Deep Creeks and Fall Leaves

My cement-head took a vacation for the day and I felt well enough to ride on Sunday. My sister and I took her 17 year old neighbor girl on a trail ride. Jessica has ridden in horsey summer camps, but not for a year or so.

My Boy put on his catch-me-if-you-can rodeo for about five minutes before I could get him haltered. I don't know what it is about that pill. When I have not seen him for five days or so, he acts like he is a wild stallion on the range. He will walk away from me, or, let me get the halter on his nose then panic and pull back and run off when I go to put buckle strap behind his ears. I thought we'd worked through this, but it periodically rears it's ugly head. Luckily, his pasture is not too large and I know my horse well enough to know he'll run for a bit, but quickly give up.

We loaded up the horses and we set off for the trail head. The day was uncannily warm for September and worthy of tank tops, yet the scent of fall was in the air.

My shiny, handsome stinker ready to hit the trail.

Jessica on Fritzy,and Paint Girl on Brandy, starting out.

We started our loop by riding towards the creek route first. Now, some of you may remember me writing previously about the creek the last time we crossed it, we were stirrup deep in water. This time, as we started down the bank, to our chagrin we observed that the creek had risen even more, to the point it was creeping uphill on the trail leading out of the other side! No creek crossing for us. Without knowing it's depth, it just wasn't safe. We rode a detour trail, hoping it would pop us out and across the creek at a shallower point. Guess what it did? You guessed it. It looped us through ferny undergrowth and pastern-deep mud and rooted logs and fallen trees-right back to where we started!

My sister's mare came off the faux-detour looking like she'd been making mud pies! She was following My Boy, so we can blame him for the big splotches.

Later, we were told by someone back at the trail head that a beaver dam was suspect for creating the deep pool in the creek. Typically at this point in the summer, the creek would barely be a trickle of water. From now on, our loop route will be impassable until the creek bed changes.

My Boy and I riding towards the sun.

Horses and riders taking a break. Even though she's a senior in high school, Jessica was not texting her friends as it appears in this photo, but adjusting her camera. She has an interest in photography.

Jessica takes a self-portrait with Fritzy, her mountain mare for the day!

After water, rest, potty breaks and power bars, we mounted back up to finish the ride.

There were the beginnings of Autumn all around us. The purple thistle blooms that once dotted the brushy logged meadows were now white puffs.

I could not capture it eloquently on film, but as the breeze blew, it sailed the white puffs of thistle seeds listlessly through the air. They floated through the late afternoon sunlight, giving the field a magical aura. If you look closely, you can see a few of the puffs floating.....

My Boy cocks an ear towards a maple tree, as if to say, "Look at it's leaves turning red, Pony Girl!"

The colorful fall leaves are my favorite, and I was happy to see sprinklings of them already.

Of course, I had to have my picture taken next to the tree. I think My Boy's rich rusty color compliments it nicely. The blue bowling ball helmet, not so much!

As we meander down the road to home, another seen and heard sign of a late summer day are the grasshoppers clicking and bouncing through the dry knee-high grass.

There is nothing better than enjoying the changing of the seasons on horseback. It is one of the reasons I love to trail ride. I know it sounds crazy, but I can't wait for the fall crispness to set in, and to bundle in my down jacket and chinks and set out on a ride where you can smell the taint of wood stove smoke on the air.

What Pony Girl? We're done? Time to go home?

Yes, My Boy, it's time to go home. Time for dinner. Good night, sweet stinker!