“I felt my lungs inflate with the onrush of scenery—air, mountains, trees, people. I thought, ‘This is what it is to be happy.’” – Sylvia Plath
I’d begun writing this entry on several different occasions within the past few days, continuously opting out to indulge in the hard-to-pass-up springy activities—playing ball with Timber, closing my eyes and listening to the song of the cranes in the refuge or the call of a brightly colored pheasant poking his head above the grass along the still-empty irrigation ditch as I feed the herd. Our evenings are filled with sawdust from barn building and dirty gloves from weeding in the flower garden.
Our tiny chicks are still under heat in the tack shed and our medium chicks aren’t quite ready to be introduced to our lone laying hen, Fiona. She’s been accompanying me in the garden, making like she’s busy until I rummage through the dirt and scrounge up several worms, served up on my palm for her dining pleasure.
I’ve also been riding all day everyday, at work and at home, getting 15-20 horses (and myself) back into shape. On the weekends, and sometimes during the week, I take either of my mares to Bass Creek Trailhead and take them for long (6-8 mile) jogs that consist mostly of dirt road riding but lots of tight dirt trails that maze through dozens of streams and obstacles, perfect for season conditioning. We pass and meet all sorts of people on bikes, with dogs, strollers, cars, and once – a woman walking her cats. I feel so blessed to have this perfect gymnasium be only a 10 minute trailer ride from our home, close enough to fit it into a busy schedule but all at once feeling like you’re miles from everything. Timber, our lab, loves this time of year when we hit the trails for long runs. She is my between-the-ears view wherever we go. We’re blessed to have her, too, for she rescued, and still is, rescuing us.
So here we are, there we be – out of the house and sprinting towards summer with busy hands and feet. May is almost upon us!