Relative Something

When Asher and I set out on our routine morning walk today, the sky was filled with heavy-looking clouds that cast a dark mood over the landscape. The weather forecast warned of strong winds but we weren’t feeling that on the ground yet. The blanket of low clouds overhead, however, was moving past at a high rate of speed.

It was as if the blue sky was blowing in.

The horses radiated a deep calm as they consumed their feed from the buckets. That sharply contrasted with the barn pigeons that were cooing with an insistence that bordered on drastic urgency. Maybe it was egg-laying time.

The ground surface around the overhang is so dry I should be celebrating freedom from coping with massive levels of mud but the reality it reflects is the threat of drought that hovers near. I had time to contemplate the current conditions because Light and Mix were both taking their sweet time about emptying the feed buckets I was waiting to retrieve.

I treasure that we have settled into a routine that allows them to eat at their individually chosen leisurely paces as opposed to the racing randomness that was happening not that long ago. There are still moments when we need to convince one or two of the horses to get out of each other’s way to end up at what has become their designated positions, but once they get there, extra shenanigans rarely interfere.

The deep calm that materializes is something I don’t take for granted.

In the time it has taken me to finish my breakfast and write this, the wind has arrived at ground level and a fresh blanket of clouds has blown in. With a little luck, maybe it could blow some needed precipitation our way.

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