I call my horse Lilly "Brumby" as a term of endearment. But I didn't make the word up! In Australia a wild horse is called a brumby or brumbie. The word derives from the name of a Major William Brumby, an early 19th century settler from England who was a noted breeder of horses. Through the years a large number of his stock escaped and became feral. Another possible origin of the word-Booramby, Aborigine for wild.
Once again, the horse that looks so positively darling in this photo was actually quite the pill in the round pen before this photo was taken. Once again I asked her to trot and she pinned her ears at me and shook her sour, pointy face in my direction with real conviction. POO ON YOU, she seemed to be saying, BECAUSE THIS IS CRAP! Sigh. I do my best to ignore it.
Then I imagine what the proper response would be. In case I forget to imagine, there is this handy dandy sign on the road near my house that reminds me. So I imagine what I'd like Lilly to do, as if she is magical and clairvoyant and can read my mind.
This past Thursday after work I went over to Bill's to ride. As usual, my brumby was as far away from the gate as possible. She probably sees me trudging out to her swatting flies and tripping through the divots in the dirt and snickers to herself.
But enough about the boring ole ring. The real fun is always out on the trail. Saturday I decided to take the Parallel Trail to the River Trail. There is nothing better than the River Trail on a summer day.
To get to this part of the trail you start on the short trail and then take a right to head up to Quartz Corner. Then you go down Cliffwalk (nothing like the cliffwalk in Newport, but still very lovely) and pop out right here where this picture was taken. It's watery and muddy here.
It's the kind of mud that if Lilly were wearing her Renegades, I would be very worried that one (or both) would get sucked right off. This is the joy and the freedom of having traditional shoes on her feet. Now I know it doesn't sound like a freedom to have shoes nailedon your feet. All I can say about that is that things are not always what they seem.
See how you can get out in the woods? Philosophical. Thoreau would be so proud.
With all the rain this summer, the mushrooms have been all over the place. This one Kestrel identified (with Brandon's help) but now I forget what they said it was. I think its common name should be Griddlecake because the cap looks like a pancake with brown sugar on top.
In fact, had the trail we were on been unnamed, I prompted would have appointed it Griddlecake Trail.
Here's the underside of the griddlecake mushroom. Notice how it has pores and not gills. This is one of the first places to look when identifying an unknown mushroom. Does it have pores? Or gills? I would like to point out that while I was down in the dirt snapping these pictures, Lilly was peacefully munching greenery along the trail. She is an excellent trail companion, allowing me my many trail madnesses, quite unlike her crabby, perhaps-I-will-trample-you round pen self.
Oh look, a giant rock to crack your skull open on.
These little guys are about the size of a pencil eraser. Their common name is Earth Tongue. This confirms that mycologists have got to be some of the most creative people on this planet.
Have I mentioned how much I love summer? Only in the summer can you canter around in the woods and then go home and eat locally grown farm food. YUM.
So at work, I am commonly recognized as a goofball.
Not sure why anyone would think that about me.
I mean, I'm just trying to live a fulfilling and merry life....
I hope you have enjoyed reading my blog! One day I hope to make it bigger and better! Click on the words "Older Posts" right above this note if you would like to see more entries about me and my brumby.