Vermont this weekend was cold, windswept and rainy. Not a really great kickoff to the unofficial start of summer that is Memorial Day weekend.
It snowed on the higher elevations but I didn’t actually see it. People told me about it. I believed them. It was just cold and rainy where we were, in an old farm house on a dirt road in the National Forest. The forest loved it. All the plants and trees were lush and leafy.
We went down to the little country market to get some groceries and other sundries. It is a little market by the over-developed urban standards we are used to. What we love about Vermont is you can come out of a little grocery store and be greeted by a stunning view, and this store was no exception.
Beyond the parking lot was a horse pasture with a picture post-card big, old red barn and behind that, rolling, green hills receding in the distance. It was still cold and rainy
In the horse pasture, there were probably a dozen horses interspersed all over the field. The herds was mostly mares, with a few young foals mixed in, and one stallion presumably. The wet from the rain stained their backs a darker brown, almost black, and there were dark stripes were the rivulets of rain ran off their coats entirely. The rain didn’t seem to bother them at all. They just munched the bright green grass and stood in the drizzle.
That is, until we walked up to the fence. Obviously looking for something good to eat, the whole herd wheeled and trotted to us like we were old friends.
The cold rain didn’t bother them at all and by then, we had forgotten about it too.
Copyright 2013 Magnus Incognito