HeyJaredWhen I Talk About Love, I Talk About Horses
Essays, meditations, and insights on all things horse and the crazy human heart—delivered twice-ish monthly from a writer and rider curious about connections and entranced by equines.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 5
- Latest publication
- Sep 19, 2026
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- Earliest in this view
- Jul 11, 2026
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Grass (opens the original)
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Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published…let praise / Rise up out of the ground like grass Wendell BerryIt is ridiculously satisfying to hand-graze a horse on lovely green grass. My theories as to why this is revolve around our agrarian ancestors who lived in close contact with their equines. I think they sat and watched them eat while keep
Shouldering (opens the original)
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The new round pen was built down the hill from the new house, where her family was experiencing the newness of living outside the boundaries of the Air Force. The girl, barely eleven, and the father, now a retired colonel, circled each other in wary orbit within the confines of twenty bare acres in the country, while the mother disappeared each day into town for her new career as a real estate agent.The horse, a skinny four-year-old bay Appaloosa, lived lonely in the round pen, waiting for food,
Lemonaid (opens the original)
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On a recent hot afternoon, a gaggle of kids sitting under a tree by the side of the somewhat-rural road lifted from torpor and into action. Galvanized by the approach of a vehicle on the quiet street, they sprung into manic motion and raised handmade cardboard signs overhead, waving their advertisements with abandon. They shook their little booties. They grinned wildly, trying to make eye contact with the driver. They shouted, they enticed.The dusty SUV ahead of me didn’t pause. Small shoulders
Monuments (opens the original)
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Invitations (opens the original)
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The grove of eucalyptus trees seemed vast. It edged a seasonal creek near the subdivision my family had landed in after my father retired from the Air Force. The trees were a magnet for a 10-year-old kid experiencing the dislocation of being both a latch-key kid for the first time and attending public school where I made no friends. The wood, which seemed “lovely, dark and deep” but in reality was probably only a scant sketch of trees, was my haven.Heidi, a mix of yellow lab and Great Dane, had
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