On our afternoon drive to collect the Kindergartner from school (the one who came charging around the corner today, backpack bouncing from side to side on his back, huge grin on his face, Bon Jovi-esque hair flapping every which way in the wind), we drive past a home on a large lot with "miniature horses" for sale. Said "miniature horses" (not ponies, though I still don't know the difference) are often grazing in the large yard in front of the manor house, and we always look for them.
(Well, the lass usually looks for them, if she's awake; the younger lad is often on his way to zonking out for a power nap by that point.)
Whenever the lads are playing with cars and trucks, very often at least one of them has a horse trailer hitched up to a truck or similar vehicle. Neither of them has ever ridden a horse, but the lads find the creatures especially fascinating -- at least as seen from the safety of their
car seats.
By happy accident, my eyes landed on some books by C.W. Anderson on the top shelf of the children's section at our branch library that have since become some of the lads' favorites. Their hero is a
young squire named Billy, a country boy who loves horses more than anything else. He receives a horse for his birthday that he names Blaze. In various adventures, the inseparable pair inspire a neighbor boy and his pony, save a number of homes from destruction by forest fire, vanquish a mountain lion, befriend a wild stallion, and make new friends and discoveries exploring both the wooded area around their home and places the family visits (horse trailer hitched up to the family vehicle, of course). Anderson's pencil-drawn illustrations bring the stories to life while allowing plenty of room for imagination.
Along with other vintage favorites of ours such as
those by Esther Averill and
those by Edward Ardizzone, they have the kind of timeless appeal that keeps them relevant, entertaining, and inspirational in an age of glowing screens and urban sprawl.
In fact, sometimes these books are about the only enticement we can offer those
mud-lovin' lads to come in from the slop for some quiet time. That's probably as it should be...
