After a few inquisitives nuzzles at my pockets to make certainall the carrots pilfered from the garden were gone, Tulsa rested her chin on mybare shoulder. The bristles under her muzzle were thick and warm, tickling my skin.
I watched her nostrils twitch, and her breath was white in thecold mountain air. She gave a soft whinny, patting her long lashes fringing herdark expressive eyes. I glanced over the wooden fence and out into the distance.
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I have found women and horses have a connection that most cannotexplain. It often begins when we are little girls and grows and grows. I recallan old quote, "The falling hooves are my heartbeat and free my soul tofly."Yes, this explains the way a girl, or woman, feels when sherides her horse.
And sometimes, in the stillness of a warm afternoon, I willrecall those sun soaked days and long for the comfort of Tulsa's warm breathupon my neck. Or the soft nickers she made when she watched me toss alfalfainto her stall each morning.
I remember. And I smile.
Thank you for blogging with me. Cassandra G, Ontario Canada was the winner of my Coffee TimeRomance Contest!
Watch for Brede, Romance Book 2.
Happy Reading,
Connie Vines
