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I Can Still Smell the Fresh Hay. . .

 

I don't recall any men dressed quite this well during my horse years.  Jodhpurs, riding boots, helmet, and a polo top, or even hunting pinks for hunts, but not suits or sports jackets as in this illustration.  That type of attire just ain't the thing for riding lessons, grooming, and feeding.  Or mucking out the stalls.


It's funny the aromas and sounds that stay with you even after decades.  For instance, when I think about it, although I have not hung around horse barns in almost 40 years, I can still hear the horses and ponies nickering and smell the fresh bales of hay.  

My sister and I used to argue about which one of us could climb into the loft above to wrestle a few new bales over to the hole in the floor and back down the ladder to fill the mangers when we fed our own horses, or helped with the ponies and sheep up the road.  Typically, our maternal grandfather or mother would suggest that we could both do it.  

"And stop arguing!"  

As I say.  I can still smell that sweet hay scent and hear their voices.

-- Heinz-Ulrich

 

Here's something a little more in keeping with this particular post.  While I certainly saw my share of hunting pinks, riding boots, and bowler hats at various horse shows and hunts we attended in my youth, I don't remember windowpane suits, cravats, polo coats, or nips of brandy behind the scenes.  Unless people were just being careful in the presence of children.  You know, windowpane suits might give the wrong ideas to impressionable young minds.  Dangerous.

 

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