I love horses. I probably always have. Even owned two of them when I was younger, but more on that in a minute or two.
There are several stables near where I live, and I pass by them on a regular basis. Doing so always brings back fond memories.
I went for a bike ride this morning. Usually, when out walking or bike riding, I'll start off by heading south, which would take me past the closest stable, but today I headed north. After maybe twenty minutes of riding, I ended up on a road just south of my neighborhood; the stable closest to my house is on this road. It would have made sense to go straight home. But instead, I crossed the street and headed south a little further, passing five people on horses - four in one group, the fifth coming from the dirt road I was about to head down.
"Beautiful day!" enthused one of the riders and I agreed. The group was crossing at the same crosswalk I was, with traffic actually waiting for us. There's usually one car that will fly through the crosswalk, ignoring the flashing lights. Did they all wait because of the line of horses, or because of the waiting police cruiser? Hmmmm...
Down the dirt road, there's a house on the left, moved in about twelve years earlier. On the right side as I headed south, there's a drainage ditch, then part of a group of townhouses, then another stable.
Usually, there are several horses out in the pasture closest to the ditch. But this morning, there were only two. They were both laying in the shade in a dirt patch that horses frequently roll in. Want to see something amusing, watch a full-grown horse rolling on its back in the dirt, kicking all four legs, as it gets all those pesky itchy spots on its back. After a minute, it'll get back off and shake off the dirt, dust rising, before moving on, frequently at a gallop.
But these two horses were just laying there. I watched for a few minutes, wondering whether to be concerned. Were they okay? Sick? They were the only two horses there; were they being quarantined from the horses peering out from the stable? One of the horses looked over with intelligent brown eyes.
I wandered a little farther south, pushing my bike, as the dirt here was too soft to peddle through. But a minute later, I was back, watching the horses.
A man on horseback came along the dirt path. "It always seems strange seeing those two just lying there," he stated. "They're like that every morning." I nodded as he headed off.
Just they, one of the horses stood, as the other rolled over, kicked its legs once, then righted itself.
Heading north, I soon crossed the street, smelling the stable near me before I got to it. Even the smell triggers memories.
As a kid in New York state, I'd taken riding lessons, first at one stable, then another where several of my friends were also taking lessons. One of my favorite horses at the second stable was an older mare named Bionda. We all had our favorite horses to ride while getting our riding lessons.
One evening, as we waited for our parents to pick us up, we talked about what we'd all do that evening; it mostly entailed finishing our homework, eating dinner (we sympathized with a girl who said her mom was fixing liver and onions), then watching The Flintstones. Did it really get any better than that?
Later, when we moved to a little town in Connecticut (Thompson, up in the northeast corner), I bought the first of my two horses. Miss Troy Girl - Missy - was a Standardbred and had raced in her younger days as a pacer. She usually was easy to ride, except when she'd get it into her head that she wanted to pace instead of trot. (Pacing is about the same speed as a trot - slower than a canter, much slower than a gallop - but instead of the right front leg and left rear one going forward at once, followed by the left front and right rear legs, the legs on both side move back and forth at the same time. Not a comfortable ride.)
Then there was Copper Penny, a younger horse who loved to run, a high-spirited one.
At this stable, there'd once been an old horse named Smokey. Frequently, when I'd be out for a run, I'd stop and feed her carrots. It got to the point where she's see me and immediately head over to the fence to see if I had a treat.
Smokey's gone now; she was old for a horse. But there are other horses there, and I enjoy watching them.
I'm sure I'll move from here eventually. And when that time comes, I hope it's near horses.
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