What a wonderful cloudscape over the chalk hills! To the eat a huge thundercloud arose, strange in its appearance, massive in proportion. Appropriate, too, in these days of changeable weather. Sun one day, rain the next. A ride in bright sun, another shrouded in a veil of drizzle so fine that I scarcely became wet in an hour.
This is a fragment of Tolkien's England, where I may ride along and imagine a fantastic land of magic and mystery. It is so easy to daydream here, on a verdant trail with a fine view across woods and hills.
It's a place to hide from the increasingly serious world of work too. Out here, riding a good horse, I feel quite beyond the reach of the things that employ me during the day. That's illusory, of course, because I know that a low level of processing continues within the recesses of my mind. But it's nice to dream of freedom.
The horses are not thin, with all this grass. Careful management prevents them from becoming fat. So does plenty of work. Brena gets ridden four times a week, doing good to both of us. The work isn't fast on hard ground, but it's interesting and pleasant.
I'll make the most of all this riding now that I have surgery scheduled. It's arthroscopic work on a shoulder to deal with adhesive capsulitis. For now I'm managing with greatly restricted movement in one shoulder joint, and enough discomfort to stop me sleeping properly. Just the deep, nagging tiredness alone is a burden. I hate being tired all the time.
Oh, well, the temporary shoulder trouble doesn't stop me from riding. Or from working. And it doesn't stop me from playing guitar. I've just bought a lovely twelve-string Martin, which is simply intoxicating to play. So life is pretty good despite the usual theatrical English grumble.