On Halloween night the wet clouds pushed up against the hills and rain started to lay down a thick wet and dark blanket. With pitch black night and steep driveway on distant hillsides, we don’t get much in the way of no trick-or-treat’ers. Up here on the hilltop there’s coyotes and mountain lions up in the wild-preserve. Parents take the kids door-to-door down in the flatlands by the golf-course.
So…a solid mass of slow-falling water stayed to drench. I awoke at 4:05 with the chest-wall pain again, and the sound of wind whipping the trees and the fat splatter of rain on the roof. Rain, blessed rain.
In the cold morning of November the rain barrels were all full and the icy dip in temperatures indicated snow was not too far up the elevation lines. We roasted butternut squash and made a delicious soup for lunch. In the early afternoon skies had broken open to big fluffy clouds with slashes of blue clear, and the roads had dried, so I decided to get out on the Gentleman’s Express and visit the local gun-shops.
The first one was closed, and as another couple returned to their truck, a “young-ish” (late 30’s?) man (who had rode up on horseback and tied-off nearby), asked for help to buy feed for his horse. They left, I responded with a fiver. He was well spoken and clear-eyed, and mainly looked like he camped rough and didn’t suffer from too much soap – and he complimented me on my “horse.” I noted back that his horse had more character (I’ve been around damn horses before, some have too much character), and he replied it was nice to be loved in return. I don’t think he was well reciprocated otherwise, but he seemed stout and sturdy at least.
He was the son of a MD, now distant – but horses were his life. He had not seen the BMW “tele-lever “fork before, but had ridden dirtbikes as far away as Guatemala where his father had done work. I said that these bikes were mainly car-derived anymore, and mounted-up to return home for pop-corn and The Afternoon Matinee: Kelley’s Heroes.…