My Wishes Are Horses

Ace and 3/4 of my nephews, who will be reunited this Thanksgiving.

Accidental Sagacity Corporation was organized so that I might share the lessons in living that I learn from my horses. It is an honor to work as closely as I do with them. It is a gift.

Some of the gifts are particularly memorable. Once, Ace and Kitten decided to frolic in a first snow instead of going to their stalls of an afternoon. They pranced up and down the newly plowed driveway and picked up speed to jump the pile of snow at the end of it. Ace floated over it and Kitten plowed right through it, depicting their individual personalities. I wanted to be mad at them, but I was helpless at their beauty.

The stable manager came outside and walked up to me. "You need a hand, Michelle?" she asked.

I shrugged, "No. I'll just wait until they are finished."

"I saw them out of the window," she said. "I had to come out." She stood next to me watching the two horses run about like banshees. We were repeatedly treated to the twisting bucking high heel kicking at the sky maneuver. The dark, fuzzy horses silhouetted pirouettes against the white snow.

The stable manager's husband arrived home about that time. Driving carefully up the driveway, horses running full bore the other direction, spinning and racing him back, he rolled down the window as he approached us, "Are you gonna [looking out the windshield] catch [looking in the side mirrors] those horses [looking in the rear view mirror]?"

"Yeah," his wife said.

"Eventually," I promised.

On another go at the snow pile, Ace hit some ice and fell on his side. He slid to a stop at the bottom of the pile. I gasped. It is terrifying to watch 1000lbs of something you love fall. He gingerly got up, shook himself off and walked, head hanging to me and buried his head in my arms. It was a pouting, childlike I-fell-down-it-hurt. "Aw...poor boy," I said in my best soothing sorry voice as I held his head and stroked the snow off his neck.

Kitten , sensing a problem when Ace didn't materialize on the other side of the snow pile, popped her little ears and big eyes over the top to investigate. When she saw Ace, crestfallen, in my arms, she hopped over the pile like a rabbit and came quite contrite to follow Ace and I into the barn.

Once nestled in their stalls, munching sweet feed and hay, they both gave big contented sighs, the sound of which never fails to make me smile. I looked in on Ace. He looked up with a mouthful of hay, grain still stuck to his muzzle, raised his eyelids, which he always does to highlight something important, "Thank you, human."

I've said it before, I'll say it again. Sometimes I think my only real purpose in life is to witness the virtuosity of the horses' frolicking. If that is all I accomplish in my life, so be it. I promise to do it well and do it often. And I promise to share it. And for that I am eternally thankful.

Happy Thanksgiving and Kind Regards,

Michelle Blackler

Serendipity

www.hossbiz.com

Serendipity is an Accidental Sagacity Corporation company.