Archive for ‘Books’

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The Wondrous Beauty of Driftwood Horses

Exploring Heather Jansch’s website is a journey of creative discovery and immense beauty.

Imacon Color Scanner“Possibly the most instinctive act of my life was to fall in love with a horse. Not just any horse, but a horse made of driftwood by the wonderful Heather Jansch. It was at exhibition at Eden and the time came for it to go home. I simply couldn’t bear it. I bought it and have been fighting off would be purchasers ever since. Heather is a genius with an eye for nature that in another generation would have seen her burnt as a witch – now she is rightly considered one of our country’s finest artists. If you were to ask the visitors to Eden “what is your favourite work here? It would be the horse and we gave the entrance to our kingdom to this horse. Richard 111 see it and weep.” ~ Tim Smit KBE, founder of The Eden Project

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The Scoop on Poop by Becki Bell

Horses in Stables by Bob Winsett

Horses in Stables by Bob Winsett

You love your horse. You feed him, you groom him, you bring him carrots and horse cookies, you scratch him, and what does he give you in return? 18,000 pounds of manure every single year. Well sure, he lets you ride him too … but let’s not forget all that poop. Nine tons of poop annually. 450,000 pounds of it over the course of his entire life. All of it left there, just for you, so you can rake it up and wheelbarrow it away.

Now you may hate it (unless you’re one of those strange people who finds it oddly therapeutic), but either way you should try to keep in mind this fundamental of horse doo-doo: history was not only written from the back of a horse, but also from the back-end of a horse.

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The Genuine Mexican Plug by Mark Twain

I resolved to have a horse to ride. I had never seen such wild, free, magnificent horsemanship outside of a circus as these picturesquely-clad Mexicans, Californians and Mexicanized Americans displayed in Carson streets every day. How they rode!

Leaning just gently forward out of the perpendicular, easy and nonchalant, with broad slouch-hat brim blown square up in front, and long riata swinging above the head, they swept through the town like the wind! The next minute they were only a sailing puff of dust on the far desert. If they trotted, they sat up gallantly and gracefully, and seemed part of the horse; did not go jiggering up and down after the silly Miss-Nancy fashion of the riding-schools. I had quickly learned to tell a horse from a cow, and was full of anxiety to learn more.

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