Far Fields

I overheard, don't remember where, a gentleman recalling the fond days of his youth on the farm. He told of a horse, a very old, and very tired horse, which also suffered from severe arthritis. She was so crippled that she was retired by default. She could barely make it to the rail to greet the boy in the morning. Nevertheless, the boy wished he could ride and would climb upon old Nell's back and imagine riding to great adventure, the wind in his hair and sun on his face.

Despite serious, somewhat heartless, or at least childishly thoughtless prodding on the boy's part, her painful joints would not allow her to advance in the desired direction. In desperate response to John's enthusiastic encouragement, she did what she could. She backed up. For John, this was not entirely satisfactory. However, his childish enthusiasm and remarkable imagination prevailed. He took his adventurous journey around the corral in reverse. After several minutes of this, they both discovered it was now possible to make a small advance in the correct direction.

A somewhat extended period of exploration followed. Together, they learned that a fifteen minute warm-up, in reverse, allowed old Nell to somewhat duplicate her canter of former years. Nell's heart pumped and her lungs filled. Her head lifted high and her startled whinny could be heard across the hayfields. At her insistent urging, John slipped from Nell's back and dragged the heavy gate aside. The mouth of the dusty corral now open, John remounted, ready to face the world.

He cast not a glance back as they charged through the gate. Nell headed towards the familiar tree line of the far fields, more clear in her memory than her vision. The still air of the farmyard was broken by the almost forgotten sound of galloping hooves echoing from the old barn siding.

Farmhands, down the lane, turned their heads and caught a fleeting vision of horse and rider, seemingly united in rhythm and purpose. One was chasing dreams, and the other memories.

© 2004 Don Mackenzie