This is my Bella. Isabella Vida. I had wanted a horse my entire life. My mom says the first sentance i spoke was; "I want a pony". I took riding lessons, but when my parents divorced when I was 11, everything changed. There was no money for such frivilous pursuits.
I would ride whenever I had a chance, a trail ride with my husband to be at a family reunion and a trail ride with my son when he was 5. still, despite all that life brings, my love for horses remained in my heart.
Then one day I was at the pet store buying bird food. The young woman that worked there had horses. She had invited me out to ride. It was in my mind, but as a single working mom, I hadnt taken her up on it. She had a flyer that there was going to be a big horse sale at her barn. She said there was one big thoroughbred mare (having heard my preferance's before) I went straight out that day and saw a stick thin, big bay.
Her story was that she was off the track. Hurt her leg in her first out of the gate and her career ended. And it looked like her care did too. She had such kind eyes. I went home and thought of the money. I couldnt get her out of my mind. Went back the next day and she was mine. My 40th birthday present to myself.
I had waited my whole life for this wonderful soul and she hasn´t let me down one minute since I have had her. She very well could have ended up at slaughter, so one could assume that I saved her life. Truth be told, she has saved mine many times over!
Shawna Pinillas, Florida, USA
28 Nov 2016
23 Nov 2016
When I was a kid, all I wanted for Christmas...
When I was a kid, all I wanted for Christmas – every Christmas – was a horse. Actually, a pony. A black Dales pony. With 2 white feet and a star. Not that I thought about it much.
I spent a great deal of my childhood in denial about the possibility of owning a pony: we spent half the year in Florida and half in Canada, which is not an inexpensive proposition for my imaginary pony and my parents.
Fifteen years later, after graduating from university, I visited a ranch in San Diego to enquire about riding lessons. One of the first horses I was introduced to was a green-broke 15.1hh bay Arabian mare named Myriah.
When we approached the gate, she came racing in from her pasture to say hello, so very pleased to have attention and so very excited at the possibility of treats. It was love at first sight. I became a working student and my project was Myriah. Three months later, she was offered to me for purchase and I jumped on the chance quicker than you can say “unrequited pony dreams.”
And so, for almost 15 years, I was the proud mother of a brave, sweet, amazing Arabian mare. We moved thousands of miles together, from sunny southern California to steamy South Carolina to snowy Quebec. She carried me through woods and over streams and down roads and in rings; she kept me company patiently through 2 pregnancies and 4 houses and years of midlife growing pains and life-consuming entrepreneurship. That mare braved bears and deer and horse-eating cows for me; she could float 3 feet off the ground like the hotest halter horse and seconds later be gentle as a lamb with my 3 year old son. She had such a special combination of fire and softness.
I saw her through Cushings, sweet itch, navicular and devastating laminitis. I could treat an abscess with my eyes closed (and so could my 2 year old – I caught her applying diapers to her rocking horse’s feet more than once). I learned to a million ways to disguise the taste of bute and where to get pills of pergolide that she would actually swallow. I researched supplements and hoof boots endlessly.
Even during the years she was retired, and we could not ramble the country roads together as often as we both would have liked, I was just as excited to greet her at the pasture gate as I was way back in San Diego. I know she watched for me too, and sometimes after dinner she would walk up behind me and rest her chin on top of my head and we’d watch the evening fade together.
I lost her this year. We won so many battles but we finally lost the war.
So it turns out that my true dream horse was not black, not Dales, and had no star. She did have two white feet though.
And she was perfect.
Tamara Ensio Johnson, CAN
I spent a great deal of my childhood in denial about the possibility of owning a pony: we spent half the year in Florida and half in Canada, which is not an inexpensive proposition for my imaginary pony and my parents.
Fifteen years later, after graduating from university, I visited a ranch in San Diego to enquire about riding lessons. One of the first horses I was introduced to was a green-broke 15.1hh bay Arabian mare named Myriah.
When we approached the gate, she came racing in from her pasture to say hello, so very pleased to have attention and so very excited at the possibility of treats. It was love at first sight. I became a working student and my project was Myriah. Three months later, she was offered to me for purchase and I jumped on the chance quicker than you can say “unrequited pony dreams.”
And so, for almost 15 years, I was the proud mother of a brave, sweet, amazing Arabian mare. We moved thousands of miles together, from sunny southern California to steamy South Carolina to snowy Quebec. She carried me through woods and over streams and down roads and in rings; she kept me company patiently through 2 pregnancies and 4 houses and years of midlife growing pains and life-consuming entrepreneurship. That mare braved bears and deer and horse-eating cows for me; she could float 3 feet off the ground like the hotest halter horse and seconds later be gentle as a lamb with my 3 year old son. She had such a special combination of fire and softness.
I saw her through Cushings, sweet itch, navicular and devastating laminitis. I could treat an abscess with my eyes closed (and so could my 2 year old – I caught her applying diapers to her rocking horse’s feet more than once). I learned to a million ways to disguise the taste of bute and where to get pills of pergolide that she would actually swallow. I researched supplements and hoof boots endlessly.
Even during the years she was retired, and we could not ramble the country roads together as often as we both would have liked, I was just as excited to greet her at the pasture gate as I was way back in San Diego. I know she watched for me too, and sometimes after dinner she would walk up behind me and rest her chin on top of my head and we’d watch the evening fade together.
I lost her this year. We won so many battles but we finally lost the war.
So it turns out that my true dream horse was not black, not Dales, and had no star. She did have two white feet though.
And she was perfect.
Tamara Ensio Johnson, CAN
Tunnisteet:
Story of my horse
1 Nov 2016
Horsehair Necklace Salinero - given as an unforgettable gift
If the husband has such a wonderful wife and she has had such
a wonderful horse, what would be a better birthday present
than a horse hair necklace made by nannasalmi?
Finnhorse Meijämboik (Our Boy)
We received the tail hair, they were washed and dried and the
shortest once were taken off from the bundle.
Clean, dry, beautiful tail hair
Then Nanna chose the different shades and colors to create the most beautiful pattern.
Ready woven ribbon
Meanwhile the goldsmith does her work. The metal parts of nannasalmi™
horsehair jewellery collection are cast with one of the oldest jewellery casters in
Finland, K. Raiskinen Oy. They are known for their high quality and their
respect to the craft traditions.
Each part is hand finished by the goldsmith Marjut Viitala.
The ready item is packed and shipped with the hair left over.
Happy birthday from us too!
You have a loving and thoughtful husband...
If you wish to make someone happy, please contact us!
minna.maattanen@nannasalmi.com
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