Words For Mountains
I sat there for some time under the cold sky. I tried to will some snowflakes down to the earth but my effort was in vain. You can't rush Mother Nature. She works on her own time. And after all, I'm just one of her many guests enjoying my extended stay. Merlin is too, and as partners we turned back towards the trail and into the woods.
We continued the mountain ride at an easy walk. He was blowing a little, a tad out of shape from the last few weeks of sparse riding since Antlerstock. I had less time in the saddle and decided yesterday and today that the cold was no reason to leave him in his paddock. So yesterday we rode along the mountain road, and today we hit the mountain trails at Tucker's place. Merlin was a gentlemen today, responsive and quick. I was min good spirits, too. I was singing in Gaelic to him, chorus and verse of a song I am learning, and this (along with a loud, orange scarf) was our notice to any deer hunters that we were not, in fact, cervine.
The day was getting colder, as if somehow the closer we got to noon the more it wanted to snow. I was warm on top of the black mountain pony, in layers of flannel and a sturdy, wool-lined, English waxed cotton jacket a reader mailed me from when she lived in England. It fits me as if it was made for me and I felt like an character from some myth on that horse in my wax jacket with shoulder cape for the rain. The rest of my clothes were pretty standard: knit gray hat, cowboy paddock boots, jeans. But that jacket on that pony made me feel like a character from the Gunslinger and The Hobbit combined into one Washington County cocktail...
We returned from the mountain sweaty and starting to feel the chill come back to us from the lack of motion and concentration. I curried his back and put away the tack and returned him to his boyfriend Jasper so I could check on the fire and get back to the writing I was doing between outdoor activity. I had a piece due to HandPicked Nation about Barnheart to finish and deliver. I had my day of snow posts to share (I love this, by the way), and some work on other literary adventures I can't really talk much about now, but folks, there is momentum back in this creative life! I don't have any contracts or new books yet but I am confident I'll be writing more than the four books I have. If Barnheart is my disease of the soul, then writing is my number one therapy treatment.
My afternoon from there on wasn't nearly as exciting as stalking deer and pony mountain stances. I mailed packages at the post office, did some light errands in town. Alli, from Saratoga stopped by to pick up a tent she leant me for Antlerstock, and she brought a pint of beer as a gift and I thanked her. (In hindsight, I feel bad I didn't invite her in for tea but I was out walking the dogs when she arrived and we talked outside the house. Sorry, hun.) But yes, I walked Jazz, Annie and Gibson a half mile and watched Jazz power through it, though I could tell the half-mile was a bit much for his hips. And now I have more writing, and some housework, and bread in the oven waiting to come out and cool. Tonight I have dinner with friends and more farm chores and I plan on popping in a few more times before the storm! So keep reading!