Horsey Afternoon.
I was looking at Pam Stone's Facebook page earlier this week working a young mare. It got me thinking about something that happened when I was about six or seven years old. We lived in a subdivision in the North Buckhead area of Atlanta. This was in the mid 1960's and beyond our street the area was mostly small horse farms, with a few cows interspersed here and there. There was a creek and an abandoned rock quarry. In other words, lots of places for a kid to get lost in and have adventure. One morning during the Spring, my mother was cleaning up the kitchen after everyone had left the house. Given there four kids and a husband living there at the time, this was not a small task. I was home sick from school, so she had me to deal with, too. She is finishing up the sink when the phone rings. With a cuss, she picks the receiver off the wall. It is Mrs. Rowan, our next door neighbor. "Teeny! Have you looked outside your ...