Washing the horses

Thanks to Charley Kempthorne for coming to the South King County Genealogical Society today, and inspiring this blog. This is the story I wrote this morning, after sketching out the floor plan of the house my sister Kimberly and I grew up in. I didn't get past the front porch, where the story starts.

Sometimes during the summer I washed the horses. They both, mother Feather and son Quill, were pintos -- white with patches of brown shading to black. They were so pretty once freshly washed!

Can't remember what sort of soap or shampoo I used, a soft scrub brush, and the hose -- cold water! They didn't seem to mind. Rinsing was key, though. Then some towels from the dirty clothes pile to dry them off.

One day when Quill was very young, I decided to show Mom how pretty he looked. So I led him up the steps, and through the front door, my sister giggling behind us. Then right into the living room!

My mother was shocked, but laughing. My dad wasn't home that day, but never tired of telling the story of the day Quill came into the house.

This would have happened when I was 12 or 13, so the summer of 1965 or '66.