When I was a kid, the only thing I wanted for Christmas was a pony. I knew that it was unrealistic. After all, we lived in Manhattan so there wasn’t exactly a place to put a pony.
A Pony Under the Tree
The Christmas I was five or six, my dream came close to coming true. That was the year I got Goldie. While she wasn’t a living breathing pony, she was the size of a real pony and I could ride her.
She came in a huge wooden box from India in six solid pieces of wood which my father assembled into a pony, held together by wooden pegs. My grandmother helped monks import hand-carved Creche scenes through her church and she had them carve Goldie for me. My father bought me a pony sized western saddle for her and with that and my imagination we were off on many adventures.
Once I grew older, I realized that the monks who had carved Goldie had probably never seen a horse before and had probably carved her after looking at a picture of a pony. She looks pretty good from the side, but from the front, her legs look suspiciously human, especially the knees. However, in my eyes, she was perfect.
For many years I had no place to keep her. It wasn’t until my husband and I bought our first house that she was able to come and live with me again. She’s always been a conversation piece. Not that many people have a life-sized pony in their living room and Goldie is certainly unique.
3 thoughts on “A Pony Under the Tree”
Wow. What a cool gift, and a cool story. I’d have killed for a Goldie as a kid! 🙂
My daughter received a wooden horse for her first birthday (though not carved by monks), and we still love it.
Your post has made me think of bringing him out of retirement and back into the house.