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Her name was Judy. She was always lame when headed away from the barn and sound as something sounder than a dollar when headed toward it. Lazy. Smart. I got something more interesting the next year. A total maniac who cleared all fences, no matter high or how low, by about three feet. I never tried her over one taller than six feet for fear of nosebleed, but, I'll be damned, it's just impossible to prepare yourself to jump over, say, a small downed tree and the horse treats it like she's jumping between skyscrapers.
That's how I learned how never to be thrown by a horse.
She was darn loving and lots of fun, but she'd just go all corkscrew when you couldn't imagine it happening. Still, I didn't miss Judy.
This guy isn't that great a photographer. But he takes some nice shots of mellow places. Good for calming one's nerves.
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Shocking NEWS. John Gielgud was once young. And Peter Lorre.
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