I was a very horse crazy kid. In school, I would either be gazing out the window, daydreaming about horses, or I would be drawing pictures of horses.

At recess. I made myself even more of a social outcast by running about and pretending to be a horse. I'm not sure how old I was before I finally realized that no, I couldn't grow up to become a horse! ;)

My parents had both grown up during the Great Depression in poor farming families. Although horses had been part of their lives for farm work and for riding to school, neither Mom nor Dad cared much about horses or understood much about them.

So, we made lots of mistakes when we became horse owners.

My first horse was a tiny palomino tobiano pony, Ginger, that Dad brought home for me one day. She was so docile that there was never a need to train her, fortunately. I just saddled her and started riding!

My Dad's best friend, Kenny, boarded a pony, Prince, for his little boys at our house. Ginger became Prince's pasture buddy and the two boys and I played "Cowboys and Indians" together while riding our ponies.