Man, I miss that blond hair…

The very first time I ever rode a horse was at my Aunt and Uncle’s farm in Kentucky. Cattle farmers by trade they didn’t need a horse but kept one for fun and in case any of my cousins wanted to ride out to the back of the farm. The horse was a kind sorrel mare named Novet. I remember being scared at first but so excited when my daddy lifted me on to her back.

Please excuse the photo quality- I figure since it’s old you’ll be more forgiving! I mean look at my adorable aunt! That hair!

This was my very first encounter with a horse and I loved it. From that moment on I became the little girl who wouldn’t get off the pony ride and wanted to go around one more time. I remember being so proud that MY cousins had their OWN horse. I told everyone I would have my own soon and it would live in the back yard. I placated my burning desire with every horse toy I could get my hands on. That was always what I asked for every Christmas and if I didn’t have a horse toy to play with at the time, I just made all my friends play along that we WERE horses. My parents were probably hoping, against all odds, that I would grow out of it. Every little girl likes horses, right? And then they forget allllll about it. Well, not so much. In fact, my fascination got worse. I collected horse figurines, I learned the phrase “I love horses” in 8 different languages, I begged and begged to go to horse camp, I drew horses all over my notebooks and folders, I cut horse pictures out of every magazine, and I still asked for a pony every Christmas.

Some things never change.



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