It’s mid-September and now getting dark early. Is taking some getting used to. I got home late and thought that I would get a horse or two out on a longer outing. I thought wrong. I was able to take Hrimmi on a short outing, on Siggi’s trail. Even though it was getting dark, I could tell that during the past weekend the hunters had further torn up the nearby trails and the land surrounding them.

They skirt the places in which the trail is too muddy, creating more of a muddy mess. I am baffled by the fact that none of these idiots see themselves as being responsible for the degradation of area trails. Most think that they are the exception. And the rest? They just don’t care.

I wonder if it’s possible to live any place where the trails are left untouched. If I knew that such a place existed, I’d pull up stakes and move there. Pete would say, what about the goats? My response would be that I’d transport them air cargo. In the best of all worlds, I’d transport all the animals air cargo.

Alys and Shadow

I have a friend who is having her yearling mustang brought up here from Montana. He has not yet been gelded. Is he in for a surprise. . .

Shadow is still having nightmares about being spayed. Every day I assure her that she’s okay, and that the dogs that would be after her when she was in heat were out for one thing, and one thing only. She doesn’t believe me. Rather, she equates sex with life-long love. She would have sung a differing tune if she’d given birth to some ugly pit bull Aussie or beagle Aussie crosses. In time, she’ll figure it out.

Earlier today I worked on my grant proposal for Saltchuck, the mother ship of the freight companies. I say, so far so good. I provide background information on the project, a rationale for needing a larger shelter, and some reasons as to why Saltchuck and our building project is a good fit. If I get up early tomorrow (har har) I will work on it some more.

These days, time seems to be like clear water, pouring through splayed fingers. A beautician once said that the first fifty years go slowly because everything is uphill. Conversely, the second fifty years go fast because everything is downhill. A fairly apt analogy, if you look at up and downhill as being the two distinct phases of one’s life.

I do feel that, writing-wise, as if the rug has been ripped out from under my feet, and I have landed on my bottom. I used to have no problem in getting my work done. Now it seems like an impossibility. I am keeping myself from being over-anxious about this by telling myself that, right now, I am gathering material for what I’m going to be writing about. The Bright Lights Book Project has brought many thoughts about what to write about to mind; I’ll of course know best when I start working on the more literary aspect of this project.

Next: 256. 9/16/21: Click Your Heels Together Three Times