I sat waiting, sitting on my open tail gate watching the sun begin to peak over the horizon.  The slight breeze began to soften with a hint of morning warmth. My paint gelding stood beside me peacefully grazing on the remaining thick dead weeds left on the ground.  Fall had come to this arid stretch of Washington State creating a desolate landscape that seemed to seep into the Columbia River Gorge below.

Taking another sip of my luke-warm coffee I saw headlights peak over the top of the ridge. “Let the fun begin.” I thought to myself somewhat excitedly.  I hopped off the truck, closed the tailgate and took hold of Ringo’s reins. “Time to go boy.” His ears pricked knowing freedom was just a short trot away.

The rest of my posse had already begun to unload horses and fit them with tack. You could see the steam flow from restless nostrils as the horses pranced and reintroduced themselves. It was an orchestra of nickering and stomping. Old friends gathered sharing hugs and stories while trading tack and beverages. Good times as always and the ride had not even yet begun.

By Jennifer Walters