By John Kass | John Kass News
The other day I set aside the great book I was reading—“A War Like No Other” about the Peloponnesian War by Victor Davis Hanson—got up from my chair and used my cane to hobble over to the glass doors.
I opened the doors and there it was, a perfect Northwest Indiana lake effect snowstorm.
The flakes puffy and white against the red burning bush in the backyard, on the evergreens, the wind swirling the flakes cold in the yard beyond.
And that’s when I thought about that horse and how great it would be to ride that horse in the snow.
Sounds odd, I know.
I remembered it years ago. It was a different life. This was years ago when I rode that horse, and years later when I first wrote of it. About seven years ago now, in another column and another snow, like this quiet heavy snow from days ago that I’m thinking about now.
Mid-November was time for bird hunting back then in my world with my stubborn mule-headed German Shorthair Pointer, Jason.
I could still walk then, and ride, and hunt a field of cut corn, and train a dog and wade a cold river fishing for trout, steelhead and salmon. And I could drive a car.
But things change. You know this if you have wits. And if you can’t grasp this truth of life then quit or grow the (bleep) up.
Many of you probably don’t give two figs about the horse. That’s OK too. But back when I could drive, I was heading east on Ogden Avenue in that snowfall and my car wipers stopped working. I had to repair them. The Honda guy noticed the tread was gone on my front tires, and the front brakes were gone, too. Merry Christmas to me.
But I was thinking of how nice it is to ride a good horse in the first snow.
Read more here.
Related: “Column: Riding a good horse in the snow” – John Kass/Chicago Tribune November 12, 2019











