Poor Dee. I go into her room, shake her just so, just so I can wake her up. She has a horse show today, and it’s early. Early for a Sunday morning. I don’t want to wake up Em, or Jim. We all went to bed late last night. I wiggle Dee about, she’s probably dreaming about being on a ride at the carnival, all this shaking, or maybe even being on her horse. I take my hands and cup her chin with one, her cheek with the other. She finally opens her eyes. Dee, I whisper, time to get up for the horse show. Noooo, she says back. Shhhh, I say and leave her to pull herself out of her cocoon.
I like the quiet of a Sunday morning. I have turkey sausage links cooking in a covered frying pan, on low. I have a cup of heated milk and coffee, my morning drink. The only sounds I hear are the quiet sizzle of the sausage on the stove and one of the dogs barking. Dee just now asks me if they called. “They” are our neighbors up the street. They’re the ones who board Dooley, Dee’s horse. She’ll head up there in about fifteen minutes to wash Dooley and get him ready for the show.
I always wished I had a horse as a kid. I wanted rabbits, too. I spent a few summers at Grandma and Grandpa’s. They had everything. Hutches with rabbits, two pigs in a pen. Sheep, cows, chickens. Uncle Pat had race horses he kept in Trinidad, Colorado. Now known as the sex change capital of the world. But then it was just a place over the Raton pass to drive to and watch Uncle Pat’s gorgeous race horses with their spindly legs and long necks.
I couldn’t ride a horse back then. The one time I tried, I slid off its backside. I’d been sitting on the back of my friend Sylvia’s horse. We were in her driveway, talking to her sister who was sitting on the hood of a car. We were just sitting there on Lady. And somehow I slid off, in slow motion. I fell on the hard concrete, looked up at Lady’s mass above me, her hooves like weapons she might use on me, and I bawled. I must have been six or seven, and I went through the rest of my childhood in awe of horses, desirous of a horse, Please just let me have a horse. If I could have one I’d learn to ride it, master it like Sylvia did and never be afraid of them again.
And now the timer on the oven goes off. Dee is leaning against the couch, still sleepy. Dressed in jeans and a pink Western shirt with pearl snaps. Just like they’ve always worn at horse shows.
I’ve always been afraid of horses. I think it’s their size. I wonder how a young girl like Dee can ride such a huge animal. She’s fearless in my eyes. I think my fear comes from having a horse step on my foot once when I was helping a friend groom him.
One thing I didn’t know – the part about Trinidad, Colorado. being known as the sex change capital of the world. How did that happen? I drive by that little town on my 1262 mile drive to Taos and think, “How quaint.” So what’s the story? And did you ever learn to ride?
LikeLike
Here is an article that talks about Trinidad, CO’s reputation as sex change capital of the world.
As for horseback riding–yes, I now know how to ride a horse. But unlike Dee, I can’t lope, and even if I trot I have to keep one hand on the horn of the saddle. She, on the other hand, runs a full gallop while holding both reins in her hands. I am astounded when I see her. I don’t even understand it–I am in awe.
LikeLike
“a pink Western shirt with pearl snaps”…
Being a North Dakota girl, this brings back vivid images. Even though I was NOT a western wear girl, I was surrounded by it. I laughed at my cousin from Orange County Cali, who came to visit when we were in third grade. She begged her parents for a PINK western outfit, everything from the cowgirl hat to the boots. She thought she was in touch with her North Dakota roots, and I thought she looked like a geek. Now I have one shirt with pearly snaps that I secretly love, even though it could be construed as western-ish.
I only rode horseback a few times, my big sister being the horse freak. I mean, she had everything horses. Plus she is a great artist so she knows every muscle and hair on a horse in order to create her realistic drawings.
On a family trip to the badlands along the western edge of North Dakota, we took a trail ride. I was so excited to be on a horse. I admire their beauty, and was overwhelmed by their size, especially as a nine year old. I chose a tawny mare to ride. The badlands are a gorgeous place to ride with vistas galore. We were coming down a trail from a particularly high overlook with a sharp dropoff on the right. One of my brothers was on a horse that wanted to get down the hill in a hurry, so he was budging me and my horse off our little path and what seemed to be off the side of the cliff. Needless to say I screamed my little girl head off until I got to ride with my dad the rest of the way back.
