All Skinny Legs and Knobby Knees
April 30, 2011 § Leave a comment
A colt was born last night in my daughter and son-in-law’s pasture just up the road. Misty had been checked at 8 p.m., but sometime in the night she threw her colt.
When the family awoke, there were two in the new grass of the far side of the pasture instead of one.
They called us at 6:30 a.m. to come and see. There he was: trying out his new legs in the spring breeze and early slanted sunshine. His white blaze a copy of his mother’s.
I started out that way too: skittish, all legs and knobby knees. Moved fast. Didn’t slow down long enough to learn any useful homemaking skills. Fastest runner on the fifth grade playground, except for Billy Johnson whose plaid shirt I could only snatch the back of as he ran past.
The settling down and learning useful skills came later when forced by the necessity of life in the wilderness to bake a decent loaf of bread, sew a seam, keep house.
And now? I’m not jumping sideways in fresh green pastures. At least on the outside. I’m not running and kicking my legs hard just for the pleasure of feeling the wind in my face.
But I have a wealth of sunny spring mornings and fresh breezes yet to savor, new smells awaiting, crooks to explore, and not-so-skinny legs to try out on new pathways.