Books in the meadow, hay in my hair

Why Books in the Meadow? There are a few reasons.

I’ll start with my name. Hayley means Hay Meadow, and there couldn’t be a better choice for me. When I was born, however, it was akin to naming me Flying Unicorn. It was way, way out-there. The maternity nurses objected. My pediatrician almost threw a fit. In fact, for the rest of his tenure as my doctor, he called my mother, Freudian-slip style, Mrs. Hayley. Now Hayleys and Hailees, and Haleys and Haileighs abound. I hope they all love their names. I surely do.

I spent my childhood with my nose in a book. Black Beauty, usually, but also Gypsy from Nowhere, A Pony for the Winter, or any other horse book I could get my hands on. Over time, I have rebuilt my library of favorites. I reread them and still love them. My advice? Don’t let go of your favorite books. Too late? Find them and buy them if you can.

Horses are my oldest true love. Have you seen the movie National Velvet? As a girl, I was just like Velvet Brown, pining day and night for horses. My parents could have given me a bale of hay for my birthday and I would have been THRILLED. I galloped everywhere, especially through any meadow or patch of tall grass I could find. I likely still would, if YouTube didn’t exist.

Enjoy the day.

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