This gentle giant was named Bob.
He was the horsepower at the Shaw family farm
where he posed for the camera in August 1922.
The farm was near Pomfret, Maryland
on the western shore of the Chesapeake Bay,
where Bob's main chore was hauling wagons filled with tobacco.
He was the horsepower at the Shaw family farm
where he posed for the camera in August 1922.
The farm was near Pomfret, Maryland
on the western shore of the Chesapeake Bay,
where Bob's main chore was hauling wagons filled with tobacco.
Riding sideways is Blanche Shaw who is age 14,
Leading Bob is her cousin Loretta McGinness
and behind on the sledge
are her two younger sisters Edna and Edith Shaw.
Many years latter I would recognize Blanche's shy smile
as Grandma, my mother's mother.
Leading Bob is her cousin Loretta McGinness
and behind on the sledge
are her two younger sisters Edna and Edith Shaw.
Many years latter I would recognize Blanche's shy smile
as Grandma, my mother's mother.
This was a very patient, painted pony.
It's name was Sally
and it was 1935
as notated by the photographer
on the stirrup.
It's name was Sally
and it was 1935
as notated by the photographer
on the stirrup.
The little girl with the Shirley Temple curls
is not yet five years old.
is not yet five years old.
I can see in her smile
that she is excited and thrilled
to meet this new animal friend,
even though her legs are not long enough
for her feet to fit into the stirrups,
much less attempt any barrel racing.
It's a picture of my mom,
Barbara Dobbin.
According to my dad's notes on the print
that she is excited and thrilled
to meet this new animal friend,
even though her legs are not long enough
for her feet to fit into the stirrups,
much less attempt any barrel racing.
It's a picture of my mom,
Barbara Dobbin.
According to my dad's notes on the print
which he made from a scan many years latter,
the photo was taken, without her parent's permission,
in Glenwood, Minnesota as a gift
for her grandfather, William Dobbin
who lived there.
He must have loved this photo
as much as I love it too.
the photo was taken, without her parent's permission,
in Glenwood, Minnesota as a gift
for her grandfather, William Dobbin
who lived there.
He must have loved this photo
as much as I love it too.
This gallant steed was also very patient
though he was inclined to buck
when given a spur.
His name was Horsey.
though he was inclined to buck
when given a spur.
His name was Horsey.
The rider is just age two
and to judge by his expression
he is not thrilled to be in the saddle.
and to judge by his expression
he is not thrilled to be in the saddle.
The trainer is helpfully restraining Horsey
from any sudden twist or spring.
He is my dad, then Lieutenant Russ Brubaker,
who was in the army but not in the cavalry.
The worried jockey is me, my younger self.
from any sudden twist or spring.
He is my dad, then Lieutenant Russ Brubaker,
who was in the army but not in the cavalry.
The worried jockey is me, my younger self.
Today Horsey sleeps
in a pasture up in our attic.
It's quiet there,
with a few stuffed dogs and raggedy bears
to keep him company.
and an inspection of his stall.
He looks smaller than I remember.
in a pasture up in our attic.
It's quiet there,
with a few stuffed dogs and raggedy bears
to keep him company.
Every few years
he gets a rubdownand an inspection of his stall.
He looks smaller than I remember.
This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday
where donkey's years are very, very long.
