Memories...

The day is perfect. Cool, western breeze, no humidity, no flies, no sand gnats, and temps hovering at 61*----------- made this morning a hard one for me.

Hard? How can sixty degrees with perfect conditions be HARD?

The hard part is the strong yearning to ride. To hit the trails. To explore. To find new places. To just BE, out somewhere, with my horse. (And Sonny is no where NEAR ready for that.)

That yearning of course led to memories of the Best Horse I Ever Knew, my old now deceased Appaloosa gelding Jack. This winter will be four years that he has been gone, and I still miss him tremendously every single day. While I do adore Sonny, and love him dearly, he is not "my" horse. His heart belongs to the Little Mens, and Johnny Reb.

Mornings like this bring back memories. This was the time of year that Very Best Friend and I would hit the trails, start young horses, and just spend literally all our waking hours on horseback. Jack was a large part of that, and that old boy and I logged a tremendous amount of miles under his sturdy legs and hooves.

Old Jack was perfect in my eyes. Sure, he was a bit sickle hocked, blind as a bat, and had a bit of a sour puss face, (at least until you rattled an M & M bag. That horse would turn back flips for M & M's.) In his later years, I called him my Grumpy Old Man, Walter, and would joke about him being such a cranky looking old fart. But it didn't stop him from loving our outings.

I always knew that I'd be safe on him. I never felt hesitation in simply hopping up on his spotted back, no halter, no lead, and letting him mosey back to the house from the far fields. I never worried about coming off Jack, and in fact, in our almost 20 years together, I never did come off him. (I came off a lot of other horses along the way though.)

If I close my eyes, I can still feel him, loping along on our favorite trail. I can picture his tiny little ears, with their white tips.

Gah.

This is making me cry. Damn I miss that old horse.