A couple of years ago I did a lot of thinking about hope. I obsessed over what hope was, whether it was mere optimism or wish-come-true, or if it was
A couple of years ago I did a lot of thinking about hope. I obsessed over what hope was, whether it was mere optimism or wish-come-true, or if it was
I love winter. I love the stillness of it, the way all of life slows down and pays attention, the way it forces me to come face-to-face with mortality and
Cowboys say a fast horse “eats up the ground” a colloquialism which has always made me think of a dragon’s mouth right behind my horse’s hooves, its hot breath on
The sky is a dirty tan, the color of chocolate milk made by a zealously health-conscious aunt. Headlights make woeful smears in the palpable air like the lamplighters of a
I got my job at the barn back last week, and I could not be more tickled about it. I’ve missed my teammates, and the dignity of sweat, putting my
I’ve been working on stamina with my horse, Buzz. Like most Quarter Horses, he’s built for explosive speed over short distances, followed by a distilled, lengthy sense of easy-going-ness. He
He’s two years old, and it feels trite and hollow to say that he’s “all boy” but he just is. He loves nothing more than tractors and his cowboy boots,
The wind is howling today. The rattle and wheeze of it against our creaky house woke our little guy early this morning, and when Adam got ready for work in
I was in a flash nonfiction contest recently, and we had to incorporate the sentence: “It wasn’t a crisis yet” into our essay. What a loaded premonition. It’s gotten me
I have a dear friend, who is in her 80th year. She likes to give her opinion, and when she does, she often reminds me, “you have to remember that