Pictured above is the magnificent and much missed Monarch V, the reigning stallion at Wildwood Arabians when I took lessons there as a girl. The time I spent there was some of the happiest of my life. My instructor, Mike Ladyga, trained, bred, and showed horses and he allowed me the great privilege of working in the barn to help pay for my lessons - time I spent half in mucking stalls or being of some actual use and half in rubbing the velvet noses of the barn's denizens.
My great love was one of Monarch's daughters: Beyberry. In my silly childish way, I diligently saved the dimes and quarters left over from my lunch money to buy her -- a dream that is no less precious to me even though it was never to be. As for Monarch himself, he was a true showman. Once I saw him out in the pasture. He was being a normal horse at graze -- until he felt the pressure of my eyes. Realizing he was being watched, he elevated his tail and pranced a dancing circle with the sun glinting off of his coat. I'll never forget those wonderful horses. Unfortunately, my adult life has not allowed me to reconnect with riding, but I still visit horses in the one way I can - in books!
This book dates back to my days of posting in the saddle and buckling a velvety helmet under my chin. A fantasy exploring the conflict between the forces of good and evil in the form of horses, it won my girlish heart. This birthday, I was determined to see it back on my shelves and my wonderful husband tracked down a copy for me!
I saw this book while I was searching for other things and it reminded me of a memory I made when I was still taking lessons at Wildwood. I was riding a chestnut gelding named Casey and (being the oddball child that I was) I always dressed for my riding lessons as if they were sacred, even though I was guaranteed to leave with straw and other less savory things stuck to my boots; I even had a golden button clip in the shape of a saddle... On this particular day, I was wearing a pair of earrings that happened to jangle. Rescued from a life on the racetrack, little Casey was sensitive to bell-like sounds and took off at a surprising clip! We both came away safely enough once my instructor realized the problem, and it's in Casey's memory that this one has come to rest on my shelves!
I've always been fond of that saying about hoof beats and zebras-- possibly because writers
do expect zebras! I added this book because I've recently become interested in animal migrations. Unfortunately, there aren't many titles that examine these events (so central to the
National Geographic documentaries of my childhood!) so I am settling for a record in pictures alongside Roger Caras's
Endless Migrations.
I know you aren't supposed to be drawn in my book covers, but by the time this one became a bestseller last year, I'd already been won over by the cover as well as by the subject!
Around the same time I was taking riding lessons, I had a school friend who bonded with me because we both knew the correct pronunciation of dressage. She knew all about the white horses and Jankowski and when I saw this book come out I was transported back to those slumber party days of dreaming about horses and talking about boys...
I hope, someday, that horses return to my life with their warm, whuffling breaths, flicking ears, and that smell that I was always happy to draw into my lungs and have soaked into my clothes. Until then, I'll be happy with hoof beats on the page and remain, at least in part, a girl who never outgrew her love of horses.
No comments:
Post a Comment