She stands about fourteen hands tall with a whisky-barrel-colored coat of velvet, and a white striped forehead from eyes to nose. Her pose is strong and steady; her eyes fixed and curious; her breath like steam from a locomotive. The morning sun illuminates her form like a yellow halo. This mare stands like a majestic statue overlooking hallowed ground. She patrols her triangular parcel of pasture with grandeur. Even her grazing is graceful. She is the equivalent of an equine Joan of Arc: brawny, brave and beautiful.I fell in love with this girl the first time I laid eyes on her a couple of years ago. It was winter then, as it is now. Snow covered the ground. As I passed by the pasture and noticed her, I stopped, just as I did yesterday. On both occasions I got out of the Jeep with camera in hand. Then, she came to me and we talked a moment. This time she kept her distance, but was unafraid…she simply wanted to continue grazing. A freight train passed behind her and a caravan of cars in front, yet she didn’t flinch. I guess we all become accustomed to our surroundings. I don’t know about you, but I think she looks the same now as two years ago. Lovely, isn’t she? I think I’ll call her Brown Sugar.