Why I created a biplane logo for my ranch

A childhood origin

When I was but a young tangled-haired lass, I wanted to be a pilot. If I'm being honest, I still do. When my DNA was mixed together, I didn't get much of the pink sparkles or fairy princess dust. Instead, I got buckets of thrillage and an insatiable need to partake in dumb, dangerous shit. I carry this energy with me daily to the point that if I go too long without engaging in something stupid, I get a case of the crankies. Due to my crap eyesight, I wasn't able to be a pilot. But the desire didn't need 20/20. So when I got my first ranch and decided to give it a logo, I wanted a biplane. A throwback to who I was, what I wanted, and the thrills I would always seek, no matter my age or locale.

At first glance, a biplane for a horse ranch doesn't make sense. That's fine to me. Because at first glance, an apple makes no sense for computers. A smiling mermaid makes no sense for coffee. Golden arches have nothing to do with quickly made burgers. No, I'm not comparing my little blog and its biplane to the golden arches of McDonalds.

Great brands, big or small, are built from story, not product.

What I wanted to capture with my mark wasn't literal. There are likely hundreds if not thousands of ranch logos that employ horses. I even considered a few ideas, up to and including a pegasus. But that wasn't what I really wanted, even if my ranch is run by my four-legged equine managers.

The symbolism of the name

I didn't come up with "flying solo." A friend did when he asked what "Fs" stood for while I described names of the streets in and around my neighborhood. He didn't wait for the real answer (forest service) and instead prompted "flying solo"? Which I loved.

I'm quite comfortable in my own headspace, and enjoy my own company. But by far the greatest advantage of being alone is the autonomy and agency to make my own choices, do what I wish, when I wish it, and how I wish it.

One reason I wanted my own acreage was so I could make all my own, albeit often silly, decisions. As I wrote about here on Flying Solo Ranch dot com, I wanted my own property, desperately, after I rescued my first Arabian. At the time I had my two horses (yes, there was a time when I was far more responsible and only had two), staying with my parents. My dad wasn't thrilled a third horse was incoming. I wanted a place, eventually (it came two years later), large enough that if I decided it was time to bring another horse home, no one could stop me.

This, by the way, has drawbacks. The no one stopping me part. But that's a discussion for another time.

Ergo "Flying Solo Ranch" fit the mission of this place perfectly. Doing it my way, going where I wanted, alone, for better or worse. Flying solo means taking on all the work and rewards in one messy package. With the freedom to fly to new adventures comes the necessity to land, make repairs, and do the hard work not often seen.

Planes are vehicles of adventure and exploration

Flying Solo Ranch is not location dependent. It can't be. I have plans that go beyond my current zip code. My equine interests extend further than one discipline. But the theme, the thru-line to all I hope to do with my blog and with my life, is to seek thrills and take flight. To leave the safety of the ground just for a moment, even though I know I must eventually touch down again.

And inspire others to do the same.

We see planes every day. We hear them so often now we don't even look up anymore. But planes are extraordinary. My bet is, were you to hear the propeller of a biplane, a symbol of classic flight, when humans first reached for the sky, you'd stop to look. You would be inspired by its sight, its bright colors, its bold design etched with history.

Even grounded, the biplane exudes a rugged sense of adventure. A leather bomber jacket, goggles over a helmet, wind in your hair as you leave the ground to fly.

This is what I want. In a brand, in my life. Even when grounded, even when I have to carry out maintenance, regroup, or refuel, what I want is to take off and fly. Wind in my hair, and thrills in my veins.

Flying Solo was never really about being alone (well... not entirely). It's about charting my own way. If you’re doing the same and need a creative co-pilot, you know where to find me.