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Sowing Seeds Of The World
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Sowing Seeds Of The World

I spent the afternoon writing. As many of you do, I’m sure. My writing studio overlooks my horse corral, because more often than not, I’ll find them to be my muses. Sometimes it’s my cat, but it’s usually Saltheart, the horse that looks like a potato.

I love that potato more than anything else in the world.

Anyway, I spent the afternoon writing, ocassionally looking up to balance my chin on my palm, and to zone out while staring at what I’ve built. My world, consisting of three horses, a cat, and a pillow to rest my head on every night. It’s a good world, I think.

But I found myself slipping into sleep, a combined effect of my tea and the warm afternoon sunlight. I dreamed of simple things like burning soup and robotic dancing, so nothing interesting there. But then there was a thump, the sound of something dull hitting a glass pane. The kind of noise that scares you because it hit with enough force that it should have shattered the window, yet somehow didn’t.

I woke up, cracking an eye open,  to see that lovable potato making her way up and over the flower bed in front of my window. The thump had been nothing other than her nose bonking against the glass on her way to investigate—and then happily trample—over the halfhearted work I had done on the garden there. How she got out of her corral with her potato body is beyond me, but after a brief flare of annoyance—my flowers!—I realised that she was just trying to get closer to me… or that’s what I’d rather think, anyway. I hadn’t given her the usual treat that day, or something like that.

She let me catch her easily enough, and looking back at the mess she’d made, it wasn’t all that bad. A staunch reminder to pay attention to her, I suppose. But when I led her back into her corral, scolding her, I took a moment to just sit there. This potato horse was part of my world. A profound realisation for an afternoon tea thought break. Is this what they call unrequited love?

I’m writing this at 4:42am, not just because it’s my passion to write about these creatures, though that certainly helps, but because I’ve realised that living souls on my ranch have done nothing less than improve the quality of my life… even if they like to stomp all over my flowers. They’re there with you, through thick and thin.

If your horse happens to trample your flowers, I recommend Veseys.

Photo by Delphine Devos.

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