As if on cue.
As if to remind me how special.
As if to highlight what was.
The clouds have settled, the rain is streaming down, the shutters rattling and I can see absolutely nothing from my windows.
The lights are on, the chimney whistling, my hair washed (and smelling of roses and geraniums the bottle tells me), a hot coffee getting cold alongside me as I sit on my bed contemplating the amazing five days I have just had.
It all began with Kate Pilcher and her http://www.globetrotting.com.au. Or perhaps with something even older, a primeval horse-man thing stirring within and disturbed again by her.
Either way, at 63, with no more than ten horse rides on my life, I bite the bait ๐๐๐
And swallowed hook, line and sinker.
I did some sit ups (clearly not enough) some squats (clearly enough), borrowed riding gear, found some Dutch courage, a sense of humour, and have lived to tell the tale.
Every day we breathe has the potential to be an adventure, at home with the dog or across a continent with a horse and new friends.
So crazy as the idea was, and against sound advice and my own ‘adult voice’ I took the plunge
No regrets :
I have seen the sky filled with light from a million stars;
I have seen the moon appear like a silver sliver over the mountains;
I have felt the thrill of half a tonne of animal galloping beneath me on a beach, alone, with only the gulls, waves, sand, sun and a solitary seal as witness;
I have felt the pain of a body used;
I have marvelled at the skill and strength of those gone before whose only means of transport was horse;
I have witnessed beauty that no iPhone can do justice to.
As I savour the solitude of Farm 215 and Bruce’s amazing food for the last time, I give thanks, I know I have been fortunate