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L.T. Biggs Family Photos

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Not the Last Round-Up

Are you getting the idea that we did a lot of riding? First thing every morning most of us were in the paddock.

In the paddock

While we wait for the wranglers to get the horses, Aunt Kay eyes the palamino in the background. Although he was the owner Iris's horse, Kay got to ride him as there were so many guests that weekend. Thanks again to the Silver Spur for their mix-up!

Waiting to saddle up.

Where's my ride? Most of us look pretty happy here, but Mary is looking askance at something. Possibly it's the height of the horses and the mounting techniques of some of the guests.

Whenever I ride a horse my inner self awakens. I use all my senses. First, feeling; I feel wind in my hair, the leather reins, and the horse's soft fur, mane and tail. I see prairies of yellow grass up to my heels, green valleys with beautiful flowers, and mysterious woods with a little stream flowing softly. I hear the fast beating hooves of the horse, the rustling of trees, and the soft neighing of the horse. I taste the morning mist, fog and light. I smell the fresh cool morning air, dew on grass, and the cool breath of the horse. The horse runs like a racecar. It breathes hard and cold like a snowy mountain. It dodges trees like nothing stands in its way. Suddenly it stops. The sun warms my back as if it had never happened. Why? Well, let's say dreams can feel real, but aren't.

Arran Tubbs