I have a keen respect for horses. They are majestic and have beautiful form and presence. I learned how to ride back in boarding school at nine. It felt natural to me and the horses came towards me. I was fortunate to learn how to ride on old racehorses. They were Arabians and thoroughbreds, considered 'old' for the racetrack at 2 or 3 years of age, but in fine form. Our school had massive grounds and I loved roaming around.
My horseback riding instructor said I was a natural and I took to riding very quickly. I didn't think much of it at the time, though my older brother was quite uncomfortable and seemed afraid of horses.
Later, when I went to summer school in Spain for the summer at 17, I realized that riding skills vary by person significantly. I had a friend Anne who had years of dressage, but was quite uncomfortable riding horses outside of a ring. She seemed out of touch with them and our guide, this amazing rider, rode sitting backwards next to her and talking to her at the same time. Riding in the Spanish countryside was a spectacular experience, and I would love to do it again. Perhaps it was all the more special because it was my first time out there and we enjoyed the whole weekend riding.
I felt similarly when I went riding with friends in southern Colorado. Such a beautiful landscape! The horses were Palomino mostly and the light was spectacular. It was quite a gentle, calm ride for three or four hours through the hills and under the aspen trees.
I'd love to write and/or shoot a Western. I'd modernize it, but it still would be in character. There's something carefree and daredevil about it - that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up! So many mental images come up instantly too - from colors and smells to mannerisms, clothing, cowboy hats, the way people move, pistols, horses, wide open valleys...need I say more?