palace of winds

I’m just coming in from running some mail out to the box; there is a warm spring breeze, the leading edge of a thunderstorm. It sifts through my hair and carries on it the strongest scent of blooming trees, of lilacs. I close my eyes and breathe, deeply.

I owe you a post, I know, but I am so exhausted. I can’t write when I’m this tired. I can’t convey what it’s like to steer him over our first little cross-country course, the momentousness of jumping up a bank, over a tiny log, a row of barrels, boulders set beneath a pipe, a ditch. How it feels to turn in the back corner of the field with him leaning against my leg, just waiting for it, waiting — to slide my hands forward along his neck and crouch low, lower, and for him to gallop, to fly, so fast that my eyes tear up against the wind. To be able to laugh and say Come on, and Is that it?, and for there to be more. I wish I could give you that most of all, the feeling of galloping up that hill.

Work has been insane lately. I owe y’all an update, particularly about my first cross-country jumping lesson with Ev, and our first venture down the Luce Line.

For the moment, however, I just have time for a quick one to say that I’m walking in the Susan G Komen Race for the Cure this Sunday, as part of a team to honor my riding instructor, who spent a long winter undergoing chemo (while still teaching!). I know the economy’s tight right now, but if you have a couple bucks to spare, consider donating: http://www.active.com/donate/komentc09/rmatey.

Within a week: a real update! Promise!