Sunday, October 16, 2011


Dear Daughter is becoming quite the horse-rider. It started...
Well, it started before she could speak, practically, Gramma throwing her up on a painted cow to sit astride. Then it was the ponies walking in tiny circles, the miniature horses at the apple festival, and don't forget the classmate's post-Christmas birthday parties where the mom was the accomplished rider, taking kids on her gentle horse. It morphed into (that same) Gramma wanting one more trail ride, and then another one. So lessons were in order so that D.D. could do it. The last two summers she went to horse camp for two (and then three) weeks. Now it is once-a-week lessons at the farm, and she is starting to post her trot. We have been to several horse shows, and she loves the English style and tack.
Yes, we have had those conversations and discussions about owning one's own horse. Unless I sell all my worldly goods, that is not happening now. Besides the Magic Meatball and the iCarly traffic light say "no". But D.D. is sporting breeches, Ariat boots and Half-chaps now, as well as her own helmet. Give her a year and she may be showing at a 4-H.