I named this horse Blurred Vision because I was on the motorcyle when I snapped the picture. He isn’t my horse, we were just passing by when I saw him. I like how the leaves on the tree are blurred and the colors blend together.
The picture was taken last fall. We were on one of the Kentucky backroads when I saw this horse. Sometimes when we ride in the Lexington area, I find the beautiful homes where the horses actually live to be unbelievable. The horse barns are nicer than most houses in Kentucky.
The horse farms are also a sight to behold. Most have wooden fences painted white or black that surround the farm. There are flowers, trees and ponds that look more like small lakes and of course the beautiful beasts in the fields. Some areas have one horse farm right after another and it is difficult to tell where one farm ends and another begins. The mansions the owners live in are nothing to sneeze at either.
While those farms house mostly race horses and horses that will sell for more money than I’ll see in a lifetime, the horses I love are those that you’d find on a typical farm with a stinky black barn where many different animals have lived.
As a teenager, I lived on a farm. We had a horse named Star; he was a big sorrel work horse. My dad used him somtimes to plow tobacco fields. I loved riding the horse. I’d get one of my brothers to put a bridle and saddle on him for me. I was always too finicky to touch the slobbering mouth to put the bridle on and too scared to put the saddle on the sweaty beast, but I loved riding him. Actually, I wasn’t to scared to climb on, kick him in the sides and yell “yah!” really loud to get him to take off running.
I’ve always been a little frightened around most farm animals. I recall dad taking mom, my brother, sister and me to my grandparents farm and into the barn where he’d feed and milk the cows. He’d take turns putting my sister and brother on the back of the milk cows that were in stalls and unable to move. When it came my turn, I kicked and screamed because I didn’t want to sit on or touch the milk cows. Dad sat me on one once and I remember the skanky sweaty smell to this day. I yelled and screamed until he took me off the animal.
A few years after Mike and I married, we bought me an Appaloosa Gilding named Chico. I loved riding the horse and he was so gentle that I could ride right up to Mike while he was sitting on a loud running tractor that would have scared most horses. Once when we were on a trail ride, I spotted an wide open field which I promptly rode over to and pushed Chico into a run. Mike didn’t know I’d purposely ran the horse and he thought Chico was running wild until he saw me pulling on the reigns to slow the horse to a trot.
There is just something about me loving the feel of the wind blowing in my hair whether it is from riding a horse or on the back of a motorcycle. If Mike’s hands don’t get well soon, I’m buying a horse.