ride the crest of the wave.

Last night I went over to the barn after work to take some pictures for a friend of mine. She’s just bought her first horse, a beautiful registered morgan whose barn name is “Remy”. I wanted to get some shots of them early on, so she could have something to look back on later on down the road. I believe this was her third real ride. Joce will be eventually showing Remy in the dressage arena. She’s been showing and riding dressage horses for a really long time. He shows a lot of promise and I am very excited for her. I took all the pictures on my little sony cybershot point & shoot. They didn’t turn out too bad, despite that.

Here is a sampling of some of my favorites from the night.

They spent most of the lesson doing some very tricky exercises which required a lot of concentration and patience. It’s exciting to see someone starting from scratch with a young horse, I know they will do really well together.

a swan made of ice.

I finished Brideshead Revisited. It made me feel restless & melancholy at the same time.

I have been riding the bus into work now & I read. Sometimes that makes me nauseous, pitching and rolling on all those back roads. This morning, a wave flooded over me so I put my book down and looked up. Rolling fields, cows, old farm houses, bending rivers – Certainly beautiful – I thought, and the heavy heat resting on the hills already, at 7:30 in the morning. Certainly beautiful – my mind echoed the words over & over, like a robot, like I wouldn’t be able to stop thinking them even if I wanted to.

The day drifted by like sand sifting through my fingers, and I was back on the bus, book in hand – my shield from having to make conversation with anyone. But now I was alone on the bus and we were slowing down at the stop. I peeked over the top of my book. There was a man trying to get on, only he was standing too close to the doors so that they hit him when they opened. I smiled and quickly looked down at my book, pretending to read. I could hear music coming from somewhere, a sprinkler on a lawn, the cornfield by the Kimmey’s is so tall now, the clock of summer speeding onward, soon, over our heads, soon, harvested and we will be sad because it will all be over before it even begun.

George drops me off at the end of the driveway. I thank him and walk down the dusty driveway. I am just a kid. Just a little girl, figuring things out, learning, making mistakes, growing. I think I will be a little girl until the day I die. At least, I hope so.