As children, we all have favorite stories. Somehow these stories become permanently etched in our minds as we grow-up. Cowboy Small was the book that my mother read to me over and over again. As I got older and could tackle more pages I read Walter Farley’s, “Little Black, A Pony” until the cover needed to be taped together. Maybe the pure fact that I knew we couldn’t have a horse was enough to keep me connected to them throughout my life. Even today, I realize that my lifestyle doesn’t lend to keeping horses, but I am forever attracted to farm living. It’s no surprise that we found a home where our back yard has a view of a farm. I experience a small bit of my favorite childhood books every time I look out the window and see the horses. As I imagine what the authors were inspired by in writing their books, my camera helps take me there. As I photographed a farm in Middletown yesterday, I was carried into the pages of my childhood. In my mind and through my lens, I met Big Red and Little Black. I saw the beautiful connections between the animals and their dedicated keepers. Everywhere I looked, beautiful elements peeked through layers of dried mud and the sweet smell of hay. Behind hay bales, barn cats hid and baby goats waited to be discovered. For the senses, it was a luxurious vacation if only a short one. I recall saying often, “Mommy, please I want a horse.” Now I realize that the horse was always there and still is today.
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