Seminole Horse Wish
Colleen over at Simply Coll writes about the two weeks every summer that she and her sisters, all city girls, spent at her aunt's farm near Binscarth, Manitoba. While Colleen's "real life encounters with actual horses were few," she dreamed of having a horse of her own.
Funny, it doesn't seem to matter if you're a little girl from Manitoba or Oklahoma, you can share the same dream.
Colleen describes hers—
"The summers offered me a tiny window into my aspirations...
Every summer we three girls spent a week at my aunts farm just outside of Binscarth, Manitoba.. What a gift it was for three city bred girls. Here we ran free amongst the chickens, geese, and cows. And wonder of wonders.. they had a HORSE.
Her name was Silver. She was a 20 year old draft horse that worked hard in the fields. But for a week every summer .. she was mine. Seen through my young girl’s eyes, she was a true beauty.. all black with a white blaze.
For one week every summer, my dreams became my reality. Immediately on waving good bye to Mom and Dad, I would change my clothes and race to the back of the barn. Here was the gate .. the entrance to the pasture surrounded by fences made of a combination of barbed wire and wood. I’d lean against the fence scanning the horizon to see if my horse was nearby.
For one whole week, every summer, I lived my dreams."
I was an 8-year-old girl with similar aspirations. Colleen reminds me of a week I spent with my aunt Lucille in Seminole, Oklahoma. I was a city girl too, raised in the suburbs of Tulsa. My aunt lived on the edge of town, and my cousin's husband, Doyle, who was a busy cattle rancher, took the time to trailer his grandfather's palomino horse to my aunt's house, leaving the mare in her little back yard for the entire week.
When the palomino stepped out of the stock trailer, all I could think of was how huge and how beautiful she was. And that she was all mine!
My mother was worried about me with a horse of my own for an entire week and had a few words with Doyle. I held my breath, worrying that this larger-than-life cowboy who was all whiskers and wranglers and pointy-toed cowboy boots would load the horse back up and haul her away. Instead, he spat a stream of tobacco juice into the dirt, winked at me, and told my mother it would be just fine. What I don't think Doyle knew was that bulk of my riding experience was limited to the pony rides at Bell's amusement park in Tulsa. And no herd of wild horses could have dragged that confession out of me at that moment! I was probably even secretly a little afraid, but too concerned that they'd take the beautiful horse away if I let it show. After all, this was the chance of my lifetime.
But when Doyle put a bridle on her and handed me the reins, somehow or other, I knew just what to do. Maybe I'd seen just the right amount of Saturday afternoon westerns. Or read enough of Billy and Blaze, my favorite books at the public library. That good natured horse allowed me to clamber up onto her bare back every morning (I don't recall that I had a saddle) at the crack of dawn and ride her all day long in the dusty park across the road. How I managed to stay aboard that giant horse in my plaid shorts and white Keds sneakers to this day I've no idea.
We did later learn that the horse had been trained by Doyle's blind grandfather, and that she'd carried him on many a ranch chore. I can still see Doyle's rust-colored stock trailer pulling out of the drive, hauling the mare away the afternoon before we left for home. I think I probably cried a little. It would be 6 years before I had a horse of my own.
I don't recall ever seeing Doyle again. He and my cousin split ways I remember overhearing shortly thereafter in one of those grownup dinner table conversations my parents probably thought I was too young to understand. However, that young cowboy exists as a semi-mythical character in my imagination and most likely always will.
I wonder if he and his grandfather had any idea that they fulfilled a little girl 's dream that summer in Seminole?
Source: Simply Coll
Flickr photo credits: sherlock77;
sherlock77
