I was seven when I decided I was going to be an equestrian. We lived in the suburbs in New Jersey and we didn't even have a dog because he ran away and Mom said we weren't getting another one. I read every horse book in my elementary school's library (we didn't have kindles waaay back then.)

     When I was ten, I had two riding lessons. Then, thank God, we moved to a dilapidated farmhouse and my mother's mother's cousin's daughter gave us an Appaloosa and a Shetland pony. They were old and ugly, but I loved them.

     I have spent many years being an equestrian, mostly that means shoveling manure and getting my arm yanked out by unruly beasts. The moments of communication, those few rides where it all came together and the joy of touching a warm, furry horse made all the hard, hard, (did I say hard?) work worth it. I can't imagine living without horses, ever.

     I only have five now, but I still ride my near black Swedish Warmblood, Valentin in shows. He is nothing like Windsong, but my daughter's mare is. Beautiful, talented, rarely gets a score below sixty, but the poor thing is convinced horse chomping demons are lurking everywhere, and I mean everywhere.

     I am enjoying sharing my stories, I have been told for years that I should write. My friends were probably trying to get me to stop talking about my horse escapades. I do have other conversational topics such as the weather, and .... Anyway, I would love to hear about your horse adventures. Write to me on the Contact page.