Dream horses, real horses

Hiked out to Bridal Wreath Falls in the Rincon Mountains with jamiam today. It was a perfect day for hiking–an achingly blue desert sky, lots of icy water at the falls, and the feel of the warm desert air on my arms all the way back.


SB of the Girls Horse Club has a lovely, lovely post about making the transition from longing for dream horses to making room in your life for real horses.

There comes a time in every girls life where they have to make the jump from fantasy to reality: fantasies of that coal black stallion that races only for you; of being a princess on a snowy white horse; of a dream farm already planned out with the horses names and breeds and colors already picked and placed. The reality is that not every horse is the big and strong black or the soft and sweet white. The in-betweens are the ones that seem to touch most peoples lives.

My dream horse wasn’t coal black, it was pure white (it was also able to fly), but otherwise, I know the feeling SB is getting at well. I remember the first time, at Girl Scout camp, that I mounted a real horse–and how disappointed I was at the slow work of learning to work with my horse at a walk, at how riding felt nothing like flying. Real riding was dusty and hot and unromantic, though I know now that like any other skill, something of the romance comes back when you take the time to work at it.

But no real horse can ever quite match that first dream horse. So I keep my own white, flying, nameless horse somewhere in the back of my thoughts, always there when I need her, even now, as I navigate this rough-edged, real-horse, glorious-in-its-own-way world.

Madelaina of The Girls Horse Club also said some really nice things about the Phantom Rider Books. The comments especially made me smile and smile.

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