Brevon was the best teacher. Usually when people talk about horses, they assign them human traits, things like “honest,” “hard-working,” “witchy,” “sweet.” My three horses were all the diligent type.
Brevon was so much older than I was that my parents leased him for me to learn from. In most informal pictures of the two of us, Brevon is clearly the leader. He took his role of teacher quite seriously, and even my trainer would occasionally defer to him, “Well, father, what do you think we should do?” He would listen, or seem to, as Brevon nodded at him, reassuring, comforting, and wise.
Summer Hill was sweet. You can see it in her face. Her good nature would be her downfall, for she was over-shown later on, and broke down. My trainer would rest his forehead on her neck and lean into her almost as if in prayer, he called her “mother,” in the most beautiful and respectful way.
I love this one picture of her in the warm-up ring at the Syracuse P.H.A. show. It was bitterly cold and some horse must have just annoyed her, because here sweet Summer Hill is, with her ears as pinned as they can be. I love it because it shows that even sweet can have touch of sass.
Six Pack, or Inch, was an athletic, erudite creature, not the most handsome guy, but definitely the coolest. I loved his self-assurance; he had the calm that comes from being bigger, smarter, and stronger than everyone else. He also loved to be adored. In the pictures taken out at the barn he has an indulgent and gratified look in his eye as I maul him and fuss over him.
Yep, those three were some of the finest and most individual characters I’ve even known. I guess a simple one-sized “diligent” doesn’t begin to cover it.
Brevon was so much older than I was that my parents leased him for me to learn from. In most informal pictures of the two of us, Brevon is clearly the leader. He took his role of teacher quite seriously, and even my trainer would occasionally defer to him, “Well, father, what do you think we should do?” He would listen, or seem to, as Brevon nodded at him, reassuring, comforting, and wise.
Summer Hill was sweet. You can see it in her face. Her good nature would be her downfall, for she was over-shown later on, and broke down. My trainer would rest his forehead on her neck and lean into her almost as if in prayer, he called her “mother,” in the most beautiful and respectful way.
I love this one picture of her in the warm-up ring at the Syracuse P.H.A. show. It was bitterly cold and some horse must have just annoyed her, because here sweet Summer Hill is, with her ears as pinned as they can be. I love it because it shows that even sweet can have touch of sass.
Six Pack, or Inch, was an athletic, erudite creature, not the most handsome guy, but definitely the coolest. I loved his self-assurance; he had the calm that comes from being bigger, smarter, and stronger than everyone else. He also loved to be adored. In the pictures taken out at the barn he has an indulgent and gratified look in his eye as I maul him and fuss over him.
Yep, those three were some of the finest and most individual characters I’ve even known. I guess a simple one-sized “diligent” doesn’t begin to cover it.
 Summer Hill shows her great displeasure. |  Inch was meant to be adored. |
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