It was a Christmas morning at age 7, and I had just unwrapped a beautiful dollhouse that came up to my shoulders. Powder blue and Victorian style, complete with the elegant dark-colored mini furnishings and the promise of many more wondrous accessories to come. My parents then presented me with the choice of keeping this little girl’s dream-come-true as my Christmas present, or attending a two-week horse camp instead . . . Continue reading
Smokey, My First Fall
Smokey was my first taste of a fireball. A spunky black Hackney pony, Smokey taught me that some horses possess a cunning sense of humor. It was my second year at the camp that introduced me to horses, and I couldn’t wait for the classroom part to be over so I could find out my horse . . . Continue reading
In third grade we moved to a small town in Nebraska, where the corn grew tall and the smell of cows filled the air. It was a typical country town that had a popular 4-H program. As soon as the representatives came to our classroom to tell about the many aspects of 4-H, I knew I just had to get involved . . . Continue reading
Crooked Dealer was a Thoroughbred ex-racehorse. He was owned by a second cousin of my dad, who found out that I was positively obsessed with horses. I don’t remember what this man was like, but I am so grateful to him. He must have understood this crazy love for horses, as he agreed to let my parents have Dealer for free to give me for my birthday . . . Continue reading
We moved to Texas and discovered that horses were surprisingly hard to find. Dad and Mom were busy
settling into our new city, and I was adjusting to a new school and making new friends. For the first few months my horse cup ran dry . . . Continue reading
*See archives or older posts for more true stories! I am in the process of moving stories from archives to this page, slowly but surely!