#casteleaux

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don’t ask where the horses went

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Pivoine CX (Honeybrook Peter Pan x Sailleur CX)

Pivoine grew with the summer. No, she was the summer: fresh but not overripe. She sported a tousled mane, finicky ears, too much lank. Constellated birdcatcher spots ripped from the night sky dotted her coat like a wet paint brush had dripped them there. Under the cerulean sky’s gaze, her curious muzzle snuck into curiouser places. Those curiosities persisted through the evenings, when the sky ripened to strawberry and crickets chirped lullabies. The mare was old enough to know the fleeting nature of summers at Casteleaux, so she revelled in it all: the parrot-viridian greens, the long days, the rustling leaves. When the leaves tired of their own emerald glint and began to fall, Pivoine, too, tired of her restlessness. She allowed herself to catch her breath.

Catching Colors, part I. View part II ≫

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Cameo AT (WEC Cartier x Clair de Lune CX) 

Now the trees catch colors of fire. (Meanwhile the staff are catching a cold.) The leaves that had set themselves aflame while the weather was still thick with summer were the first harbingers of autumn, but the cold and crunch crept into the clouds and air and burrowed there unnoticed. Summer ebbs to cinnamon. Sweeping tree branches hang low, their twisted fingers tickling the squelching mud from a stormy night.

Still as lithe and puppylike as in his foal days, Cameo runs in the fields. The wind combs his tangled mane and plucks the leaves off trees. He’s the only horse that really seems to share Alexa’s partiality to autumn. (Maybe that’s why he’s her favorite.) Autumn to them is magic. There’s the brewing wonder that enchants the air and the sharp crackle of leaves underfoot. Clouds hide the sun yet everything still glows honey without it. Cheeks feel warm because the air is not. The fire flood of aurums and rouges spares nothing, but nothing gold can stay anyway.

Catching Colors, part II (end). Go back to part I ≫

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SAILLEUR CX • Carolan Estate’s Summer Grading Show

"I did plait her hair."

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"The dog ate her bridle."

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"It's the thought that counts."

The little princess thought she could romp around looking like that. And worse, so did her handlers. She'd make a fuss if she came in looking all polished and proper.

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Valentia CX & Victoria W. - 2nd

March 17th • St. Patrick’s Day • Bordeaux, France

Perhaps the date might have merited greeness on Lena’s behalf. (She oftentimes pretends to forget how to behave and revels in acting like a foal, all too selfish and clueless to care.) Tori prayed to God that this wasn’t one of those times.

(Click for higher resolution.)

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Beneath that dark chocolate coat and the noise filters there is a horse, and her name is Lambretta. She hails from prestige and power with names like Leeds W and Icarus in her pedigree, but for now she’s a dork. In the quiet between rainstorms, she and Giselle like to jump and jump and jump.

(A lease from the lovely Dimitri Dane made by the equally-lovely Eowyn Vance.)

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mieux cx 

before & after • obnoxiously pink vers.

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winter’s serenade (redux of this)