Twenty years ago when I bought the farm, I almost immediately
also bought a beautiful white pony for the grandchildren.
Over priced, with teeth that needed constant attention, but little
did I know then, the treasure we had acquired.
On starlit nights you could see the glint of her horn
against the darkness.
She was a princess of dreams . . .
youngest granddaughter, who had a very special bond
with Modie, recognised her faerie nature even in daylight.
Knowing she would leave us soon, I took these pictures of her
in late spring when she was still shedding her winter cloak.
Instinctively I knew it was my last chance.
Barely a month later, she left us for the green pastures
and clear streams of a better place.
The wound was too raw to share these at that time . . .
it still is.