When I was young I lived in a neighborhood. It was a dead-end street. Fortunately behind my house was an old farmhouse built during the Civil War & a lovely stonewalled barn. You could drive into the hayloft on one side. The ground sloped around to the backside where there were a few stalls for horses.

One day my mother saw a man exercising a horse. He was riding a Saddlebred w/ an English saddle. He had just moved into the small house belonging to the farmhouse & was renting a few stalls in the barn. She went over to talk to him, asking if he gave riding lessons, which he did. One of his horses was a 2 yr old black mare. I fell in love w/ her. She wasn’t broke very well, jumping around & rearing up when I got on her, so we both learned together. My parents bought her for me. Not long after that the man they bought her from moving to another place.

I spent many hrs w/ my horse & so did my dad. He knew how it was to love a horse, having one of his own while a boy. He helped me exercise her & would rent a trailer so we could take her to a few shows. We did good & would keep a blanket on her when it was cold to keep her hair slick & not growing long hair.

Eventually, my parents bought a show horse & kept it w/ a trainer, which let me play w/ my mare @ home. A young girl living near by brought a horse into the barn, & like me, she learned the hard way how to ride. She eventually became a good rider. I really think both of us became better riders w/ great balance because of all the time we spent riding bareback. We became best friends, riding all over the place.

Since I didn’t keep a blanket on my horse anymore, it was wonderful to ride in the winter when my horse had grown her fuzzy, thick, winter coat. She kept me warm! I spent many hrs w/ my horse & we got to know each other very well. She had a corner stall in the barn & would nicker when she’d hear me leave the house to come to feed her. I loved staying in the stall w/ her while she ate her grain, talking to her & rubbing her head. The fluffy fur behind her ears used to smell so nice.

She had a large oat box not far from the ground. Many times I’d sit in it & do my homework. She liked to back up to me & have her tail scratched, but most of the time she’d stand in the corner of her stall & just watch me. It was funny if I happened to yawn….& she would too. If she laid down, she’d let me sit down beside her.

I cherished the long rides w/ my friend & her horse. We’d ride for miles to open fields further away. My horse & I became very close & I believe she understood every word I spoke to her & her actions let me know that. I taught her to neck rein & she’d let me ride her w/ just a halter & lead chain. In the barn, there was a crosstie area to curry comb & brush her. When I picked up my hoof-pick to clean her feet, she would already have her foot up for me, & as I would move around to clean her other foot, that one was up & ready too.

We were the best of buddies & she lived a long time. My sons were fortunate enough to learn to ride by using her. She lived 31 yrs. How proud I am to have owned such a lovely horse as Miss Wingo.