I must confess: I get my thrills at horse sales.
My rope, Old Trusty, has found a new role, and she’s back in action.
They may not win ribbons or big prizes, but everyday using horses earn their keep.
My old pair of tapaderos remind me of a bone-chilling winter task.
Whether this old wives’ tale for predicting foal gender works or not, it’s entertaining.
The beginning of 2016 means we have a whole new set of colts to start.
For Luke and I, the month of December is a time to hit the reset button.
To say a horse is “no good” helps us excuse our level of horsemanship and short-changes the horse.
My new bridle has no headstall, but it’s the ultimate old-school, American piece of tack.
Despite the numerous side effects, at least this wonderful substance is addictive.
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