There are times when looking back at old photos, a smile
spreads across my face. Though taken years ago, they feel
One of them is me as a kid riding my Welsh pony. She
was black with great patches of white.
We kept her in a field next to what was our cottage in
Catching Bubbles when I wanted to go riding would mean
cornering her in the pasture before she’d sigh and give up.
Once when riding her bareback and galloping down a
dusty road, she tripped and down she went. I flew over her head
and hit the ground.
I was getting up knowing Bubbles as was her nature being free,
would be long gone.
It was then I realized she was bending over me to see if I was okay.
Once on my feet I wrapped both arms around her neck and
squeezed Bubbles tight. I climbed back on. We headed home.
I’d been riding all my life, one or two summers spent on a ranch
south of Calgary. On horseback. Rounding up cattle.
Writer’s comment: I haven’t been riding for the past few years,
when Rosanne took me one recent weekend for an unexpected
We ended up at a small ranch not far from home where a
couple of horses were saddled and ready to take us for a ride.
I couldn’t believe it!
Back in the saddle again.