It was a cool fall day when I decided to walk through my hometown and take some pictures. Now, my hometown is small, really small. If you walk all the way around it, you will have only walked one mile.
It may only be a mile around, but it’s packed full of wonderful people and things. As I walked up the road toward the main street I could already see the old logging museum at the end of the road. It was standing tall and proud in the middle of the main drag.
I have great memories of this logging museum. A neighbor and good family friend used to sit in the museum and take people on tours, sharing the local history with locals and out-of-towners alike. Her name was Flora, and she was just as sweet as her name implies.
In the summer my brother, our friends, and I would go visit Flora at the museum, all in hopes of being locked in the little single cell jail or, if we were really lucky, getting to ride on the railroad handcart that was locked in one of the small buildings next to the museum.
The museum isn’t open much anymore and Flora has long since left this world for a better place. As I walked up to the museum that crisp fall day something caught my eye. It was the horse, a special little horse that brought back a flood of memories.
From the time I was a child I loved this little horse. It sat along a wooden sidewalk my brother and I called the bumpy board because it made our bikes bump and bounce as we road across it.
Every time we visited the museum or rode our bikes along the bumpy board I would see the little horse. He was small in stature, but I always felt as if he was the one keeping watch over the museum. Nothing could escape the watchful eyes of that special little horse.
So on that fall day I crouched down in front of the little horse, said hello to my old friend, and photographed his worn little face.
I don’t know how long he’s been there, where he came from, or how long he will survive the elements. But I do know that he’s a strong little horse who keeps good secrets and has survived longer than he probably should have. I hope he’s around many more years to come!
And that, my friends, is the story of how I captured A Special Little Horse. Click to Tweet!
Until we meet again,