This photo shows that my addiction to horses started when I was two. And it’s all my father’s fault. Although my father was not a rider, he took me riding several times at a place where you could rent a horse and ride in the field next to the barn. I must have asked him to take me because I doubt he would have thought of it on his own.
In fact, riding at the Spano’s barn is one of my earliest memories. Specifically, my memory is of the time when the horse trotted off and I slipped inch by inch along it’s neck until I landed on the ground. Looking at the horse (who appears to be asleep) I would bet it didn’t trot very fast.
Obviously, that wasn’t a deterrent.
I still drive by the place where the Spano’s barn used to be. It’s long gone, replaced by a church. But each time I drive by I remember those early rides when I was a very young rider.