Well, it all started so innocently with my daily walk. I’m in training for 1st Grade. Those energetic littles are not going to get the best of me. Walking two miles a day is becoming routine. Jane and Tony sit out every morning on their porch waiting for me. Poor Jane is new to the neighborhood and waiting to wave to anyone that walks by. They are the adorable couple that VST were well on our way to becoming until I was one woman alone.
Now, I’m the zippy, leggin’ wearin’, pony tail swingin’, widow woman that is walking every day at dark:30. My goal is to assess my progress at 70 miles. Have a few miles left to go. In my area, cars are infrequent. I’m more likely to hear the wind or count birds flying through the big sky.
Last Sunday, tense racket alarmed me from inside the house. It was something high pitched. Not really talking. More bold than that. It was a hideous sound that continued with no real rhythm. It was so annoying, I had to go outside to better identify the sound.
It seems that SOMEONE had brought CITY KIDS to the quiet countryside to let off screams. And, that’s what they were doing. Screaming and yelling with no message other than sheer jubilance at being in the country. They were two blocks away, and it was still so loud I had to return inside. In this day and age, with everything children have endured, I guess they need to get out the primal screams as well as the rest of us.
It did give me pause to realize that my neighborhood is THAT quiet. That children playing in the countryside was unidentifiable as an unusual and disturbing sound. I guess I better get used to that right now, as I’m sure my world will hold plenty of those noises very soon. What will happen to the tranquil cloak of Winterpast remains to be seen. With almost every house within a one block radius owned by sedentary octogenarians, things are only going to be this quiet a little while longer.
Anyway, on my walk yesterday, I headed in a direction I’ll keep to myself. I have marked off how many miles I walk for each route, and today, I chose the easiest of them. Two miles round trip. With a hello to my new friends along the way, I had lots to think about. Even more so, I had lots to be grateful for. I name blessings on the walk out and then plans for the day on the way back. It sets the tone for a lovely day.
I’d walked by the corral-ed group of the four equines many times. Although I’m not sure WHO is which gender, I do know that a very mature colt was still suckling from the dominant female of the bunch. Now, if SHE could say a few things about this BIRTHING PARENT situation, she’d have plenty to say about that. Nope. She’s just a patient mom whose 1500 pound, 4 year old foal needs to get a grip, grow up, and move away from the tit.
The four of them don’t get up very early on most days. Somedays, they role around in the dust acting like children themselves. Otherwise, they stand like statues just watching the world go by. They are a mixed bunch of fat. Fat butts. Fat rib cages. Fat everywhere. Fattest group of horses I’ve seen anywhere.
They get visitors from a lot of people walking by, like me. I’ve so often wanted to stop and visit with them, but there was never the right moment. Yesterday was the day.
I was on my way back home, thinking about training for my walk in Spain when I retire. I was almost halfway home when I realized THEY were out. The lawn ornaments. Three horses and a MUSTANG. I’ve known for a long time that a wild mustang is not just a horse. They are incredibly strong, resilient, and afraid of nothing. They never stop eating and moving throughout their entire lives. They are incredibly beautiful. If you gaze into the eye of a mustang, you have been given a gift. Something you’ll never forget.
I happen to know that one of these was a wild mustang earlier in life. The owner was lamenting about the lazy bunch to me one day last year. It seems a man had owned them and couldn’t keep them anymore. He was at the point of turning all four into the desert when my neighbor said he would take them. There were three at that point. One was hidden in the mother’s belly. The female. The one that COULD produce offspring.
These four took notice that I was coming down the road. I know they were discussing whether or not I might have a snack for them. I could tell. Well, not the one that was trying to nurse, but certainly the others. When I approached, it was the youngest that had the nerve to come to the fence and say “Hello”.
I haven’t been next to a horse for years. Magnificent in every way, this huge animal came to the fence to check out my pony tail. I’m thrilled the fence was higher than him. We had a real moment, as he breathed in my scent the way horses do. When he decided I was okay, he lowered his head, as calm as a kitten. He was not the one I wanted to meet.
Slowly the others came along, one by one. Horses are like that. They look to the dominant horse for direction. It was such a complement that the others accepted me, too. All but the last one. The buckskin mustang. Finally, she came to the fence to take a sniff.
A mustang’s eyes are different. Wise. All knowing. It was a moment I’ll not forget. With all four new friends standing with heads down for a scratch, it was as if I had performed a circus act. All I had done was stand quietly at the fence and wait for them to investigate me.
Today, I’m off to complete two more miles. Much has been accomplished around here at Winterpast, but there is a good month of work to finish before my summer is over and school begins. Never could I have predicted this detour in the road two years ago when I was deep in widow’s fog. God has carried me through such a dark wilderness to the light. I’m a college coed and brand new teacher. I just gazed into the eyes of my first mustang and I’m in love. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
More tomorrow.