As more than a few people have commented on my tack box in past weeks, I post these here for a wider audience.

I got tired of arriving at a barn only to spend 10 to 15 minutes scrounging up brushes, hoof picks, &c., so I put those in a bag.

Then I bought my own saddle, with the changeable gullet, so I wouldn't have to ride those school saddles that feel like two angle-irons welded to an old oil-drum. The changeable gullet meant I could fit any horse I was given in only a few…

Out on the trail, bushwhacking through woods too thick to walk through on foot, we come across a fallen tree, branches everywhere, and pine trees on the other side. Vinnie is behind us, following. I ask Oakley to approach so I can see if there is a way around. While I'm looking around, he keeps walking up to the tree, looks down at the trunk as if to say "oh, this up to my chest. I can't step over this... I'll have to jump..." and…