Dynamite and Ginger

Dynamite and Ginger

When I was a little girl I had a pony. My brother Jeremy had a pony too. My pony Ginger was a flashy dapple grey paint pony. She was beautiful. Jeremy’s Pony Dynamite was a red roan. He had a black mane and tail. We had many adventures on our ponies.

Ginger was a spunky little pony that ran like the wind. Dynamite was a stubborn, lazy pony. He didn’t like to go at all, but he would if you made him.

Both of us knew early on how to get our ponies ready by ourselves. We could ride almost anytime we wanted. Usually we rode together but sometimes we would ride alone. Sometimes Jeremy would ride Ginger because he liked her better and I would be stuck with Dynamite.

We went to Gymkhanas where we did barrel racing, pole bending, and flag racing. I usually rode Ginger So I would beat Jeremy, but I rarely won because my pony had short legs.

As we rode through the brush near our home the smell of sage crushing was strong. Sometimes we would see a horny toad or a Blue Bellied Lizard scurry away into the bush.

Sometimes we would ride to the hills near our home and play cowboys and Indians. The sand here was warm and fine and the rocks that stuck out of the ground were hard sand that you could carve things in with a small sharp rock. Usually we would tie our ponies to a nearby bush and pretend that an overhanging rock was our home or temporary shelter. We made our own petroglyphs and pretend we were leaving a message for our tribe before we rode away.

We loved to ride up the big hill near our house. From the top you could see for miles around. On the way back down we had to lean way back in the saddle to help our ponies keep their balance and keep the saddles from sliding up over our ponies’ heads.

I loved to ride by myself on a winter’s day after a fresh snowfall. My face would turn red with the cold and my hands would feel the cold air through my knit gloves but it was worth it. The sound of the snow swooshing around my pony’s feet or crunching under her hooves was exciting and the cool, crisp air mixed with the bright sunshine was invigorating.

When we would get back to the barn we had to put our saddles away. The smell of oiled leather and horse mingling among the tack was relaxing to me after a day spent in the saddle. When I needed a place to think I would often go to the tack room or burry my face in my pony’s soft coat as I hugged her.

When I grew up I got a big horse, but I loved my ponies and the adventures we had with them. They gave us freedom and companionship that I will never forget.