Memories hovering like fog along the creek bottom will be my companions this day. I enter the barn and saddle the mare called Dakota. She is glad to see me and rubs her head against my shoulder knowing that I will give her a handful of oats and brush her back with rough gloves before the blanket goes on. Her breath is steamy and she covers my head in her vapors trying to nuzzle my face. We move into the dark toward the hills which ring the ranch.
Birds move in the grass taking flight at the movement of horse and rider.
Mockingbirds are softly vocalizing to talk the moon down and the sun up. Both owl and hawk make passes at whatever is flushed from hiding places in the grass. Coyote trots toward the hills in the opposite direction after crossing our path. Dakota moves her ears, weighing and measuring the sounds and what they portend. She snorts and snuffles talking to herself and me.