… Through the grass, cross the snow
Big brown beastie
Big brown face
I'd rather be with you
Than flying through space
    I like thunder and I like rain
And open fires with roaring flames
But if the thunder is in my brain
I'd like to be on horseback
             Mike Oldfield

This is a good Thanksgiving song. Problem is, I know there was a differing version of it – but I can’t find it. Still, it’s a horseback riding song, so I’ll take it.

Young Hrimmi

A very quiet Thanksgiving here. I was bemoaning the fact that we weren’t invited anywhere (although we could have invited ourselves to Pete’s brother’s house in Ojai, California or my sister Eleanor’s place in Portland, Oregon.) But, alas, no place locally.

Pete did the morning chores because I felt pretty bad, mainly congested. And so I laid in bed, grateful that he stepped in and took care of the animals. Then he made bagels. The day by then had begun. I made some lists of things that I must get done in the next few weeks, then wrote a letter to my friend Christopher Benson.

Cold but sunny, with the sun low in the sky casting long shadows and giving the landscape an orange/pink tinge. A beautiful day. I had to get out and spend time with the horses, which is sort of what I did. I cleaned the pen and then took Hrimfara for a walk. It was by then breezy, but I was warm because I dressed for it, was wearing my Steiger mukluks, Refrigirware suit, and winter work gloves. I have had the latter for several years – they are yellow and orange, easy to spot, hard to lose.

The plan was to take Raudi and Tyra for a ride when I got back, but as is often the case around here, the best laid plans are often led astray. Pete was in the thick of working on the documents for Hilary, our consultant (she wanted our documentation by tomorrow), and so we didn’t have a lot of time left for an outing when he was done.

The wind and cold had also taken it out of me. I was coughing again, so Pete suggested that I stay inside. I felt conflicted about this (of course) because I did want to go for a ride. Then again, I wanted to stay put. I ride the horses every Thanksgiving. This year is an exception.

I need to find a cart that fits Hrimmi. I will be getting money from the books to villages grant. I could put those funds towards this. It would be fun, having a buckboard cart. I know that Hrimmi, more than anything, wants to be a cart horse. Sometimes, if I think hard enough about what I want, it comes to be.

So late this afternoon I worked on Shelf Life: A Book about an Overabundance of Books. I hadn’t worked on it in close to a year. Pete printed it up for me, and now I have a somewhat marked up copy sitting next to my standing desk and computer. My asking him to print this up was a good decision because I am now seeing this quasi memoir more objectively. I had parts about my past in it that weren’t quite fitting. I will have no qualms now about removing them.

325. 11/29/24: Priorities