I arrived at the farm on Saturday morning. It was a perfect fall day where short sleeves with a suede jacket were the perfect amount of layering. The sun was out and the pastures and trees were still green with signs of fall color on the smaller decorative trees. I was happy to the see the horses were in the far field. In the summer they spend days in the barn with a personal fan in each stall window but fall through early spring they are out during the day and in the barn at night.
I stood at the fence looking across the field at the boys. Even at this distance I could tell who was who based how one moved or by catching a glimpse of a blaze. Big/New Moe was gleaming like a sun god with Huckleberry grazing by his side. Pete and Prince were standing at the far fence line seemingly watching the neighbor’s calves romping on the hill side. I continued to search for the original Moe, but I could not see him. I moved to my left and right, but still no glimpse of his lanky, solid black, 26-year-old body. I felt myself growing anxious. Where was he? Had something happened and no one told me?
I went into the house and grabbed my boots. I would start in the barn, though I could not think of a reason why he would be left alone in the barn. As I pulled on my second boot, I looked toward the far field to catch sight of an elegant black horse head extending from a tree trunk. I had found old Moe.
I walked back to the fence line. Old Moe was standing with his tail towards me and his head at the tree trunk. With the deeper shadows the caused by lower sun, I had not been able to see my horse. The old man was enjoying shade and solitude.
The yoga teacher in me wants to make parallels to what else in my life is hiding in plain sight in the shadows. But the cowgirl in me wants to revel in the beauty and health of two horses named Moe grazing in a lush field