We ran across one item at the fair that instantly brought a rush of childhood memories. Kids had made the infamous “stick horse” as a project. I love stick horses. I used to ride them for miles. I didn’t have a real horse until I was 10 years old. A cowgirl can’t be without a steed, so I made do with a stick horse.
Back then (the dark ages), my allowance was a whopping one dollar per month. My mother went shopping once a month, dragging us kids along with her. There were several years, roughly when I was between the ages of 3 to 6 or 7 years old, when all I did was spend my allowance on stick horses. They cost a dollar, and they only lasted so long before their sticks wore out from all the miles I put on them. There’s not much worse than a stick horse whose stick is too short. Half the fun is the clattering of the stick.
Yup, the stick horse at the fair surely caught my attention.
I thought this one was pretty darned cute. It never would have occurred to me to slap a hat on my horse.
This steed has a nice mane and forelock. That’s always an important feature, especially if you’re going to be showing.
This one is bit frou-frou for my taste, but if you’re a beginner, I can see that it might make you feel safe.
Ahhh, the black horse! I’ve always been a sucker for a black horse. When I was a little tyke, there was a show on television called “Fury” and I never missed an episode. The title character was a black stallion and how I dreamed of owning such a beauty!
All of which leads me to admit to you that, for almost 50 years, I have saved my very favorite childhood stick horse. Every time we clean house and toss out the old junk, I can’t bring myself to get rid of this:
His reins disappeared long ago and I don’t even remember what they looked like.
As you can see, his nose was lovingly stitched back together, probably more than once, by Butterfly. The fine print on him says “Made in USA” which is something you rarely see these days on anything. I should probably give him a proper burial or cremation, but for some reason, I can’t bring myself to part with him. Silly …
