Up until the age of eighteen I was stuck with the high strung Arabians my parents bred. A long the way I learned how to ride and was taught how to drive a cart on the side. I started looking for a horse to call my very own when I was 16 years old, by then I had been saving money since age 13. Then I heard about Pearl. She was a black Lippit Morgan who lived within five miles of my parents farm and her owner was selling her. It was love at first sight. I took Pearl home that same day. My parents questioned me about why I had bought a "tank" when I should have bought something more elegant. They quickly realized how wrong they were when Pearl and I started bringing home ribbons. Dressage, jumping, carriage classes and even two barrel racing shows nothing seemed out of our reach. Then we stopped showing because it was something to do and not something we enjoyed doing. So we took to the trails or along the back roads in the cart. Each year around Christmas time we would deliver candy canes to the kids in the neighborhood. I would fit a Santa hat between her ears and deck the cart out with sleigh bells. At Halloween the church youth group often did a haunted hay ride, me and Pearl played the part of the Headless Horsemen. She was my only horse up until she turned 39 that is when I bought another Lippit Morgan named Roxie. Pearl passed away peacefully at the ripe old age of 41 and never showed her age up until a few months before she died.She never had any health problems and was sound from day one, something my farrier reminded me of. Often I want to kick myself for not breeding her but I still have the memories written down in a journal. Pearl is buried beneath a tree where she loved to graze when she was out of the pasture.on her grave,in the shape of a horse shoe, I planted forget me nots to honor this special girl. Pearl was in her twenties when this photo was taken and she doesn't look her age at all.