A time of beauty, a time of plenty, a time of peace

 March 1, 2025
Clouds were beginning to make their way up the mountain. Actual moisture-laden clouds.

Inside, the boss was hoping to get a good shot of Skye with her NaMoPaiMo horse.

"Okay get really close to your model" the boss said, fiddling with her giant lens, trying to get both Skye and Pimento in focus. "There, got it!" 

"I heard you didn't finish your horse" Skye said to the boss, a little hesitantly.

"I did not" the boss confessed. "In fact I stripped all the paint off of him. It was the only honest and decent thing to do."

"Are you okay?"

"It was a great lesson in humility and apparently that is what I needed. I pushed the concept of challenging myself a little too far this time. As soon as the horse went into the stripper I had a sense of relief. I'll do a horse I can be proud of next time."

Outside, the light was changing moment by moment. The air was cooling, full of moisture.

Grace stood in her stirrups and leaned forward as far the saddle would let her, Windy Boy beneath her at a willing gallop.

"Don't you usually ride him with a bit?" Skye asked, wobbling on Tex's back.

"Yes, but he's doing really well. Now I just need to keep him on the rail..."

The sun slipped away without a fiery sunset. The wind came up suddenly, then departed in the same fashion.


Back inside as night consumed the day, Skye shared a simple drawing.

"So this is my idea" Skye explained. "It's not to scale or anything, but here, this part goes over the horn. This is fringe, you know just a little something to dress it up. Then these are the stirrup drops, and more fringe. I want to make the drops a little longer than on a real trick saddle. And I have them going behind the cantle. So, theoretically, the cantle will impede how far forward we can lean, but it will also lend support."

"And maybe bruising" Grace added.

The girls sat on Grace's bed, going through image after image of trick riders and saddles on the internet.

"All of these are more like actual stirrups" Grace noted. 

"Yeah, but I think we'll be okay. We have use strong leather. Like elk. Stong but flexible."

"Maybe a little more room between the 'stirrup' and the fringe. Just in case."

The girls became aware that there eyes upon them. Many eyes.

"I guess we better feed everyone" Skye mused.

"I guess we better..."

March 3
There had been perhaps ten minutes of snow the night before, but it fell with a fury, leaving a dusting of white in Chilao. Home alone while Grace and the boss attended a seminar, Skye decided to turn out some youngsters, who would certainly appreciate a romp in the snow.

Gillee, the grey pony mare. was ever watchful, but gave her colt some room to play.

Topaz and Deer Medicine watched calmly while the foals cavorted in the snow.

Watching foals, you couldn't help but smile and be joyful.

March 9
The day had somehow gotten away from the girls. There were people visiting and work being done on the property and one of the boss's shepherds kept getting into trouble. By the time the girls got to saddle up, it was last light.

Skye practiced standing in the stirrups at different gaits. "This uses really different muscles" she commented, "and I'm not even totally free from the saddle. How's the golden boy fairing with the flags? And why are they bent the way they are?"

"He's pretty okay" Grace replied. 

"The flags are vinyl" the boss responded. "Cloth flags this size weigh eight pounds! And they cost a pretty penny. This seemed like a better idea. Hopefully they'll flatten out a little with time."

"What I like about the flags" Skye said, "is they make me aware of the space they're hanging in. They draw my attention to the artwork and the logos and they add this...three dimensional quality to a flat wall."

Bryn seemed to be completely unconcerned about the flags.  He didn't move lightning fast like a quarter horse, but he covered a substantial
amount of ground with each stride. Perhaps they'd give him a try. He certainly seemed willing.

March 15
The cold crept in as the day's last light burned for one more brief moment.
The recent rain and snow were eagerly absorbed by the mosses and lichens, glowing green in the evening light, adorning the rough terrain in a spongey carpet.

The setting sun in a clear sky made shadows deep, and visibility difficult. The bay mare used all of her senses as she lead the herd out into the open.

The horses of Petrichor's bans would pause here and there for a mouthful of the new grasses emerging from the rocky soil. There would be more grass down below, as well as fresh water. 

Out in the open, there were new smells. The horses were not alone. They drew together, nudging the bay mare on as they did. 

They would head for the open meadow. A little bit farther to go with the sun blinding them before it slipped behind the mountain, and the night began.

March 16
The creek had water, and the girls would have loved to spend some time there, but it was a busy Sunday in the forest, and the visitors were an odd mix. A bunch of teens driving around making videos, and a lot of loud noises. A man combing Meadow campground like he'd lost something, displaced by a fast-driving couple that came to fly their racing drone. Staying on the ranch seemed safer.

