The Bascom: Center for the Visual Arts writing prompt - a hobby - 5/7/19: 

Hobby Horse

Manure’s odor is a an eau du cologne for moi. Perhaps some of my mother’s inclination toward anything equestrian-related seeped into my fibers for the nine months I waited in her womb. All I know is that the grassy, grainy, earthy scent of a horse’s excrement is a balm to my soul. Rather than a chore, cleaning the waste from the old barn my horses occupy is a task looked forward to instead of dreaded.

Diane Ackerman, in A Natural History of the Senses and A Natural History of Love, toys with why some women are so enamored with horses. Perhaps there is an ancient primal need to control – or it is the thrill of sitting astride a moving mass of muscles. Serena, in the novel of the same name by Ron Rash, instills mythic-proportion trepidation into the minds of rough and tumble lumberjacks because she simply rides through the forests on a white Arabian. Zoro may never have become legendary if not for the grand entrance he made on a majestic, coal-black Friesen he named Tornado.

But my reasons for a lifelong hobby involving horses is simplistic, and mostly sensory. I love the way they smell – not just what is deposited – but their coats; a mixture of briny sweat and honeysuckle in the summer and pine wood and hay in winter. When I’m particularly edgy, a close-in whiff is all that is required to quiet my nerves. And the feel of their velvety noses and silky manes and tails … 

Whinnying, nickering, chewing grass, munching oats, sucking water – I hate to cliche say it, but yes, music to my ears.

And then, just look at them. Take a minute next time you have a chance, to truly look at a horse. God got a lot of things right. But the horse. What the Mona Lisa is to the art world, the horse is to the animal world. Splendor on four legs. Hues and sizes in myriad variations. Sometimes I just look at my horse and marvel at how she is made. And now, with her white winter hair giving way to a burnished golden brown – contrasted by her wavy thick mane and tail. I’m envious!

But I guess, overall, this horse hobby of mine has connected me with people. As soon as I could sit up my mother had me in the saddle, arms wrapped around me from behind for protection. I did the same with and for my children. My mother, sister, and I spent years during my growing up competing every weekend with our horses. And, as an adult, the highlight of my week is exploring on horseback together with my sister old mountain logging roads and deer trails.

Horses are my gym and my therapy – and I hope to be in the company of horses well, like Jackie Kennedy Onassis and Beryl Markham – until that very last day.