THE MARK OF A COWBOY
I have always been in awe with the history of our barn. When I was younger, after hearing all the stories about what my dad and his parents did in here, I was insistent upon recreating that for myself! The day we got a couple horses was the best day of my so-far life. For my dad, a big spicy thoroughbred named Haas, and for me, a derpy little dappled grey arab I named Storm.
Before them, countless horses + other barn animals passed through that barn, and the whole time this saddle was there in the tack room. It saw it all.
A 60+ year old roping saddle that’s been in the family since my dad was 10. Originally owned by a true cowboy who boarded his horse with my grandparents in the 70’s. He was the closest thing to a farmhand they ever had, helping around the barns and the fields. He taught my dad how to rope, tie knots + shoe horses. When he passed, he left my dad this saddle.
And so in the tack room it will stay - collecting dust + quietly observing yet another generation of life in that barn. Who knows, maybe one day it will have a horse under it again.