It has been almost exactly one year since I got to see Prize for the first time in 12+ years. Since then, I’ve been out to visit Prize a few times. Last time she even nickered at me. Last weekend, I met Gena, Prize’s current owner, and her Mom, Rody. (I’ve met Rody several times.) They are great people and have such love for Prize. They met me at the Isis’ and Kasane’s...
Continue reading...Prize
Directions to Prize
I just received directions to where Prize is stabled. I really will get to meet her tomorrow. I’m going to take plenty of pictures. Wow. I think I’m still in a little shock. Related Images:
Continue reading...Seeing Prize this weekend!
Ever since I sold Prize, I have felt guilty over what happened. To say I berated myself is an understatement. I felt like I had let down my horse. I had promised Prize I would never sell her, and then I had to. I swore that I would do everything I could to prevent that same thing from happening again. When you sell a horse in desperate circumstances, you have less control over...
Continue reading...Prize… Again
Monday afternoon my Mom forwarded an email to me. A woman had emailed her asking if Mom had a daughter who had won a horse in a raffle… Prize is still alive! She’s 23 and living in Chapel Hill, 10 miles from where I live. I’m going to call the lady tonight and go see my old girl this weekend. I can’t believe she is still around. Related Images:
Continue reading...One More Nite, aka Prize
When I was 16, I had a dream come true. On Mothers Day that year, we were at the regional show at Frying Pan Park, Vrginia. The horse show was part of the Eastern Amateur Arabian Horse Show Circuit. We arrived with a four-horse stock trailer with three horses, including the gray mare I was showing, Silver Run Sahsha. The show had a big event: a purebred Arabian filly was being raffled during...
Continue reading...Poem: Transfer of Owners
This poem was written in 1994 at a point when I was going through a traumatic time: financial difficulties, 8 funerals in 18 months (including my Dad), and then the worst of all… Losing my horse. I felt your breath soft on my neck myriad memories tickling my mind like whiskers falling from clippers Luminous eyes glazed with the day’s work and the field is dust flicking through the stall washed with bespeckled...
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