Love affair

I confess to a love affair with the big work horses. They make me happy just to look at them.

On a sunny day in August, we went to the farm and there were two solid Belgian draft horses standing in the sunshine. They were so sleek and strong-looking.


I think there must be an ancestral memory at work. Horses were a large part of my family's way of life. They were farm horses, riding horses, drawers of carriages and, best of all, they were race horses. My father could wax quite poetic about sulky (or harness) racing.

I did ride horses as a girl in a casual way. I even belonged to the local Pony Club although I never actually owned one. And I rode off and on whenever given the opportunity until I was thrown while working in Banff. I was on my day off and not really dressed for riding. Partly my fault although I think that nowadays the stable owner would have refused to allow me to ride. Nevertheless, I did enjoy the ride while it lasted.

Of course, all these horses were big but not nearly as big as the Clydesdales used on the local farms. I would look forward - and still do - to seeing them strut their stuff in parades. I loved how their manes and tails were braided with ribbon.


This one is showing off her lovely mane.

I wonder whether I'd have the courage to climb up on a horse now? They are so tall and broad...they might actually move around. Oh, my! It's too bad that the pleasures of childhood become the terrors of middle age.