My granddaughter Alexa, friend Holly, and I decided to take a ride around the farm. The ground was still squishy under our horses' feet, but the squish was a good squish. A chill in the early spring air was soon forgotten as we roamed around the vast acres of pastures. In the summer they would be filled with hay, but now they were wide open for riding. Alexa felt as free as the whistling wind and asked Tantra to gallop. It was not my intention to follow, but Tango wanted to keep up with Tantra, so that's exactly what we did. The sound of Alexa laughing as I begged her to stop (half-heartedly) was music to my ears. Spring music. As we walked up the path towards the barn Chuck was waiting there with his video camera.
It was the perfect timing for him to open the gate for us to the outdoor arena so we could ride in a confined area before we called it a day. Just a little more cantering. A little more music from the horses' hooves on the soft ground. And a little more wind to remind us of the melody of the wonderful season that had not quite blossomed enough to burst into an entire orchestra of sound .
Though the video is far from artistically perfect, my guess is you can hear the same spring music that we heard on our lovely ride in the early spring.
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I had just walked down the little path and back in our yard when Sammy came out to greet me. He walked beyond me and turned back as if to say...you missed something...you didn't stop to smell the flowers. Isn't it interesting how our animals can remind us of the importance of recognizing special moments? Every moment is special to them. Each word each touch. Each sight each sound. I went back down the path with Sammy and bent down to feel the dampness of the dew on the tulip stems. I missed that the first time around. After all, who touches tulips? As of today, I do.
