Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Horses were My First Loves

The horses first become aware of me watching them.
I love a black, and this mare is shiny and well built, but not friendly.

This baby is not yet a year old. I remember when she was born this spring.


Someone needs to groom this lovely horse. Her mane is a mess.


The fine intelligent head and eyes, the curiosity of this mare reminds me of my own horse who lived to be 32 years old.
Horses, horses, horses. I have loved horses since I climbed up on Charlie, the plow horse when my father brought him in from the field. I was a tot back then.
From early childhood I dreamed about owning my own horse one day. We had a horse on the farm when I was around 10 years old. Her name was Daisy, and she was as wide as she was long. Lazy and ornery most of the time, she often let Gay and me lie upon her broad back as she grazed without halter or bridle.

I dreamed of horses when I should have been studying arithmetic as it was called when I was in fourth grade. But I kept my book open to the inside cover where darling children, my age, strolled down a wooded path and one child rode on the back of a black and white pony.
I became that child. I was not cooped up in a classroom. I could smell the horsy odor, hear the birds singing and the children laughing.

Yes, I can’t remember when I didn’t love to be around horses, to drink my fill of their beauty, to feel their power and their gentleness, and to climb upon their backs to ride faster than my own limbs could ever carry me.

Recently I had a chance to capture a couple of mares with their young ones. I wanted to go out and press my face against a hairy neck, to kiss the velvet nose of the little fillies, and to breathe in deep the wonderful aroma of Horse. If you like horses, perhaps these pictures will jog your memory of some horses you remember.






6 comments:

Tipper said...

Your post did remind me of my horse Doogan-and it made me wish I still had horses in my life too : )

JLC said...

Me too--every week's allowance from my grandfather paid for an hour's ride in Central Park (I was a city child in love with horses). After eight years of camp summers where I was taught to ride, I couldn't forget the hope that some day...in my thirties, we found a way, and for nearly twenty years we kept a couple of saddle horses and even bred the mare. My website shows me training one of them since we couldn't afford to buy a "made" horse, but had a wonderful old lady who found the horses for us and advised us till we had two great family horses--beautiful too.
I can't tell you how much I wish I could look forward to just one more ride...

Glenda C. Beall said...

I understand that wish, Joan. I moved to the mountains and had no place for my horse. I left her on the farm but eventually sold her.
You and I are two who, unlike many girls, did not grow out of our love for horses.

I recently saw Central Park for the first time. Now I can imagine you riding there.

Glenda C. Beall said...

Tipper, that is one more thing you and I have in common.
Thanks for stopping by.

My Carolina Kitchen said...

You're not going to believe this Glenda, but our little pied a terre in Florida is a tiny apartment above the stables in a horse barn. It's in a gated community where my brother-in-law lives. I had never been around horses before. Now you could say that they are our room mates. It's been an amazing experience.

Although we enjoy the horses, we've bought a condo with more room that we'll be able to move into in the summer.

But now I sure understand a love of horses.
Sam

Glenda C. Beall said...

I am reading Joan Cannon's book, Maiden Run, and she really knows horses. I love the book and I am reading it on Kindle.
Thanks, Sam, for commenting. I just left your blog and can't believe it was two years ago that we had the blog class at the library. Congrats on your blog anniversary.