Where in this wide world can man find nobility without pride,
Friendship without envy,
Or beauty without vanity?
Here, where grace is served with muscle
And strength by gentleness confined
He serves without servility; he has fought without enmity.
There is nothing so powerful, nothing less violent.
There is nothing so quick, nothing more patient.
~Ronald Duncan, "The Horse," 1954

I have a friend with whom I have shared secrets, stories, philosophy, and plenty of tears.

We both love dogs. But she is also an accomplished horsewoman, a professional colt-starter and level 4 Parelli rider, while I have never in my life sat in a saddle except on the carousel at the San Diego Zoo or Disneyland. 

The beach stables in Imperial Beach closed by the time I had enough baby sitting money to spend on a two-hour ride.  My brother and I used to dream of riding our horses on the sand.  Our grandfather bought race horses, but they weren't for child's play.  Grandfather also refused our names for his horses:  Sayonara and Moonlight.

When the opportunity arose in late years, something always went wrong:  it started to rain on my "horse" day at Camp Fire Girls' Camp (Camp Wolahi sure to shine / All of the time.")

The day we took the kids to the stables in Mammoth, California, the handlers said our son was too young to ride.  So I led him on a docile mare on the walking path while my daughter and husband rode off on the trail ride.

So I have an earnest desire to one day ride a horse.  I believe as well that horse therapy could be of some use for my grandson and his autism.  We'll never know until we try.  And I don't care if I'm sixty. . . I'm ready to try.