I feel guilty about taking them. Posted by Tony November 15, PM.
White Stallion of Lipizza
I must admit to a certain prejudice against horses. Posted by steve burton November 15, PM. The charm of a donkey is a real charm, but different in kind. When I think of a donkey, I think of a creature that is fairly small compared to a horse , soft-muzzled, hard-working, etc. One can't imagine a donkey doing dressage, though I suppose it would be fun to try to teach one. With a very small rider. But the donkey's whole atmosphere is different--un-magnificent and lovable.
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- White Stallion of Lipizza - Beautiful Feet Books.
When I was young my mother was a fan of the Lippanzan stallions. I read Margurite Henry's book - along with all of her other books on horses - and I still have the White Stallion of Lipizza. My Mom did not have enough money for us kids to see them so she arranged to have my sister and I watch their warm-up early in the afternoon thanks to our neighbor who was a Chicago Fire Captain in charge of making sure everything was up to code for the performance. I have a photo of my sister and I watching a horse and rider practice with the horse and rider included in the picture and now I am wondering who it was.
I looked for the program since I have a stack of programs from all of the ballets, operas, etc. Didn't the rescuing of the Lipizzaners by the American forces have something to do with General Patton?
- White stallion of Lipizza / by Marguerite Henry ; illustrated by Wesley Dennis - Details - Trove.
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I may have that episode confused with some other effort to keep the barbarian Russians from getting their hands on something they would only trash. Posted by Gina M.
Danaher November 15, PM. It was General Patton.
White Stallion of Lipizza - Marguerite Henry - Google книги
Podhajsky had been very unhappy at the decision to send the mares so far away. If I recall correctly, the decision was made by someone working with the Germans. When the American troops occupied Austria, they came to the castle where the Lipizzaners had gone. Podhajsky had had a lot of trouble getting the Germans to let them out of Vienna. They put on a performance for them and then asked Patton to help get the mares out of territory that had been assigned to the Russians.
The Americans did have to go just over the line into territory that had been given to the Russians, but they brought the mares back. Podhajsky had to feed them all--a daunting task--until he got their own governments to take them back. Posted by Lydia November 16, AM. Any Slovenes out there? Remember the original stud farm is located in Slovenia at Lipica which is pronounced Lipizza.
Posted by crazylikeknoxes November 16, AM. Finally - there is a farm in the Northwest suburbs of Chicago that has a group of Lipizzaners and American riders - one Austrian I think. It has been a few years since I brought my kids to see a show so I don't know how they are doing with the economy and all. I did a google search and this is the latest article on them. There were many more. If you can't get to Austria, this could be the next best thing. Danaher November 16, PM. All too true. I didn't even have a full time job at the time and I was able to pay for three months.
Most of us take that long just to get on the horse without breaking our necks. That said, I have noticed that there are more and more stables up in the north country, so maybe that will foster some rate wars as time goes on. In addition to a performance by some of the stallions, I was able to tour the stables, see the stallions up close, and talk with some of the stablehands about the horses.
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Sign In Register Help Cart. Cart items. Toggle navigation. Click for full size. Disclaimer:A readable copy. All pages are intact, and the cover is intact. Pages can include considerable notes-in pen or highlighter-but the notes cannot obscure the text. Add to cart. An ex-library book and may have standard library stamps Spine creases, wear to binding and pages from reading. What a crash! A brand-new Mercedes hit the cart broadside. His lungs still ached. He had to walk slowly, and with each step the burden of his responsibility weighed more heavily.
In all Vienna, which hospital might it be? There was no way to know. All he could do was go home and try to calm his mother, and Rosy, too. Then to wait. By the time he reached his own lane and stood in front of the narrow wedged-in house with the stucco falling off, he felt himself an old man, older than his father.
He pushed open the door. Your husband can come home, maybe next week. Every morning at seven I set my watch by him.
He goes to work the same time the Lipizzaners do. His limping step dragged on the floor and up the stairs, a constant reminder of the accident. Yet family life went on almost as before. Herr Haupt could knead and bake regardless, and Hans went on delivering in the early morning and studying by night in the library. It was a bittersweet pleasure to look at the Lipizzaners on his mirror or parading from stable to Riding Hall, for there was no one now who could drive Rosy on a Sunday morning, and what went on in the Riding Hall would have to remain a mystery.
One night when Hans came home from the library, his father was alone in the kitchen. He had turned off the electric light and was sitting in front of the window in a pool of moonlight, his leg propped on a stool. There is something you should know. Come, sit down. This must be important. He struck a match and lighted his pipe, taking longer over the job than usual.
And your hospital bills too? I dizzied.
I should have been driving. Hans waited. We have great reserves—of will and strength. And no matter what happens to me, Hans, you keep on dreaming of the Lipizzaners. Without the dream you begin to die a little. And you are too young to die, yes? She still whinkered to the white stallions each morning, and each morning there was the biggest one who glanced her way. At school the new term had begun, and homework doubled. At the coffeehouses the tables were busier than ever, now that the Lenten season was over.
Hans worked from sunup to dark. There was no possibility of time off on Sundays. They seemed busier, if anything, than the other days.
Welcome to the Spanish Riding School
People seemed to eat more and oftener on the day of rest. So Hans could not queue up again at the Palace entrance. The only really happy time came after supper when, with pencil and notebook in pocket, he ran to the library. He suddenly felt unbound and free. Free of the waitresses coaxing him to help with their work. Even at sight of the great National Library his spirits soared. High above the building, on an overhanging shelf of stone, the great god Apollo drove his four-in-hand across the face of the sky. The horses were bigger than life!