So the girls went to the indoor arena, escaping the forest visitors entirely, and practiced their trick riding moves.  Skye's Eagle Nest Ranch saddle was a perfect fit for Jesse, and it offered Grace a chance to up her game a few more inches.

"He's not as smooth as Windy Boy" Grace said, one hand on the reins and one near his mane, her balance a little bit less impressive the taller she stood.

Skye took her first ride on Jesse next. Grace watched and realized she should have put them together sooner. They fit each other. And Jesse was as honest and as much of a partner as any horse she had ever met. Skye's wide smile proved her joy.

"You know" Skye said, "since we don't do this for a living, maybe we should use a neck rein. Nobody is going to criticize us for it!"

Skye went out to see the last moments of daylight fall upon the rocks. It was sort of the same every day, but she loved it. She saw movement. Coyote. Looking away from her as it walked up the road, as if to say "I am invisible and you can't see me."

Skye watched, surprised as Coyote changed direction, moving more or less toward her, then making slight shifts in its trajectory to alter its course around her. It really wanted to go to the ranch proper.

Skye followed Coyote. She stopped. He stopped. He moved. She moved. Finally Coyote gave up, and went down the road. 

Back inside, they pondered the boss's latest finds. A bridge too small for horses, and a beautiful gate...a perfect performance prop, but it was garden-ornament sized.

"The boss said we could us it for skinny ponies" Grace said of the wooden bridge. Skye laughed. They didn't have too many skinny ponies.

"A garden would be lovely, wouldn't it?" Skye said, coaxing Baron through the festive gate.

"But in the meantime we could do dog agility I guess. Look at what a good boy Baron is" Skye beamed.

"He's the best" Grace said.

Hobo went right through the garden gate.  White Dog, not so much. But Skye had a flash of inspiration.

"Come with me!" she said, excited to Grace. "I have a plan."

There might not have been many skinny ponies, but Topaz's foal moved easily across the garden bridge.  Grace had to stop Topaz from trying to do the same.

"Whoa girl. I don't think there's enough bridge there for you."

And there was in fact a skinny pony, but she'd earned her name.  It was Mischief, and she was making sure Skye didn't have an easy time of it.

"Why don't you put her halter on and lead her over it the first time?" Grace asked. Skye couldn't really answer, but it became evident after a few minutes that Skye and Mischief had a bit of a relationship, and they were playing a game of sorts. Mischief knew what Skye wanted.  Eventually she acquiesced.

Skye turned to an imaginary crowd. "Thank you! You've been a lovely audience, thank you very much!"

March 17
Monday morning dawned peaceful. While the horses finished breakfast, the girls went looking for wildies in the Jeep.   There was water in the meadow between the ranch and the fire station, and plenty of grass.  To get across the meadow, there was no choice but crossing the creek.

"Are your feet getting wet?" Grace asked.
"Nope. Are yours?"

"They sure are." The driver's compartment was taking on water where the pedals met the floorboard. 

"Oh my. Sort of reminds me of that leaky kayak!"

Back on dry land, the girls meandered in the open country, avoiding the deep grass and its hidden obstacles. Skye thought she saw something.  There were ravens patrolling the grass.  The occasional robin.  Tree shadows.  And then she saw him.

"Rain Man!" Skye whispered to Grace.

He moved out of sight, appearing again at the water. He seemed to be alone.

"I was reading something...I forget what" Grace said in a low voice, "but somehow it got on the topic of deafness in horses. And if they have white hairs inside of their ears, it can be an indication of deafness. Some genetic quirk. I didn't know that."

"Maybe that's how he got captured?" Skye mused. 

"Maybe..."

Rain Man was typically with Storm, his sparring partner and now herd boss, with his rather rebellious and somewhat disengaged harem. But there was no sign of the big, rowdy bay or his unhappy mares this morning.

Instead, Crazy's band appeared on the horizon, lead by Lady Godiva. Skye pulled herself slowly and quietly back down into her seat.

The band was traveling in a relaxed fashion, the foals playful, the mares at ease.

As horses made their way to the water, Rain Man moved back, avoiding Crazy, avoiding the mares and foals, but staying relatively close. 

The girls watched until the horses, having frolicked and drank their fill, moved out of sight...Rain Man first, the mares eventually following along in his general direction, Crazy bringing up the rear. 

Grace was struck, as sometimes happened, by a feeling of awe and gratitude.  What a really wonderful world it was.  What a really beautiful life they had.

March 23
"I keep smelling smoke."  Grace looked about, trying to detect a direction from which she was catching the fait scent.  La Barilla danced underneath her.
The wind was in its last throes of the evening. The scent seemed to be coming from the north, farther up the mountain.

