Yesterday I rode Isabella in the rain. I've never purposefully ridden her in bad weather and I thought I'd give my new rain jacket a test drive. It was pretty darn fun, riding out in the fog and light drizzle.

China is absolutely soaked in just a few minutes. The trail is slick, but not too bad once we travel up the mountain a ways. We trot and canter up to the top.. I think Isabella was a bit confused as to why I'd take her out in weather like that - when I asked her to canter, she let out a huge BUCK, almost deseating me and then we go on our merry little way. Near the top I give her a loose rein and I let her go as fast as she wants.. in the rain and wind her hoofbeats are all I can hear and when we ride like that it's almost like we're soaring to the top of the mountain.. flying past all the trees and rocks and forgetting everything else in the world. Time freezes and nothing else exists except for us at that moment.

Today we rode with a few barn friends up half the mountain and back. We picked up speed and Isabella went into her big extended trot then cantered a bit up the hill. I was very surprised she didn't go into her crow hop bucking spree like she usually does when we ride with other people.. I gave her her head and trusted her to not rush. Giving her that bit of trust made a huge difference and I could tell she appreciated it. Afterwards I let her run around in the arena, watching with her tail flipped over her back, snorting and trotting around. Every so often she'd trot up close to me and stand there with me. I would let her rest her head on my shoulder and give the underside of her neck a good scratching.. her favorite place. She would stand quietly and make blissful faces, indicating I was getting that perfect spot. Time stands still.

Oftentimes when I'm riding her and we're riding down the same trail, the same path we take almost every day.. I wonder why she lets me do it. I anthropomorphisize her and think to myself, I'd be so tired of the same routine, same trail, same rider with the same persistent commands. But she lets me catch her everyday with the same nicker as she leaves her herd and walks up to me in pasture, she travels along the trails with interest, her tail swishing and her ears perked to see what's around the next bend. She's patient and forgiving to my follies, she's more than my riding companion. She's my therapy and sanctity, and with her I'm one with my core and I'm the best person I can be. She's my horse.