Black and White Wednesday

         What is it about little girls and horses? Is it the freedom of cantering through the pasture, wind blowing through your hair? Is it that every time you climb behind their withers you feel on top of the world? Is it the constancy of a hoofed friend, always there when you need them? Maybe it’s the soft whiskered muzzle that greets you with a soft “whoosh” of warm air on a cold winter morning.  Whatever it is, little girls and horses are a match made in heaven.
       For as long as I can remember I have loved horses. There is something strong, and safe and just a little bit wild about a horse. I was blessed to get my first horse, Brandy, when I was 9 years old. As I mentioned in my last post (Blueberry Pickin) my sister and I worked pretty hard to get her too!
      What started out as a love soon became an obsession. My girlhood, teen years, and early adulthood was spent riding, training, showing, and earning money for my horses. 4-H has been apart of my life for most of my life. It was an organization that reinforced the principles of hard work, sacrifice, and a good work ethic my Marmie instilled in me.
      My first horse show was the county Fair back in 1989. I was just a wisp of a little girl with long blonde hair and a golden palomino horse. Ribbons were not the point as every time I climbed onto her back I felt like an angel with wings on. She was my best friend, my confidante and my most treasured possession.
     Ever since I was too old to show at the fair, my family and I have made a yearly trek to visit the place where I “grew up.” As you are probably figuring out, traditions are big in my family! Yearly expeditions hold us together, hold us true to who we were and who we are becoming.

Caramel Apples and Curly Fries are a must!

      The most fun about returning to the fair these days is taking Bean, Sugar Pea, and JeJe. Seeing it through their eyes, awakening memories and creates new ones. Taking them back to the place where my sister and I spent so many long hours, shoveling, riding, planning, and hoping is so special to me. 

     Again, it brings to mind my hope to one day share all of these traditions with my girls. How amazing would that be, ya know? 

Isn't She the Cutest?

 

   Walking down the barn aisle, the warm perfect smell of horses, the sun shining thru the cracks in the roof revealing the floating dust...I was 9 years old again. 

 

Cowboy Bean

“Milking” a Cow 

JeJe in Wranglers 

Blue Eyes 

The wonder of a child… 

      No matter how many years go by, I will always be thankful for the lessons I learned while on the back of my horse. 

     That hard work makes you proud of yourself. That ribbons, medals and awards are meaningless unless you had a good time winning them. That going the extra mile even when no one else does, makes a difference in the end. That sweat and blood and tears are part of life and can often make you stronger. That the sweetest smell is one of leather and dust, and horse hair. That being together makes everything better...