Spending a week or two at my great-aunt and uncle’s farm every summer is one of my fondest memories. Waking up each morning to the sun shining in the upstairs farmhouse window, playing in the open fields, caring for the horses and ponies, and enjoying delicious homemade food made it a little girl’s dream, but the best was just being around my great-aunt and uncle. Both were happy, loving, and gentle people – the kind that everyone liked to be around. But, this post is dedicated to my great-uncle. The man you see below with that fantastic smile – a smile he wore often. My great-uncle was the one responsible for igniting my horse passion. He taught me how to care for his horses and ponies – feeding, brushing, and spraying the coat to repel flies. He also taught me how to saddle up Danny (the pony I learned to ride on), adjust the stirrups, and control the reigns. It takes a patient kind of pony to let a learning child take control. From the awkward first saddle tightening to letting me braid his mane into several dozen braids (tying each of them with red ribbon) – Danny was just as patient as my great-uncle. My great-uncle sure loved his horses and ponies, but he also loved his tractors. At about the same time my great-uncle trusted me to take Danny for a ride on my own, my great-uncle talked me into driving his tractor for the first time. I remember the gentle, yet thorough, explanation of how to work the tractor. I also remember his giant belly laugh as I lurched the tractor forward in a not-so-smooth manner. My eyes must have been the size of saucers. My great-uncle urged me to go faster – so I did. He laughed the entire time I was on that tractor. Not ceasing until I parked it back in front of him – relieved, but safe. A few years ago, I was up visiting my great-aunt and uncle, and my great-uncle was proud to show me his tractor that he had restored so perfectly. The 1950 Ferguson TO-30’s gray paint was flawless, and its low rumble continued without a hitch. He even had a small replica of the exact tractor wrapped up in a small blanket and placed safely into a small compartment under the hood – that smile of my great-uncle’s never faltered. That was one of the last times I would see him. My great-uncle passed away this past winter, but he wasn’t alone. Just two days before he passed, Danny, his pony, passed away too. I believe God had a hand in that one. I picture them both in the country – my great-uncle on his tractor and Danny in a field of long grass. After attending my great-uncle’s funeral, and learning of Danny’s passing, I felt the need to paint a picture for my great-aunt – one that I hope will make her smile for years to come. Here is my great-uncle and Danny at “Home”: