Flying, that is what it feels like to ride a horse. On our farm growing up I had Blackie. She was the most beautiful horse. It felt as though we were the closest of friends. She could not speak my language, but her eyes communicated so many things to me.
She would listen to me hour after hour as we would ride through the lush springtime in Tennessee. Her coat was black silk. I loved to talk to her as I brushed her beautiful coat. She was not large, but not small. She was just right for me.
I guess, in the end, she was too small. Our large stallion mated with her. When she gave birth, the foal was too large. They both died. It was the saddest day of my life at the age of thirteen. It was only a few more years until my parents both died, and then THAT was the saddest day of my life.
I fear that the dismal gray weather is having an effect on my spirits. I'm going to go ride Patches, Blake's mare. She's rather old, but I wish to ride her more for connection than for speed. She's a dear old lady. I think Blake said that she's about fifteen. She still can gallop, just not for very long periods of time. I love to brush her, and talk to her like I used to with Blackie.
It's fascinating to me how these noble creatures can communicate so effectively with their eyes. Patches smiles brightly when I greet her. Probably half of that smile is for me, and the other part for the apples and carrots I bring to her.
Blackie saved my life. I fell down and broke my leg. Blackie was in a pasture close to where I had fallen. She jumped over the pasture fence and found my parents in the garden. Papa said that Blackie kept nuzzling them until she had their attention. Then she led the way to me. The doctor said that if I had been outside much longer I would have died from the shock, and the weather. It had been very cold on that day.
Well this has been a rather sad entry. I think I'll go for a walk outside. Some how that always seems to cheer me, even when it's been so rainy!
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