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Descriptive Essay About Riding A Horse

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I extended my tiny hand up into the air to reach the horse’s soft, velvety muzzle. The great bay mare pricked her ears, probably wondering what kind of strange, dwarfish creature I was. She lowered her face to the small hand in front of her to smell the little one-year-old girl. As my hand made contact with the mare’s nose, a warm feeling rushed through me. Though she was at least five times my size, I was not afraid. I fell in love. That was the start of everything. Never again would I be able to imagine a world without horses. These animals, so pure, so elegant, and so powerful, always proved an integral part of my character, of who I am. I cannot remember a point in my life without them.

My grandparents owned a farm in Argentina since before I was born. That is where I first rode, learning astride my godfather’s bay mare Buena, a name that means “good” in Spanish. I can remember the first time I felt a horse’s flowing strength between my legs, the rocking motion of the canter, the absolute ecstasy of riding, rushing through me. Though the thought of riding an animal with a mind of its own frightens many, I have always felt a connection with them; when riding, I become one with the horse.

Unfortunately, once we moved to Spain, the only time I could ride was when I visited Argentina with my family, which was once or twice every year. Luckily, when I was seven, my parents noticed the undeniable gift I had with horses, and they saw the passion I held for them. They asked

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