By Perry McDaid
It had been nearly two years since I had walked that road, absorbing the sounds and scents of nature: rustle to whinny; fern to meadow-mix. I had made friends with a yearling then.
The grass on its side of the hawthorn had been too short, so I’d offered a handful of longer grass. It had edged past watchful adults, nickered, and allowed me to stroke the gleaming white beginning to stretch from the forehead.
Now, two colts stood in attendance of a heavily pregnant mare as she pushed past them to offer that same blaze. It was only polite to stop.
Nice little glimpse at the ongoing lives of our animal friends, and the memories they evoke. Liked it a lot.
I thought this was a beautiful story. I felt I was there. Thanks.