Saturday Morning before 10 a.m Mac and I head to the hills. Walking down the road in his new braids with his new halter, me dressed in black, head to toe, and we kinda match. I like it, this.
At the south end of the road where it bends we go for a lope in the halter and he is good. I think he wants to keep me good and well though why he sometimes cow-bucks I do not know.
On Sunday March 17th, it was hot out. I rode the bike to the horse, survived riding through the bees, hitting them fast. I do not like hitting bees.
Drove out in the beautiful evening light, so warm. With Frankie, after eating an iceberg salad, with walnuts and quinoa, and buying chocolate, the salted dark that I like. The evening sun was glorious, Frankie and I so happy, listening to music, driving down that road. We turned towards the farm, the gravel road newly graded and gravelled, turning up big plumes of dust, glorious. Frankie was very happy to play with Skip, as always. I got Mac, brushed him while Amanda brushed Pal. We saddled and bridled them, Frankie went into the truck, and we rode down the road, trotting some. I am mesmerized by those mountains at sunset evening, the colours; blue and white mountains, like the Kokanee mountains, the picture on the beer cans, coupled with a sky that is yellow, orange, pink and blue. How it never gets old. Riding in the evenings is a beautiful thing, all out in the open. We walked down the road, to the picture above, and back.
It was near dark when Frankie and I left. The windmills so stark and tall against the night sky. I felt so alive.
