There is a very loose routine to my mornings. Let the dog out. Make coffee. Get Mac ready for work, more or less. Turn on the computer....stare at it. When Mac leaves, I pour myself a cup of coffee and start walking back to the horses. There is an incline to the west of the house. That is where I cannot help but stop. I look down the drive. It darkens and there is a patch of light on the road at the bottom, and my eyes are drawn over the tree tops to Stan's pasture. Today it was shrouded in morning mist, as if a distant illusion.
I continue walking.
Then a glance over my left shoulder. Sometimes off in the distance there is a barn roof to be seen. It is illusive and it vanishes with the rising of the fog. My walk veers off to the right as I follow the flat of the land. I stop and study the landscape again. The pastures in shades of green. Some holding tight to their shroud of cloud and others exposed, sparkling back at the sun, bedecked in jewels of dew.
Pip spots me and calls. She sparkles golden.
I scoop out their feed. I do a quick inspection of their condition. I stand with them while they eat.
My feet are cold and soaked through with the heavy dew. I start back to the house. There are other places I stop. Places I study. I know my trees. The swell of the ground. The rocks. These are my pristine moments that allow me to survive the stress that life serves up.
This place is my heartbeat.