Learning to Live Without You by Nancy M Bell

 

To find more of Nancy's books click on the cover

Emily, Shady, Max

Emily

Guapo

Spook, Colleen, Phil, Sunny, Emily in the east pasture

As we age there are transitions in our lives.  The biggest, and latest one, in  mine is that I no longer own a horse. That's not entirely a true statement, I never 'owned' a horse, they more aptly owned me. My earliest memory is of riding a pony and being led around under a shady tree at the Bowmanville Zoo in Ontario. My childhood is filled with wishing for horses, it was a part of me was missing until I started working  at Rouge Hill Stables (Highway 2 and Shepherd Ave). While I didn't own those school horses, I loved them and took care of them I spent every moment I could at the barn. Most weekends I led trail rides from 8 in the morning until 8 or 9 at night. I went to school for a break LOL. 

I got my first horse when I was 17. I loved that horse, still do. He was the horse of my youth, probably the only reason I made it through my teens. Tags was the horse of my middle age and Emily was the horse of my old age. There are countless other horses who have touched my life, and I adore all of them. I remember all of them.  If I work at it I can recall the order of the stalls in the school barn at the Rouge, even though the horses sometimes changed. 

I spent my highschool years on  horseback in the magical Rouge Valley which is now a park. The first gallop on the sandy trail beside the river, crossing at the Durnford Crossing, then down the tree shadowed Mosquito Alley past the Fairy Pool at the end. Then the rest area, then either over the river again and through the apple orchard and up the steep Spy Glass Hill where you could look out over the valley and see the Glen Eagles Hotel perched on the edge of cliff to the west. The hotel is long gone now, but it lingers in my memory. If you went the other way you went up and then along the top of ridge where trilliums and lady's slippers bloomed. 

And through everything there were horses. Always Horses. 

Now, I'm learning to live without them. A part of my heart is missing. I suppose as we grow older we lose things. People, animals, beloved locations become paved over or plowed under. And yet, as long as we remember them, they are never really lost. But the place they occupy in my heart is bit less shiny and new.

I suppose everyone of us has things from our youth and lives that we leave behind as we move forward. For me, it is the privilege of caring for horses. But life moves on and we must therefore move with it. The alternative is to stop living and be engulfed by the past. Tempting as that is at times, I'm not ready to do that yet. There are still windmills I need to go tilting after. And books yet to write. 

Until next month, be well , be happy. 

   

My first horse show. Chum (Cherokee's Luck) I was 16

Guapo

Max

Miley

Gibbie

Emily, Phil, Big Bird

     

Time- where does it go? by Nancy M Bell

 

To find more of Nancy's work please click on the cover.

Time, where does it go? It feels like only yesterday I was sixteen and galloping through the Rouge Valley near Scarborough, Ontario. My world was filled with horses and the people associated with them. That time in my life is kind of like a golden halo, you know the old saying- the Good Old Days. Of course, life being what it is, there was good and bad in those days. But the constant thread running through it all was the horses and my passion for them. 

It wasn't until I was seventeen that I got my own horse, but I still remember those wonderful patient horses who made up the dude string at Rouge Hill Stables. Considered by some as old, or used up, or just a grade (the equine equivalent of mutt), but they patiently put up with packing non-riders up and down the big hill to gain access to the valley. They did their job without complaining day in and day out. I learned so much from those horses, in my mind's eye I can see them still.

And now, in December I will turn sixty-five. Officially a Senior. How the hell did that happen? My youngest will turn forty in February of 2022. I mean...are you kidding me? Where did all that time go- how did all those years slip by without me really noticing? I have been many things in my life, but through it all the constant has been my horses. Although many horses have made an impact on my life, there are a few that were truly horses of my heart. Brandy was the first horse that was mine, one that no one else could make a decision about. That's the problem with loving horses that don't belong to you, other people can make decisions that take that horse away from you. The second horse of my heart was Tags, a big chestnut quarter horse that looked more like a stocky thoroughbred (and acted like one as well) the third horse, the horse of my old age is Emily. She's twenty-one and still looks much younger. She's been mine since before she was born as I owned her momma. 

I know some men can keep track of events that happened in the past by what car they drove at that time, for me it's what horses were around me that brings back the memories clear and strong. In my heart I am still that sixteen year old kid riding horses in the moonlight through the blooming apple trees beneath Spy Glass Hill, wearing my heart on my sleeve and believing anything is possible if you just want it bad enough.

That idealistic outlook is a bit tattered by the passing years, but I guess I do still believe anything is possible if you just work at it and don't lose focus. The old lady I see in the mirror now can still startle me sometimes, who is she? And behind her eyes I can still find the golden halo of youthful optimism, and always the horses, teaching me courage and fortitude and reminding me patience is a virtue.

 Until next month, stay well, stay happy.