Taj Mahal
1993-2018 and A Legend in His Own Time
The Dream:

A powerful black stallion, mane and tail flowing thick like silk… and me.  Sometimes I would see us standing as though painted on ivory, sometimes we would move in slow motion across a field of waving blood-red flowers. But most often, I would see myself riding astride the dark wind-made-flesh.

 The Reality – Wolfsong Friesians:

Taj Mahal Friesian Stallion My life was the actualization of a dream I had nurtured since childhood, sprung from a long-ago memory of my grandfather’s arms around me, holding me safe as we rode his Palomino stallion across a meadow in the mountains of Colorado.  It was at that moment, though I didn’t know it then, that I began my journey to Taj Mahal.  

At first vague – a big black horse I could ride anywhere. – the dream gained color and depth as I owned more horses through the years, knowing each was one step closer to my heart.  Soon the dream had a more definite shape: a breeding farm, a Friesian stallion..  It seemed close enough to touch… and yet far enough that it felt I might never get there.

Finally in 2002, in a barn in Germany, I found Taj and my heart knew he was what I had been seeking since childhood.  I brought him home where he immediately made himself the man of the place, and proved his worth beyond measure.  He was the most willing and honest horse I have ever known, and his heart was huge, echoed in his eyes and the way he listened to my every word, watches my every step.  He was not only my finest breeding stallion but my constant companion and main riding horse; his only limits were those imposed on him by the love he had for me.  Finally, he was the perfect gentleman around all the ladies – human or equine – and took his jobs seriously whether they involve siring a foal, taking care of a rider, or bowing for a carrot.  

I didn’t anymore have to dream of a powerful black stallion, mane and tail flowing thick like silk, I had him.  And every morning when I greeted Taj as the sun rises over the pastures, I marveled again that my life is bigger and more beautiful than I ever imagined.  

My Taj is gone now, but his spirit lives  on in the memories of the many journeys we took together, from beach and trail rides, to parades and Dressage shows, from his patiently being my school master as I tried to learn dressage, to his falling asleep with his head in my lap at the Expo. And his legacy lives on in his sons, Raja and Maestro, and his daughter, GiGi, and in his many sons and daughters all over the country.  
  
Happy trails, my Taj. You are so loved!