We have breakfast, I instruct the girls to put their school books into backpacks. They dress in play clothes and I dress in layers, starting with three brassieres. When I am on my way out the door, I stuff gloves and a snuggler scarf (made by my grandma) into my pockets.
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A day where someone else takes the responsibility of teaching my kids. Aaaaahhhhh...
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I drive along the west-winding National Road, through historic downtown, passing our favorite coffee shop, retail shops, restaurants, the library... A morning on my own. I head out of town, through rolling fields of farms. Autumn-gold leaves scatter across the pavement, tumbling, catching in the long blades of the season's last green along the edge of the dull black ribbon of road. The silence is wonderful, peaceful.
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As I travel deeper into farmland, my excitement mounts, my heart starts to flutter. I turn into the long drive, the towering trees dropping garnet- and pumpkin-colored petals on the windshield. When the farm bursts into view through the trees, a grin spreads across my face, a warmth flowing into my limbs. I greet my mates and we head to the field, enjoying the crunch of fallen leaves beneath our boots. The air is crisp, cold against my face, bringing wetness to my eyes.
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We lead the horses into the barn, hook them into the cross-ties. I groom the mare, pausing to rub her face, her neck, wondering why she seems so much more affectionate with me this morning. A sign of what's to come.
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An hour and a half through the woods, laughing, enjoying the quiet of the world. It is bow season, so we occasionally call out to let the hunters know we are there. The mare eats leaves and stops to drink from the cold stream as we are crossing. She frequently wants to do her own thing, but is kind when I urge her back onto the trail. She is gentle, obedient. Her nature flows into me.
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The laughter trickling back from the riders ahead is a pleasant invasion into my quiet reflection. The light filtering down sparkles on the stream, casting shadows among the fallen logs. A snake's discarded skin clings to the edge of a hole in a hollow, broken tree. The wind whirring through the branches above us is at times as loud as the dump truck that blew by us when we were on the main road.
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The cerulian sky above the fields is dotted as if with puffs of pure cotton, newly burst from their stems. Even the chilly wind can not dampen our spirits. An excellent ride. Hopefully, my first of many.
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When I got ready for bed last night, my cheeks still had a flushed, pink ink upon them - my eyes, still bright from the earlier outing. Even though my seat is ahem sore this morning, I can't wait for next time. Yesterday was a wonderful morning, a much needed rest from the daily, from my normal.
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Thank you, Lacey, for being such a part of the much-needed renewal of my spirit.
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And thank you, friend, for teaching my girls with your clan and for allowing me a few hours to myself this week.
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What do you do for personal renewal? Do you take the time ever? How frequently?
