The good ole days

The good ole days for me started when I was a little kid. My dad had a mule named Rodney for coon hunting. I rode Rodney smashed between my two sisters. Then I rode a bay horse named Scarlett. She was a little too feisty. I took some lessons with an old cowboy known for roping in Abilene Kansas. It was the best. Then we bought Manny and Zandy. Manny turned out to be a disaster of a horse and we bought his full sister (a year younger) Maggie. Maggie would prove to be the best horse I've ever ridden. We got Maggie when I was 9 years old and now that I'll be 29 in a few weeks we still have Maggie. She is still the best horse I've ever ridden. Yes, has her moments but they are few and far between. I had a couple of ponies. Sonny was a great pony. She was a little welsh pony that gave me the confidence to do anything. She ended up going to a camp for disabled children. My dad went back to his old friend and bought a big beautiful appaloosa mule Dabber. We also bought a little white mule named Hans. They were great. Trained by a good friend and reliable trail mules.
My dad and I spent many hours riding. All my adolescent years of frustration, green hair and eyebrow piercings were still spent on the back of a mule or horse with my dad trail riding.
Many of the people we met including my Dad didn't care if my hair was green, if my pants were camo and I worse tennis shoes and not boots. I loved riding. Loved trails and loved spending the time with my Dad. Even as a teenager I still had a great time and wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

Here's some photos of my horse and hopefully soon I will scan some pictures of my mules too. I wish everyday that my Maggie was 7 years old again, my dad and I were still riding and my mules were still in my pasture.
Ohhhh the good ole days.