This spooky presence made its appearance at Keeneland over the weekend. (more…)
By Aimee Elyse Robinson
I heard her neigh while in slumber. I jumped up from my bed in absolute wonder.
I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and threw on my barn boots. Why, it couldn’t be possible, you crazy ol’ coot!
There in the darkness, a white star floated toward me. Pitch black in the forest, I struggled to see.
One back right sock and four hooves hovered over ground, posing the question… is my mind truly sound?
But back from her grave, there she stood. My sweet, gorgeous Wicklow came back when she could.
I said, “You sure gave me a spook!” And as she entered the barn, she took a long look.
Her saddle and bridle were still hung with care, but the pad was now covered in Chestnut horse hair.
Oof, I had been caught! But she understood.
While she was here no longer, she couldn’t have been fonder —
— of who’d seemingly taken her place. She snorted and pawed, and pulled me on board, and across the fields we raced!
Afraid of heights but trusting her, we ascended over Oklahoma. We stopped in for a visit with her sweet dam, we had named her Conavalla.
We continued on, racing the sunrise, as the stars above and creeks below kept us well apprised.
With a quick hello at Horse and Hound, then to her original owners we were bound.
With a nice trip down memory lane, we were soon back well on our way.
I asked, “What happened on that fateful night?” Hoping for closure, she dipped in her shoulder and soared toward the starry night!
I held on, hands entwined in mane. She kicked out and squealed, you know, she was always a spirited dame.
Her ears pricked forward, her tail held high, I reckoned it best to just enjoy the ride.
Back at our barn, I slid off her back. Speechless and grateful, I went on to untack.
She crunched her mints and gave me a nuzzle, then all of a sudden, I was befuddled.
As quickly as she had appeared – poof, gone! — she had simply disappeared.
I shook my head and pondered the ordeal – was this last ride truly and totally real?
I walked to her tack, long since put away, but rather than Chestnut hair on the pad, indeed it was Bay.