The Dangers of Riding Horses

When I was a little kid, Aunt Janie had a horse. A brown horse (chestnut?), and it seems as if the horse was rather large ... but then again, I was a little kid, so maybe it was only a medium-sized horse, who knows. And it seems as if I should remember the name of the horse, but ... I do not. Because I was a little kid.

Janie kept her horse out at the farmhouse where Grandpa Bob lived. Occasionally, apparently, Aunt Janie would allow me to ride her horse. I know this not because I remember, necessarily, but because I have seen at least one picture of me atop a horse. And I think I was actually sitting on the horse rather than actually riding it. But still.

Oddly enough, I remember that Grandma Evelyn (no relation to Grandpa Bob, really; she was my paternal grandmother, and he is my maternal grandfather) objected to my riding a horse. She was afraid I would fall off or something and get injured, or that the horse would buck and there I would go, heels over head, splat! (Again, I am not sure if I remember Grandma being nervous about this, or whether I remember my mom telling me that she had been nervous. Such are certain memories.)

Of course, the horse was gentle as could be, and any time I was ever on it, Aunt Janie was right there beside me, making sure I would not fall off. And when I really push myself, memory-wise, I have this vague recollection that maybe I did ride the horse, at least once, with Aunt Janie right behind me, holding on tight so I would not fall off.

What I do remember, plainly, is one time, I was walking back to the farmhouse after sitting on or maybe riding the horse, and I decided to take off running, and I tripped and fell and skinned the heck out of my left knee.

So, yeah, I guess it was dangerous. In ways I could have never imagined.

: )

Mainly, I am thinking about horses because we have managed to run horsey photos 4 of the last 5 days in the newspaper (sorta helps that a State Fair is going on nearby!), and this somehow makes me smile.