Deb texted to say there was hay-hauling to be done at the barn today but by the time I got to the valley through city traffic the work was done. Gosha sat in her truck drinking tea from a thermos, looking out at the sopped in skies. The saturated fields held gathered pools of rain where the horses stood drooping under the warmth of mud-crusted blankets.
I was determined to ride despite the rain and Deb generously agreed to accompany me. The horses were bothered by flies as we saddled up. Traveller pawed the ground with his front hoofs and stamped with his back, his tail swishing up and back in irritation. Gosha says the flies are due to the unseasonal warm spell last week which hatched a fresh batch of eggs. Everything was wet. I had to swipe a puddle of water off my saddle with my forearm before I pulled myself up into it.
The dikes were quiet save for a group of rain-hooded farm hands pruning back the fire-red fields of blueberries. Mallards and buffleheads were gleaning the left-overs off harvested cranberry fields.
The rain persisted. No lucky breaks like last week. Still the contact with earth and sky made me feel alive. Connected. Grateful. One of my favourite philosophers, Meister Eckhart, a German mystic from the 13th century, once said, “If the only prayer I ever say is ‘Thank you’ it will be enough.” There is much in life for which to be thankful.