Darkness was fast approaching.
The chickens roosted. The sheep had come in from the pasture.
Temperatures were in the high sixties and the wind, calm.
I had planned to work my mare, Jet. A little lunging, a little ring work in the paddock, some work in the adjacent pasture.
With daylight running out, I scrapped those plans.
I threw the western saddle on Lily, the pony, and led her to the fields.
Lily didn't mind the darkness. The sliver of moon provided just enough light.
Letting Lily pick her way, I listened to the frogs croaking, the crickets chirping, the rustles in the fencerows. I relaxed to the four-beat rhythm of her walk. I thought of my younger days when darkness was never an excuse to not ride.