Back in the Saddle

I spent a couple of hours on Tuesday afternoon
looking at the rear end of Cynthia's horse. It was the second, or maybe third time I'd ridden.

The last time I remember was a long time ago, when I visited my then teenage daughter who was staying at a horse camp. My horse bolted for the barn as soon as we turned around to return to camp. I had to duck several times to avoid overhanging branches.

The only fear I had this time was the possibility of being blown off my horse by the howling wind -- which made conversation impossible -- before succumbing to hypothermia. Judging by my horse's reluctance to move faster than a walking pace, I think she would been happy to have had that happen.

I'll stick to shank's mare in future.