"Yes sir. That's My Horse."

Spring is in the air, and, for me, comes the urge to head out on an adventure.  But I don't want to fly, or drive, or take a bus.  When my mind wanders, I find myself on a horse,  headed across the landscape
with no particular destination except ahead; just me and my horse.  Unfortunately, riding across Canada
isn't as easy as it used to be, what with all the fences and roads and private property, but still:

There we are, the two of us, me and a glorious bay Quarter horse; easy of temper, sturdy, and a vision of silk and muscle moving through thickets, grasslands and over creeks as if they were nothing.  We're a team.  We think together, breath together and take our ease with an eye for the other's safety.  We don't ride hard. There's no need.  And thankfully, as this dream goes, there are soft beds and luxurious stalls for us that we stumble upon each and every night.

"Howdy Miss,"  says the ranch owner.
"Why, hello.  I'm sorry I didn't see you settin' on that fence," I say.
"'Hope I didn't frighten you."  He looks at my horse and continues.  "That's a fine lookin' animal.
What's her name?"
"Why that's 'Pearl.'"
"Pearl."  Then he looks at me.  "A pearl on a Pearl"
I blush and adjust my hat and my calico skirt.  He hops down off of the fence, where he was fashioning a new ax handle,  and gives Pearl a pat on the neck.
"You're right on time for dinner Miss.  What say we put Pearl in the paddock with some sweet feed.  There's a fine room with a bath and a place at our table with your name on it Miss....er..."
"My name's Suza...er, Julia.  Julia Morganston."
"Well Miss Julia, my name's Paul.  Paul Abdomen. Glad to know ya."

So you get where this is going.  It all turns out wonderfully.  We save the calves, shoot the bad guys, and   all before dinner.  There's whiskey, coffee and a torrid meeting on the stairs with a fantastic musical score behind it, all dream-directed by John Ford. The whole trip is like that, day-in, day-out and it never gets boring. Never.

I think I was born in the wrong era. I could use an adventure like that where you just head out somewhere.  A challenge of something big would be nice.  Something tangible and of substance where what gets you through is good sense, a little creativity...and a fine horse or even an airplane.  Maybe it's there, waiting and I just don't see it yet.  I'll keep looking I guess.  For now, I have work to do ...but there's this nagging feeling that I should go check those new horses that we saw out by "Old Gulch Dead Man's Danger Snakebite Ridge."  I'll be right back.

Suzanne