Pony in a field

Pony in a field (6″ x 8″ oil on raised panel)

I was out walking with Tom recently. We had done a loop through the forest and had come out back along the road to get to the car. The sun was sloping low over the horizon and touched this adorable pony with a magical light. Naturally, I had to try to capture the scene.

Tom wrote a light-hearted poem that suits the mood and day just right. Check out more of Tom’s poems on Hello Poetry!

Sufficient Unto the Hay

Behold the ponies in the field
who neither sow, nor do they reap:
they run with unabated zeal
from dawn until they pause to sleep.
They do not worry, fuss, nor fret
that with a hand or two they’d yet
become a horse, majestic steed,
a noble beast of strength and speed
that all admire. A pony’s satisfied
with sun for warmth and grass to eat,
a stable’s shelter when the sleet
of winter falls, and one to ride
them round the ring, through woods,
to dappled meadows, fine and good.

image (c) 2020 Hilary Farmer
poem (c) 2020 TJ Radcliffe

simple doodle – prancing pony…


Just a quick doodle created with “Zen Brush” on my ipad mini. I am still have difficulty making an app perform similarly to Gimp so for now, I will just go with the strengths of the apps that I have. I am also thinking about a longer term solution with a different type of hardware but for the winter, I will keep on painting (the on-canvas kind) with some simple doodles (as above) in between.

image (cc) 2012 Hilary Farmer (first posted on Twitter 29 December, 2012.)

dapple grey…

Dapple Grey
Dapple Grey

When I was young, I was a very “horsey girl” – I dreamt and breathed horses, took riding lessons and even had a horse for a couple of years. Some of my first drawings were of horses – ok – most of my early drawings were horses!

For some reason this unpleasant little nursery rhyme has been in my head lately so I drew this picture to exorcise the poor pony! Here’s the rhyme for your reference.

I had a little pony,
His name was Dapple-grey.
I lent him to a lady,
To ride a mile away.

She whipped him, she slashed him,
She rode him through the mire.
I would not lend my pony now,
For all the lady’s hire.

image (cc) 2009 Hilary Farmer