"There could be campfires" Skye suggested. "Maybe there's still some people in the campgrounds. Let's ride toward the campgrounds."  Skye turned Ladyhawk to the southeast, toward the campground complex.  Grace followed.

The wind shifted direction. It was blowing from east to west now. It carried the sound of cars on Highway 2, but not the smell of smoke, which, had there been campfires, it should have.

The world glowed red int he day's last light.

The girls changed direction as the sun slipped away, and headed into the rocks north of the ranch, closer to where Grace thought the source of the smoke smell might be.  There would be enough light to press on a little farther before they headed back.

Skye and Ladyhawk came to an impasse in the rugged terrain.  "Ooops. I think we went the wrong way."

Grace lost the scent. The wind lay down. One or two more gusts, and the night would be still.

"You want to keep looking, or head back?" Skye asked. 

The evening was relatively warm...much warmer than it had been. And soon the moon would provide them with light. It was tempting. But they hadn't told the boss they were going for a night ride.

"Let's head back" Grace finally answered. "But let's take the long way."

Skye noticed a small cluster of yellow flowers in the fading light.  It had been a dry winter. The boss's daffodils were few.

March 29
When Skye volunteered to help the boss with photographing her considerable achievements in creating topiary, It sounded like a ton of fun. Cameras and horses. Horses and cameras. Heck yes. 

But it was really quite difficult. The flower pots were heavy. There were 24 sets. And the boss had chosen to use the school's most weathered exterior for a backdrop, creating a make-shift arena that was small, square, and dominated by the rough school wall. 

Riding through proved easier than focusing the camera on the topiary instead of the horses. That part was very challenging. And finally, when the sun was shining bright, the wall reflected a certain amount of heat.

"I thought the school would give the photos a sort of rustic and unobtrusive background" the boss explained. "And I really wanted to be in the sun."

Skye seemed to be constitutionally incapable of focusing on topiary.   The horses were always the focal point of her images.

"I think a more appropriate description of this wall would be distressed" Grace mentioned as she did her second or third pass over the poles. Ground poles were still not La Barilla's favorite thing, but he had improved significantly.

At some point in the operation, the boss got rather quiet and thoughtful. 

"You know" she finally said, "I think I'm going to change my plan."

Her comment was met with silence. 

"For the champ show and for MIM, I think I'm going to do a set of six matching topiary."

"Aren't these for the shows?" Skye asked.

"They are...but a matching set of six would be better, wouldn't it?"

Grace watched the sky. The whispy layer of clouds was beginning to thicken.

Grace and Skye did as much horse wrangling as possible, letting the boss fuss with getting the images she wanted.  At last, the end was in sight. Skye couldn't resist doing a little something different for the final few photos.  She fetched Tex, the mule...unflappable, not terribly animated, slightly disengaged.

"Oh my goodness" the boss exclaimed. "He looks perfect!"

It was after 5 PM by the time they were done with the photo session. The forest was calling.  Beyond Mustang Rock was the place Tanner called Indian Hills. It was difficult to access.  And the first part of that difficulty came in the form of a steep, long deep sand incline leading into a stream bed.

"Do you want to walk it, or drive it?"  Grace asked.  

Skye hesitated.  "It's down hill...that should be easy enough to drive...shouldn't it?"

"The sand is really deep though. We'll have to go not too fast and not too slow or we could be in trouble."

Another long pause from Skye. And finally 

"Let's do it."

They made it down the sand embankment, but soon had to park the Jeep and walk. The terrain was merciless. And then it opened into more rock outcroppings.  Glorious, wild outcroppings.

"Oh man" Skye said, peering over th edge of a stone mountain. "This place is so beautiful."

Grace could see it just fine from a safer distance relative to the edge.

"We need to come back" Skye said. 

"We can" Grace reassured her.

The humidity rose and the temperature began to fall. The sun slipped behind a cool layer of clouds, and the evening came on, moist and gentle.

March 30
Sunday dawned moist and cool, with occasional gusts of wind whipping the moisture layer about. Skye helped the boss photograph the last of her topiary collection inside the arena. There were just a few pieces left, and the ladies had fun with it.  Even the boss couldn't resist focusing on the horses, not just the topiary. 

Mischief crossed the bridge on the first take today.

March 31
Monday morning dawned much as Sunday had, cool and damp. All good news for the wild things.  Petrichor's band moved, unseen, at a leisurely pace up Chilao Creek. For the moment, it was a time of plenty, with clean water and new, green grass.  
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