Tag Archive | memories

Crickets Song of a Summer’s Night

Image -kentucky coves

By Diana Wanamaker

I love the seclusion of the night. The dark, emptiness of the road as I drive to the barn. I stepped outside tonight and there was the pulsating tempo of the crickets, announcing a hot, summer’s night. My mind quickly flashed to a memory of 25 yrs. ago in the Louisiana Bayou country. My beau & I had taken a trip across the states to visit my sister in Mississippi. First stop was in Kentucky, where we camped in a cove of cliffs. We visited Louisiana, where he had once lived. I recalled the long highway that is surrounded by water, driving along the bayou country side, and touring small fishing villages, etc. We ended up in Mississippi where we dined along the Mississippi river, eating collard greens and cornbread. Enjoying the large southern homes with massive pillars and front porches, where rocking chairs lined the veranda’s with ambiance. On the way home we visited the Ohio Caverns to see the colorful formations of the caves.
It was a set of memories I enjoyed recalling, provoked by the crickets song of a summers’ night.

Copyright August 2014. All Rights Reserved

Memorable Connections

Image -Willy

By Diana Wanamaker

With all the inter-connected events that happened on this day, it was Willy that came to mind to me. With all the thoughts that were streaming thru my head, all the images, memories of times past and visions of future yet to come, it was Willy that kept flashing as a reoccurring thought.
If ever there was a time where a little girl’s dream came to reality, it would have been Willy. If there was ever a horse that one could imagine riding as a gallant statement, it would have been Willy. Standing tall at 16.2, he towered high, and offered the feeling of strength, confidence and wisdom.
What rolled through the archives of memories today was a moment in time, when Willy and I rode along a frequent trail out in the Metamora hills. A trail that ran not too far away from the country road, with plenty of trees along both sides of the trail. I could just barely view the road as we trotted along. We were so hidden by the trees, it offered the quiet privacy of a unforgotten path. Then comes a hill that peaks it’s steepness just at the top. We gallop up, roll over the top of the hill at a nice canter, ending up right into an open meadow. The power and beauty of Willy as we rolled up that hill together, his head tall and tucked naturally. Willy had this long beautiful stride and would cover ground like we were floating along. I could just feel his excitement, as we cantered along as one.
It was a memory that brought all my thoughts and connections together today….back to the sweet, timeless moments of being connected to my once most beautiful horse, Willy.

Copyright August 2015. All Rights Reserved

Don’t Burn the Jiffy Pop!

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Photo: Here’s the Clan at the Farm (from left to right):

Mousy (cat sitting on fence post), Penny Arcade (also known as Arc. my horse. the bay), Randy (pony in middle), Dave (holding Randy), Louie (the dog), Skipper (big, red TW), Carol (holding Skipper), Herkamore (black cat Carol’s holding).

Copyright 1974. All Rights Reserved

By Diana Wanamaker

I remember long, long days at the barn with our horses. We would be there early in the morning. Tacking up and heading out for the day that would literally consist of 12-24 hours. Squeezing as much out of daylight as we could…but wait, that didn’t stop us either. Many a night we came home single file in the dark. Continuing our riding adventures camped out on the 10 acres of land.

Back then the acres of farm land surrounded us for miles and miles.  We had our pick of places to ride without much complaint from anyone.  Each area had a designated name and each area offered a different riding adventure.  The rolling hills & meadows of Haunted Hill Valley to the dessert like terrain of Devil’s Mountain to the swimming holes of Paint Creek, there was no adventure untouchable.

Playing tag around the sand filled hills of Devils Mountain for hours on end. Switching horses. Running up and down sand hills, bareback, carved by mountian bikers. No hill was too steep, no run too daring.  Riding into nearby neighborhoods, stopping at my riding buddies parent’s home. Tying the horses up, going in for lunch, then back out to more adventures on the trails.  No matter the weather, no matter the time of year, we stopped at nothing to go riding.

Campfire’s out in empty fields, for winter riding, to warm up our toes, and cooked Jiffy Pop over the campfire. We also made manure rings in the pasture, for winter and those shorter days. We also would use the house spotlight to ride on those darker, cooler nights. Chasing the occassional hot air ballon to be there when they landed. Riding underneath the Railroad Bridge, riding into town and riding to parks.  It was all about the riding then and those horses took us far and wide across many miles over the years.

Days seemed so much simpler then, people were more trusting, there was more freedom, more space, less people and more farms, more generousity and kindness, more genuine friendships, fun and laughter. Everything just seemed so much easier and less complex when thinking back of all the memories without computers. Different world today, it’s ever changing atmosphere often leaves me to travel back in time when the only care in the world I carried, was to see my horse and make sure the Jiffy Pop didn’t burn.

Here’s to the memories of my younger years of riding and it’s propelling movement to share them hear today for the world to see. Again they live!

Copyright March 2103. All Rights Reserved