Sometimes trail riders steer away from places that sell show clothing, figuring they don’t need “fancy” clothes and high prices. But my experience is that the best shops sell value. Sure, they carry some items that are more costly because of style or a particular use in competition. But you’ll also find great value for the everyday rider — new fabrics that help you to stay cool, stirrups that flex to prevent stress on your knees, bits with smooth edges that are comfortable for the horse, mounting blocks.... You get the idea.

We’re all watching our pennies these days, so it’s easy to dismiss the local tack shop in favor of surfing the catalogs. But I know the other side, too. Over the years, I’ve often heard tack shop owners mention that they’re glad to support the high school yearbook or sponsor a class at a horse show, but they wish the people asking them for a donation would at least try to give them business before automatically assuming the catalogs are cheaper.

I think “automatically” is the operative word. I’m all in favor of shopping in catalogs, but I’m also very aware that the strength of the industry we love is in the relationships. As soon as we make up a flyer – whether to find a lost dog or to sell a horse — our first thoughts often go to posting it on the tack shop bulletin board.

I’d encourage you to talk with the tack and feed shop owners in your area. You may be surprised to learn that they can get you what you need at no more cost than the catalogs, or perhaps they carry a different brand, that will save you a shipping cost. In cases where they carry a little higher-priced item, it may be because it’s a higher quality  — a better value in the long run. That isn’t always the case, but in the effort of building relationships, it’s worth giving them a try.

Noreen and her team at The Farm House do go the extra mile for their customers — supporting local shows, learning what equipment different trainers prefer, and getting to know customer preferences. They are full service, from fitting a saddle to your horse to ordering an item in just the color you want. So it was fun to have them show their stuff to our riding club. Carrot kudos to them!

See if your local shop won’t do a “what’s new” evening for your horse community. You might have great fun, find some good values, and develop friends along the way.

Another irony is that Spring arrives when we are least physically fit. (I’m sure there’s a study someplace that notes horsepeople peak in terms of fitness just before Halloween, and go downhill after that.) We hit the bottom of the fitness cycle just about the time that our horses are threatening to founder on lush, green grass. Which means, of course, that instead of meeting us at the gate as they did in February, our horses are now grazing at the far end of the field. We have to walk way out there, pry their heads off the grass, then lead them to the gate.

But it isn’t the extra walking that bothers us. The problem is, of course, that we’re not quite as secure in the saddle in April as we were in October. That wouldn’t be such a big deal, if our horses weren’t also onion-powered, snorting at imaginary things on the ground and scaring us half to death. Fortunately, the pleasure we get from riding outweighs the inertia of being fitness-challenged, and we move beyond our apprehensions.

And come mid-summer, our pasture onions will have died out, and we’ll be at the Farmers’ Market, buying onions from the lady who bought the bulbs and the manure. Go figure.

I tried to not take offense, telling myself that the distinction was probably like how a farm back East would be referred to as a ranch out West. But I was using the Western term, “trainer,” not the term “instructor,” so it continued to eat at me. After all, I was trying to make a go of things in a new community, and you tend to take comments personally.

Six weeks later when he came to shoe, I asked my farrier about it. He said that he’d meant it as a compliment. He knew plenty of local trainers who took horses in training, taught them their stuff, then handed them back to an untrained rider. Before long, the horse would be back for a professional tune up. So the trainer had a horse client for life.

My approach was to teach people, training the horse when necessary. He had never met anyone with that system, so he was using the term, “riding instructor” as meaning, “not just a horse trainer.”

Good trainers have always taught people, too, so my purpose isn’t to talk about horse training vs riding instruction. It’s to point out how I took something intended as a carrot to be a stick. In my sensitivity, I misread a compliment — and beat myself up about it. It’s good to remember that that kind of thing happens.

I said there were two comforters that needed to go to the laundromat, as well as a horse blanket. “A horse blanket?” he asked. “You want me to take a horse blanket to the laundromat?”

I gulped, because I knew it was a request that was way out of his comfort zone. But I also knew the comforters needed washing now, and doing the blanket later meant a waste of time. Years ago, we had rented a house without a washer and we’d occasionally gone to the laundromat together, so I knew that it wouldn’t be a totally foreign experience for him. But he was sure that the laundromat police were going to arrest him if he showed up with a horse blanket. And in some towns, they might, but we horse people here are careful to leave the machines spotless when we’re done, so we can still wash our own blankets.

We headed over to the barn, and I hung the blanket inside out over a smooth metal gate, so I could brush it without it picking up any splinters. Starting from the center seam, I worked my down the sides systematically, using a soft brush so I wouldn’t damage the fabric. I turned it over and did the same on the outside. Then I used a wet, stiffer brush to scrub the binding where it had gotten encrusted — if you know what I mean. The objective was to get as much hair and “foreign material” off the fabric as possible before actually washing it. I didn’t want anything extra floating in the wash or rinse water and landing back on the blanket.

My husband dutifully headed out to do the washing, along with my instructions to go easy on the detergent. After a quick scout around to be sure there weren’t any “No Horse Blankets” signs posted, he did the deed. Sheepishly pulling the blanket out of the washer (despite that there was no one there), he felt around inside the washer. To his surprise, it was clean — no hair or debris. Two quarters later, the blanket was dry enough to allow him to escape the premises. He came home feeling quite proud of himself, having helped his wife by slaying the dragon of the laundromat.

I don’t know about you, but I’d rather the gift of a good deed over flowers, chocolate, or a fancy dinner any day.