On Moola’s Farm
My passion for horses goes back to my early childhood in a small town near the Great Lakes. If there was anything to do with a horse, I was fascinated and totally spellbound always in total awe of these beautiful magnificent creatures. I loved the way they walked, in total control and I watched every muscle on their legs as they pranced in a field. I fed them grass through the holes in a fence just to be near them and pat them although I was afraid of them at the same time. I brought them red apples from home, or a sugar cube, when I had one, to feed them. I do not know why this is, but I am simply in captivated love - with horses.
As a child at the age of six or older, I was taken to the summer fair in our town, in the hot summer months of June and July; the heat would melt the cotton candy at times. The merry go round and ferris wheel were the main attraction but there was only one thing I was interested in and that was the Pony Rides. As my brothers pulled my parents towards the ring toss or fishing contests, I worked hard to persuade them to take me to the Pony rides.
In the early morning in front of my house, you could hear the clicking sounds of a horse paddling its horseshoes down a paved street, and the subsequent clinking of glass bottles bringing fresh wholesome sweet milk to our front door step. The morning sun would not have a chance to spoil it the milk, as it was snatched away to the kitchen and put to use in our morning cereals and dad’s coffee. I raced out to see if I could pat the horse before I even noticed I still had my pajamas on, but the milkman in his kindness would always allow me to do some heartfelt recognition for they joy, both he and his horse brought to me each morning besides the milk.
On many occasions I with my two brothers were all taken to a friend of my parent’s who had a large farm, to see the animals. The man’s name was Moola, I do not know what nationality that was, as he spoke with an accent. He spoke English and he was a tall but gentle man, with a farmer green cap and a ready smile for us children.
He tried to contain himself as we ran and screamed with glee all over the farm for a few hours on our visits. He always had a bushel of produce for us to take home to our mother who quickly added them to the fresh vegetables and fruits of our dinner table.
The cows, horses, chickens, ducks, pigs, and livestock were scattered through out the farm, but the main attraction was the big red barn. I remember the large ladder that led to the attic, where a large window on the second floor led to a mountain of hay outside the barn against a wall. The main objective was to climb the ladder, jump out the window and land in 30 feet of huge mounds of hay, hopefully unscathed and without our parents finding out. You held your breathe and fell downward feet first but half way down you rolled out on to the ground, all again without breaking your legs.
In a small town, surrounded by a larger rural area, there was an abundance of farms and animals in the early 1950’s before farming changed forever. I am grateful for living as a child during that time, as it was a pure and wholesome joy that I will always remember.
It was not a farm, or someone’s farm it was simply we are going “to the farm”. We children all knew what that meant because Moola’s Farm was the best, and we gratefully jumped at the chance to go there via the back end of his red pick up truck.
Whenever we were in a car, I had my head cranked and pointed to the window, looking for horses on the fields as we drove down the highway. Always looking for a horse and I smiled gleefully, whenever I sighted them grazing in farm fields.
We did not have computers, or Nintendo games, so our time was predominately spend outdoors and preferably among animals, fresh air and nature and enjoying the horses.
In the early evenings, after I washed dishes had finished my homework I was outdoors on my bicycle riding along the canal or in the school playgrounds during the summer.
It was these wonderful times on the farm, that I remember so dearly, during a hot summer day, and I fondly recapture the moments in my mind with a smile.
Written By: Teri Salvador
Photos Courtesy of: http://www.hedweb.com
I can relate to your love of horses as I had the same experience as a young boy when I worked summers at my uncle’s farm taking care of the horses. I thought it was a good deal because I got to ride them after work for hours. I am still ride today, as much as I have time to do that. Great story your wrote.
Thank you Thomas and I am sure that as a youngster you recall those special moments with horses on the farm. We are very fortunate to have had those experiences as children. I ride as often as I can also…as time permits. Love horses!!
That sure does bring back memories for me. I lived on a farm for most of my life as a youngster I used to love being with the horses.
Good read.