Pop and his horses

If I close my eyes and imagine my childhood, I am sitting in a 1978 brown bronco next to my dad.  Him and I are driving east of town to the pasture where he keeps his horses.  He has his old white cowboy hat on with his chaps. I have on my gray roper cowboy boots with the flower sewn in the side.  We have the windows down and the wind is blowing my red hair all over the place but is keeping us cool.   On the floor at my feet are the halters and other tack that we need to catch the horses and spend time with them.  This is my favorite thing to do.  Spend an afternoon with my dad and his horses.  When we arrive at the pasture we jump out of the truck and he starts whistling.  The horses come running.  We brush them.  My dad cleans out their feet.  We saddle Poncho and Dippy Debbie and ride for an hour or two before it is time to go home.  Time seems to stop when my dad and I are out there in that pasture with the horses.  Time that is long gone but, always in my heart.

Spending time with my dad and his horses is different today.  Instead of riding around the pasture talking about our day we all head out to the polo field to watch him play polo.

And, I am anxious to see my dad and his horses.  To watch him play a game that he loves brings me so much happiness because it reminds me of the hours we spent together horseback so long ago.

My hope for my children is that they will find the one thing that brings them as much happiness as horses do for my father. And, that I will be able to share in that passion just as my father did for me all those years ago. To share with them the passions of life that make us who we are.

And, today, they get to enjoy the beautiful Wyoming weather and watch their Pop and his horses.   Here they are.