the winds of summer

Only in New Hampshire could the weather surprise you every day with unprecedented assaults to the senses. From cold and utterly bucketing rain, to a wind that carries the sound of the pines, the faint tinkle of distant wind chimes and the smell of wildflowers bursting forth.

I can’t remember feeling so full of the season, though truth be told, I have probably said that about every click of the calendar in the past year. I’m in withdrawal from my social life of the store. Friday I rode in the drizzle with Kim. First time out and she was a champ. We took the trail up to the cabin. The underbrush was heavy with the rain, and her mount, Festus, found rubbing his way through the wet branches up the path kept the gnats to a minimum. Kim hung in there and was wowed by the view when we reached the summit. The barn was busy Saturday and I was afforded a rare, wonderfully fast ride with three co-conspirators. Abby on the quintessential “Chestnut Mare” Crem, Ava gazing with such love at Night as she tacked up her original favorite – Snuggles. Susan, who talents include her ability to grab any horse and explore what he or she has to offer, and Night and I leading the ride at her jaunty stride. It was windy, really windy, and served to keep the deer-flies and gnats at a distance. We galloped and giggled for hours and miles.

Sunday the winds had dropped, a mere breeze gently rustled the trees and the ride was a leisurely walk with a few hand-gallops up dirt roads and hills. It felt like years since I had a long ride with Lauren and Blessing. And it has been a while. The store and working has brought new experiences, new senses of accomplishment, new pride into my life.

Summer winds are blowing and I am liking the changes for what they bring me. New faces, new experiences of things I thought I knew how to manage.

Twelve short months ago, a life-time ago, I wrote this. I’ll save your reading it all. What is important is I said, “But the change from brittle, dry cold to slimy, soggy heat is one reason I love this place. You get the most extreme but not for long enough to make you pack up and move. Variety, yes!

The carpets all feel squishy and slick. Vacuuming them makes me think perhaps I should be using a wet vac. Thankfully, Alice, Dahlia and the cats are opting for the tile or hardwood floors. Their hot, hairy bodies are musky in the humidity. Not an aroma therapy I desire in the bedroom carpet.

Every door in the house is stuck. Swollen wood frames refuse to allow the door to close, but woe is me if I do get it closed; opening it again means throwing myself against it like a DEA agent entering a crack house. Cabinets in the kitchen and bath, due to the high moisture content inherent in such places, are particularly prone to breaking my fingernails.”

I am blessed to be able to take the time to notice and write about life.”

So here I sit, one year later. Life has changed dramatically and I find peace in the ebb and flow.