My parents

This is my father and the working end of an Ayrshire Cow.My mother harvesting tomatoes with the milk-house behind her.

I begged for a horse.

My father had other ideas.
He loved all things motorized.
So when I was in 7th grade He bought me a dirt bike.

My parents and brother each had a bike but they were too tall for me to learn on. These were the reasons he gave me for having a motorcycle over a horse.

• You only have to feed it when you ride it.
• You don't have to clean out its stall.
• You don't have to brush it or exercise it.
  
• It doesn't have a mind of its own.
• It's not afraid of loud noises and will go anywhere you ask it to within reason.

Well, you get the idea. I thanked him over and over for that wonderful first bike. Actually, I still have it and my daughter rides it everyday in the summer.

She was a Jersey Heifer and her name was Rue.

I really wanted a horse of my own....all the neighbor girls had them...we had cows. My Grandfather was the horseman and when my father and uncle took over the farm the horse era was a memory. So I started by training Rue with a halter and leading her everywhere. Then when she got big enough she let me ride. I rode her most anywhere.
Those clothes!! The hat was my Dad's wool hunting cap that shrunk in the wash (yeah for me), flannel shirt and denim jacket were hand-me-downs from my brother; the jeans and SK's (shit-kickers) the shoes were from the neighbor boy who was a year older than I was. Oh and it looks like mud season, my favorite time of year.

Riding at a young age.

That's me on Cracker.
(Firecracker maybe, I'm told she was red.)
The young gal is a summer neighbor. (up from NJ)