~o:> Autumn Continued

Here we were, at the top of the ridge, looking down on this incredible grass valley.

And we’re slowly lurching down this steep path.

Now, pretend you’re me.  You’re not me.  But you could be—

if you were old

and plump

And very, very lucky.

I’m on a horse.

As I said, we are lurching down this precipitous path, heading for the grass valley below.

Which we have suddenly reached.  And here we go.  Ready?  Now – aim your horse at that teeny little path, hunker down over his neck, and breathe this one word:

“Go.”

And he does.

With all the power in those huge haunches, he launches himself down that tiny path.  SPEED.  Hooves pounding.  Wind in your face.  Imagine all that as you move your eyes very quickly all the way down that little trail.  Did you feel it?  Just for a moment?

At the end, panting, you slow down, trotting, then dropping to a walk, and you find this path on the other side.  We stopped here.  It was getting close to game time, and I’d shot, as you have seen, more images than is modest.

Besides, I still had to shoot the backsides of things.  Easily done as you re-trace your steps.  And no, we did not canter back.  You never want to canter when your horse’s head is aimed toward home.

Here, also, if you have taken this ride with me, you can stop and pose shamelessly with your lovely Morgan horse.

Makes him look a little Lassie like, huh?  Don’t be fooled.

And though this shot is silly, it pretty much expresses the moment.

This is Dustin, not cantering back – at a brisk trot.  Bless his heart (she said through her teeth).

But lovely, huh?

There’s a pumpkin colored tree right down there at the beyond the green trees – follow the left rut and you’ll see it.  So cool.

Even the poor scrubby road weeds were turning scarlet

Does this mountain look tie-dyed or what?

LOOK!  People actually LIVE in this place.

Again, that folding back on itself, dells and tiny valleys, back and back.

Girl Scout camp.  If I’d only known, I’d have joined up and made my parents ship me here.

See the roof, way back there in the green trees?  Lucky devils.

Horses, of course, in that reclaimed bit of high desert.

And then we were finished.  Zion parked himself again – the amazing self-valet-ed horse.  Nose to the tie ring, calm, casual, happy to be finished, but not desperate about it.  We took the tack off, brushed them down, gave them treats, loaded them up and drove back down the mountain.  Late for the game, but only a little.

Then we stopped to do this.  Second time this has happened.  New tire, too, blast it.

Some wanna-be Speilburg guy came up (longish gray hair, baseball cap, GQ cool T-shirt), I thought to help us – but really (while his young blond girlfriend was getting into their car) to make us stop and tell him ALL about the trails up there.  Wasn’t that nice?

Fortunately, G didn’t need help.  He’s a real man, see.  If somebody’d had a flat tire and we were walking by, he’d have jumped right in there and helped.   I did lift the dead tire up to the spare mount all by myself.  Just couldn’t quite get it on the pins . . . .  (You can too use an ellipsis that way, Mar.) But I also held both tires so they wouldn’t spin as G jerked the lug nuts off.  So I helped, huh?

And that’s the end.  We were a quarter and a half late for the game.  But we lost it, so meh.  Actually, we only go for the cookies and the company these days –