46). Horses. I grew up around cattle and sheep in Ohio. I remember thinking as a kid that horses seemed like a creature for the rich, famous or Amish. To this day I hardly know a flank from a foal, but thanks to my eight-year-old, that's all about to change. Clary is animal crazy from hamsters to horses these days, so I looked up a way to get a local fix around some deserving equine. The Horse Protection League here in Denver is just the ticket. Around 25 horses live on the premises of the historic Church's Ranch each with different care requirements, from specific diets to handling to medical needs. A few horses had much less than pleasant times in their younger years abandon to the wilds of places like Montana. To just say the word 'Mustang' as you look at these unusual complex beasts gives you chills from the unsaddled and primal bloodlines they carry. We muck stalls and pens for a couple hour warm-up before we get to do Clary's favorite....grooming. A toolbox full of varying bristled brushes and combs is fetched from the 100+ year old barn by the only girl wearing a skirt with her wellies. We prepare Princess, the ranch mascot, for a thorough brushing to remove burrs, dirt and manure from her coat and mane. Princess head butts me as I hold the halter while the horse whisperer brushes away with the vigor and attention. It's good to be out, seeing in my girl what I'm guessing my dad saw in me thirty-some years prior with under-developed muscles but ambition that rivaled his own, much like this day under wild skies just like in Montana.
47). Heat. A raw North Wind surprised our morning walk to the river today as we passed the sparatic and bedraggled homeless we often see in the distance along the banks. I say a silent prayer in my mind for them, if only a few words, for all I know they're doing the same for me. Home to the blessings of food, shelter, warmth and comfort and appreciating the feel of my well worn sweater. May the people I see on our morning walk find their way home soon.
48). Leftovers. Could there be a better time of year than Thanksgiving for leftovers?! I don't possess a trained palate in the ways of culinary subtleties like my wife, who emphatically reads from menus aloud and peruses cookbooks for leisure, (I love her more for this fascinating, sometimes confusing trait of hers). I'm more into "Wow, this chili is so much better after three days".