When I was eight years old I spent several weeks on a cattle ranch in Wyoming. Yes, that’s me in the photo. No helmet and not even a cowboy hat. But I did have the right boots. The horse was called Amos. He was a horse, not a pony and for the life of me ,though I remember his name, I don’t know how I got up onto a full sized horse. I think I was just thrown up there by one of the cowboys.
Life on the ranch was a little girl’s dream. It was summer and everything was outdoors. Not like school days and the interior and inside classrooms days. Every day I was on the horse and out on the trails; sometimes taking part with rounding up cattle or young horses.
This was the beginning of my love of horses and riding. It started here.