So there I was in the kitchen, listening to some fine Irish tunes when I turned to look out the window. There was Merlin, standing at the gate of his paddock. I started to cry right there. My Black Beauty, my Anam Chara. So many stories in that one scene, so much hitting me at once. For one, it was a Wednesday morning and instead of sitting at the office, we had just got back from our first trail ride here on the mountain. He still had the shine of sweat on him and in the summer sun, he glistened. He was held back by a gate secured yesterday by Ajay and Patty, after Patty so kindly trailered him over from the boarding stable. That horse barn taught us so much. It trained me and Merlin to be a team, and we even won a ribbon at a horse show there. Patty taught me just as much, and the most important message of all "horsemanship comes from miles in the saddle and hours behind the lines in a cart" and I agree. You learn much in lessons, and you learn a lot in the woods on a mountain too.
And so I look at my horse, and the gate, and think of all those instructors and friends and I cry a little more. I think of Brett and the Daughton boys carrying timbers and building the frame of the pole barn. I think of us stretching fences, running to hardware stores, and sharing stories about our animals and farms over dinner last night.
That black horse outside my kitchen window is so much more than a possession or a pet. He's an entire community of support and encouragement alive in a black mane and steady feet. So many people have touched my life, and grow closer to me, because of that British-born colt who was a stranger when I barely knew myself. And here we are, against odds and reason, past judgment and scolding, sharing our lives at Cold Antler Farm. I adore that horse because of who he is, nothing could be truer. but I also need him because of what he is:
*That sounded like an advertisement, but neither Eton, Pandora, Audible.com or Apple are sponsors of the blog. I just wanted to share how to have the same experience!