Riding a Dream (and Angel)

If there has been one thing I have longed for in my life, it has been that of developing a skill in the equestrian world. I am drawn to the these huge beasts, manes flowing and slender legs full of strength and power.
When I was in high school my boyfriend's family had horses. But they rarely rode them or handled them. The best days were those that I could steal away after school to the field close by my house and wander in the tall grass with Blacky. He was fat and untrained, but his eyes were kind and his muzzle soft as velvet. I usurped a dusty old saddle from my boyfriend's barn and hauled it around in the back of my Jeep for a summer. That fat horse would never run!

Soon it got to the point where I could catch and halter all three of their horses in a matter of minutes- a task that normally would take their owner better than an hour. Once I got a call asking me if I would go catch the horses for them. Just minutes later, the horses were loaded and they drove away, sold. I may have had a $10 bill in my hand but in my heart jealousy and anger took hold. That was the last time I saw Blacky.

Other friendships put me back in the saddle again. This time I really tried hard to be a real cowgirl. The first time I felt the wind in my hair was on Wheaty, a sure-footed mare. We were one galloping through that field in the High Uintahs. The wildflowers suddenly were a blur and the horizon was the goal.  I always wondered how a horse doesn't trip on rocks and into gopher holes. I guess when you've got four legs, you just know what to do with them. Later that day on the trail, I gave Wheaty the reins and she carried me safely straight down the side of a ravine. And I mean straight down. Holy moly! I've never forgotten what it felt like to put my whole trust in something other than myself.

Just hold on and trust her.

We never did get a horse. I suppose mainly because of the sheer cost of owning them. Ridiculous! But the reason my parents always gave me was that my father was deathly allergic to them. I guess I had to respect that small fact.

In another life somewhere there are a pair of chaps waiting for me and my children.

It could happen. It happened to her. A schoolmate from my little town. The daughter of a business man.  Once a city girl, now a cowgirl. Who would have thought? Crazier things have happened.

My mother has a few connections with ranchers and horse owners in her area. So last weekend, we took a short drive and let the kids ride around the arena on Secretariat's Granddaughter. (One of many!) Angel was just that- an angel. The kids loved it and of course, I couldn't resist hopping in the saddle again, though it was English style, it still felt wonderful viewing the world from that vantage point. Angel is a retired racing horse. Her owner would only let us walk with her, because as it turns out, once a race horse, always a race horse...

No fear!

Pretty comfortable in that saddle!

More go!

Patient boy waiting his turn. (Isn't that barn beautiful?!)

Me and Angel.

Bareback!

Brushing Angel

So big!

Nope, my dream has never died. And I'm so glad that my daughter now asks me the question: "Mom, when are we going to get a horse?!"