Horsey

Technically, this is a goat. But I’m wearing flannel!


Oh boy! I feel like a 5-y-o again. Next Wednesday, I meet with a woman to discuss her part-time position for a stable hand. It would be taking care of 6 horses one day a week.

I get to meet a horsey!! Yay. Even if they don’t need or want me (I watched a Youtube on mucking a stall! Our horses just went outside wherever they wanted!) I get to wear overalls and touch a horse! Whee!

We had about 10 horses when I was a kid. I loved to brush and feed them. We rode as often as Dad or Mom would allow us. We had saddles, bridles, brushes. I loved the smell of leather and their sweaty, shiny hair.

Some were ponies, so even at the age of 6, I could stand shoulder to shoulder with my horse and hug her around the neck. That’s a great feeling.

Muscular legs, round bellies, tender brains, soulful eyes. We loved to feed them apples, carrots and just pet them. They were a friendly bunch. We even had a foal on St. Patrick’s Day and called her Patty. lol One slobbered on my red felt cowboy hat and turned it green just in that spot. lol

People never assume I know my way around horses, but I do. I’m not frightened, I know how to lead them and the principles of riding. I even worked on a small ranch at 18 during the summer.

This farm girl doesn’t mind getting dirty and dusty. And now, I have the energy to do something like this. At least one day a week. Yee-haw!!


In honor of meeting a horse, here’s my Bradbury-esque 451-word essay, The Ravine. It was inspired by an event from when I was very young and a dog ran one of our horses down. 😦

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