Here's the thing about Poland. I could write about LOTS of superstars, classes chock filled with rows of some of the greatest Arabians on the planet. Crisp white tents sprawling under wide blue skies and perfect sunshine. More tents groaning with delicious food and enough beverages of every possible persuasion. I do particularly love the palpable thrill in the hour just before the annual Pride of Poland auction, the air thick and heavy with excitement and hope and the unknown x factor. All of that is well, incredible beyond belief. But the real magic is always in the quiet moments spent with my best friends and my favorite horses. This year's prize for best moment of beautiful solitude has to be the last morning at Michalow, walking the mare pastures with my besties Sophie and Anette. (We do that a lot. In May, when no one else is around. In August, after the crowds have gone and we say our farewells until Spring).
The weather had turned blustery and cold, the wind whipping around us. The mares warmed us as we embraced them, their foals dashing about and nuzzling us with trademark curiosity.
It is one thing to see my favorite mare of all time Emandoria winning at US Nationals-- a night engraved into my memory forever, her steel dapple gray perfection giving rise to our cheers of E-man-doria!-- but it is quite another to see her now flea-bitten gray form-- still perfect-- grazing happily and haughtily among her friends. Away from the spotlights and trophies. Unclipped, unsung and glorious at home. That thought never cease to make my heart ridiculously singingly happy.
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