Relative Something

Last weekend, the wedding we attended was held at the very place where Cyndie has cared for horses over the last year. It provided me the opportunity to observe some of the animals that she has shared stories about. The horses had all been moved out of the stable, and were spread among the multiple paddocks on the property.

After the sun had dropped below the horizon, but while there was still light in the sky, I wandered along a fence, alone, moving away from the tent filled with mingling wedding guests. I wanted to remove myself from the area immediately beside the tent, where they had kept two particularly social horses available for folks to pet and feed.

The next-nearest horses happened to be about 50 yards out, a group of three, grazing out in the middle of the open field. I stood still and soaked in the grandeur of the scene. It was a truly picture-perfect evening and the view was captivating. The partial moon was prominently on display in the clear evening sky. And there stood three spectacular horses, each with one front leg stepped forward to accommodate their comfortable reach to the green growth below, almost as if in an intentional formation.

Then one of the horses appeared to notice me. I wondered if, perchance, they would be inclined to approach a person standing at the fence. I hoped they might. The other two horses glanced my way, but they immediately returned their attention to the ground. But the first one began to move forward. First, a few tentative steps, then, back to the ground, just for a second. Then it was head up and looking at me again. I stood motionless and stared. The horse did a bit of a trot, though a hesitant one, and began to move more sideways than toward me. The whole time, his attention was fixed in my direction.

The horse reached the edge of the paddock and then appeared to put on a little show for me. He bit the top board of the fence and pulled at it. I could see all the muscles of his neck tense up. I wondered if he was trying to tell me something. I thought maybe he was trying to pull the fence down, as some of the tugs he gave, caused the board to flex quite a bit. But he never pulled beyond a certain point. It was just enough to constrict his muscles, and then he would back off.

It turns out, as Cyndie explained later, he was demonstrating a bad habit called “cribbing.” I wanted to be impressed, but then I learned it was just bad behavior, linked to simple boredom, or an anxiety. Not a horse’s proudest moment. I was fascinated to discover that one reason it becomes a habit is that the act brings a sense of pleasure from the release of endorphins in the horses brain.

It occurred to me that maybe he was just mirroring the behavior of the wedding guests he was observing in the tent behind me.

It is Monday today, but not a work day. It is Labor Day, here in the U.S., when we celebrate the economic and social contributions of workers. More importantly, it symbolizes the end of summer. I think the biggest reason people think of it as the end of summer is the fact that, around my region anyway, the day after Labor Day is the first day of school for the K-12 students.

Since Cyndie and I no longer have kids in school, that aspect of the fall season is much less significant. For me, Labor Day is a marker for the change of season. It is already being revealed by cooler night-time temperatures and leaves beginning to display signs they are at the end of their growing phase. Autumn is on the way. I am beginning to sense the different angle of sunlight, and the increasing delay in the sunrise.

Of course, there is also that little thing I wrote about recently, American football. The games have begun for high school, college, and the professional levels. I enjoy all three. I have been known to walk the couple of miles up to our local high school to catch a game on a nice night. Cyndie’s parents have given me tickets to see the University of Minnesota team play for the next two weekends. I’ve often felt that football has been a significant contributor to fall being my favorite time of year. That, and the fact that it means winter, my other favorite time of year, is on its way.

Now in my 52nd year, I am finally beginning to notice a twinge of difficulty in dealing with cold temperatures. Tolerating cold used to be quite easy for me. I don’t have the same super-powers any longer. It has been a source of humor between Cyndie and me, as she as entered a phase of experiencing a fair number of hot spells. Yesterday morning, with the temperature in the low 60s(F), we set off together to visit the house Julian is renting, and then the house Elysa just purchased, to help with some chores.

Cyndie rolled down the window as we started off and I immediately regretted not having grabbed a long-sleeved shirt as a cover up. In a switch from the innumerable times prior, Cyndie was too hot, and I was too cold. You realize, this won’t be a problem soon, if she lives in Boston, while I stay in Minnesota…