Mary came up with this term yesterday, as we were horseback riding on Murphy Dome. I took to it and have been thinking about it ever since. My three red horses standing at the panels separating them from Mary’s three horses, Raudi in particular, glowering at Yelma, Stormur, and Birkney. Mary’s horses were quietly eating their hay. Mine wanted their hay.

There is union and there is management. Tyra is the mediator, Hrimmi is the arbitrator, and Raudi is the loud and opinionated self-appointed boss. Birkney is retired and therefore is the wisest of the bunch. Stormur is wanting to take action now but hasn’t a clue as to which action to take. And Yelma, she would like to be left alone.

It's good to be here, amongst the horses and horse people – and to have something to write about besides the book project. We did go for a ride today, all six of us, on five horses. Mary rode Yelma, Teresa rode Stormur, Mary’s friend rode Birkney, Pete rode Tyra and ponied Hrimmi, and I rode Raudi, who because she was in the rear, I dubbed the red caboose.

We again rode the nearby forested trails. Raudi, when she is at the rear of the group, chooses to pace. Blam, blam, blam, this is an awful gait to ride at the distance. Blam, blam, blam, Raudi please, please walk or trot. . .

We returned to our point of origin, and Pete and I then went to meet with Pete Pinney, who I shared an office with at UAF many moons ago. We met up at Creamer’s Field, where the Sandhill Cranes hang out. And as he talked, I realized that by virtue of being a “boomer” we had many stories to tell.

Onward, after meeting with Pete the other Pete and I went back to our old neighborhood off Goldhill Road and visited (again) with our old friend Sean McGuire. He was fixing up one of his many cabins. He said he previously rented it out to meth heads and they trashed it. So Sean has spent the summer fixing it up.

Beside the plywood palace was a smaller building, one with a barn shape. It too needs extensive repair work. I want to move there. There would be enough room for the horses, for sure. Pete didn’t say anything when I mentioned this, not even, “What about me?” because he does not think 1) I could fix the place up or 2) That I’d leave him. I did reiterate that there was more than enough room for three horses, two goats, and three chickens.

Tonight, prior to dinner, I cleaned both horse pens.

I am now beginning my long, slow descent into the land of no return. First, I’ll take a walk with Pete and check out the non-president president’s mansion. Then I will resume reading a book entitled Shelf Life, which has no thematic resemblance to my book. Phew, once again dodged a bullet.

Next: 197. 7/21/25: There’s No Place Like Home