Tony and I end the day in the hot tub. Hot, hot, the water. Fourteen minutes to get my shoulders in. But before that. Before the BBQ with copper river salmon, chicken and steak, two kinds of salad and the four egg, two layer cake, one sticks to the bottom of the pan. Before I make butter frosting with leftover Canadian whiskey from my brother's visit. Before thirteen year old Grace, and ten year old Emily are heart struck by the cuteness of goats. Before Cathryn and I walk across the wild flowers and talk about getting too old for the violence on psychiatric units. Before Ron, Mary and Vern ride their bicycles from Cle Elum to our house - I ride the tall horse Kansas down the gravel driveway. We turn up at the mailbox. Her gray mane ruffles. Thunder storm clouds in the sky. My white hair, my back with the dark blue vest; there is a dull red pickup, a cloud of dust, coming up from behind. Cowgirl, black dog, white muzzle lifts her head from the ditch. Sniffs the air. Man in the pickup says: there's an old woman with her dog, riding a tall, gray horse up the road into the mountains. And then he passes by.
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