
We grew up horse people. We lived in a condensed neighborhood of people and on the outskirts of town was a very small farm with maybe ten acres of land around it.
Then suddenly we had a pony and a smaller pony. As you can tell I am an expert on horses. Big pony, small pony. Maybe a Shetland Pony? That kind of sounds right.
Anyways, we’d spend a lot of time at this farm. We’d shovel horse crap to keep the stalls clean and come back the next the next day and do it again.
But when you love an animal it doesn’t seem like work when you are helping them. It’s a labor of love.
Driving down the road in Grand Teton I saw these folks crossing the road at the horse crossing sign. Right time, right place I guess, and it brought back a lot of great memories.
Horse People are passionate about their horses. I never met a bad horse person.
And suddenly I can recall the persistent smell of horse always on me, and the smell of hay, and horse oats… It wasn’t a bad thing. It was a very cool horse thing.



Great memories…
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