Quick!  Get your camera and follow me!  Out the back door, your boots half on, through the rustle of last year’s leaves, rain-soaked by this evening’s freak spring thunderstorm.  Watch out for the branch there, the one that fell in the snow storm.  Shuffle across the almost dark yard with me, and out to the round-pen.  Don’t zip your jacket.  We don’t have time.  The light is changing every second.  It’s almost dark.

Captain’s silhouette emerges from the fog that’s pouring in faster than we can walk.  He joins us in the round-pen, wet from the rain and snuffling at your pockets.  Did you bring a treat?  Here, brace your camera on the tube-steel rail, and look…  The fog is rolling up from the creek and oozing across the neighbor’s pasture.  We’re laughing, you and I, as Captain rests his chin on your shoulder, here in the almost dark.  His lips gently explore your camera, your ear, your shoulder, and he sighs, fogging up the view-finder and your glasses as well.

We laugh and push him away, firing the shutter as we do.  He laughs in his mischievous horse way, and trots off into the fog.  He disappears.  Just this…  Just now…  Could it be any more beautiful?

Quiet…  then, slowly at first, the sound of the first peepers, the tiny frog voices of spring.  So glad you could be here to enjoy it with me.

Evening Fog sized - Copy

All photos copyright Zen Doe

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52 Comments on “March Evening Fog

  1. I have never been around horses, accept for one misguided and terrifying attempt at horseback riding, but I always felt that the love of such big beautiful animals would feel exactly the way you describe it. Thank you. 🙂

    • Wow, I started to respond, but I’m overwhelmed with all that I want to say. I could write a book (a blog?!) about the ways in which horses are amazingly intuitive and nurturing. Thanks for the sweet comment.

      • If you do, I will be so happy to read it. Animals are pure unconditional love. So blessed are those of us who allow ourselves to feel it.

  2. Thank you again for the invite and the visit. I greatly enjoyed it.
    I love the way you write – it pulls me out of my head and into the place created by your words. Bringing my passion for horses back into my life this last year has been a blessing – your words express it in a way I never could.
    My wellies are so muddy from all the trips through the mud, to your pasture and mine. I carry your words though the winter/spring mud as I get my horse from his pasture. If you notice some extra mud on your boots and wonder where it came from… 🙂

    • Best comment ever, Annesquared! I’m happy to share the mud with you. But honestly, can we please have a little sunshine and warmth?! Take care, and pet your sweet horse for me.

  3. I heard the first peepers yesterday deep in the gully! I haven’t walked this gully for months since neighborhood sitings of bear scat… had me wondering if she was listening too?
    Time’s so irrelevant…here I am, Sunday morning in a beautiful field with Zen Doe. xxxooo

    • I expect she was listening, j.h. Thanks for that potent image. 🙂 Glad to have you here in the field with me.

  4. You had me with the photo, but to include us in the moment is truly a gift. {{{Hugs}}} Kozo

  5. We were together, you and I, as always. Great writing and picture. I want to squish through the mud in your pasture with you.;-)

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