Afternoon Ride  

curious082385 31F
4230 posts
2/2/2006 4:46 am

Last Read:
3/5/2006 9:27 pm

Afternoon Ride


The picture is Napolean, my baby, at four years old.

We sat in front of the crackling fire, two blonde heads bent over our school books, working in companionable silence, the house to ourselves. The soft patter of a light drizzle outside slowly began to intensify until a steady rain was drumming on the roof. I got up and walked to the window. The fields in front of the house were covered in a light mist, the trees just started to break out into verdant green. The mountain rose above the clearing and I could see snow just starting to dust the pine trees that grew at the top.

"Hey, it's snowing up there."
I turned to look back at her, grinning. She smiled back knowingly before nodding and jumping to her feet. We ran into the bedroom to change into warmer clothes, twisting our hair back and hopping on one foot then the other as we headed for the door, cramming our feet into boots as we went. Something about the stormy afternoon called us and we laughed with joyous abandon as we raced out into the rain, heading for the barn, our feet barely touching the ground. We threw wide the big barn doors, whistling in unison as we entered. With soft whinnies of greeting, two beautiful heads came over the stall doors to look at us, one brown, one white. Kathryn grabbed a halter and headed towards her mare, Isabella, the brown one. The soft clop, clop echoed through the barn as she lead the horse to the tie-up and began to quickly groom her.

"Hey handsome," I softly called as I approached the stall where my pride and joy stood waiting. The white gelding, Napoleon, was magnificent. At 18 hands, 3 inches (for those who don't know...one hand equals four inches), I barely stood as tall as his back. Pure white he was, with a long tail that fell in waves almost to the ground. He tossed his head and pawed at the floor, as eager as I. Opening the stall door, I laughed as he thrust his nose into the halter loop and began to pull me towards Kathryn and Isa. I tied him up, grabbed a brush and went to work.

Soon we were ready to go. Grabbing riding gloves and checking buckles one more time, we lead the horses outside and swung ourselves into the saddles and started across the field towards the trail. Napoleon tossed his head, resenting the sedate walk that I firmly held him to. I could feel the great power of his strength, muscles wound tight in anticipation of the run he knew I would let him have. As we crossed the road and entered the field, I looked over at Kathryn, eyes shining, rain streaming down my face. She grinned back at me, all the confirmation I needed.

The field stretched wide and welcoming before us. I deepened my seat and loosened the reins ever so slightly. It was the signal he had been waiting for. He sprang forward with a surge of speed that would have unseated me had I not known it was coming. I leaned low over his neck as we flew across the field, the thunder of hooves drowning out all sound. From the corner of my eye, I saw Isa draw up beside me. In my minds eye, I imagined the two horses, necks arched and proud, tails streaming like banners behind them as they cut through the mist. I let go of the reins, sat up and spread my arms wide, tilting my head back, feeling the rain sting my cheeks as I laughed aloud, body moving fluidly and easily to match the rise and fall of his stride.

All too quickly we reached the trees and slowed to a more sedate trot as we climbed the trail up the mountain. The rain turned to slush, sliding through the leaves of the trees with a soft sigh. We rode higher, silent in the mist as the slush became snow and the world grew quiet. Even the steps of the horses grew muffled as the ground became blanketed in white. Snow crystals frosted our hair, landing on our cheeks to sparkle like diamonds. We broke from the trees as we came to the overlook, the valley stretched out beneath us. For a time, we simply sat and enjoyed. The fields of grain and the orchards spread out, the colors muted by the mist and rain. The mountains rose, gray and proud on all sides, their peaks frosted with the falling snow.

How long we sat there, I don't know, but after a time, the horses grew restless and we turned for home, content in the silence of the ride, smiling and refreshed by a day well spent in simple pleasure.

rm_1hotwahine 62F
21091 posts
2/2/2006 5:54 pm

Sweetie, I was riding right there along with you. What a great day.

Yeah, I'm still [blog 1hotwahine]


elysianpleasure 47M

2/2/2006 10:33 pm

Where's the picture?

Wonderful memory.


curious082385 31F
4925 posts
2/2/2006 11:51 pm

Nooner - I was driving home the other day through the mist and saw several cowboys riding their horses across a field in the rain...brought that memory back to mind. It was a simple, beautiful day.

Wahine - Yes it was. Imagining a blogland trail riding trip in the rain. You interested? lol

Elysian - I don't know where the picture went...apparently a shot of a four year old gelding rearing up is too raunchy for
A F F. Go figure.


dasher121 36M

2/3/2006 5:49 am

yes, it does sound like a wonderful day. and the way you described it, fantastic. Like wahine said, could imagine riding right next to you. the sights that day, the feeling, just sounded amazing.


_CoffeeNoCream_ 52F

2/3/2006 7:42 am

such a lovely day...


bardicman 50M

2/3/2006 10:30 am

Simple pleasures are alway the most memorable ones.



I am not dead yet


curious082385 31F
4925 posts
2/6/2006 3:18 am

Dasher - Yes it was a beautiful day. It is those kinds of memories that make me regret giving it up.

CoffeeNoCream - Yes it was. Thank you for stopping in and saying hi.

Bard - Very true. Sadly, they are also the ones that so often are forgotten.


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