A Saddle and a Bridle

Saturday was one of those beautiful summer days that make you remember that, despite a pandemic raging, life can be wonderful. 

 I had to run up north to my sister's farm outside of Brookston,

 and I went the slower, more scenic route. I drove past Charlie Vaughn's Quarter Horse farm,

 and through the wind farm that spans most of the next county.

 The wind turbines are so tall, we can see them from the barn even though they are miles and miles away.

Leslie is slowly getting rid of her tack and horse supplies as she has no plans to own horses again. She  has a really nice Texas Longhorn saddle and asked me if I knew anyone who would like to buy it. I thought about it, but since I'm not riding (yet), I passed.  

Tim, however, was a different story. He wanted a new saddle for Sultanna, and bought it. I picked it up at Leslie's farm yesterday morning along with a bridle and two blankets and brought it back to the barn for him. Tim set it up on a sawhorse in the lounge of the new barn to take a look at it.

He was really excited to have that saddle, and I don't  blame him - it's  a good one.

I came back with something for me, too, something that I had wanted for years. 

 It doesn't look like much just hanging from the door to my office,

but it's a beautiful custom made bridle that my sister commissioned years ago. A saddle maker in Wyoming made it for my first horse, Amy.

After Amy passed away in 1991, Leslie used it on her other horses. And, since she had it made, I always considered it her bridle even though it was made for my horse. I didn't think she'd ever part with it, but today after she loaded the saddle, the other bridle, and the blankets into my car, Les turned to me and asked if I wanted to have it.

That was a surprise, but you can bet I said YES. I offered to pay for it, but Les wouldn't take any money. 

I am so excited to have it, I brought it home instead of leaving it out at the barn in the tack room with my other saddles and bridles. And now it is hanging here in my office, where I can see it and enjoy it.  

It makes me feel as though Amy is very close.

Amy and me, Thanksgiving Day, 1970.