Ah! My Lord Arthur, whither shall I go?
Where shall I hide my forehead and my eyes?
For now I see the true old times are dead…
Tennyson, from Idylls of the King
My grandfather loved Tennessee Walking Horses, a breed so named for their beautiful run-walk, a gait which they carry in place of the trot found in other breeds. It is like a magic carpet ride, and it is a gift from Heaven. Grandaddy would go to Shelbyville, Tennessee to see about them when he could find time to get away from his medical practice in the little town of Cameron, in Calhoun County, South Carolina. Grandaddy had a dapple gray in the paddock out back named Traveler,(sic Traveller) after General Lee’s famous charger. We’d bring him apples, but you had to hold it in your palm with your hand wide open flat so he wouldn’t nip your fingers. We were barefooted most of the time, and if we didn’t watch out when we climbed up on the fence, he would try to nip our toes.
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I grew-up on a farm; my four grandparents lived next door.
ReplyDeleteMy granpa Jack (last name 'Russell') raised and trained gaited mules.
I can ride a horse for three hours, and be crippled for three days.
I can ride a mule for three days, and be ready to go again next morning.
A wonderful childhood, too bad the vast majority of kids these days get nothing at all like this. I like your horse v mule story. :)Just think, Lee rode throughout the four years of war and he was in his sixties, but we were different then:
DeleteGreat Grandfather Koonce
He was a drummer boy in the WBTS, survived the War only to die a few years later. He was caught in an ice storm on his way home, but instead of seeking shelter, continued on his horse until the end. His clothes had to be cut off and he died a few days later.