Telling horse stories

 Our 12 year old neighbor was sitting on the porch talking to Bob when I got home from a nutrition lecture (no one can eat that many fruits and vegetables).  He loves horses, and rides a pony that belongs to someone else, but now is getting so tall he needs to find a horse.  Bob told him I had a horse at his age, so I told him the stories--mostly disaster type, since my horse wasn't well trained, I tied him in our back yard to graze or paid to board him at a farm and then had to catch him in order to ride.  I told him about the trail rides and tying a red ribbon to his tail to let others know not to get too close.  I told him about his unusual, teeth jarring gait, and how he'd expand his belly so the saddle would slide under when we rode him.  Mostly bad memories--I hope I didn't discourage him too much. He fell on me the first week I had him, and I've had back troubles ever since.  He now knows more of my horse stories than my kids. My mother and her sister had horses too one summer when their family visited their farms in Montana (?) or Kansas.   We didn't take a lot of photos in those days (1952); this may be one of the few I have.  I saved my babysitting money to purchase him but the upkeep was pretty stiff for a 12 year old--something like $10 a month for me to board him at a farm near Camp Emmaus. It certainly didn't turn out like the horse stories I'd read as a kid.