"Horses make you happy." This is what my wife said to me when she looked at this photo of me with Noble Spirit [above], a local celebrity who was the inspiration for Joanne Anderson's book, A Noble Spirit (Perry Creek Publishing, 2012). "Horses make you happy." Indeed, they do. I was raised in a horse family. My mother was a rider, an international show jumper, hunt master, trainer, breeder, and trader. By seven years of age, I had my own horse, was riding, and won my first ribbon in western class (photo below) in Colorado. When I was nine, we moved to Virginia, and I began riding English and learned how to jump. Also, my summers especially were filled with grooming, braiding, mucking stalls, and cleaning tack as my mother's horse business grew. After a succession of three horses, I tapered off riding, until many years later I rode again with her on competitive trail rides with her beloved Appaloosas [photo]. As a teenager I didn't ride as much, bu
"Sailing to Byzantium" by William Butler Yeats (1865–1939) That is no country for old men. The young In one another’s arms, birds in the trees — Those dying generations — at their song, The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas, Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long Whatever is begotten, born, and dies. Caught in that sensual music all neglect Monuments of unageing intellect. An aged man is but a paltry thing, A tattered coat upon a stick, unless Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing For every tatter in its mortal dress, Nor is there singing school but studying Monuments of its own magnificence; And therefore I have sailed the seas and come To the holy city of Byzantium. O sages standing in God’s holy fire As in the gold mosaic of a wall, Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre, And be the singing-masters of my soul. Consume my heart away; sick with desire And fastened to a dying animal It knows not what it is;