My husband and I decided long ago that we wanted our home to be a mix of everything we love most, and we've created that. So, it's hard to leave. In fact, about the only reason we'd EVER want to leave is to see our kids and grandkids or parents and siblings, because family is very important to us, too.
We had a wonderful short trip to Texas. We rode bikes, went on walks, smoked cigars by the pool and ate steak fajitas.
Yesterday, though, it was so wonderful to get back out with the horses. Beautiful had a lot of pent up energy. All the snow melted and the temperatures have been relatively warm, and she's been eating good. She put on a show for me.
I was so impressed with her on the way to the turnout. I knew she was containing herself on my behalf, holding in her excitement, staying in her space, but as soon as I removed her halter and gave her the shove-off that says, Now you're free, she cut loose. She went off running and bucking, rearing, sliding, and rolling in the mud. As I've said before, she's not a prissy horse. When she runs, she gets low--almost tucks herself in--and she can really navigate the turns.
So, home again, home again, jiggity, jig! Off to see the barn cats, and the horses, clean stalls, rake the turnout, brush the mud off my Beautiful Girl, and play with the dogs!
Small Stones from the last four days:
Small Stone #2
Cheap seats, takes on added meaning
Legs tucked tight, knees pressed
Against the seat in front of me,
Permanently crossed to the left
Until the plane lands.
Small stone #3
My grandaughter’s jammies
Have fuschia flowers and froggies
With tussled hair, redhead-bedhead
She paddles around happily chasing puppies
Plastic footies sliding over wood floors.
Small Stone #4
When it rains in Houston,
It has no smell, she said.
I tell her, that's poetry.
We travel in a Suburban
Past Pappadeauxs, Ella Blvd,
And Hardy Toll Rd
Passing Hummers, Fords, Chevys
To Bush Intercontinental airport
My tennis shoes, still wet to the strings
From walking along the Bayou
We step out and hug goodbye
It’s still raining, but I think
I smell French fries.
Small Stone #5
After snow melts
We always get wind.
Small Stone #6
I'm thankful for my barn kin:
Furry, white kitties snuggled under round bales
A Mustang, who likes to rear and roll in mud
Mischievous eyes, mutual grooming,
Sleeping standing up,
Dogs who eat manure,
Goats that head-butt us
When we try to clean their stall
A shy pony who finally eats from my hands
And lets me pet her, unhaltered.