Getting back in the saddle...

When I was a kid, summertime always meant a trip to my Grandma's ranch. My mom would pack my grubbiest clothes into a tiny suitcase. No sense taking my good "city"clothes, when all I would be doing is running through hay stacks, stomping in mud puddles and riding in the back of old pick-up trucks. So with my worn out t-shirts, shorts and sneakers, I would ship-off to the farm.

Now my stories from the farm could probably fill a couple blogs. They were indeed crazy summers. But for this post I want to just focus on a horse. Yep, just one horse.

The horse I want to tell you about was named Blackie. Can you guess why? Indeed, he was a black horse. But not just any black horse. He was a grumpy, stubborn, bossy black horse. Some say Blackie was simply strong willed. A horse with a mind of his own. Sure, I will give him that. But I also have to tell you he was a bit of a jerk. If he didn't like something he had no problem demonstrating his distaste. How did you know if he didn't like something? He would haul-off and bite you. Have you ever been nipped by a horse? Think big teeth. Think stong jaw. Think massive arm bruise! Ouch!

 So given Blackie's temperament, you would think most folks would stay away from him. Nope, not us kids. You see, there were not alot of horses on the farm. Really there were only two we could ride. One was a giant quarter-horse named Prince. The other was Blackie.

Did I mention that Blackie wasn't all that big? Compared to Prince, he was tiny. Maybe that's why he was such a grump? Anyhow, his size made it easier for us to get a saddle on him and go for a ride. As it turns out, riding Blackie was an eye-opener. That horse really didn't want to hang-out with us. He sure as hell didn't want us riding him either. As a result, I had my full share of falls thanks to Blackie. If he could run you up against a fence, he would do so. If he could drive you into a tree, he would take great pleasure in it. He really liked doing anything - anything at all -  that would get us off him.

So riding Blackie went like this:

       "Get on. Get going. Then get dropped. Hit ground with painful thud. Get up. Get back on. Get going. Get dropped again. Hit ground with another painful thud. Get up. Get back on. Get going."

That pattern repeated itself over and over again. Sure, it was frustrating. But to be honest, I don't recall it really bothering us. We were never seriously injured. Just a couple scrapes and scratches. Par for the course when spending time on a farm.

We were young. We were having fun. We really didn't have a care in the world. Blackie and his attitude wasn't about to change  that.

Looking back, Blackie taught me an important lesson at an early age. He taught me that when your kicked about and dropped flat on your arse, you have no choice but to get back in the saddle. If you don't get up and dust off the dirt, your letting yourself be beat. Life can be full of frustrations. It can be downright nasty at times. But it can also get better. If you get back in the saddle, you just might get the ride of a lifetime. You might find yourself galloping along with your hair blowing in the wind. You might be able to feel the sun warm your skin as you race down a new path. You might just breath in the sweet summer air and feel as if you are on top of the world. Sure, there were plenty of falls with Blackie but there were also glorious, spirit-soaring rides. Not a bad lesson learned from a stubborn black horse.

So it is with Blackie in mind that I get back to blogging. I have been on a bit of a hiatus when it comes to writing. Life has been throwing me a ton of curb balls lately. Professionally and personally, I have been bucked from the saddle and thrown to the ground. But I am slowly shaking off life's troubles. I am getting back on my feet.  I am getting back in the saddle.