Yesterday, I walked many miles.
In the morning, Cirrus and I danced circles, round and round, following a tractor carrying branches blown down by this week’s winds.
He wasn’t in full meltdown, but somewhere close, swishing his tail in agitation as I asked him, kindly, NOT to run me over. He wanted so badly to be the leader - and to lead us far away, so his frantic state was as much due to the scary tractor as it was to me saying “no”.
It occurred to me that, because I am so accommodating and empathetic towards those I love, I’ve helped Cirrus to avoid as many uncomfortable things as possible since joining the human world. So much so that now, when life happens, he is not sure how to cope.
But if there’s one thing this horse has taught me, it’s that I can always begin again with a fresh slate - as long as I offer the same. So we walked and walked and eventually, things didn’t seem so scary after all.
Later, my mom and I walked down the streets of my childhood, through downtown, and eventually to the river. The branches are still stark against the sky, but up close buds abound.
My camera was slung across my back, but I didn’t stop to take a single picture.
Some days are like that - to slow down would be to break the magic of being.
Birds singing overhead, the rhythm of swinging arms and the sounds of out shoes on the trail…that’s the music of walking.
On the way back, we passed the livestock feed mill and were lucky enough to find ourselves downwind. Machinery rumbled distantly like far-off thunder and the air was thick with the sweet smell of grain.
It’s a warm smell, like summer and horses, worthy of a deep inhale - eyes closed, face upturned. Passing there always reminds me of my paint gelding and the grain I’d pick up for him, the forklift driver laughing because I insisted on loading it into the car with my own two arms.
I just like to do things myself - that hasn’t much changed.
My mom realized she needed to run back downtown to the co-op grocery for some milk, so I tagged along. Back out the front door, past one of the family cats perched on the front wall (she waited there until our return), and on our way.
We stopped in at a little art show happening in a local gallery, on a whim, because the doors were open and we couldn’t think of a good reason not to. I was reminded that it’s been almost (and only) three years since the capstone gallery show for my metalsmithing degree.
Time is funny like that - depending on one’s perspective it can fly or crawl.
Today has dawned cold and snowy - so I suppose it was more than worth it to spend yesterday in movement, soaking up as much of the outdoors as possible.
I’ve finally got my propane torch going again, after being in storage for years, and I’m all cozied up with a few prehnite stones that I brought home from Tucson.
I just have to grab one more cup of tea and I’ll be ready to smith the day away.