The horses plodded along as we crossed the empty field of corn, they urged each other on. The evening sky was starting to peak from behind the parting clouds, the stillness that engulfed us silenced our lips. It seemed only enough to be. Being a part of this perfect fall evening seemed like such a gift. The golden fields of un-harvested corn and soybeans danced in the evening twilight. The only sound came from us, our conversation at times, and the rhythm of the hoofs beating the earth. Every step sure and firm on the uneven ground. The urging of my heals brought the horse to a canter and then to the fluid movement of a gallup.
We laughed as we worked to remind the horses who was boss. We marveled at their strength and how easily they could have control. But I reminded Jess, that was why we were riding them and they weren't riding us. We joked of pitching a tent on the edge of field and camping out for the night, we could have. It was the perfect fall night.
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