Heart-pounding gallop down the dirt road. Not that there was any point of feeling out of control, just the knowledge that one misstep would be painful. Cutting through the old paths back to the main road, leaves carpet in yellow and red, flying up behind us on the hills as we run. The ground below is slickly muddy from recent rain, corners should be respected, we slow to a fast “marching” walk. Gaps in the stone wall must be jumped, you never know what rock might just tumble and catch a foot, though they haven’t moved in over a hundred years.
Cross the main road and head to the orchard. It is too cold for ground bees and we are moving too fast anyway. At the top of the hill, the town is laid out before us and cupped by the surrounding hills of fading glorious colors. Apples litter the ground and the smell of rot is intoxicating. The grass is long and succulent thick. We stop for a moment to catch our breath.
On through the woods to a neighbor’s field. We are working our way back up the main road, parallel but far removed from pavement. We burst out upon his lush estate and let loose again, galloping, gliding over the ground with wings, balancing for every dip and rise.
Let me take you for a ride…