And so it begins.

Actually, it began before I can consciously remember. All I know is that as far back as I can remember, I wanted to be a horse.

As a child, this seemed a reasonable request. Perhaps, as some people grow up to be astronauts or movie stars, I would simply grow up to be a horse? The closest I could figure, as a kid, was that I would bide my time as an artist until then. It goes without saying that I'm still an artist. It's not, after all, such a bad second choice.

Now it must be said that there is a fundamental difference between 'wanting a horse' and 'wanting to be a horse'. The former is a common phenomena, particularly with girls of all ages. The latter is, if publicly announced, likely to land a girl in the looney bin. And yet the latter sentiment may go a long way in explaining why I struggle with riding: it doesn't quite make sense to me. I am, however, perfectly content to while away an entire afternoon, out in the field in the company of horses...