With low motivation levels for typing at the keyboards I have been a stranger to my journal. But glancing back at previous posts I realize that I may be loosing memories that I want to keep around here . . . so without further adieu I will commence with what I think will be twice a month blog posts to record those things that I think my kids and grandkids might want to see some day. Or not, subjectivity being what it is.
Horses have almost always been in my life. Since as long as I can remember I have been a horse crazy girl. Luckily, I have found a way to indulge my hobby and not go broke in the process. My ancient bridles, I now realize are about 15+ years old. I am sure glad they last.
When I was in third grade I checked out every horse book from the Whisman Elementary School Library. Misty of the Chincoteague, Golden Sovereign, The Black Stallion, all the books by Sam Savitt, and many others. I had horses on the brain but had no horse of my own. Horses create a disease of monumental proportion for some girls to which there is no cure. Obviously I am still afflicted.
The summer after 4th grade I got to lease my first horse when I was about 10 years old. My furry lump of horse flesh was named Hank. Hank was a mutt of a beast, but a great launching point into the world of real horses.
And without the help from a generous patron I would never had the option of riding horses at all. Working at the local pizza place I was barely able to afford my horse dreams at Ramos Ranch where old John Ramos was the facilitator of "equines on a budget" for girls without much money. With his motley string of horse flesh he offered a monthly lease program that cost about 75 dollars. You got a horse and a halter and a bridle with that package. (I did not get a saddle until I was 16...) Then you had to catch your beast in a 350-acre pasture with steep hills and deep gullies. But it was all worth it. That was true character building material - walking 20 minutes to find your ride that is. And to think my horses live in little-mini pastures now. They would not know what to do in 10 acres let alone 300+ ares.
I remember John offering to buy me new riding boots to replace the worn out rubber boots I was wearing with gaping holes around the ankles. He drove me down to the tack store and told me to get the "good" ones which were made of real leather. With my modesty, I could not accept . . . I got replacement rubber boots and felt guilty still. Looking back it probably would have made him happy to get me the expensive boots. I did not get into "real" boots until I made money of my own in my early 20's.
And now that my daughter is interested in horses, I have to decide how to handle her equestrification process. We have discussed that Ella can get a pony when she turns 5. But somehow it still appears that she would have more fun fishing in the water trough instead of riding. I had to work to get to horses. If she really, really wants a pony some how she will have to work to get one.
I can't help but remember that those things I worked for were appreciated exceedingly more than those things I was given. Right? Is that not what is wrong with most kids these days? We all as parents want to have the ability to give everything to our children, but is it in their best interest? I don't think so, and I will continue to battle the principles of what my kids "need" with the conflict of what they "want." How about you?
The summer after 4th grade I got to lease my first horse when I was about 10 years old. My furry lump of horse flesh was named Hank. Hank was a mutt of a beast, but a great launching point into the world of real horses.
And without the help from a generous patron I would never had the option of riding horses at all. Working at the local pizza place I was barely able to afford my horse dreams at Ramos Ranch where old John Ramos was the facilitator of "equines on a budget" for girls without much money. With his motley string of horse flesh he offered a monthly lease program that cost about 75 dollars. You got a horse and a halter and a bridle with that package. (I did not get a saddle until I was 16...) Then you had to catch your beast in a 350-acre pasture with steep hills and deep gullies. But it was all worth it. That was true character building material - walking 20 minutes to find your ride that is. And to think my horses live in little-mini pastures now. They would not know what to do in 10 acres let alone 300+ ares.
I remember John offering to buy me new riding boots to replace the worn out rubber boots I was wearing with gaping holes around the ankles. He drove me down to the tack store and told me to get the "good" ones which were made of real leather. With my modesty, I could not accept . . . I got replacement rubber boots and felt guilty still. Looking back it probably would have made him happy to get me the expensive boots. I did not get into "real" boots until I made money of my own in my early 20's.
And now that my daughter is interested in horses, I have to decide how to handle her equestrification process. We have discussed that Ella can get a pony when she turns 5. But somehow it still appears that she would have more fun fishing in the water trough instead of riding. I had to work to get to horses. If she really, really wants a pony some how she will have to work to get one.
I can't help but remember that those things I worked for were appreciated exceedingly more than those things I was given. Right? Is that not what is wrong with most kids these days? We all as parents want to have the ability to give everything to our children, but is it in their best interest? I don't think so, and I will continue to battle the principles of what my kids "need" with the conflict of what they "want." How about you?
.JPG)