Horsing around

A puppy followed me home.

It vaguely resembled snowy and was delightfully inquisitive, sniffing and fossicking through garden beds and hedges. Yet it kept checking to see where I was, and would step into line with me for a minute or two, before sniffing some else out and disappearing. Back and forth, he (she?) went, till I reached my garden gate, then it turned around and retraced it's steps home.

A friend's dog gave birth to ten puppies on the weekend. My heart aches for an animal companion.

I managed to somewhat sedate my love for horses, by horse riding over Easter. But Anne Hall's images has stirred up my longings to nestle in the mane of a mare and ride some lonely trails.

Horses

[Via: Bird don't sing]

I miss horse riding. I miss greeting the stable of horses, the tough decision of picking only one for the afternoon – then the rituals which would follow, of brushing, combing and dressing. Then saddling up and building from a gentle trot, to a canter around the park.

Unfortunately, horse riding isn’t the cheapest of pursuits, so it has fallen by the wayside, in an attempt to save for travel.

Won’t be it be lovely to combine the two?

Sure that would be infinitely more complicated and expensive – but I already have a name picked out for my horse, so isn’t that half the work done?

A boy and his pony

[image via: Robin Schwartz]

The story behind this picture blows my mind, you can read it here.

Here horsey horsey

When I saw this bike on Lucky Pony, my heart skipped a beat and I felt equal parts

- joy (that such a beautiful bike exists in the world)

- misery (that I don't own it)

Love hurts.

To pick me up I did the only sensible thing...sing The Horses. Loudly and passionately.