Run for the Roses...or the blackberries!

I have horses on the brain these days.  After all, it's May and the Kentucky Derby is this weekend.  And perhaps a little less known to the public at large, our road trip is just a few weeks away. There is a connection between these two events, in that one of our stops is at our friends' horse ranch in Oklahoma.

Unlike every young girl in the free world, I did not grow up liking horses. We lived in the country on a farm/ranch with every manner of animal and fowl, including those of the equine variety.  Red's (my Dad) idea of buying a horse was to go to the local auction and pick out a little filly...trailered in from right off the Nevada desert. Wild.  Green broke.  He would then hire a trainer (I use the term loosely) who would further "break" her, and supposedly after a few months, she would be ready to ride. Yea, right.

Bergie or Spider..can't remember which:)

According to Red, the only true purpose of a horse is to pack a deer out of the canyon.  The idea of a pleasure horse for the kids to ride was never a priority.  These wild eyed Nevada range horses never really calmed down. You could get a saddle on one, but even my Dad had trouble trying to herd his cows into the pasture. I had some experience with riding a horse prior to "Nevada Sal" (I've repressed her real name, I guess) but it was not exactly positive.  My uncle owned a gigantic Morgan named Spider.  And as the name indicates, he was very tall...perhaps 16 hands in horse lingo.  Spider knew that I was afraid the minute I got on his back, and off he'd head for the nearest tree with the low hanging branches. Yep, did not like that horse.

Nevada Sal also smelled my fear.  She had a propensity for finding every barbed wire fence with a blackberry patch on the other side.  She start that trotting thing that horses do, despite my efforts to rein her back...and of course, when one trots toward a fence, one must stop. Nope, didn't like that horse either. Not to mention that during one of her famous sideways trots, I think I lost my virginity on some protruding iron thing on the back of the saddle. Hated that horse. Nevada Sal gave way to milder gentler horses later on, but I never really got over the cold sweat of fear.  Even old Bergie knew I wasn't a horse person and had a mind of his own: he like to trot up to closed gates. Ugh.

Despite my childhood horse traumas, I don't believe there is a more beautiful animal.  Though I am not a rider (go figure!), I truly appreciate their majestic stature, powerful movements and stunning coats.  I love to watch the Derby each May - race horses are particularly beautiful to watch. Our friends breed and show quarter horses and theirs are among the world's finest.  At Strom Ranch there is an abundant supply of these magnificent creatures, but the little colts are my favorites - probably because they seem harmless:)



Charmed Spirit

A few years ago on one of our road trips, we went to Churchill Downs, just to see it. Someday, I would love to actually see the Derby in person...wear a giant hat with flowers and netting...sip a mint julip.  But for now I will have to get my horse fix at Strom Ranch: sitting on the other side of the white fences, taking in the the aroma of alfalfa, sipping a nice chardonnay.

Laurel.  "Save a horse...ride a cowboy"