Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Babe. She was the little Shetland pony we had as a kid. After she died we had a second Babe and her colt Bronco. We could never train him to do anything. One day we got off the bus and there was little Haybelly running around- we thought Babe II was eating too much but instead she had managed to get pregnant.

Elizabeth, Homer, and Babe, circa 1968.

Susan got a horse named Mr. Grub who was blonde and gentle. He was the best of the horses.

Susan and Mr. Grub.

There was also Cindy and Lady, followed by my brother's Belgium horses whose names I don't remember. He is the Amish farmer now and has a team that he uses to plow fields and I think he also has a carriage horse.

Thinking about these things keeps me from thinking about or worrying about other things. Seems like a lot of unhappiness and hatred in the world at the moment. Honestly, why do so many human beings waste time hating other people because they are different? If we were all exactly the same, what a fucking dull place the world would be.

I probably haven't ridden on a horse since 1987 or 1988. Not that I miss it, what with the horse hair and sweat, the crap, and the fact that a lot of horses have better things to do than carry humans around from Point A to Point B. I live exactly 500 feet from a horse corral and occasionally I walk down and see the horses. The smell of horse poop instantly takes me back to the farm.

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