Probably the other reason I have only been on a horse a few times is because my sister (the horse freak) begged and pleaded until she got her own horse that was stabled just north of Bismarck. Her name was Honey because of her color, not her temperament. She bucked my sister off at least once that I know about and after that I declined every offer to ride her.
So there’s my bit of horse history. Now I am curious to know how Dee’s day went at the horse show. Did she get any ribbons? I always loved to look at all the different colors of ribbons my sister had from riding horse. By the way, my sister now has at least four horses (more if her mare had another baby). Plus she moved to real horse country=Cody Wyoming, where they have a rodeo every night of the week during the summer. I can update ya’ll on her horses soon as I am taking a trip there in two weeks. Maybe I’ll get myself a real cowgirl shirt, or even a hat. Now that I don’t live in North Dakota I can appreciate it.
LikeLike
Well, your comment evoked a lot of memory for me, too. Yes, the western shirts. My grandfather was a cowboy, and there’s something ingrained in me about those pearly snaps. At one point in my life I bought vintage western shirts from Buffalo Exchange, even if the shirts didn’t fit, just so I could finger the pearly snaps as I wore the shirts.
The trail ride; we did one, too, in my family when I was young. I did ride with Dad, in front of him, and I remember looking over the edge of the trail, watching the horse’s hooves seem to barely cling to the loose dirt.
Dee had a great show. She won High-Point for her division, which was the grand prize. She and Dooley are incredible. There was a trail class, and Dee went first. She seamlessly went through all the obstacles, made it look so easy. Then the next person went and it was clear that Dooley and Dee did this type of trail course all the time. Dee got one of those big silver and copper belt buckles engraved with the 4-H High-Point emblem. Now she wants one of those sparkly belts all the cowgirls (and boys) wear these days.
I have a feeling Dee, like your sister, will end up on a ranch some day in real horse country. We’re a little urban-fied out here. I think Dee’s authentic.
(And, do please update us on her horses, especially the colt, when you get out to Cody.)
LikeLike
ybonesy-Thanks for the Dee update. WOW! a big ol’ belt buckle! Now that’s a prize. I’m not familiar with the sparkly belts. I am curious to see if they have hit Cody too.
I love that you have the horse trail ride history too. Every so often I hear about someone who mentions a horse event around here. In fact, I just found out one of the therapists where I work has four horses. She will be at a show at the state fairgrounds this weekend. A co-worker of mine mentioned going out to see them. What is it about the horse? I’d love to get Dee’s perspective. I’d love to have that bond she has with Dooley. And who named Dooley?
I did a search on horse types because I couldn’t remember the name of the two extra special horses my sister owns… they are Spanish Mustangs. The thing I remember most vividly about them is their beautiful bangs.
Now I am getting excited to travel to Cody though I often do not like to leave home. I know my kitties will be well cared for this time. Plus I get to fly instead of driving 1,000 miles. Plus… (oh boy, I hope I’m not ruining the surprise because Mom might be reading this, so act surprised if you are)… I am going for a surprise birthday party for my mom. My sister says anyone who has a mom is invited so if you are in the Cody Wyoming area, there will be an awesome hoedown on May 20th. Let know if you need directions!
LikeLike
Skywire, can’t wait to hear about your adventures in Wyoming. You’ll have to give us a Spanish Mustang update when you get back from Cody. Anyone with a Mother can come to the hoedown? Wow. That’s going to be one big celebration!
LikeLike
Skywire–I can’t imagine the shiny belts have NOT hit Cody. Check out some of the glitter at Cowgirl Glitter website.
You know, I was going to comment on this when you mentioned your sister, but yes, girls and horses–what is it? I loved horses, too, as a young girl. Dee adores her horse. She rides him bareback and hugs his neck. And he loves her. A friend of mine says that young girls who are able to relate this way with a one-ton animal will have no problems dealing with boys later on in life. I think she’s right. I don’t know what the appeal is exactly, but I do know the result is all positive.
You’ve inspired me to learn more from Dee about what it’s all about.
LikeLike
p.s., Dooley’s name came with Dooley. He was 15 when we got him; he’s now 16. As my friend and neighbor up the road said when she located him for us and suggested we buy him, he’s an “honest” horse. I’ve had many people who see him and Dee together come up to me and say that Dooley is a very special horse. My nephew, who has cerebral palsey, comes over and rides Dooley every now and then. I ride Dooley, too. He doesn’t get ruffled by anything.
LikeLike