November Hill farm journal, 201 (winter solstice - the day after)

 

I had the most amazing experience yesterday and last night. As I ran a few errands in town yesterday, along the parkway like stretch of road between November Hill and town George Winston’s rendition of Pachelbel’s Canon came on and I suddenly had the visceral sense and visualization of Keil Bay galloping along beside me on the right and for the first time ever, of Salina galloping to my left. The two were whinnying back and forth, arching their muscled necks and buckling forward as their hindquarters gathered and pushed them into even faster forward motion. 

Since very early childhood I have had this experience with a big red bay horse and it was quite wonderful to suddenly have a black and a bay and feel the presence of these two equine spirits I have known and loved for years on end. 

Last night I went out in the later evening with a single lit forest green candle, a bag of carrots, and a paper with two poems written on it. I fed the carrots first as the candle burned in the center of the barn aisle. Little Man and Rafer were standing in their stall doorway, leaning in over the top, and directly across the aisle were Cody and Redford doing the same thing. I gave out the carrots one by one, alternating one equine at a time. Little Man was just up from a sleep in the new shavings, eyes still partly shut. Rafer stretched his neck sideways over the stall door in an effort to reach further than his best friend. Redford stretched his neck up high and Cody stood tall with ears pricked forward. 

After the carrots were gone I spoke a little about our year and our saying goodbye to Keil Bay. When I say his name their ears prick up. I mentioned Salina and how I feel the spirits of both horses with us every day. I read the two poems with great focus and fanfare. When I tell you that every one of these equines stood tall, eyes on me, ears up high, and listened with the greatest of attention as I made eye contact with each one, I am not exaggerating. It was a solstice ceremony and I don’t think I have ever been joined so completely in my annual ritual as I was last night. It was a gift and when it was over I took the candle out into the barnyard, to the spot where Keil Bay took his final breath, and I had a conversation with him and with Salina, and then I looked up at the night sky. It was a much brighter than usual longest night thanks to the waxing gibbous moon. I read that the moon is full this year on Christmas and it seems so very fitting that this first solstice after the passing of Keil is a brighter one. We all needed this light this year. 

Today I finally got the second batch of native plants for the gravesite. As I drove home Keil and Salina galloped alongside the car, and I smiled. We have sunshine today and a bit warmer weather than yesterday, and the light - it is brilliant and so very bright.