mugs.
CHAPTER 6
Thursday morning, New Yearâs Day, when Sister awoke at her accustomed five-thirty, a low cloud cover hinted more snow was on the way. Darkness enveloped the farm. The thermometer outside Sisterâs bedroom window read thirty-six degrees Fahrenheit.
When the sun rose two hours later, the cloud cover remained. This was going to be an interesting day: the ground was hard, icy in spots, and the snow hard packed to about a foot and a half. Sister could smell more moisture coming.
In the winter most Virginia hunts meet at ten. As the earth tipped her axis and more light floods the rolling pastures and woodlands, that time is pushed up to nine, often by mid-February.
New Yearâs Hunt, however, begins at eleven: a concession to the rigors of braiding and the struggle to sober up for many. The later time also allowed the earth to warm a bit more, though todayâs cloud cover held in some warmth.
Later that morning, parked to the right of the covered bridge at Tedi and Edward Bancroftâs After All Farm, the hounds peered out of the party wagon. They saw some people blowing on fingers as they slipped on polished bridles, while others repaired unruly horse braids or tried for the umpteenth time to force their stock tie pin level across their bright white or ecru stock ties.
The most fashionable of hunters, and this was unrelated to wealth, wore a fourfold tie on formal hunting days. Occasionally, they might wear a shaped tie, but on the High Holy Days, one wouldnât dream of anything but the fourfold tie. For one thing, it looked better. For another, it kept oneâs neck warmer. These good features did not make the tie any easier to work with. Many a foxhunter expanded his or her vocabulary of abuse while fumbling.
The High Holy Days required members and horses to look their best. In the old days of hunting when agricultural labor, indeed all labor, was less costly, people came to every formal hunt with their horsesâ manes braided. They usually came with two horses. Their groom kept the second horse at the ready to be switched halfway through the hunt. Then, also, many hunts enjoyed a brief repast while members switched horses. Those days had vanished.
Most foxhunters worked for a living. They prepared their horses themselves, and braiding sucked up time as well as patience. At the Jefferson Hunt Club, braiding was now required only for Opening Hunt, Thanksgiving Hunt, Christmas Hunt, and New Yearâs Hunt. Many older hunt clubs wished their members to braid for a meet with another hunt, but few could enforce this. It was seen as a tip of the cap to the visiting hunt, a form of respect and welcome.
With the exception of Tedi, Edward, Sybil, Crawford, Marty, Sister, Betty, and Shaker, everyone present had braided their own horses. As master and huntsman, Sister and Shaker had Lafayette and Hojo braided by Jennifer Franklin, who also did her motherâs horse, Outlaw. Of course she held it over her mother. At seventeen Jennifer could be forgiven.
On New Yearâs Hunt, Sister Jane wore her shadbelly: a black swallowtail coat, exactly as one sees in the nineteenth-century prints. The canary points of her vest peeked out underneath the front, perfectly proportioned. Her top hat glistened, the black cord fastened to the hook inside the coat collar in back. Her breeches, a thin buckskin, were much like what Washington himself wore when he hunted. Over the years they had softened to a warm patina: once canary, they were now almost buff.
For years, people could no longer find buckskin. Then Marion Maggiolo, proprietor of Horse Country in Warrenton, found someone in Europe to make them. One pair of breeches could last a lifetime, justifying the stiff price of six hundred and some odd dollars.
For Christmas, the members had all chipped in and bought Sister a new pair of buckskin breeches. Betty drove up with her to Warrenton to be properly fitted, and Sister couldnât wait for
CHAPTER 6
Thursday morning, New Yearâs Day, when Sister awoke at her accustomed five-thirty, a low cloud cover hinted more snow was on the way. Darkness enveloped the farm. The thermometer outside Sisterâs bedroom window read thirty-six degrees Fahrenheit.
When the sun rose two hours later, the cloud cover remained. This was going to be an interesting day: the ground was hard, icy in spots, and the snow hard packed to about a foot and a half. Sister could smell more moisture coming.
In the winter most Virginia hunts meet at ten. As the earth tipped her axis and more light floods the rolling pastures and woodlands, that time is pushed up to nine, often by mid-February.
New Yearâs Hunt, however, begins at eleven: a concession to the rigors of braiding and the struggle to sober up for many. The later time also allowed the earth to warm a bit more, though todayâs cloud cover held in some warmth.
Later that morning, parked to the right of the covered bridge at Tedi and Edward Bancroftâs After All Farm, the hounds peered out of the party wagon. They saw some people blowing on fingers as they slipped on polished bridles, while others repaired unruly horse braids or tried for the umpteenth time to force their stock tie pin level across their bright white or ecru stock ties.
The most fashionable of hunters, and this was unrelated to wealth, wore a fourfold tie on formal hunting days. Occasionally, they might wear a shaped tie, but on the High Holy Days, one wouldnât dream of anything but the fourfold tie. For one thing, it looked better. For another, it kept oneâs neck warmer. These good features did not make the tie any easier to work with. Many a foxhunter expanded his or her vocabulary of abuse while fumbling.
The High Holy Days required members and horses to look their best. In the old days of hunting when agricultural labor, indeed all labor, was less costly, people came to every formal hunt with their horsesâ manes braided. They usually came with two horses. Their groom kept the second horse at the ready to be switched halfway through the hunt. Then, also, many hunts enjoyed a brief repast while members switched horses. Those days had vanished.
Most foxhunters worked for a living. They prepared their horses themselves, and braiding sucked up time as well as patience. At the Jefferson Hunt Club, braiding was now required only for Opening Hunt, Thanksgiving Hunt, Christmas Hunt, and New Yearâs Hunt. Many older hunt clubs wished their members to braid for a meet with another hunt, but few could enforce this. It was seen as a tip of the cap to the visiting hunt, a form of respect and welcome.
With the exception of Tedi, Edward, Sybil, Crawford, Marty, Sister, Betty, and Shaker, everyone present had braided their own horses. As master and huntsman, Sister and Shaker had Lafayette and Hojo braided by Jennifer Franklin, who also did her motherâs horse, Outlaw. Of course she held it over her mother. At seventeen Jennifer could be forgiven.
On New Yearâs Hunt, Sister Jane wore her shadbelly: a black swallowtail coat, exactly as one sees in the nineteenth-century prints. The canary points of her vest peeked out underneath the front, perfectly proportioned. Her top hat glistened, the black cord fastened to the hook inside the coat collar in back. Her breeches, a thin buckskin, were much like what Washington himself wore when he hunted. Over the years they had softened to a warm patina: once canary, they were now almost buff.
For years, people could no longer find buckskin. Then Marion Maggiolo, proprietor of Horse Country in Warrenton, found someone in Europe to make them. One pair of breeches could last a lifetime, justifying the stiff price of six hundred and some odd dollars.
For Christmas, the members had all chipped in and bought Sister a new pair of buckskin breeches. Betty drove up with her to Warrenton to be properly fitted, and Sister couldnât wait for
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