When I was ten or eleven, my parents drove me three hours away to a week-long camp.
I came back in love.
With a horse.
His name was Stormy, and he was beautiful, and, as it happened, he was for sale.
I knew what my dad would say…
…but that didn’t stop me from asking.
I still have pictures of Stormy in an old album. I remember how it felt to sit high up on him, and I remember how I almost ran out of underwear that week at camp. (The two are not related, I feel sure of it.)
So when we discovered Copper a mere 20 minutes from our house, and when we later met Raspberry, I knew two things for certain:
1. We would be going back as often as possible.
2. My husband really was as horse-crazy as me. (Well, as horse-crazy as you can be when you’ve “grown up” and (in theory) grown past the horse-crazy stage of your life…)
You see, I almost forgot.
Was it possible for me to forget what joy the smell of a horse’s mane could bring me? Did I really almost write off that equine elation as something I needed to get past? Would my life have as many smiles?
Maybe it would. I have a husband and children and plenty of reasons to smile in my life.
Even so…
…it’s hard to resist a face like this…
This is ‘pongebob (yes, a horse named Spongebob, but he can’t help what he’s named or that he’s, well, yellow). (For anyone who’s as horse-crazy as we are, there are pictures of our new friend here.)
You might say he’s the new love of my life. You might say he’s the new love of Prince Charming’s life. You might say that he’s captured Miss Muffet’s conversations completely.
In fact, we can’t wait for our next trip up to the horse farm!
