These are the days
Check out Mountain Mike’s breathtakingly beautiful photo stream on Flickr—Horses, cowboys, teams, mules, and...
Last night—
At dinner, my 10-year-old daughter tells me, “Mmmmmm. This is good!” And goes on to describe in great detail just how much she likes my rosemary chicken and new potatoes. "These spices are the best", she exclaims.
As we are walking towards the barn, my (now) 9-year-old son C. tells me that I should become a teacher. (He has school on the brain. It starts next week, much to his dismay.) When I ask him why, he grins at me and lifts his arms way up in the same expansive and theatrical gesture he’s used since he was a baby and answers, “Because, Mom, you are wild and free!” I am slightly taken aback as his hands fall to his sides, but he's not finished yet. “And you are nice.” He shoots me a grin. "You'd probably let everyone have a Coke or somethin'."
My husband Dennis and I walk up and down the driveway behind our Percheron Toby, who I am ground driving in slow straight lines, practicing stops and very wide turns, trying to impress upon the big fellow that he cannot stop to munch the grass when we are working. Toby gets tangled in a line for a moment and waits patiently while Dennis and I free him up. The Percheron’s wide, dark eyes are filled with trust as we adjust the surcingle. I catch my husband's gaze over the horse's expansive rump. We don't have to say anything.
This evening is redolent with impending autumn. We drink some red wine. It sloshes back and forth in the long-stemmed glasses. And I am feeling giddy. I begin to tell Dennis about how much fun we’d have if we just had a cart and harness. (Gotta lay the groundwork now.)
I stand in the pasture with my family and five horses as the sun is going down. We are surrounded by equines. My kids are scratching Toby’s big belly, getting the Percheron horse to make the faces. Most kids would probably run away from the gentle giant in terror, especially if they’ve never been around horses. But our two have known this life always. The dark blue thunderheads over the mountains shimmer with white and yellow lightning, just like when you strike a match to light a lantern.
Related links: The Toby Touch
