June 21, 1956 - Horses

the first day of summer
the longest day of the year

We drove out Route 19 after dinner to a farm near Hickory - were invited there through a girl in Bob's office - where a friend of hers raises horses. At first was disappointing - all we could see were run-down bldgs - a nice enough barn and a delapidated shed but it became much much more than that -- first of all, we took turns riding a 4-year old mare named Clover - palomino and gentle - around a rect. pen - it felt good to be on horseback again - I felt as though I belonged there & hoped I looked it - she would walk along one end & one side but then turning toward the other end & side & back to the gate she broke into a nice trot & into a canter - oh, it felt so good & so free.

While I rode her Betty came close to play & Clover balked & reared & swerved but I held my seat & her & loved it!

I am completely without inhibitions when I am riding - feel & seem like another person - I revel in it, I cannot help from grinning broadly & all but laughing out loud - oh, blessed freedom of it - she became hot & tired & Jack walked her some & then tried to round the group of mares & 2 colts over closer to us - there were seven mares, sorrel, roan, palomino, buckskin & dapple and a pale, pale colt and a more dappled one.

Oh, is there any more beautiful sight than that of a horse running free - any age - & the sight of those colts running close beside their mothers was a joyous thing to behold - something I had never seen real so close before. I climbed the fence & stood there on a rung of it, seeing the horses in the foreground & hill upon hill against the darkening, still color-stained sky, with their broad round green surfaces broken by darker trees & more horses & cattle in the distance & I said aloud, I think it was aloud, that here was the essence of it all - the essence of all my hopes, plans, dreams - all this was me - I felt at one with it, part of it, close to God - I knew at that moment that God heard my prayer - somewhere, sometime I would be justly at one, at home, in such a place - the sky at 9:15 was still pale hazy - the whole scene was moist & lush & vaguely misty, everything softly outlined - later as we were leaving I leaned against a new fence, still smelling strongly of new wood, & looked up at a row of cottonwoods rustling with the gentle rush of air with the veiled full moon beyond & I felt that if I would only live in such a place day in & day out, night & day, season after season, in rain & sun, cold & heat, I would - what was the right word? - mature, ripen, develop, become a person, an individual, my writing might there flourish & take form - I would be an adult part of this world - if only it will not come too late.

And driving home I felt strangely as I've never felt before - the whole night was so beautiful - I said at first, was a night of nights, but it was not - just another beautiful night of an infinite number of beautiful nights at any time of year, in any part of the world & I wondered if, since the beauty I saw & felt was in me, could a night in France or Sweden or Africa be any more beautiful? I suppose everything combined to make me feel as I did - the horses by sight & by feel, the countryside, the full moon, open & clear by now, the softness of the air & Swan Lake on the radio - but I never remember having felt so rich & so full before - I wanted to smile, cry, yawn, sing, fling my arms out all at once - I felt so full & so satiated as to have an actual queasy feeling in my stomach - I felt as though anything more would make me literally burst - I felt that if I should die feeling like that, I could have asked no more of life & this earth.

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J. said when a horse is kept in pasture, he does not seem to sweat when ridden, even hard.

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& too, when a palomino is kept out thru the winter their cost bleaches out to be as pale as his tail & mane, but will darken to its natural reddish tan when inside for any time.