So today...
I got to drive a horse.
This has been a dream of mine for more years than I can even remember.
Let's meet the horse, shall we?
This is Silas.
Silas is a Morgan horse. He is a bay (for those of you who might be wondering). He's twenty years old, yes, that's old for a horse. His momma lived to be thirty. His brother, who is not pictured, is twenty-five.
He's also small (well, as horses go. I still wouldn't want him to step on my feet. But I consider a horse small when I could jump on their back without a step-stool). I didn't get to count hands on him, but he's not a terribly tall horse. He's also very easy-going and friendly. Always a good thing with horses.
We drove him in this cart.
It's a little dog cart. No brakes. I wanted brakes even if we never sped up over a trot. Brakes are a good thing as far as I'm concerned. The cart is at least as old as Silas. I thought silvrethorn would probably want to take it apart. It needs a little work - the leather could be replaced and a bearing is out in one of tires. There's a cap missing on each of the drive shafts. It's light weight and fun and bouncy.
After our drive, they took my picture with Silas.
and
I cannot even begin to explain how much fun I had. Even if we didn't get to drive long (it rained for about an hour and a half with us stuck in the barn with the horses, stopped, we drove for a little bit, and it started up again). I heard coyotes. The dogs loved me. Mick is a very elderly English Setter who loses control of his hindquarters. He's still very pretty but he looks very tired. Molly is a little mop dog who enjoys the horses and stealing eggs from the chickens. So does Mick, for that matter. I saw him wandering out of the barn with one in his mouth. Molly brought one from the chicken coop. I came home with two cartons of fresh eggs.
I took carrots for the horses to make friends which they loved. (I'd show you Ernie, the twenty-five year old, but the only picture I have of him is with my hosts' daughter, and I like to verify I can share faces of kids before I do).
It's rather out in the country and I got lost coming home (twice - but the signs didn't seem to be telling me where to go properly! At least I was in the city and lost instead of in the country and lost.
It took me about 35 minutes to get home, anyway. And now it's chilly and I'm grinning and my clothes all need to be washed.
This has been a dream of mine for more years than I can even remember.
Let's meet the horse, shall we?
This is Silas.
Silas is a Morgan horse. He is a bay (for those of you who might be wondering). He's twenty years old, yes, that's old for a horse. His momma lived to be thirty. His brother, who is not pictured, is twenty-five.
He's also small (well, as horses go. I still wouldn't want him to step on my feet. But I consider a horse small when I could jump on their back without a step-stool). I didn't get to count hands on him, but he's not a terribly tall horse. He's also very easy-going and friendly. Always a good thing with horses.
We drove him in this cart.
It's a little dog cart. No brakes. I wanted brakes even if we never sped up over a trot. Brakes are a good thing as far as I'm concerned. The cart is at least as old as Silas. I thought silvrethorn would probably want to take it apart. It needs a little work - the leather could be replaced and a bearing is out in one of tires. There's a cap missing on each of the drive shafts. It's light weight and fun and bouncy.
After our drive, they took my picture with Silas.
and
I cannot even begin to explain how much fun I had. Even if we didn't get to drive long (it rained for about an hour and a half with us stuck in the barn with the horses, stopped, we drove for a little bit, and it started up again). I heard coyotes. The dogs loved me. Mick is a very elderly English Setter who loses control of his hindquarters. He's still very pretty but he looks very tired. Molly is a little mop dog who enjoys the horses and stealing eggs from the chickens. So does Mick, for that matter. I saw him wandering out of the barn with one in his mouth. Molly brought one from the chicken coop. I came home with two cartons of fresh eggs.
I took carrots for the horses to make friends which they loved. (I'd show you Ernie, the twenty-five year old, but the only picture I have of him is with my hosts' daughter, and I like to verify I can share faces of kids before I do).
It's rather out in the country and I got lost coming home (twice - but the signs didn't seem to be telling me where to go properly! At least I was in the city and lost instead of in the country and lost.
It took me about 35 minutes to get home, anyway. And now it's chilly and I'm grinning and my clothes all need to be washed.