For a brief few minutes yesterday at dawn, heavy grey storm clouds were turned into pink fairy floss by a gift of the light. The horses were not impressed by the rouged sky, preferring to remain buried head-first in the hay pile. I called out Jonathon’s name from where I stood on the verandah – I love to yell out to him because of the response I always get. His ears stood to attention, and his huge head wheeled up, right to the very top of his neck. He took a minute to stand and look straight at me, blinking, his bright white blaze painting his face with a bewildered expression. Then he released a deep, loud sigh and went back to eating his hay.
When I call out to Calais – Chappy for short – sometimes he’ll raise his head slightly and acknowledge me. It’s an improvement from the early days when he’d completely ignore me! It doesn’t exactly make you feel all warm and sentimental, at six o’clock in the morning.
So Johnny’s the one who gives me the enthusiastic “good morning” look. He may be a bit clumsy, and he doesn’t like to be patted, but there’s not much I wouldn’t do for the horse attached to that face.
The pink sky didn’t last long, but it turned into something equally special not long after, when sunlight hit the opposite hilltop, outlining the valley with gold.
Anticipation of rain made the morning even better.