Daisy sent me this photo. She’s looking out of her office window in downtown San Francisco this morning, as the sun rises. Yes, that’s the Transamerica pyramid.
There’s a walnut tree in front of my office.
I realize posting a picture of sunshine, when two-thirds of the country is ambushed by blizzards, is risky: it’s is a bit like a fashion model saying: don’t hate me because I’m pretty. That makes us want to slug her. We were totally fine until those words came of her mouth. Sorry, we can handle you being pretty, but shut up, okay?
Global warming? Real. This is northern California. (Nothing like Hollywood.) We should be drowning in rain, maybe a little dusting of snow. Our only weather complication? Day to night carries a 40 degree temperature swing. 70 was the high, 30 the low. Not good for the horses.
I’m hauling my weed whacker to the barn. I need to trim the green green grass outside Hudson’s paddock. He stuck his foot through the fence to get a better angle on the green green grass, and tried to pull himself out. Again. I’m mystified. How does he know instantly when the hot wire goes down? He’s lame: yanked his shoulder. Luckily, it’s not serious. A tweaked muscle.
We’re perfect for each other. Both masters of The Eating Accident. I’m thinking of starting a horse-inclusive self-help group: Eating Accident Survivors Anonymous. Hi, my name is Jane, and I can’t eat without hurting myself…and this is my horse, Hudson, who has the same problem.
I thought of all of you yesterday, who were packed in cold white stuff, as I guiltily peeled off my cotton hoodie, because I was…sweating. I rode in a t-shirt and breeches. I know! It’s ridiculous. Great, but ridiculous. Does it help that I felt guilty?
I enjoyed it for you. The sun was warm on your back, the air was soft on your arms, your horse was happy and frisky. You could smell the dark comforting scent of leather, and the spicy scent of horse. You could smell the sharp green of the grass, and the bright duskiness of the sand. Your sky was so blue it felt like it echoed back into itself forever. It was a rare summer day, in February.
BTW, you had a GREAT ride.
I wish you warmth!