It was approaching darkness when I threw apples to the horses last evening.
After that job was completed, I walked across the north lawn and noticed that my solar lights around the yard were beginning to put out some color and light.
Since it was too late by this time to take pretty flower photos, I decided to concentrate on capturing images of the lights.
I have rarely seen them all lit up this summer because of my going to bed at 8-8:30, many times when there was still daylight.
So, last night's light show was a treat, especially getting to admire the solar garden globe we purchased earlier this summer with a gift certificate from Bill's sister.
The globe was all aglow and beautiful.
For some reason last night's darkness made us aware that we have truly entered the zone of shorter days.
This morning's chores also revealed that same phenomenon. As I walked to the barn, the full moon was putting on a show over the mountains to the west. I also had to turn on the light in the barn to see the hay for the horses' breakfast.
This is their "last breakfast" here at the Lovestead for a few months. I definitely felt a tinge of sadness that they won't be out there gathered in their little herd in the darkness of the early mornings when I take the dogs out for their first duty of the day.
I truly love my horses and will miss them, but when one door closes, another opens.
The trips over to Roxane's this fall and winter will open up a different form of socializing for me, as the other boarders will be there and we will have our gab sessions centered around our beloveds.
After last year's first year experience of boarding, I realized that I could enjoy my horses in a different way. Plus, my body didn't mind missing the struggles of winter time chores.
So, that's exciting.
Another door opened this morning. No longer will Bridie have to be tethered while I lead horses to pasture.
For several months, Bridie can be my morning sidekick.
We practiced that this morning while walking to the hay field where Bert Wood's cows stood enveloped in fog across the fence in the Meserve Preserve.
At first, Bridie thought she ought to do some herding, but after an instant no, she went back to playing with her ball.
We two will have good times together on our morning walks, and, as the days get shorter, some of those walks may be in the dark.
As I enjoyed the colored lights around the yard last night, I thought about darkness and about how it can drag us down.
But light---even just a flicker of light---can lift us up so quickly and so easily not only in the real world but also with our somewhat intangible pursuits.
And, the nice thing in life is that uplifting light comes in more forms than a simple bulb.
We see light in the faces of good people we know. We see it in our beloved pets. We see it in a full moon and we experience it in the gestures of kindness, care, and thoughtfulness we experience each day.
So, though darkness is coming, as Tom Bodette says, the light will still be on. We simply have to see it through our eyes, our hearts and our souls.
Can't wait to start experiencing the light of my horses whenever they see me come to visit at their winter home.
Happy Wednesday.
As the miles or kilometers from Santiago decrease, you can see how Annie is dealing with the Camino Super Highway.
She's getting close to the end of her pilgrimage.
I just got a kick out of the painting above so wanted to share.
And, for the many who lift me from the darkness and light up my life, sending you a little dose of light.
Thank you.
You are appreciated more than you'll ever know.
Enjoy the song.
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