Summer Postcards 2013
Red
But as soon as we reached an open field, Red’s ears perked up, and I felt his entire body tense. He knew what to do, and we were suddenty in the middle of a pack of about 20 riders, galloping full out in an impossible burst of speed. After a few strides I exhaled the breath I’d been holding, and released my death grip on the saddle horn, stretching my arm out to the side, reveling in the speed, the mountain air, the rush of thundering of hooves.
Under the Sea
The next night the wind rushed fierce and unyielding across our exposed plateau. Dust blew into my nostrils, bored into my fingerprints, settled anywhere it could find purchase. Our dirty clothing hung like prayer scarves from the tent, black shorts here, white shirt there, a disarray of socks on every surface. I gazed in awe at the stars for all of five seconds before the wind drove me back inside, into the burrow of my sleeping bag where I drew two hoods around my head and let the claustrophobic security of a little nylon shell lull me to sleep.
