“Don’t feel sorry for The Teaser,” our guide told us, though it seemed to me more likely we might feel sorry for the mares.
Wilderness can be healing. So, too, can the company of horses… they give a woman perched bareback sustenance, reassurance, even love.
Now and then, due to luck or grace or the peculiar workings of that agency those of us who have any sense call A Higher Power (drawing the line at The, though), people come back into my life, vastly changed but still recognizable, at least after a while, as newer versions—reincarnations—of people I lost or sloughed off years ago.
Las Cruces, way down in southern New Mexico, is a big dusty town massed around a small historic district; the Three Day Event we were attending took place on the outskirts, in a vast plain under rugged mountains, wind and drought stricken, golden in morning light. Ariadne (16) rode on Saturday in the dressage events,