Summer. . . by request

One day I was watching Gillian playing with dolls and collecting pill bugs; I turned around and found myself watching her take riding lesson. I turned around again and she and her mother had bought a horse, a thoroughbred with the unlikely name of Flew-By-Y. First of all, that name would never do. Gillian and the rest of us called the animal "Summer". I must admit, I was not originally a fan of the idea of a horse in the family, but Gillian and Sally insisted they would take care of her. They did, indeed, and I found myself more and more often down at the barn with Gillian, with nothing more to do than watch her feed and groom the horses, muck out Summer's stall and, of course, ride. On occasion, I remembered to bring my camera.

Summer had run three races early in her life, apparently showing little enough promise as a racehorse that she was sold to Sally and Gillian as a saddle horse. But let me tell you, the first time you see your little girl flying across the paddock on the back of one of these great beasts, you amend your concept of "fast". Gillian, of course, loved it; I tended to cross my fingers, hold my breath, and hope for the best.


We first stabled Summer with four other horses about a quarter-mile away at a small farm owned by a retired Lockheed engineer. It was very convenient and the price was right. The two pictures above were taken there, the first in 1998 after we'd had her for six or eight months, the second in about 2000.


In 2002, after I traded in my Sony Mavica for a Canon G2, they moved Summer to a larger, well tended farm 4 or 5 miles away in Macland. It wasn't as convenient, but it was a great place to take pictures. These last three shots were taken at the farm in Macland.


This is one of my favorites - of Gillian and Summer. I took it a week or so after I got the G2 and fell in love with the higher resolution and better optics. The ring Gillian's riding in had a very fine dry sand surface that Summer seemed to like. When she'd trot or canter she raised a small cloud of dust. When she walked she sometimes seemed to drag her hooves through the sand. . . 'cause it felt good?


Like most of us, Summer looked better some days than others. I thought she looked especially good this day - and she didn't mind posing for me. Summer moved one more time, back to Gillian's neighborhood about a mile away from her house. It was somewhat more convenient, but Gillian was getting more involved with other things so, exercising and caring for summer became more of a chore. Eventually they sold summer to an acquaintance of Sally's up towards Ellijay.