Don’t beat a dead horse

Me and Daisy Ann

Daisy Ann. That was the name of my horse. She was a bay — reddish-brown with shiny black feet, mane, and tail. She was giant. Baw* let me name her.

We’d ride Daisy Ann through the woods, and Baw would pull off a branch of huckleberries for me to eat while we rode. On we’d go to the Russell Road, around to Brannon Road, up to Prine Road, and then to Horace Turner’s store at the fork. When Daisy Ann was securely tied up outside, we’d go into the dark, shady store to cool off. Baw would push back the heavy lid on the old cooler and let me pick out a Dove Bar or a peach Nehi or maybe a Grapico. Baw would talk to Mr. Horace, and I’d listen. Sometimes Mr. Horace would give me a piece of bubble gum.

Then we’d ride home. Once on the way back, Daisy Ann stepped in a hole and fell over on Baw. I was thrown off. Daisy wasn’t hurt though, and Baw wasn’t hurt bad. After a couple of weeks we were back in the saddle again, literally. Shhh … don’t tell Mama. It was our secret.

Horses were a big part of my life while Baw was alive, and the memories of riding with him are some of my dearest. Maybe that’s why horse idioms come up frequently in my conversations. So for Baw and Daisy Ann and all the miles she carried us laughing and singing through the woods and down the road, here are some of my favorites:

Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. When someone gives you a gift or does you a favor, accept it graciously.

That’s a horse of a different color. Something different entirely.

Get off your high horse. Don’t be so stuck up.

Don’t put the cart before the horse. Don’t get ahead of yourself. Take your time and do things in the right order.

Don’t change horses in midstream. Stick to your original plan.

Don’t beat a dead horse. It’s a futile effort.

She ate enough to choke a horse. Have you ever seen how much a horse can eat? They especially like watermelon rinds.

Don’t be a horse’s ass. This one needs no explanation.

Horse hockey. A nice(r) way to call bullshit.

The horse is out of the barn. It’s too late to do anything about the situation at hand.

Ride off into the sunset. This one means that the story is over, which is a fitting way to end these 30 days of #bloglikecrazy.

Thank you for reading my stories all month and for sharing your stories with me! I’ve still got more idioms to talk about, and I’ll eventually get around to all of them, just maybe not every single day. After all, I want you to keep on reading. That’s why I’m not going to run it in the ground and break it off.

*Baw is what I called my maternal grandfather.