sandwiches for my friends ( A NJ delicacy)who had never had them, and we relaxed and chatted about our excitement to go to the match.
As we arrived, you could hear the hooves pounding the sod, you could hear yelling and chatter, and the horses snorts and heavy breath from the activity. The sky was a bright blue, the sod so green, and the air was perfect. Not too hot, the sun was out and shining, but there was a lovely breeze blowing creating the perfect day.
We sat and watched the earlier match at 11:00, and when each chukker (akin to a inning) was over , they riders and their ponies would leave the field and everyone would step gingerly on the sod and then go around and pounce on the divits that they horses hooves had created in the grass. As we stomped divits across the field we came across a rider, the one woman in the pack. She was riding a dark brown pony, and she seemed comfortable in her own skin on the horse and on the field.
The horn blows signaling a return to play and we hurriedly crossed the field to the car where we were tailgating.
Watching people eat and drink and relax watching one of the most majestic sports to me was just heaven. My husband who fell asleep in the back of our friends SUV thought less so.
The finals began at 3:00 with a parade of stunning events: skydivers who looked so thoroughly off their mark that I thought they would be landing in the field down the street, jet airplanes, that looked military in nature but I'm not sure where they came from, and the pomp and circumstance that is Palm Beach. Money and fancy cars and ladies with breasts abounding. Also there were a lot of older gents with younger gals, the norm for this area but to me it is still the creepiest thing I have seen.
The "haves" as we called them, had little tents spread out, and champagne flowed from glass to glass, and the ladies were polished and wearing big brimmed hats. The men dapper in their suits and bow ties, this was old money from Palm Beach.
It was interesting to people watch, and the match was quicker and more intense than the one we had previously watched.
The day was glorious.
When I was younger I wanted to be a jockey. And as I watched the ponies I couldnt help but feel a twinge of what could have been. I'm small , I'm strong and I think I could have been a good one.
We decided to go to the last Polo match of the season, last Sunday. I was more than excited, and then even doubly s when a customer gave us tickets.
Staring out at Jen and Kevin's house, we had a brunch of Champagne and a nectar of some kind ( a Bellini perhaps? ) and I made pork roll and cheese sandwiches for my friends ( A NJ delicacy)who had never had them, and we relaxed and chatted about our excitement to go to the match.
As we arrived, you could hear the hooves pounding the sod, you could hear yelling and chatter, and the horses snorts and heavy breath from the activity. The sky was a bright blue, the sod so green, and the air was perfect. Not too hot, the sun was out and shining, but there was a lovely breeze blowing creating the perfect day.
We sat and watched the earlier match at 11:00, and when each chukker (akin to a inning) was over , they riders and their ponies would leave the field and everyone would step gingerly on the sod and then go around and pounce on the divits that they horses hooves had created in the grass. As we stomped divits across the field we came across a rider, the one woman in the pack. She was riding a dark brown pony, and she seemed comfortable in her own skin on the horse and on the field.
The horn blows signaling a return to play and we hurriedly crossed the field to the car where we were tailgating.
Watching people eat and drink and relax watching one of the most majestic sports to me was just heaven. My husband who fell asleep in the back of our friends SUV thought less so.
The finals began at 3:00 with a parade of stunning events: skydivers who looked so thoroughly off their mark that I thought they would be landing in the field down the street, jet airplanes, that looked military in nature but I'm not sure where they came from, and the pomp and circumstance that is Palm Beach. Money and fancy cars and ladies with breasts abounding. Also there were a lot of older gents with younger gals, the norm for this area but to me it is still the creepiest thing I have seen.
The "haves" as we called them, had little tents spread out, and champagne flowed from glass to glass, and the ladies were polished and wearing big brimmed hats. The men dapper in their suits and bow ties, this was old money from Palm Beach.
It was interesting to people watch, and the match was quicker and more intense than the one we had previously watched.
The day was glorious.
When I was younger I wanted to be a jockey. And as I watched the ponies I couldnt help but feel a twinge of what could have been. I'm small , I'm strong and I think I could have been a good one.
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