I rode Luke this morning. He was feeling spooked, very upright, and lots of spring to his trot. So much coiled energy, a sproingy trot in place feeling.
I got in a few good canters and a few leg yield steps before he got tense and we had to go back to circling. He’s doing good. I can’t wait until we get to go trail riding again.
After the ride, I took Java for a walk at Woodland Trails. It was such a dismally gray day — monotone, like watching black and white TV. Such dreariness makes me tired and makes me think of Shakespeare’s Macbeth: “By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.”
I tried to get some more photos of my owl friends. Unfortunately, they appear at dusk so the lighting stinks.
I wish this one had turned out clearly. He fluffed up his wings before heading farther up the branch.
I’m not sure if this is the male or female. From what I’ve read, the only difference is that the female is larger than the male so it’s hard to tell when they aren’t side by side. And they rarely sit together on a branch.
They hoot back and forth to each other and sometimes join each other on neighboring branches. Sometimes one owl jumps on top of the other. I’m assuming that’s the male.
Anyway, I love my owls. Their hooting is somehow comforting, and I’m thrilled every time I actually see them.
I’m still writing poems as it helps clear my mind of other things. I selected seven words this time and didn’t exactly stick to the every other line pattern. You have to mix it up once in awhile. Still I find it odd that the random words seem to have a commonality that works together. I enjoy when a pattern appears. It makes me think that if randomly chosen words turn out to be not so random, maybe life’s events also have a pattern that will become clear to me someday.