When the wind kicks up


Like all horse-crazy little girls, I read all the Black Stallion books, cover to cover, over and over. Walter Farley gave the dream of feeling the power, the strength, the wind, the warmth and the heat of riding a horse. But, not just any horse. It was a big, black, incredibly fast stallion. I had no idea what a stallion was, and Farley didn’t quite explain it (other than it was a male horse), but I wasn’t all that happy that he chose to make the horse black. Black, at that point in my young mind, meant back luck, and the story pretty much played that out. So when Farley came up with a book about a red horse named Flame, I was in love. Hands down, a red horse meant fire, burning life and perhaps not so much bad luck. Even though a red horse, a sorrel, is the most common color for a horse and not exactly desirable, I still love a red horse.

It’s no surprise that the horse of my life is a big, red, flaming horse. Today, with the wind whipping up (compliments of the edges of Tropical Storm Lee), Odin treated me to his flaming side. Every time the wind kicked up, up went his head, his ears, his tail, and he’d take a few prancing steps back and forth. He was worried about something only he could see back along the tree line. He’s so pretty when he’s worried.


This had been an incredibly rough year. It turned from a crappy winter right into a miserably hot summer. I’ve spent most of the time hibernating in the house, sitting at  my desk, hour after hour, day after day, week after week. Odin has spent much of his time alone, waiting for me. Today, the weather finally broke. It was a cool 81, no humidity and clear skies. And there was the wind. Lots of wind. Odin’s prancing and dancing was how I felt inside, and it was like life was breathed back into my tired, old body. In the next heartbeat, Odin took my breath away by striking yet another beautiful pose.

When the wind kicks up, so does life.
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