I was browsing one of my favorite food related sites, The Pioneer Woman.. oh who am I kidding, I love this whole site. Ree has to be one of the few people I idolize.  She's smart.. funny.. a great cook, not to mention beautiful and living the ranch life I would love to live!! :)   ANYway... I happened to stumble across a few new recipes that made me excited about the prospect of cooking again.  While there I was browsing the pictures of her horses, and her family.  It made me almost wistful.



I do miss ranch life.  I miss getting up in the morning as the sun was coming up and tossing hay.  The sweet smell of the hay, mixing with the sharp smell of alfalfa and dust in the barn.  I miss those faces the horses would make when you scratched and rubbed their bellies.  I love the smell of a warm horse.. Only someone who has been around horses enough can really know what I'm talking about. The smell of a horse that has worked.  Or even one that has been standings still in the sun...droopey eyed and dipped headed.  It's hard to describe, and most of the people who read this are probably going to look at me funny now! lol :)

I miss the routine that came with riding.  The combing, picking, brushing.  That quiet, empty feeling that came over me as I prepped my horse to ride. Not lonely, not by any means lonely... just quiet, but filled with purpose.  I think I loved my horse most after we had ridden.  The peaceful solitude that came with just leaning against her after a ride and feeling her breathe.  Supra was a beautiful horse.  I was heartbroken when I had to put her down.. but that's a story for another time.

Supra San Dee - Last show of her career

Supra - retired, meeting Morgan

You notice the word quiet when I talk or think about life on the ranch.  It was.  It was always filled with little noise.  Stuff most people wouldn't notice.  The sounds of a mouse running over the top of the hay bales... the little sighs the mares would make.  The scrape of hooves against hard packed ground.  The happy little nickers and calls the horses would make as you started shifting bales of hay around. The barn cats purring as you walked past and ran a hand over them.  The deer seeing you toss out that first flake of hay and bounding over the fencing, their bodies making a soft swish sound as they ran through the woods.  It was peaceful.  It was quiet.  It was totally mine because most of the time I was alone out there.

Sometimes I still crave that quiet solitude...the little sounds.. the happy noises.. and the way the world would blur into nothing when I gave Supra her reins and we flew.