My big ole Swedish Warmblood is alive and thriving, thin and immensely tall, much taller and more emergency-orange than he was this time two years ago, I am sure. He still walks with his head in the air and his white-stockinged legs swinging out in front of him, a self-proclaimed prince among ponies. He’s been living in Point Reyes, in a place so ridiculously beautiful it could have been one of the sets for the Lord of the Rings. Seeing him made me so happy that I am still grinning.

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