Twin Peaks

Kate, over at A Year With Horses, wrote in her latest post about the mysterious and special powers of horses. Sometimes it seems thoughts are threads drifting and weaving in space, brushing against one person after another, like something is in the air. Because, watching the horses this afternoon, I discovered a new skill in Scout and came home wanting to write about her almost unique power.

Sometime soon, I want to write about Scout and Dar being in turnout together so I can think about how that has been going while I wait for the next step. Which is: when none of the mares are in heat, my two will join the other herd. D-day, I call it. Dar-don't-day. But for now, the horses are up to four hours of grass. Scout and Dar are getting along well, enjoying their private grazing in the outdoor riding arena. Yesterday I scrubbed out a water trough for them, leveled it in a corner of the arena, and filled it, bucket after bucket. Today I went up to the barn early to turn the horses out. I had a friend with me and a chance to just sit quietly for a while, talking and watching the horses on a beautiful afternoon.

Completely by accident, I discovered last week that both of my horses enjoy Tootsie Pops, so I brought two grape ones with me today.

Twin Peaks is a television series that is permanently enshrined in my little hall of life-changing, mind-deepening, glad-I-was-alive-to-see-it events. Among hundreds of memorable scenes in the show was one early in the series when a character named Audrey (a seemingly sullen, insolent, spoiled Daddy's girl) ate a cherry. Twin Peaks aired in the days before YouTube; otherwise, that scene would have been posted before the episode had even ended.

I unwrapped the Tootsie Pops, went to the fence, and called Dar and Scout over. Dar, all clumsy eagerness, crunched the candy cardboard stick and all. Scout hooked the Tootsie Pop in her mouth and stepped back from the fence. She worked her velvety lips for a few seconds, then stepped back to the rail and dropped the clean white stick into my hand. Just like Audrey, who put a cherry in her mouth, ate it, and then daintily handed back the cherry stem, tied in a perfect knot. Very different implications, but in terms of sheer scale, Scout's finesse was every bit as surprising, I think.

Something so small to see, so small to write about, but it's big how I love experiencing my horses at the life level, just as they are, how they intend to be. Even yesterday, I looked at them and thought, Horses. They're horses. So recognizable to me and yet so not like me. I never get over it.