Seven degrees this morning. Looking out the window at the white landscape as the sun came up, I said to myself, "hey, I'm not the only one out there that can't ride all winter!" I don't have a toasty indoor arena, and I'm really not much into arena riding anyway. Sure, I sometimes like to work on precise skills and break things down to practice and perfect my communication in the arena, but my big deal is to ride out doors. Out where the birds sing to me and the squirrels chirp. Out where the rivers run and the mountains reach for the clouds.
But that is not happening now. Not until probably April at the earliest. So, maybe I can start up a little "riding and writing" blog. This way I can (selfishly) relive my rides of the summer time, and I can offer to bring you along.
These stories begin with a series of emails that I sent to Sheila during the last summer of her life. I had brought one of her horses up to Idaho to get him comfortable in the mountains. I wrote these up as a report to tell her how he was doing (he did great of course) but we discovered that it made her feel like she was out there doing what she loved the best, riding the high places on a good horse.
Come join me ...