They all seem like possible scenarios.
Still, 80 is a lovely temperature for a ride, and Lily and I took a trip over to see Cibolo and Stephanie. I miss riding with friends, miss the casual "hook ups" at the barn. I like that Lily is in a small herd without any barn drama, but my friend doesn't seem to ride either of her horses. I'm never sure what to make of these kinds of situations, if it's helpful to encourage, even insist, that someone get on her horse. So in the absence of guidance, instead I extend an invitation now and then. But my schedule is so unpredictable these days because of shifts at work, I can hardly organize much in the way of outings.
(In my next life I'm going to be a trust fund baby. Because surely I'll have built plenty of character by that time. Then I can ride EVERY DAY!)
It was late in the morning before I could talk myself into getting up. It's the one upside to not taking care of your own horse - plenty of sleeping in without guilt. At the ranch that morning Lily and I have a brief conversation about the merits of loading, then we were on our way.
|Cibolo: You going to eat that?|
Lily: Yes. Stop staring. You've got yours over there.
Cibolo: Yours looks better.
Lily: Tough. It's mine.
She always seems to be pleased to be at her old barn again - not so much that she misses it, I think, but that she's glad that we are in a place where she knows the trails, will be traveling with a friend, where there's a predictability to things.
Can't say I blame her.
Stephanie and I tooled around on the trails, Cibolo was as shiny as a new penny, Lily had her extra paint splashes she gets when her winter coat grows in. I tossed on my jacket halfway through, noting how it's nice to have a horse you dont worry about doing such things on.
We met some new corgi puppies, went around the nearly dried out pond, then galloped up a hill. The galloping was exhilarating (aren't they always - when you know you can stop your horse?) but also useful, since Cibolo had been reluctant to canter, let alone gallop.
It was a shortish ride, but a nice one. Lily didn't take a lame step. Maybe it's time to stretch our distance. We're thinking of a ride to Bastrop. It's on our bucket list...
And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear
That is delicate as the skin over a girl’s wrist.
So here's my bit of own poetry, a haiku with a twist.
She arches her neck
Like the branch of a willow
and snatches a bite.