End of a long week. The sun glimmered and danced and dazzled. The red mare and the little Paint rode together up the avenue and down the avenue and past the blue hills. I’m so happy to be back on my horse I grin like a loon the whole time, and speak, endlessly, of her brilliance. (My companion is VERY patient about it.) It is all ease with her now. She looks for no mountain lions. We swing along in harmony like gauchos out on the plain. All the time and patience and love has come to this. She knows that she is home.